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About Hitaru

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    The Spaniard Individual
  • Birthday 09/09/1994

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  1. These days have been a mess, but I think I'm finally getting through. At first I relapsed and I was gaming pretty heavily since I didn't have the willpower to reset the laptop and hand it over to my flatmates as some sort of shared/under surveillance property, my initial plan. I could do it in the end and I feel very proud for it. I haven't been playing since and I'm handling it ok. I have cravings tho. Then, I finally began HRT. I was very nervous and had to make some serious, very existential decisions (such as deciding if I wanted to have biological children), things you wouldn't expect from a spanish 25 year old youth in this day and age, but I did regardless, sorted myself out and well... It's a strange feeling, taking paths you can't return from. I'm not used to it at all. But it can't be helped. And it's not such a bad thing either. I skipped 3 exams due to anxiety and poor organization, but I got maximum scores in the one I did. I have the last one tomorrow, and then a second chance in February for the ones I left behind. I can do it. I just need to tone down my unrealistic expectations of perfection. All in all, I survived the first semester of university (at least I'm not getting expelled) and I took a definite step towards achieving who I really am. The problem was never the meds, but the effort to assert myself and committing to a life of never giving up. Instead of the usual surviving or perpetuating continued existence at the most basic level. I'm feeling very emotional as well, because yesterday I went to visit an elderly transgender activist and the experience was pretty intense. In her notes about her self-reflections I could clearly see the same questions and doubts and ideas that I have, yet... me being 50 years younger. I could witness first hand what could possibly be the final stage of the life of an introspective trans lady. In other words, what could be me, in the future. All my existential angst came from somehow believing I could do something to avoid a future I imagined to be grim and terrifying. I believed there was something I could do, or think, or feel; to avoid the dreadful feeling of impeding doom, of being slowly and violently pulled away from this world I suddenly appeared in, the fear that has crippled me since childhood. It turns out, I can't! Boo hoo. My 'worst' assumptions about how it would feel have been always true, it was just me trying to escape and avoid facing reality. I will feel sad, lonely and scared in my last years, if I'm lucky enough to arrive to them, because that's what being old is about, getting ready to die, sit down and reflect on what you did, and hopefully scare some fool youngling like me into avoiding making the mistakes you did. This woman wasn't an irredeemable ball of sadness either, in the slightest. In fact she is still devoting all her strength towards researching and writing, two things I love to do as well (when I am emotionally stable). So yeah, it's one day suddenly feeling very sick and inevitably horrified and then eternal darkness BUT it's not like I must be such a fucking pussy about it. I'm serious despite the bullshit tone. In conclusion, I don't need to have all the answers, because there's no answers. Second, I should use my body all I can, even if I wasn't spending a lot of money and perhaps risking my health to make it in tune with my inner identity. And I should be kinder with my loved ones. I really should. I can start by insisting on how much this community means to me (even if, figures, I'm always too busy or stressed out to actually interact with the vast majority of you). Writing here saved my life. So I should do something interesting with it.
  2. @BooksandTrees Absolutely. All these years I thought I didn't like social gatherings. One of the (actually many) pros of being adult is you get to choose your own conditions. I just had to find the folks I was comfortable around, the setting, etc. You know? I'm actually an optimist at heart (really...!). For instance I don't agree with these people who say birthdays, Christmas and the sort are sadder each year because of the ones who're not with us anymore (be it because they're not around or usually from the context of the sentence, because they're dead), and I'm old enough to have lost a few of my own. First of all, most of the dead would slap anyone with that attitude if they had the chance. And second, each year you have the opportunity to gather a new family, one that you choose. Perhaps since I'm LGTBI+ I do unconsciously share this groupal idea of "chosen family"; perhaps it's because my family gatherings with my father's used to be very dysfunctional and my family is a nuclear one (Mom, Grandma, recently our cat and I) at core, so there are not many folks to lose there, maybe it's my and my family's installed mindset of avoiding being a downer at all costs (this is a bad thing guys, you gotta let go of that negative feelings, trust me), or a mix of everything and all. This reflection is not casual. Something happened these days. I was planning to return home for Christmas but I had something of an emotional breakdown and cancelled all plans. I've been hiding at the apartment without eating or showering for several days. Last night I was lying in bed silently screaming what the actual fuck am I doing with my life and this morning I had enough and put some things in order. Basic things: whashed clothes and myself, shaved, ate a little (it will take time to recover, my metabolism is unforgiving). Today's plan is to save a fellow sister from her apparently obnoxious family, hence all this thought about chosen families and the idea of perhaps turning this into a tradition, some kind of social gathering scheme for misfits and rejected folks. I'd still need to visit my mother during the holidays tho, she's chill(ish, probably because I'm mostly chill myself). And I genuinely want to see her, boomer mindset (slowly in process of deconstruction) and all. It's been a few rough days in fact, but I don't want to dwell on them. I'm looking forward now, towards the new decade. I have several things in mind I became aware of during this time of isolation but they need to crystalize in the form of words yet. Good things, I reckon.
