Sick Brain Word Vomit

My immune system kind of sucks, and I get sick easily and often. I am sick right now. You may know this if you look at any of my social media, because whenever I’m sick I don't shut the fuck up about it. I also get bad sick brain, which means I feel like a total idiot when I’m used to feeling like a baby genius.

It’s a fun challenge writing this. I would’ve tried yesterday, but my vision was blurry. Today I am just well-enough to write a very all-over-the-place blog of 2 or 3 defining eras in my life. Not…..not in a good way. I will get all this dumb stuff off my chest and into the public and then we can try to not talk about it again, because it’s dumb and I barely want to talk about it to begin with. I’m just sick enough to write it out without getting stressed.

Then, after this blog, I think I’ll try my hand at doing little mentions on the really good memories. Not to make you jealous or anything, I just feel like I can be kind of a Debby downer. I’m like, Nihilistic, and I don’t think that’s healthy. I’ve been listening to Abraham Hicks audio books and I’m trying to manifest a happier life. Which means I should focus on happier things. But not yet. Being darky is kinda fun. Or comforting. Or… this is how I’ve been for a very very very long time actually, perhaps my whole life, so it’s hard to let go.

(I don’t even want to let go, but I think it’s bad for me to be so pessimistic and harbor this existential dread. I can sometimes be a bouncy type, and I’d actually like to feel that way inside a bit more. So hopefully that happens for me.)

It’s a Friday. Not like it matters, because I have no plans this weekend.

I was sick last weekend too. I missed Friday AND Saturday plans. I haven’t had back to back weekend plans in a really long time, and I was pretty excited about it. Not just excited to prove to myself and others that I have friends and I do fun things with them, but like, actually excited for the night, and excited to spend time with the friends. Kinda messed up of me that I need to differentiate, but I do. Those are two very different things, and I have felt both ways plenty of times.

Lately I’ve grown used to not having plans, which isn’t always my fault. I’m in the BURBS, which is where I wanted to be so I could avoid my plans in NY. Now, when I go to NYC wanting to dance, my friends aren’t really into that. They aren’t partying, and neither was I, but now I sometimes want to? And have no one to party with, the way I wanna party (dancing sober in the club til 4 AM, sue me).

I had grown increasingly sick of my life in New York, honestly. Feels bad to admit, because I always felt like thriving in the city was a status symbol in of itself. I don’t dislike NY, and I could’ve put up the facade that I was thriving, but I wasn’t having fun anymore. I was reluctant to have that kind of fun, actually. It was obviously time to go. And thank God I am. Maybe I’ll like New York more in the future, after loving and then getting sick of a few other places.

My friends have other priorities now that we are all adults with increasingly different lives. No one has had babies, so I can’t feel bad for myself yet. But I can up and move to a town in the mountains. Which is what I’m doing. Not in retaliation, but the fact I am the only single person in my life made the decision easier. I’ll make single mountain friends.

Another reason why this lingering sickness is super annoying. I have a limited amount of time to see people and do things before I move across the country. We all might be totally different people by the time I move back to NY. If I move back to NY. And mostly I will be different, because I may become a real mountain woman, unrecognizable from my former self, who was very committed to the sorority girl turned New Yorker bit. (One of my friends from HS moved to Australia for years, and another did Peacecorp in Africa. So as much as I want to be serious about how different I may become after a year in a Boujee Ski Town, moving and having special experiences doesn’t actually change much. From what I’ve witnessed).

Now I’m just telling everyone to visit me, because I kind of ran out of free weekends to see people. I am depending on visitors to make friends in my new life, actually. That and AA. I haven't been to AA in months and I’m staying sober just fine, so meeting people is a big incentive for me to start going again.

I did get my Invisalign off this week, after a long long year of being super self conscious of my teeth. One day without the invisalign nubs on my teeth and I already forget how challenging that had been. I literally went celibate so I could focus on my adult braces in peace. And I don’t regret that. Anyone who tried dating me during the past year was only going to waste my time. The real reason I start posting was to pay for my jaw surgery, and not at all to spread the good word of how I overcome my sufferings. One year of being online didn't even pay for the dental work that I needed for my tooth implant (rotting baby molar with no big tooth to push it out) so the jaw surgery is OBVIOUSLY post poned. But my teeth are slightly straighter, I guess. I’m kinda butthurt about the jaw surgery thing. Telling myself everything happens for a reason. I just want to be able to bite down normally and close my mouth and feel 100% happy all the time and look 100% beautiful all the time, no crazy jaw pain or clicking. But nooooo, things cost money. Whatever. Gods plan.

