One day I’m okay. The next day I can’t see straight. One day I know who I am, and the next I am searching for who that person was. What’s scary is that I have been able to convince myself for so long that this is all normal.
For a long time I thought I was just trying to get used to my new job. I was just trying to adjust to my grandfather passing. I was just adjusting to the state of disarray my family is in.
Because before that it was just adjusting to school. I was just adjusting to living on my own. I was just adjusting to a horrible breakup.
Before that, I was adjusting to a concussion. Adjusting to a renewed walk with the Lord. Adjusting to graduating college. Trying to figure out where to go to school. Making sure I would get all of my credits to graduate. Adjusting to mom working again. Getting over broken and lost friendships. Mourning Stella’s death.
And before that it was adjusting to Texas. I was just mourning the death of Keith. I was just getting over selling the coffee shop.
It goes back and back and back and doesn’t stop. Because the bottom line is: this isn’t healthy, and it’s not normal.
As I was typing each of those things it was like living someone else’s life. Those all happened to me, but I don’t feel like I own those memories. If I was any less stable, I would probably be able to convince myself that those memories were planted in my brain and that I actually don’t own them.
It’s raining outside. My roommate hasn’t made it home yet, so of course I am freaking out… Only on a few occasions have I felt comfortable when it rains, since December.
I have such a strange response to light and sound. It just sets me off.