  3. 20/12/19 Yesterday I finished the bulk of my assignments against all odds, then in the evening I hosted a classmate and friend reunion at home (my apartment). We did this 'invisible friend' thing (I think it was called 'Secret Santa' in English) in which you get randomly assigned a person to gift and then we had dinner. It was a pretty simple thing and yet it filled me with joy. I don't want to sound cringy or like a victim because it's in the past now but, growing up being bullied and lonely, now being able to fill a table with friends that appreciate me for who I am is... it warms my heart. The spirit of Christmas, who knows. I know better now, I understand these people may be very temporary in my life because of our circumstances; I can't expect them to be my soul mates, but I do can appreciate that right here and now their feelings are sincere. I've always struggled to keep a tight group of friends, but it's clear(er) now the issue was more about "bad luck" (friends having to move away looking for work, life happening in general) and isolation from gaming addiction rather than specific, individual, social skills impairment (my 12 yo self would be thrilled to know!). On Friday I assisted to my last compulsory session, then I rested and went to a birthday dinner. Saturday was mostly wasting time, I wasn't really in the mood for anything, good or bad. I did speak with a long lost friend, and I must have surely made a terrible impression on him because I was dozing off during the call (my sleeping hours this week have been almost purposefully negligent). Then today I've been spending the day resting and tidying up the apartment in order to close it for the holidays. I'm proud about my newly developed housework skills. I may be procrastinating the time to return home, but also I'm a bit malnourished right now so I do everything slowly. The moment I arrive home it's my time to focus and commit for 2020 and the beginning of the process of literally building a new, improved person. It's doable even if it's hard, but I need to cherish the process and keep the end goal in sight. Whatever that may be. There's another thing I realized. Youth is ableist by nature. I keep thinking I may have strength to go out indefinitely but that is far from the truth. Every day I spend at home now has begun to feel like a wasted opportunity under my new mindset. When I'm old, if I ever am, I'll have plenty of time to sit down and spend my days leisurely with a book or the TV. I'm doing things in the wrong order. Now it's the time to get out and do stupid things, and I should be doing them if I don't want to live in regret later. I'll try my best to remember this.
  4. 18/12/19 @BooksandTrees You're right! People stared at me of course, but it wasn't as I had anticipated. And, here's the key, even if it was, in reality I can handle hostility much more... gracefully, than what I picture in my head. After this week I'll be on vacation so I'll be able to relax and focus on studying for January exams and hanging with my folks. Today I took it farther and chose feminine clothes with short hair (no wig) and without shaving my 35-ish hour stubble. It was a much more aggressive look and people were more shocked, but I felt I owed to myself that much. Like, I couldn't live in constant fear of how people was "reading" me, so I decided to step out of the box and outright challenge it. The day hasn't finished yet but daring to it felt pretty good. I'm much more capable (of rebelling and standing up for myself) than I think I am. I feel that I'm focusing a lot on this particular aspect of my life lately, but it's the novelty I guess. My social transition was fast (even forcefully so) and emotionally intense. The rest of my life (studying and such) is fun but maybe dull to describe (I could regale you with my personal impressions on Political Philosophy and Policymaking Theory if you're really interested lol). Feels like the closure of an act of this particular stage. End of the year, of the decade, of the assigned identity... like, it gives off a strong psychological and emotional vibe. Other people would call it "magic", right? It certainly feels like it. In December 2010 I was a 16 year old incel (both sociologically and ideologically) on a steady, no brakes course towards becoming a high-school dropout NEET. Today I'm a gallant university student and your most lovely resident queer (?).
