Ready for it

I am ready for the coming year, the challenges and victories and losses. I don’t know what to expect but I don’t want to hesitate. I have so much to be grateful for despite the state of this country and the violent reality of daily life. I’m still here and I want to continue rallying for what I believe is most important.


I want to nurture my creativity and drive. I want to continue even when it’s hard. I want to be relentless in my pursuit of my goals.


How Far I’ve Come

I made it. Here I am after my first semester of graduate school. I survived… More than survived, I worked my arse off for high marks in my courses. It’s hard to believe all that time, all that writing and relearning/learning that occurred. How everything will continue and I will continue to evolve in my academic and professional career. I can hardly believe it, it’s happening.

Indeed, more has happened. Romantically, my life is unlike anything I ever imagined. The serenity I feel in love with Stephen and the support, it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced. For some people love is meant to send them in an obsession but for me that’s too unhealthy. I find peace and affection with Stephen, we make plans and that come together even if it’s not the way we envisioned. When I fall apart, he’s there to hold me and search for a solution as my equal.

I feel like I can see our life together and it’s so real, so loving, so adventurous.

I am hoping to accomplish even more. One regret I had of this past year was the lack of writing I did. I sort of put that to the way side and I continue to struggle to write creatively on a regular basis. Now that I am on holiday, I hope to find a way to incorporate a way to write for fun and not only for school. We shall see. Here’s to the Christmas and the joy it’ll bring. On to more goals and achievements and failures and snafus with my love and my family and friends.

Past Lives

I can’t explain it properly at all.

It’s happened in dreams and when I walk around a city. Most recently it happened when I saw a photo from someone’s powerpoint.

That strong feeling that I had been to that place before. I had seen it with my own eyes when I have not visited in this lifetime. What is that feeling? This sensation that a city or structure is so familiar. That I know a place intimately despite never having set foot there.

Could it be past lives?

There’s this sense of connection and recognition. I can’t explain it but it’s there deep down, I feel it in my soul.


I am struggling. I love school, I’m so happy in my relationship and my friendships. I am working hard. Nothing is perfect but this is where I want to be. Yet somehow my trichotillomania has broken new records of least amount of eyelashes and eyebrows I’ve had in my entire life. Is it the stress of graduate school and these high expectations for myself? Is it the lack of control in a world that seems to be falling apart? Is it being too busy? Is it not earning enough money? Is it that this is the best I’ve ever felt and my compulsion decided to kick into overdrive?

So many causes but no clear solution. Many people think stopping is as simple as that. But it’s not, it’s like telling an alcoholic to stop drinking or an anorexic to eat a burger. It’s not realistic or practical. This is a disorder, there’s something within me that won’t let me escape in a healthy way. I go to my eyelashes or my eyebrows and soothe myself that way. I do it knowingly, other times completely involuntarily.

What doesn’t change is the guilt and the fact I will do it again and again. I feel this sense of shame and I was hiding it from my boyfriend. The secret burned too heavily, I’ve shared so much with him. I had to explain why as content as I am, I’m not exactly pleased with myself just yet.

I’ve been down this road so many times, this road to recovery and then back to relapse. I want to know what it’s like not to crave the pain of trich to replace whatever I’m carrying.

The Greatest

Ok sidenote, how is it that I tend to come onto my blog on a monthly basis without even knowing? It’s like I have this body clock of “I should blog” alarm going off. Wish it happened weekly, Jesus!

Anyway, I’m here not even a month into graduate school. It’s weird, cool, and teaching me a whole lot about myself. First of all, ain’t nobody going to make me do the work except me. It’s difficult to hold myself accountable. I found that I need to wake up and get out of the house or else I won’t start doing my work until nightfall. It’s a funky process. I’m super into what I am learning at school. That’s always a plus because it means I am in the right place.

It’s been tough going because I’ve had a hard time focusing. The lack of a routine has been throwing me off. I work when I can but I’m doing my best to put school first so I can get accustomed to my workload before taking on other jobs. It feels like I’m in the grad school bubble which is a bit sucky because I see my friends less and I haven’t been able to check in with family during all these natural emergencies. I’ve got this tunnel vision for this course.

One relief? It’s my significant other. He’s been incredibly supportive and we’re in this calm, lovely place in our relationship. We did all the muddling through and we’re still discovering new things to put effort to all the time, yet we’re so incredibly in tune with one another. It’s huge for me to have someone that gives me peace. To have this healthy relationship is such a blessing even when he peeves me, hah. We can just be and plan and do. I like that so much.


Lately, I’ve been feeling crushed. Crushed by this feeling of impending failure. This doom and gloom cloud that follows me as I get closer to the fateful start of my new life. I’m terrified, the excitement is giving way to absolute terror.

I’m already uninsured because my last workplace decided to fuck me out of my plan before my contract ended. That means no therapy sessions or meds until I hear back from Medicaid because now I am Medicare eligible. On top of that, I will probably have to say farewell to my therapist because her practice doesn’t accept Medicaid. No sertraline or lorazepam until I get my paperwork sorted so. I have enough for not even a week. I’m already losing it a bit, probably from the increased panic. I’ve fixated and obsessed a few times this week. I’ve cried feeling overwhelmed when things aren’t even bad. 

Luckily, Stephen has been receptive and despite him displaying a lack of empathy a couple of times he always comes around. I really appreciate that about him. We had a chill movie night and he gave me lots of love and cuddles and food. I am just worried about time management. I’ll have classes, no meds, working as much as I can, and barely any time to see him. How will I make it work?

