antisnotabug: (Default)
Ant ([personal profile] antisnotabug) wrote2016-02-27 06:32 pm

(no subject)

I ended up reading a bunch of the old entries on here and. Wow. I really should journal more. Because sometimes, it escapes me how much life has changed in the last few years. Reading entries from four years ago, holy shit, so much has changed. I'm sort of gobsmacked right now.

Like, I was always aware of how much my situation changed. This time two years ago, I was living with my parents minimum wage, part time job. This time last year, I was crashing with a friend and working overnight. Now, I am in an apartment, promoted into a real position at decent hours. It's kind of incredible. ... Actually, putting it in that perspective only makes me realize more everything that I've done. And I'm really lucky. My disadvantages were plenty, but I powered through.

I guess I didn't realize how much I changed emotionally. Two years ago, I wanted to die. I was (mildly) hurting myself. I let my family take advantage of me. I shirked the thoughts of therapy or medication. Last year, some of that got better, but some of it didn't. I'm still not happy with where I am. With who I am. I'm still lost. I still rip myself apart when things go wrong. I still need balance and direction.

But seriously, holy shit, look how far I've come!

Despite my complicated relationship with writing, I've written more in this past year than probably the prior two combined. I've taken multiple stands against my family's manipulations, and I've established to them that I am my own person, with my own life I need to live. I'm taking care of myself! Er... not perfectly, of course. But I'm paying rent and bills and I'm getting myself to and from work everyday (even though I hate it) and there is no arguing that I am an adult. Which I've always wanted to be. I always wanted independence. I always wanted to be able to take care of myself, to not have to rely on anyone to provide for me. And I am. Depression can't take that away. No matter how hard it tries.

I'm just... proud of myself right now. It's a rare feeling these days. And it won't last. I'm never really satisfied with what I've done, there's always more. But for right now, this is enough. I'm doing okay. My friends are with me. I escaped Lawncrest twice now. I'm still in Philly, where I want to be. I've seen shows on Broadway. I'm... free. It's good.

Sidebar: Reading those old entries, and writing this one, I noticed a trend of a big lift in my spirits right around what would be my uncle's birthday. (It's tomorrow. He would've been 50 this year.) It's probably a coincidence, or maybe the date makes me retrospective, but... I dunno. Maybe there's something to it.

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