  5. Today was the day! In the end I chose masculine jeans with a neutral sweater, no make-up and the wig. The no make-up part was intentional; I don't "pass" in any case so I rather show them a more casual appearance and make everything else look like an extra. "I don't owe femininity", I stan that idea. The reaction was positive. I'm not sure everyone put the pieces together but I told casually about my identity to the ones who did ask, so the word is out. It's done. Phew. I arrived home and literally collapsed in my bed for hours, emotionally exhausted. But I'm happy. Happy. More than I initially expected. Weird, huh? Who could tell good things could take me by surprise. Nothing much to add. I'm busy with some assignments. I feel I can finally focus on my studies again, but I won't be fully relaxed until I have a relatively diverse wardrobe of clothes, new social media and work accounts and have a more or less fixed average day schedule. The endless struggle, specially the last one. Busy but content. Thank goodness.
  6. This friday was the Christmas dinner with some classmates and even a few teachers. I used the opportunity to officially come out as Celia my Batwoman alter ego and the response was very positive. The look I chose was very high-maintenance so now I'm about worried about the high bar of stereotyped femininity I may or may not have set (because I'm a lazy one, and even I don't expect to wake up every day an hour early to properly present myself as I'd like everyone, including myself, to see me. Attachable womanhood, the way of the future...!) In any case, I do me. As long as I continue to deliver good results at class, teachers should be fine with me. Ironically it's me the one who feels insecure and people keep telling me it's fine, so maybe (?) I should take their advice for once. Dysphoria hits in those intimate moments when I'm alone with myself removing my wig, makeup and clothes, but I'm sure I'm also learning a lot about myself. Like, it doesn't feel as a charade anymore, or at least any different from my usual imposter syndrome. The man I see in the mirror in those moments doesn't look like an enemy now. He looks... fragile, vulnerable maybe. Someone I know, and to be honest, I empathize with, someone who needs to be protected and told 'It's fine, don't worry'. The woman I see is strong, navigating confidently among the chaos that is the world and my fears and embracing them, but deep down I know it's the front I'm slowly accepting I always wanted to show, though that doesn't make her less real. Deep, deep down, perhaps I'll always be that genderless child who was scared, and still is, of death (of the body or the spirit) and loneliness. That is the ultimate acceptance. Boy, girl, never mattered. Masculine, feminine, I always preferred feminine. But [beyond that] I have this task, to accompany this frightened child hand by hand to their deathbed. Sometimes it feels like too much. Some other times it feels like so much that I'm completely absorbed, to the point I can't even be bothered or hurt by whatever nonsense others may say or think about me. It's funny; in those moments is when I advance. The ones that feel insurmountable. Perhaps I'm fooling myself and I actually like to be alive and fight. Still it's tiresome and the soul grows heavy; specially for the ones with certain and overdone melancholic tendencies. Next up, some boring chores and a panic on Monday by not knowing what the hell wear to class. Forward we go.
  7. I could return to my studying place but I haven't been able to bring myself to class so far. I now recognize my mental health is not in a good state in this moment figures but I'm not sure what should I do to fix it. Right now I can only panic to be honest. I see the similarities with last time and before letting that happen again I could do something really stupid in any direction. I don't know who's the right person I should talk with about this and I have this feeling of not wanting to be a bother. I'm sorry. (I'm not ok, but I will be fine.)
