Here, But Not Here

I’m currently watching The Sopranos after it’s been recommended to me that I watch it. It’s been on my list of shows to watch for a while, but I never managed to get around to it because I’d always want to watch something else. It’s nice getting into something someone would think I’d enjoy based on past things I’ve liked.

If you haven’t seen the show, then don’t read this next paragraph (But maybe I’m the last person on this earth who hasn’t seen the show - sooo SPOILERS!!!). In the episode, Tony and Carmella are celebrating their wedding anniversary but they’re both unhappy. She’s crying at the restaurant and he’s managing his depression and unsure how to approach his marriage - basically he’s irritated with her because he doesn’t know how to manage the situation. Carmella is upset that Tony has changed because their marriage just seems like a contract between two people who aren’t in love but they’re just two people living together and raising a family. I get that. I think that’s a huge fear of mine. Commitment. I’m not exactly afraid of it but I’m afraid that after time passes it’s not what it was before. I don’t know. I find these characters easy to relate to. I like the complexities of them and how relatable they are. Maybe it’s best that I waited this long to watch it because of where I am now from being in therapy.

Therapy. Ah yes. I love it. For real, I do love it. I have the blessing of being able to text my therapist sometimes when something MAJOR happens. For a while I was beginning to see my therapist weekly because my anxiety and depression were becoming unmanageable - I could still function in my every day life but I would cry every day and I felt empty. I journal in between sessions, even after I meet with my therapist, and I try my best to use the emotional tools I’m equipped with. It can sometimes be overwhelming because I’m still going through stages of not wanting to do anything because of how often I’ve been reevaluating my life.

So much has changed since 2017. I feel my breakup really impacted me, especially the months leading up to it. I was listening to music I listened to heavily in that year and I don’t feel that same connection to it as I did when I listened to it originally. That isn’t to say I don’t enjoy the music, because I do, but the me then isn’t the same as the me now. Now, I have a whole new set of issues. I’m always evolving. I don’t feel like I’m standing still anymore but I do feel a resemblance of feeling “stuck.” I do feel stuck because I kind of don’t know what to do next. I’m not feeling as cemented as I was before, but I feel like I’m just not sure which direction to go. I’m rambling now.

Anyways. These are things I’ve talked about in therapy and I feel overwhelmed but better than I did in late May (which is why I didn’t write at all in here because I was basically crying my eyes out every day for a month). I’m still upset about things because of the unfairness of life, but I feel like I can handle it better while also not knowing how. Does that make sense? It’s strange how you can manage pain when you allow yourself to feel it. I feel it, so intensely. And for a while I felt alone, and I know I am still alone in a way but I don’t feel scared about it anymore. I do like being alone, but being alone and not being able to channel my emotions got to me.

I drew for the first time last week and now I’m stuck on what my color palette will be for my drawing. Fucking great. But at least I’m thinking about it. I began drawing that little fox during a meeting because I was waiting for my turn to share my work progress. I had to draw it. I feel like I’ve become more disciplined with my drawing, but I’m still learning on how to make it a nice drawing. I’m exciting what the colors will be, but still not sure what it’ll be. I want to keep doing neon/bright colors but I’m not inspired yet. Damn. Anywho. I’m drawing and I want to keep drawing.

Buuuuuuut that’s the awesome (note the sarcastic tone) about depression and anxiety. No matter how much you want to do something for yourself, you won’t always do it. Being okay with it honestly sucks, but I feel like that’s what happens when you’re shedding your old skin to becoming your new self. You’re still “yourself” but you become more. Or maybe you become less. I’m not sure what I am, but I’m becoming something. I’m me, but I’m not so much be anymore. Isn’t that a bummer when you realize there’s more to life than you thought it was? Self-awareness is a beautiful thing, but if it ain’t a bitch sometimes.