Facebook died to me when I realized the extent to which I have to self-censor. Apparently I'm illegal and illicit enough for that to feel like a big comprimise. Whatever. That was roughly two-three years ago, and now here I am and I'm INCAPABLE of complaining about my boss in a text window, goddammit. There's a mental block, can't do it. Neurotic. The mood's already dead.
This cold weather has to stop. It was -1 outside today with wind chill. I have a new hat and scarf, but the cold makes me tired anyway. I drink so much tea and wear so many layers. Can't beat it. Only three more months.
I go to school full time and work part time now. I'm also going to need to put in 45 hours of volunteer work this semester, but I'm really happy about being this busy. Jesus Functional Christ. In fact, this is the happiest I think I've ever been. I know I said that last year around this time, too. It just keeps getting... better.
I still have bad days sometimes. Yesterday was aggravating, I clumsy-fucked everything up, spilled matte finish on a big pile of laundry, ruined most of it. Spilled a cup of water into USB ports on my CPU (who DOES that) and got pissed about it. Cut my hand at work. Computer still works, and we have five boxes of band-aids. Life goes on.
Fuck, even the holidays were good. Granted, I had low expectations, but everything's just been getting better lately. I'm not worried about jinxing it, either, because the good things that have happened lately have lifted me up enough to deal with shitty days by realizing that they're just shitty days, and I am now everything I had wanted to be as a young adult. Well, almost, but enough to keep me going. If you would have told me two years ago how together my life would be, I wouldn't have believed you and I would have been mad at you for getting my hopes up. I don't mind saying that, because I feel I've earned it. And being proud won't cancel out what I've worked for. In fact, this might be what they call feeling 'confident', which is a new feeling indeed.
I wouldn't say that I've had chronically low self-esteem... More of a mix of anxious feelings and guilt that prevented me from having any consistent sense of self-esteem. I'm starting to grow out of it, though. I'm not an awkward adolescent anymore, I can replace that identity with that of an adult who can take care of myself. The way it should be, and more than I thought I'd be able to say.
I won an argument with myself. If I list my accomplishments next to my fuck ups, the good list finally makes up for the bad. I can't rationalize hating myself anymore... I've proven to myself that I'm capable. And it only took 23 years.
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