  8. I arrived home... and relapsed. These were some really intense days for me. I had the endo appointment and everything health related came out ok as it should, so I'm cleared to start HRT, most probably in January. I spent some time with my boyfriend and mother and they physically saw me in my feminine presentation for the first time (they only saw me through pictures; remember how I used to hate taking pictures of myself?) We even went to meet some friends that already knew me and it went much better than expected. That's the thing. It's going well. Yet I still don't feel comfortable in my own shoes, and it'll probably be something that goes beyond what I see in the mirror, or how the wig still feels like cosplay. Something happened though. Perhaps I grew comfortable here again. More probably, the comfort made me scared again of going out and living, specially as "another/new person" even if it's a truer me. So I've been stuck playing video games during the last week until I grew tired and frustrated and deleted them. Now I'm in this shitty withdrawal mood and I even jeopardized my studies. Even when I'm not repressing my feelings like now, it still feels like I'm about to burst all the time. So angry, like some kind of primal fury that I need to get out. Feels like wanting to run until my legs give out, or punching someone I hate to death. When the horror, the anxiety and the sadness pass, that's the emotion that remains, and the one I'm most scared of expressing. I'm not struggling with presentation as much as I'm struggling with the fear of people's judgement of me. My native language is gendered, pronouns fuck me up every time. I don't feel entitled to use feminine pronouns, feels like some sort of trespassing. Of course I don't feel other trans folks are, and specially I don't feel trans guys are trespassing in my "old gender" or some bullshit like that. And of course if anyone came to tell me how much of a fake ass trender aspiring pedo drag show I am, I would fucking jump at their throats like a rainbow-sprinkled cornered cobra. Only the fag in the wig is allowed to diss themselves, get that right. But even with saying that, actually going out there and living feels like too much. Nothing I haven't complained about before, cooking, cleaning, studying, socializing, being "normal". I just need to breathe, calm down and do it somehow. Update: I was able to get out from my mother's house and took the laptop with me. My plan is to format it tomorrow (it's already empty of stuff) and place it in the living room of my shared apartment as common property. I'll ask my mates to put a password on it and open it without telling me when I need it, or make some system of weekly passwords. If it doesn't work, I'll throw it out the window and pretend it was an accident.
  9. Nothing to apologize for friend! Yeah, he knows about both. Apparently there were some hints early on in the relationship, to the point that he outright asked me about my feelings last year or so. I said I'd thought about it then put it back in the box until I broke down crying during a surprise visit to some (also queer) friends in Italy. I wasn't sure about how to 'proceed' back then (I mean it's not like I'm confident about my decisions now either) but he was supportive from the start (and still is, fingers crossed that he will be forever). About the video games, I told him almost at the beginning and he even reads this journal from time to time. I may even say and he may learn I had a conflict with him sometime even before we talk about it IRL just because I talked about it here before lol (so far that never happened). I loved theatre school and I cannot stress it enough. Loved it. But I quit it because I was scared to commit and took refuge in games until I was on the verge of starvation or suicide. That was the lowest point of my life. It felt like breaking up with a genuine significant other that was absolutely there for you but you treated them like shit and now you can't stop blaming yourself for being stupid and taking things for granted. Exactly that feeling. I can't go back to acting (yet) at least until I have my life in order because I feel it would bring back a lot of memories and trauma. It's the first time I admit that so openly in this journal. I'm learning to express myself more plainly. Anyway now I'm studying Politics and I love it as well in a slightly different way, so I have a second chance. I'm absolutely terrified to fuck it up by giving up. Totally a swan song and your analysis is correct, probably even more than mine. I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen at some point so I just can't relax and wait for life to simply unfold. I can do so many things in life and those are my responsibility (beyond unavoidable social and economical structures, etc.) But some other things, they'll just happen. Some of us will have accidents. Some of us (eventually all of us) will develop this or that illness. Some of us will have dementia or Alzheimer's and of course one of those could (or could not) be me. Then? It's not like I can predict if or when will it happen. It's not like I can avoid it if it does happen. And yet I cannot just fucking live in peace, I can't accept inevitability and move on.
