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So [personal profile] rydra_wong asked me how I learned to express my needs LIKE A MOTHERFUCKIN' ADULT:

I'd say there were probably some number of factors that I'm forgetting here, but here's my pathCollapse )



There are a number of things I haven't mentioned—certainly keeping this journal has also been a way of learning how to communicate, navigating various interpersonal dramas in my history, etc etc.

In the end, it all came down to whether I wanted to continue having the communication skills of an angsty teenager. I had to have a reason to change, because it wasn't and likely won't ever be easy—but worth the hard work.

I know that if I want to act with integrity and live my life according to my values: being open, honest, and authentic—communication, a true communion— is the best way to do that.


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This winter I appear to be bouncing back and forth between sane/numb erika and crazy/happy/moody erika.

Sane/numb erika are Abilify days.

Today is not an Abilify day.

When I take it, I lose my creativity, and some part of my intelligence. Maybe my curiosity... maybe something less tangible that happens when you go from being in full command of your intellectual faculties and then suddenly only have 80% control.

But I'm not crippled by overwhelming anxiety and suffering.

As I said to a friend, "it's like Sophie's fucking Choice up in here."




I go through. I continue. Persevere. I have learned the meaning of those words. To keep an intimate relationship, I keep more things to myself, and I have learned the value of privacy to understand the currency of communication.

Communication disseminates information and can easily lead to intimacy, and therefore is an important as hell part of the work in relationships itself.

In a fact that will surprise no one who knows my parents, the communication skills I learned growing up are largely limited to threats and control-freak manipulative behavior.

It's been a real fucking pleasure to have to learn to express needs like an adult. If I were in charge of The Force, it would be vulnerability that leads to the Dark Side, so that's been a real fucking challenge, too.

(That having been said, it's still unclear to me why I haven't been journalling. Just haven't had the time, really, I suppose. More entries, but shorter than the norm seems likely.)

Actually talking to your partner is fucking important, evidently. I would say who knew, but let's be honest, everyone but me did.




Esperanza. But I won't wait, while I hope. I fight, I scheme, I build, I try my best. I do it every day, and it doesn't get any easier, but at least it hasn't gotten worse. And I like the results.

Carve it on my fucking tombstone. it's not quite Dorothy Parker*, but "She always tried her best" will do.

*Wherever she went,
including here,
it was against her better judgment.




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I empathize too much with inanimate objects.

A month ago was [personal profile] panda's birthday. Since a lot of you are also friends with her, go wish her a happy 'new year', because holy shit I am having major problems wanting to leave the house when Josh isn't going with me. When I started writing this entry, I first said 'in a few days' then 'yesterday' and then 'a week ago'. Time goes so fast.

Oh yeah, and it's my birthday too today. So it goes.




I can now say that I do want to be poly but my heart says OMFG YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE JOSH. This disconnect is cumbersome, to say the least. Aside from the sexual shenanigans (you know me, you know there have been those), we've been trying it slowly.* Very slowly. Too fast for me, but realistically pretty slowly. There's been some miscommunication, etc, but I'm trying to live and laugh and learn from it, engrave in my heart that It's okay, that maybe it comes with the territory of loving someone that your miscommunications sometimes double fail. Like D&D: living with someone means you get two dice rolls on communication, but if they both fail or if one crit fails, you're both screwed.

* Not to say I haven't had more threesomes in the past few months than you could shake a stick at, and I can shake a pretty hefty stick, as it turns out. (C'mon, you know me, only innuendo where inyourend-o would do?)



I'm still working at the mental health place as a peer support specialist. It's pretty awesome. I have some amazing people that I talk to, including my therapist.

I went into the hospital for a few days about a month after I got back from San Francisco, in early September. Went back on Abilify. There's little to say about that, except that I wish I didn't have to, but I'm okay with it.

There are quite a few things I wish I didn't have to be okay with, but I am. I suppose that's what being an adult is like. If it meant I would post this entry today still, I'd go into them, but I haven't, because I can't, because writer's block at the moment.




I've made some more friends IN REAL LIFE. Time remains to show how friendly they are, but I have an actual social life now and it's amazing, you guys.

Doesn't mean I love you any less. Just that sometimes I need to see other people, and I promise I'll always come back to you too, in my own special way.


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Why is it so hard to update? Every word like the slow and steady drip of molasses and tar. (Pitch drops like dubstep. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.)


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I can feel the rumble of the trains as I wait outside.


Originally posted at Dreamwidth. Comment there (comment count unavailable), or feel free to comment here.