What has my month of relapse taught me?

It can be an antidepressant, but it is unreliable. It dulls me and makes me less inspired. Though while sober I was hyper and a roller coaster emotionally, I felt I had more control then than I do now.

It is expensive. Really fucking expensive.

I do not focus on my goals. It makes life a little more livable; I am less inclined to put my attention on the countless injustices of the world. But it dulls the good things too. My books aren’t as intriguing, I don’t run often enough, and my energy level is lower. The first few weeks, the energy level thing was helping me and I wasn’t as manic or desperately unhappy as I had been the weeks leading up to choosing to drink again. But now it’s become habit, and it’s piling up.

I know I am better to myself when I am sober. I am hopeful this time around I have learned better tools to deal with others drinking around me, and I don’t want to be triggered anymore or allow other people to get to me (for example the spiralling thought pattern of “i just want to be normal why can’t i drink i can drink it’ll be okay i hate myself”)

I want to grow and become a better person. Alcohol is holding me back from that. Cannabis does as well (cannabis just makes me want to drink.) 

I can do this, I did it before, I just slipped. Not using tumblr, not focusing on worldwide issues, making my sobriety MY VERY TOP PRIORITY, all these things will work for me. I know this.

I must make it true.

Just because your pain is understandable, doesn’t mean your behavior is acceptable.

Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience (via alchemy)

my heart is telling me another hiatus from this blog is needed. it was very good when I restarted my Instagram, forcing me to consider each photo I posted and the quality and content. this blog is not like that and I am feeling the drain which IG doesn’t provide.
I’ll be active on IG and probably cross post here but I am deleting the apps again to help with the temptation.

flooding apocalypse dreams two nights in a row and then waking up to rain makes me really jittery and sad

You are 12. You’re at the library looking for some generic young adult fiction novel about a girl who falls for her best friend. Your dad makes a disgusted face. “This is about lesbians,” he says. The word falls out of his mouth as though it pains him. You check out a different book and cry when you get home, but you aren’t sure why. You learn that this is not a story about you, and if it is, you are disgusting.

You are 15. Your relatives are fawning over your cousin’s new boyfriend. “When will you have a boyfriend?” they ask. You shrug. “Maybe she’s one of those lesbians,” your grandpa says. You don’t say anything. You learn that to find love and acceptance from your family, you need a boyfriend who thinks you are worthy of love and acceptance.

You are 18. Your first boyfriend demands to know why you never want to have sex with him. He tells you that sex is normal and healthy. You learn that something is wrong with you.

You are 13. You’re at a pool party with a relative’s friend’s daughter. “There’s this lesbian in my gym class. It’s so gross,” she says. “Ugh, that’s disgusting,” another girl adds. They ask you, “do you have any lesbians at your school?” You tell them no and they say you are lucky. You learn to stay away from people.

You are 20. You have coffee with a girl and you can’t stop thinking about her for days afterwards. You learn the difference between a new friendship and new feelings for a person.

You are 13. Your mom is watching a movie. You see two girls kiss on screen. You feel butterflies and this sense that you identify with the girls on the screen. Your mom gets up and covers the screen. You learn that if you are like those girls, no one wants to see it.

You are 20. You and your friends are drunk and your ex-boyfriend dares you to make out with your friend. You both agree. You touch her face. It feels soft and warm. Her lips are small and her hands feel soft on your back. You learn the difference between being attracted to someone and recognizing that someone you care about is attractive.

You are 16. You find lesbian porn online. Their eyes look dead and their bodies are positioned in a way that you had never imagined. You learn that liking girls is acceptable if straight men can decide the terms.

You are 20. You are lying next to a beautiful girl and talking about everything. You tell her things that you don’t usually tell anyone. You learn how it feels not to want to go to sleep because you don’t want to miss out on any time with someone.

You are 15. Your parents are talking about a celebrity. Your dad has a grin on his face and says, “her girlfriend says that she’s having the best sex of her life with her!” You learn that being a lesbian is about the kind of sex you have and not how you love.

You are 18. You are in intro to women’s and gender studies. “Not all feminists are lesbians- I love my husband! Most of the feminists on our leadership team are straight! It’s just a stereotype,” the professor exclaims. You learn that lesbianism is something to separate yourself from.

You are 21 and you are kissing a beautiful girl and she’s your girlfriend and you understand why people write songs and make movies and stupid facebook statuses about this and time around you just seems to stop and you could spend forever like this and you learn that there is nothing wrong with you and you are falling in love.

You are 21. And you are okay.

a thing I wrote after arguing with an insensitive dude on facebook all day or Things Other People Taught me about Liking Girls (via samanticshift)