My molar implant had to be sent back because it was too white, and they need to darken it up before it goes in permanently next week. That ALSO pissed me off, because I did have to train 2 hours and spend $40 to be told my tooth wasn’t going in. It was too white because I have really white teeth, btw. My dentist was like: woah. Your teeth are sooooo white. And he’s really gay and really fab and so that obviously means something, YK? But he says it all the time, as if he forgets me when I’m gone. Which breaks my heart. I love my gay dentist. He is the person who made me realize I’d happily date and marry a gay man. As long as he was transparent to me about being gay and not trying to pull the wool over my eyes, that would be fucking rude, and I’d probably know and just be resentful that you think I’m dumb and that I have no gaydar (I have an overactive gaydar, I think everyones gay).

So hear that fellas? I will be your beard, you will be my entertainment. And I’ll be your entertainment too, since I am naturally very entertaining.

We will be perfect, we will love each other dearly, and we can have a very fun life together.

Cool. Back to me: my molar being too white means I have really beautiful white teeth naturally. If you hate me, sorry, but I really can’t help it that I’m above average in like 75% of the ways that matter. Like, my hair is thick too. My eyelashes are long. If you’re interested in being my gay boyfriend I know you’ll love this. If you’re my competition: I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me too hard. I’m sensitive to that kind of thing. I’ll cry. I’ll cry while you’re mean to me out of jealousy and you’ll feel like a total jackass. I’ve done it before.

Speaking of hating me: I saw my #1 hater on the NJ transit this week. I was in a cute outfit, thank God. But I was starting to get sick lowkey, so I didn’t look A1. I had been sleeping on the train, so my undereyes were blackened and my face was greasy. I only wore mascara to impress my gay dentist, otherwise I may have looked slightly worse, but less cracked out with the smudging. I’m not an idiot, the mascara is waterproof, IDK why it still does this.

So this girl was the reason why I had such a hard time writing (and deleting and rewriting) the blog post on friendship breakups a few weeks back (in the since archived post). I have had friendship breakups since this girl. They suck, but nothing like this. I felt like the situation didn’t deserve airtime mostly because I didn’t want to somehow trigger this girl. It was a pivotal experience for me. I didn’t learn any self improvement in the way that most struggles will teach you something. I learned to be careful who you get close to. Not everyone is bestie :)

I think I used so much telekinetic energy thinking about the situation, that she manifested before me on the train like a sleep paralysis demon.

With anything that triggers me, I spend 30 minutes freaking out and causing a scene. I over react and let myself be dramatic, and then I start joking about a situation pretty quickly. Like with the situationship that skimmed my blogs and DM’d me about it. I was triggered by him being sweet, then very rude. I screenshotted it and sent it to all my friends and was like WTF. We made jokes and speculated and got it out of my system and moved on. That situation wont get airtime here, I think he was a dick because he really wants a feature in my blog. I will feature a response from one of my guy-friends that kinda put me in my place.

I’ve gotten good at the out of sight out of mind thing. I am not chill, everyone knows that. I love reacting. I just get over things quickly and I like to pretend people don’t exist when they bother me. I prefer to ignore things that make me angry, cos I love trying to live a good happy life. Despite my nihilistic outlook. I like trying to make life easier, is a better way to say it.

I saw my therapist after the run in and the rogue DM, and she asked whether I am angry at the people who bullied me (separate situation, kinda random question TBH, but I know my therapist likes to try to understand me). I was like: no, we were kids. I don’t hate them and I am not mad at them, I don’t know them anymore, but I’m sure they’re not the same people, kids are just mean. I am sad for myself that my self-worth and self-image are so deeply affected by that part of my past. But If I saw them now I’d be fine to have a conversation. I continued the question into the current situation: this guy? I am not mad at him, I’m mad at myself for dating these types. The girl from HS? I am not mad at her. I’m scared of her, because she’s so mad at me, and I really don’t know why. I don’t harbor resentment towards her for trying to blitzkrieg my friendships and my reputation, I’m just confused why she rolled her eyes at me on the NJ transit when I don’t think I did anything to warrant how she has treated me. I’d just rather not have to deal with consequences of her lying about me and talking badly about me. I don’t really know what her side of the story is, but I know that it isn’t reality. I just would like her to not exist in my reality. I don’t want my reality tampered with from an ill-intentioned, and I don’t want an unreliable narrator talking about my life. Talk about your own.

