So I had more fun rearranging my room, alone, while watching How I Met Your Mother season one last night, than I did tonight on holidays of holidays, Cinco de Mayo.
Now don't get me wrong I had a good night overall. I hung out with someone I wanted to get to know better and met new people. I got to see more of my new neighborhood. BUT-to be honest- I came home disappointed. I've had this feeling lately of, oh well, maybe next time every time I've gone out since being sober.
Tonight, I picked out a flattering outfit, did ma hair and got some energy drink in my system before going out with semi high hopes. I missed going out. I missed the dancing, the flirting, the fun and excitement that I remember having when going out in the past.
But like with everything else in my life lately, it wasn't as good as I remember it.
I mean I always get dressed up and for what? To get hit on by sloppy guys, or more likely have them talk to me first so they can get to my friends.
I wore my favorite boots so I could dance but ended up utilizing them mostly to jump over splatters of puke.
I was excited to ... get rubbed up on by way too many people?
To get bitchy looks from girls that are intimidated by my extremely good looks.
Yay?
Most of these nights are filled with questions. "What did you say?" "Where are we going next?" "Where's my drink?" "Are they hot?" "How are we getting home?" "Where are we again?" "Wait really...where's my drink...?"
And even if said questions are answered they get asked again and again.
At first I thought I was more laid back than this. I thought I was social-able enough, witty enough and cool enough to be Awesome at bars with drunks. I'm finding that after an hour into it I'm annoyed and over it.
I mean for goodness sakes I came home and BLOGGED about my FEELINGS.
WTF.
A lot of things aren't cutting it for me anymore.
Like the whole binge purge cycle. It is not what it used to be. It doesn't free me. Doesn't relieve anything. Just hurts emotionally and physically.
Trying to believe in (sigh) true love. Getting really into a guy and believing all the shit he tells me. Thinking that maybe he's different. Maybe if I just trust this one and put my all into it it'll work. And about three months into it he stops talking to me and I'm back at square one.
The only thing that shows a bit of hope in this seemingly relentless cycle is work.
Almost every job I had wasn't cutting it. I wanted to leave as soon as the bell rang. However, something has changed. Something was nagging me and telling me that it was ok to not hate my job, not want to isolate, not NOT believe in myself.
Lately I am finding myself wanting to make work enjoyable. Get to know my coworkers, get comfortable in my space, my role, who I am to the company and grow from there. I am reading books on how to do my job better and researching other outlets. I'm putting effort into the things that feel right rather than fight them. . .
And by pushing myself to go out and try to convince myself that it's fun isn't working anymore. Hurting instead of loving myself isn't working anymore.
Letting guys in, trying "just this one this one last time" isn't working anymore.
And yet, while the answer seems obvious, I feel it is complicated.
I can't NOT hang out with my friends. I mean there's only so many times I can rearrange my room.
I'm not sure how to live without my diseases.
I don't want to give up hope on true love.
WAH.
And even as I write this last call just got out and I can hear everyone in the streets. I feel so distant from them and that life but where does that leave me? I know what I know and I don't like what I know, but I can't know what I don't know.
Yaddidah?
So that's where I'm at. Stuck in a place where I know something is wrong but I'm not sure what is right.
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