  10. I remember I "wanted" to be some kind of genderless entity since almost as long as I have memories. If it's a sign of dysphoria or a projection of that subconscious wish of eternity rooted in judeo-christian imagery would be impossible to tell at this point but, would it matter that much anyway? In the process of finding and also building myself, I refuse to be defined by gender, which is nothing but the social narration of who is (and 'must be') privileged and who is (and 'must be') oppressed. I want to escape that dichotomy. Even if it was biology. Which is not. You know what bothers me? I think I mentioned it before. Since I was little I somehow knew I'd study Politics. Who knows if I'll finish it but here I am. I knew I wouldn't settle with "being a boy", here I am. I knew I would majorly screw up if I didn't have absolute confidence in myself and some kind of providential ability to somehow sense how my future in general lines was going to unfold. Then theatre school happened. And of course in the end I find myself following that schedule, the only ramifications my pathetic tries to avoid it (which, surprise, ended in major screw ups.) And lastly, I knew I would ultimately be unable to cope with the pressure of closing time and end my days completely insane, à la Nietzsche I guess. Well fuck, thanks I hate it. If it happens, please world don't give me that "HE lost HIS mind because he was a tr*nny" or similar bullshit. If anything it would happen because smart people do that, lose their mind and die. So I should really, REALLY focus in enjoying every day. Infinite reminder to myself. May sound weird but openly speaking about my magical/supernatural/irrational thinking and my doubts about my identity or purpose help me a lot to keep them in check. I'll be staying at home (back home) for a week or so, going to medical appointments, putting my university notes in order, hanging out with my parents and boyfriend, disconnecting for a bit in general. I think it'll do me good but I don't want to be at home with the laptop. At this point I'm 99% certain I'll relapse if I'm left alone with it, but I can't bring myself to ask my boyfriend to some kind of saudi guardianship. I mean I could, but I don't think he'll accept and it's also kind of a toxic dynamic. May do the trick for an emergency or two so I'll take it into consideration.
  11. "Later", yeah right. It's been a wild ride. For real. It bothers me a lot that, since I write from time to (a lot of) time, there's not really a feeling of progression between posts, only these "jumps". I'll come one day and say "I'm feeling great!", then next month I'll say "I relapsed!", then the next "Hey guess what I'm transgender!" and so on. In my life it makes sense because I'm focused on living it (or rather at this point, just getting through this stage works fine for me), but for any potential reader it may look like... "Dude, what the f*ck. Or gal, who knows what's going on anymore". On the bright side, reading my journal lately must be a constant surprise (?) Some key points from these last 2 months: - Today I made 77 days without computer at all! I still get distracted a lot because apparently I simply can't be left alone with an internet connection, but I consider it a personal victory. Taking notes and studying overall is harder for me without the technology, but so far I'm managing only because I'm smart. - Did most of the assignments and some mock exams for the semester and my teachers are showering me with compliments! I found a place where talking pedantic to the point of flamboyance about something you don't really know about is not only not frowned upon but ENCOURAGED. Is this Heaven? (The guy from History (the "cool" one, then there's the "normal" one) seems particularly enthralled with me. Thanks 15 years of 8+ hours a day of Grand Strategy games I guess...!) - A brief, weird, mildly dangerous and frankly stupid story with a middle-aged man was the source of unnecessary conflict between me and my boyfriend, to the point I'm seriously considering ditching all that free love talk and settle down under a conventional Triple H setting: Home, Husband and Hegel. And some cats of course. I was mistreated by that stranger, not to the point of violence but high quality bullshit nonetheless. - I came out to practically all the people that ever cared about me and my father (who now seems to care so I'm going to have to tone down a bit what I said about him in the past, not to hurt his feelings. He deserved criticism, but I was also bitter.) - I presented feminine for the first times and confirmed all my feelings and suppositions, which led me to... - ...coming out at Uni and using their inside protocol to change "common use name" to my chosen name. My legal name is still the same and my degree would reflect it, changing it requires another process. This change at university level will take place this week. And honestly, I'm terrified since I picked a girl's name and now I feel compelled