My therapist said what happened is she was very hurt that I rejected her friendship. And I did do that, I did not want to be her friend anymore. It wasn’t a surprise. I told her why, and nothing changed, so it led to a friendship breakup. But the BPD rejection thing is no joke. In normal falling outs, I put up a bit of a fight and make sure my side of the story is told. In this particular situation, I honestly wanted to get out of the dynamic more than I wanted the ego boost of winning a fight. My fear of this person kinda superseded coming out on the right side of things. So I did lose some close mutual friends. And I did suffer from her smear campaign (mostly I was just fckng paranoid). But I endured it and ignored it for long enough and it went away.

I try to have good character, and sometimes I have fun being a bit Assy. Sometimes I do the WRONG thing, because I want to. This is probably a surprise to no one, and I have 0 problem telling you that I’m not always perfect, and I’m not always nice. I try to be, but I prefer to be myself, and I wouldn’t say being nice is my #1 adored quality. I am many more things before I am nice. I am polite. Anyways, I have no problem including things I’ve done wrong in the narrative because it provides further credibility for my very honest storytelling.

I fucking hate liars. I really do.

So that’s the high level story, without really saying anything. And fun fact: whenever I use the word OPPs in my videos, I always had her and her people in mind. I did that because they do kinda intimidate me, and it felt empowering to address in that small way. But the truth is, she is not my Opp. I am not concerned with her, she is a sad person and a mean person and she proved 10X over why I am glad I didn’t stay friends with her. I am scared typing this, and I am thinking “if god is with me who could be against me?”. No I don’t go to church, yes I have my little prayers. No, I don’t have opps disturbing my peace everyday. Yes, I am protected by God, in case I have opps behind my back.

I have people who fucking hate me, duh, though I can’t always say for certain why. As long as there’s no smear campaign that’s fine. They can hate me.

I’m not in school anymore, I’m a big girl, and you should take my advice: if you ever get the opportunity to clear your name in a situation like this, do it ASAP, because you may never get another chance. I would never bring this situation up unprompted to anyone involved. Even though it has haunted me for so long. I wish I didn’t dedicate so much of this blog to that era, but unfortunately it was a situation that shaped me and forced me to have a backbone. Anyways. Keeping things vague and moving on.

I did go to the walk in clinic today. I’m tired of being sick. I kinda wish there was a witch-doctor walk in clinic. It would probs take me months to get well, but I just feel safe in that environment. I know that modern medicine does work. I do believe in the keep-you-sick scheme, too. I want to believe in witchcraft. I do, kinda.

I think the distrust of doctors thing cropped up in high-school. I REALLY don’t want to detail this because I actually hate talking about it. Mostly because it seems like bullshit. I just think it’s a hugely relevant part of my life, and was very formative for me.

Freshman year I got a slew of chronic illness. A few things got names, and some just remained a mystery. My mom blames the HPV vaccine.

I got lymes disease running cross country, which is obviously not far fetched (I spent a lot of time in the Woods). During this time I was diagnosed with POTs and PCOS, and my bloodwork was a fucking mess, I was having crazy allergic reactions to food and medication (Stephen Johnsons Syndrome, horrific stomach pain, muscle twitches and honey-comb rashes, random stuff like that). I had “chronic” fatigue and joint pain and muscle pain and yatta yatattaaa. I am so reluctant to get into the details because it was a traumatizing time. It’s when the cystic acne cropped up and I was literally in pain all the time. This obviously affected me socially, too. Freshman in highschool want to make friends, not nurse their suddenly sick friend. Once everything passed I understood, but I did feel very isolated from my friends. Because they didn’t want to deal. I get that. Still sucked though.

The health issues kinda fucked with me, and I went to a million doctors and was always getting pulled out of class. Revolving door of doctors, no answers, always getting directed to a different specialist, who also didn’t know WTF was going on. Eventually we found a natural medicine doctor, working out of the basement in his townhouse. I didn't really care about any of this, I was sleeping through most of my classes in school, and through most of the doctors appointments. The natural doctor fixed me up, though. With tinctures and potions basically. All the chronic symptoms wen’t away, and we never really got a clear answer on what exactly was going on. My bloodwork mostly cleared up, too. Made me feel like none of it was real, like I was a faker, and this natural guy just kinda placebo’d me back to good health. It was a slow improvement, and the whole situation was actually pretty hellish. I like blocking it out, and I like thinking it wasn’t real. That natural doctor is probably dead now, killed by suspicious circumstances.

