I just read my blogs from a year ago, and they were surprisingly not as annoying as I expected them to be.
This month a year ago I was celebrating my one year with David, a land mark I'd never made it to before in a relationship. I was starting to enjoy cooking (weird, really really weird, I used to loathe it, so hard! that I wouldn't even help with holiday dinners unless someone held a gun (or pointy object) to my head, now I'm such a whore for cooking I drop my panties at the first sight of a recipe I know I can master) (sorry for that visual). I was lying to myself about my depression and not talking to any of my friends and ignoring all my problems... and I was on the verge of the hardest break-up I've ever had to endure.
But here I am, a year later, and after six months of therapy I finally have a firm grasp on what I want out of life, a plan on how to get there, and enough motivation to cover two pieces of toast.
Does comparing my motivation to butter make me sound like a fat kid, or what?
I no longer don't sleep at night, in fact I sleep and dream every single night, without fail (as long as I take my medicine). I don't have anxiety attacks that make no sense to even me. I don't dread waking up in the morning as much as laying down to sleep each night. I don't hate myself, and cry all the time.
I'm better, mostly, and I'm fucking grateful.
In less than a month I'll be in school. I've been looking at apartments... I've been reading up a storm so that I will be caught up before it is stolen from we by book learning taking precedence. I've been drinking, enjoying time with the people I love, drinking, and watching tv... mostly because when I'm studying my booty (hole) off, those things won't really fit into my life.
And I'm so excited!
A year ago I would have never believed I'd be where I am now, what a difference a year has made.