The pressure is crushing, everything feels like it’s closing in. My therapist texts me to take it one step at a time but I feel like I am falling into despair. When I have orientation for my school, I am going to bring up the Medicaid issue because I know I won’t be the only one.

Before I Go To Sleep

Ok, it’s been awhile I know this. I have been to London and Colorado and now I’m chilling on my bed in Chicago, I am pretty fortunate this summer.

I’ve been reading this book called Before I Go To Sleep and it’s the 13th book for me this year. It’s a big deal last year I wanted to read what like 25 books? I didn’t make it and this year I decided to start lower and do 12 that meant 1 a month. I’m already ahead of the game which is cool. So this book I’m reading Stephen recommended because I love thrillers.

The main character, Christine, forgets her memories every night and wakes up barely remembering much aside from childhood and snippets of university life. So she wakes up believing she is 21 or sometimes a little older and it turns out she is middle aged and has a husband. Things get shady because she starts to keep a journal and has a doctor friend who calls her each day to follow up. Turns out her husband is keeping details of her life from her, such as the fact she was a writer and they had a son together. Makes you wonder who she can trust.

It made me think of what I remember and what we forget, memories are an interesting thing. Especially because we remember things differently and sometimes our version can differ from someone else’s, so she feels she can’t rely on her memories fully.

It made me think of my memories with Stephen, the beautiful moments we share and the difficult times when we disagree. I feel relief, this huge relief that I have someone that I can trust and cares for me. Someone I can go to with my facts and feelings. And books of course. I’m about to embark on this stressful time of my life going to grad school and I’m glad he’s my home base because I’m gonna be going mad come autumn. I am going to remind myself that writing is one of my best ways to cope just like it is for Christine!


I am going to London next week for the first time. I am attending a dear friend’s wedding and I’m thrilled. It’s a solo trip and I’ll admit I have nothing in the books per se. Probably the only thing in mind is the Tate Modern because my boyfriend knows how much I love art. Everything else I am leaving up in the air so I likely won’t see all the famous tourist traps. I just want a time to be and get lost as well as meet up with some locals. Lots of my friends will be in town and it’s going to great to be in a place that I don’t know well. In contrast to my Arizona trip, I have saved up money and I have been working some side gigs to be able to gallivant. There is this tiny part of me that says “you don’t wanna miss out on ALL London has to offer”, but another part of me says “let’s take a long bath in the hotel and walk dogs all day”….

I was looking at experiences on Airbnb, it’s a new feature where they sell a little outing or excursion like ceramics, street art tours, scarf making, and flower workshops. It’s unique to their site whereas you usually book a place to stay now you can book an event. It intrigues me and Stephen assures me there is plenty enough to do in London, however it has me thinking. I would love to make a scarf or learn how to make a proper flower crown. One thing’s for sure, I am definitely going to be buying and drinking tea.


This is a confession I wrote randomly one day, possibly months ago when I thought of my compulsive klepto tendencies of my youth that can still pop up…

I used to steal a lot of things as a kid. Nothing too pricey just those… small things like Barbie clothes, accessories, then it grew to cheap jewelry, a hand mirror my cousin adored, a brand new wallet someone had for show and tell… sometime si didn’t even want the things i stole. I just wanted them because someone else liked them so. I decided impulsively that maybe i’d like it. Funny enough usually I’d give those stolen items as gifts.

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Scar Tissue

Wow can it really be?

I have made it this far. I’m still here. I’m alive. I’m in a healthy relationship. I am taking care of myself better. I have goals. I am going back to school. I still have so much I want to do. I’m not completely on my shit like I haven’t written fiction properly since NaNoWriMo last year and I think about how I used to write some stories nearly everyday or every other day because of a message board I was apart of. Honestly, it was good I wrote there but I felt it took me away from my real life too much.

Now I want to revisit that fantasy world, those stories left unwritten.

Today I was taking a shower and I shaved my legs (it’s summer soon…) once I dried off to put lotion on I look at an old scar. This scar has faded significantly. In its infancy it was this pulsing burn that accompanied the pained memories of that first violent act between my ex and I. I remember how it looked like it would never heal. I thought my legs are ruined with veins and hair and cellulite now this constant reminder of what he did. It felt it wouldn’t even turn into a scab. I asked my sister in law for help and she recommended using honey as an antibacterial. It would help dry it out. Which it did. Months later I had this white spot on my knee and I felt even more self-conscious of it. A year passed and I hadn’t left him yet.

Two years after, I was free yet heartbroken. On a whim, I flew to New Orleans and I wasn’t thinking about my scar as much as I wore shorts. I was happily distracted with my new paramour.

Three years now, I forgot about it.

The end of this month will mark four years since that fateful night and I look at my knee. It is barely noticeable. I thought it would mark me forever and now I feel like myself again. Still imperfect with veins, ingrown hairs, cellulite but different scars while thoughts of that night drift further away. I still think about him every now and then.

I see the coral I picked up from Hawaii, a trip I took when I loved him. I remember picking up these stones and coral, I was alone on that beach because we were already quarreling so much. I wondered if I should discard them but I remembered I picked those rocks for me, not to remember him. My curiosity got the better of me recently and I looked him up. Despite that, I am so relieved that he’s not apart of my life anymore. Like so fucking relieved.