I was skinny as hell during this era, but I’m pretty sure that’s because I had gotten really involved with the MyFitnessPal app. My life was feeling very off-the-rails, with all the unanswered health questions. So I was channeling that anxiety and loss of control into logging my eating and running as many miles as I could each week. I also became vegan at the time. Mostly for health reasons, but I also liked that I could get very controlling and hands-on with my food. I think we call that orthorexia now? To me, these behaviors all helped me understand my ED as a control-thing.

But not entirely, because I’ve been struggling with “disordered eating” for the past few years, no calorie counting involved, and it’s entirely because I wanted to be skinny after “allowing” myself to put on a bunch of weight in college. Not really much about control, just not loving how I felt being around a bunch of friends who weighed less than me, and the same as each other.

I did get skinnier, with my neurotic, picky, carb-free eating and 20,000 steps of wandering around making phone calls. I separate my ED now from my high-school ED. I was plagued with obsession back then, but I cared less about being skinny than about having complete control over my food and my body. Like, I loved knowing I could control the number on the scale. The high-school nurse called my mom about the weight loss, because the teachers noticed how skinny I had gotten. I was a little mad, because I didn’t think I was really doing anything wrong by eating less than 1200 calories a day. Like I knew it wasn’t something I should tell my mom about, but she definitely didn’t have a problem with having a skinny daughter. She was skinny, and she only ate one big meal a day. Probably less than 1200 calories, too.

So now, when I chomp at a hamburger without eating the bun, I don’t really think anythings wrong with me. I have no idea how many calories are in the patty, and I stay thin by avoiding bread. My family thinks it’s fucking weird that I won’t have rice or pasta, but I only do that so I can eat normal when I go out to eat with my friends. I’m like, fine. Though I put on some weight when I loosened my restrictions, and when I dug through some of my photos from last winter, and I definitely looked ED-skinny. And it’s a little suspicious that I was looking for my depression-skinny pics as thinspo, since I was curious how much weight I actually put on since then. Instead of getting inspo from me dancing around underweight, I was kinda disturbed by how skinny I was. I was more disturbed that I didn’t recognize it til now. I didn’t look good. I was just addicted to the feeling of being underweight. So the weight gain felt weird, but it looked better in the mirror. I do know how to get back to my depression-underweight, but I actually don’t want to. I feel kind of guilty for subconsciously reveling in it. I remember at the time, wondering why my best friend wasn’t complimenting me on my weight loss. I should let her know now that I recognize why.

I’m really good at spotting EDs on other people. So weird, given that I’m such a self aware queen, I didn’t really notice the obvious ED thing going on with me. I wonder who clocked me. I wonder if it even matters. Everyone seems so ED-coded these days. I’m not a vigilante here, but I have to say same. I have thick hair genetically, but I am not genetically rail thin. Few people are.

I really need to get better, because my entire week next week needs to be dedicated to prepping for the mountain. Luckily I am very codependent with my mom, and I think she wants to be hands on with this. Actually, I know she does. Which is great for my bank account, but less great for my ability to express myself and exercise choice. That’s an interesting question to ask yourself: what are you willing to give up to be authentic? Like, I am not willing to give up my money. I should, though. I think I would appreciate having choice and getting things I really love and want, but im such a squeamish cheap freak, I can’t seem to do it. I’d expand on this dynamic and how my codependency with mommy ties in to all that, but I think I aired enough of my dirty laundry for one blog post.

I wish I was a better content creator, because mountain prep of content seems like something I’d watch. But for some reason lately I am having trouble figuring out how to post. Maybe it’s my sick brain, and I will come out on the other side feeling very stylish, articulate and relatable. Or maybe it's the Burbs, and when I get to Colorado I’ll become reinspired. I kind of think it’s my sedentary life. I don’t function without routine, and making my own routine actually did not appeal to me. Having a job and a life will appeal to me. I’m sure of it. And then I will be fresh faced and bushy taled on the internet, instead of being kinda sad and living through my snapchat memories.

Anyways.

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