to maintain a clearly feminine presentation everyday. More than 30 pages of intermittent journal must have proven that I'm terrible at consistency. On top of that, I've been also feeling more comfortable with my masculine presentation, now that I consider it a choice (actually emergency measure when I cannot present as girl, but at least it doesn't feel imposed.) So I would say those are my 2 main concerns: keeping a presentation (also adding the fun fact that I'm balding) and the potential harmful effects of HRT in my body, should I go that way. And if I calm down and think about it, those worries are not ultimately about 'who I am', but rather 'what am I doing here'. If I was alone in this world, I would not have a need for a name, or pronouns. Clothes, hair, accessories, would have no meaning for me beyond looking pretty. I would be in practice another part of the scenery, like the wind or the ocean waves or, you know, that thing that is not a rock or a plant and has existential anxiety at night while the other animals sleep. Here and now in this world, I don't think I've ever really felt that sense of "belonging". At school I was an outcast, at home I was alone; all my hobbies (and addictions), I did them either in secret or just by myself. Most of them through lurking online, with only brief periods of being part of a physical group of people. No sob story, just facts, context. Even with friends I have this fantasy or daydream in which, rather than spending the evenings with a trusted circle (still appealing sometimes), I'm more of a wandering sort, just dropping by and healing people in need with kind words, cold (no, better 'calm') logic and support. I get tired from people's presence easily, or at least moodily, with a lot of swing between social highs and lows, and that doesn't help long-term connection. It has hurt me, more times that I'm consciously aware of. At Uni I feel (very) comfortable, but I'm aware of the fact that, unless I dedicate my life to academia and flamboyant writing (which wouldn't be a bad choice), it will be temporary. Classmates and teachers will come and go. Me as well. And yet, it's the place I've ever felt most 'at home', so I really don't want to screw up, come back home ashamed and defeated and hide behind video games for the nth time. (Yet) I feel like doing just that a lot of the time because, I still can't cope with either living or (and) dying. I don't think I'll ever will, unless perhaps at the very end (I truly hope so). But that's a fallacy. It's all a fallacy. Why do I feel so invalid when I think about dying in pain or emotional anguish? I mean, you're dying, it's not like they give you bonus points for stoicism at the end of the performance. And why this obsession with living a lot, thus being skeptic of anything that would be potentially (self)harmful? I've wasted 25 years of that life. I'll be becoming older now. I'm still unsure about what to do with the rest of it. I get the self preservation, but what's the point of living a lot? Why am I so attached to it? What is it that I want to do here so badly? It feels sometimes that transitioning would be the vehicle or metaphor to represent this conflict. Ultimately it doesn't matter if I "am" a man, a woman or an idiot in a wig, at least that's not really my concern. In any case I would be taking full responsibility for living as who I honestly feel I am. So far existence for me has been a given. I just wake up every morning, realize I'm still alive, and to be honest, I kind of decide in the moment if I'm going to carry on with the day or not. Until now I didn't need to take pills to regulate my hormones or shave every morning or do this or that to keep the image of myself (for myself, not for attention) I want to live my life with. I didn't have to take full responsibility for living, I just did. Every day. Just here, wandering, lurking. Lost...? Facing that commitment terrifies me. The idea that I have to consciously maintain myself. Even if I wasn't transitioning, I still struggle with everything related to grinding: sleep habits, diet, exercise, study, work, relationships. Me. I don't give two bucks for me and my well-being and that's sad, sad and unfair. I realize the absurdity, it's easier to take care of myself than others, but I neglect basic things anyway and then I also can't face the rest of humans as well. I know that, but... Would I take the skittles if I was alone? Yes. Would I take them in a fully supportive community? Yes. It's settled then. My problem is not the skittles, or dying. It's... the feeling that it's pointless I guess, no matter which direction I take. Without the values of God, Country or Family it's partly understandable that I'm finding issues in grasping my arbitrary individuality, can't really complain about it, just the times I'm living and I'm OK with them. There must be something I can do to free myself from this feeling of emptiness. Dresses and makeup help however, so I'm not giving up those (?).
  12. @giblets Man, the feeling is mutual! So long since we last talked, hope you've been doing amazing. I was able to do a decent amount of studying yesterday and I treated myself to some chai tea (for reference, I love the stuff), then went to a promotional conference for a sci-fi publishing house focused on women writers (apparently they write sci-fi too!). The books are hard to find and I want to support the initiative (and read them too, obviously) so I bought a bunch of the stuff with no regrets. I'll go through them and recommend the ones I like. After that I received some very emotional audio messages from a friend I had not talked with for a while. She was using female pronouns by her own volition (I came out to her the last time we met) and it felt mysteriously comforting, so I shared with her the name I have in mind for myself, pronounced it for the first time out loud (in another audio), my voice was shaking... that sort of moment. She's an unusual and special person and talking with her gave it some sort of feeling of interesting adventure. Which is much better than the current reluctant unavoidable drama mood I'm currently sitting at (thanks LGTB media average representation of transitions, AND society), so I'll try to stick to this new one instead...! Finally I went out with some friends after what felt like years without doing it. They're also very aligned with me, so we had a great time. Wishing for more days like this. [Update with "today's" developments later]
  13. Heaven knows I don't want to jinx it but I freaking love what I'm studying. So apparently this is what vocation is, something that you like so much that you invest time on it, despite other things that you also like. Yesterday was a bad day and I stayed in bed, and yet here I am today. I stumbled across a short scribble (artist's pen name is Optipess) in which he mentions death. There's a trend with other artists works that I casually follow: sharing the same worries as them makes me feel comforted in the sense that my existentialism is, even if mismanaged, at least "common" or even "valid" (it would still be valid if I was the only one thinking about it but you get how the feeling works). On the other hand it triggers me in the sense that they are unsolvable issues and we're all equally "screwed" (the emotional implication is of course subjective). I mention this because, in the same way, yesterday I was feeling bad, today I'm feeling good, and there's no overly dramatic consequence aside from making my student life a bit harder if I skip a lesson, or making my health a bit weaker if I skip a meal. They are important but my point is, a lot of people deal with this shit. And I don't judge them when they talk about it, or even when it affects me (eg. someone cancelling a plan). And yet, why am I so harsh with myself when I'm feeling bad? What if it works like the periodic stage of an illness? Like an allergic crisis or something of the sort. I've considered this several times already, also in this journal, but I'm talking about really grasping and embodying the mindset. What if I could talk normally about it? "Sorry teach, I was having a crisis the other day, but I'm good now, where were we?", or "Yeah last week I had to stay at home for several days but I'm great now". Maybe feeling that I'm not "doing what I should be doing" when I'm feeling down is hurting me more than those periods of irrational desperation. Maybe I should put a stop to that, and to anyone who implies that "I should strive to be ok". Maybe I am OK, and this is my ok. I get physically sick less than the average person, maybe it's just fair (?). In any case, maybe assuming that this is my current and best possible "normal" is actually the first step towards trying (not sacrificing myself) to reach a new, improved normal. Or maybe this is the best normal I'll ever have and I should look backwards, towards everything I do have and take for granted. Or a combination of the two. That said I'm still struggling in the "cutting myself some slack" department. Wish me luck with that.
  14. Speaking about more general things, it's been 26 DAYS that I don't use the computer at all. The phone has become my main (and only) device and I still check it too much (with the excuse of needing it to check university stuff, which is not exactly false either), but the limited capacity makes it impossible to play games or getting too distracted and that translates into me almost being able to reach the standards of a functional person. Still lagging a bit behind in the consistency of meals and showers but getting there slowly. Downside is, I haven't learned to properly relax. At the end of the day, specially when I'm most productive, all the bottled up anxiety comes out and troubles my nights, and this is a real problem. It may have something to do with my mentality. I can't properly lay out activities for fun yet, and the few ones I do still look like chores or at least tasks. And the tasks never end so there's no satisfaction. I finished a work that had me worried for a week, I should be happy about it, damn it. Yet no, eyes focused on the next target. That burns out anyone in days. I need to take resting and recognizing myself seriously. Today I woke up, had breakfast (kudos me), went to class on time, everything went fine, was social, had lunch, then studied and finished this work, then returned some clothes I previously bought and got a refund (plus, I didn't panic since they were girl clothes and I still present male), had a coffee and went to my first Spanish fencing lesson (which puts me one little step closer to my lifelong goal of becoming a Spanish stereotype). Then had dinner (that makes 3 meals and a coffee in the day, for me that's still overwhelming most of the time), went home, took a shower before bed, was social again with flatmates, then went to bed. I performed perfectly! What was I doing 30 days ago? Playing video games all day. It should feel exhilarating, I'm doing the thing. Yet it doesn't and I'm sure it's "my fault". Recent issues with my boyfriend don't help either. Dunno man. I know it's a funk, I know I'm adapting (and probably still in withdrawal from the last relapse), I know it will pass but right now, i feel like shit. And even with that, I think I'm now closer to "happiness" than I've ever been in years. Life is fucking crazy.
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