Progressing Vigorously

I’m an undocumented alien living in the United States. I can’t get a decent job, I can’t get around in a car, I can’t open a bank account, and essentially all these add up to me not being able to thrive in life like I could if I could try like everyone else. Schooling ended for me in High School. Jobs are these dead-end jobs like the deli job I’m working now. These dead-end jobs are jobs I end up working at for years. Full time. It’s not something I wanted for my life. Between depression and fibromyalgia sapping all the energy out of me and help being used up, I’ve gotten to a point where I was stuck and unable to make moves.

… or at least that’s what I told myself. After the breakup and after getting into this relationship, I’ve tried vigorously to progress. Even before this relationship, I was taking baby steps. I bought my own clothes. I supplied my own food. Sounds very simple and seems like it’s common survival skill, but it’s something I haven’t done. Ever.

I got new glasses on my own last week. Within this week, I went and applied for a new passport on my own. I’m exhausted by all these new progressions and I’ve passed out on the couch napping away and then sleeping the night away because of it, but I’m moving forward, and that’s what matters.

My new passport is going to be ready on the 26th. I can’t wait to go get it and start getting things ready for the DACA program. I’m not looking too far ahead, but I’ve a vague idea of what I need and I’m exciting to get them done.

It’s a nice positive cycle. Encouraging, and fuel to motivate me even further. However, this is like a stone wheel rolling along the ground. It is easy to force it into a crude halt. And it’ll stay there indefinitely if it does stop. I’m trying hard to avoid this.

I’ve learned being social is my poison. Having a social life is good, but only if you’ve either people who can be understanding or if you’re able to expend yourself into your relationships. I’m not saying anything drastic. Reaching out to friends once in awhile to say hi and to tell them what’s happening in your life. I hate doing that. And when friends come to me to discuss hardships, I give nonchalant replies or I avoid them altogether. I’m not a very good friend, and right now, that’s the least of my concerns.

My friend with the daughter recently reached out to me to tell me that I backstabbed her by dating her brother. And it’s fine that she feels that way. I’ll always validate anyone’s feelings. Even random emotions have a source, after all. Who am I to say someone should or shouldn’t feel a certain way. However, this was confrontation and I run for the nearest hole like a mouse when I get approached with it. Not the best response, but I do it. I will always apologize and approach it calmly, but if I feel the conversation has cooled, I won’t pursue it further. Which is exactly what happened. I apologized, I told her it’s not my intent to upset her, she told me she loved me, I said I love her back, and she told me it’s all going to be ok. That was apparently very wrong of me to not reply to that. She approached me again yesterday telling me the friendship is one sided and that because of that, I’m not a friend and that she reached out to tell me goodbye. I asked her how she’d like to work it out, she said we couldn’t. So I let it go. However, it doesn’t sit well with me. I’m still anxious about it even now and get depressed if I dote on the thought. There’s no real reason to, I understand it’s illogical and regressive, but I feel anxious. I’m sad. I’m angry that she’d approach this in such a manner. And I’m also sad I am losing friends.

But in my effort to combat the sadness, I’ve returned to facebook today. Not to socialize, but to mark my milestones in my life since I’ll have a ton of them piling up soon. Combat the negativity by forcing yourself to see the positive. Don’t count your eggs before they hatch, but count your blessings.

I’m going to live until 30. And then I’m going to try to 40. And then after that, I will try for 50 and so on. I’m going to continue progressing vigorously. I’m going to fight through the fibro, the depression, the borderline, the schizoaffective, and whatever label they’ve given me to tell me I can’t fight through life as readily as everyone else. I’ll get there. For sure. I must.

Catching up on my life

This year so far has been a big roller coaster for me. In January, my then boyfriend got into an argument over rent with our roommate whose boyfriend got physically aggressive. Not feeling safe, we moved into our friends’ house.

In February, he proposed to me. It felt like it came straight from the episode on Will and Grace where Grace tries to make Nathan repropose to him by making this big dinner plan between him, Grace, Will, and a made up friend “Mary” and arranging the seats to be Will, then Grace, then Mary, then Nathan. This effectively made Nathan say “Ok then… Will, you, Mary, me?” Yeah, the same idea except he did it all on his own. But I said yes and we had planned to get married sometime in September.

June rolls along and I find out he had been telling girls excessively explicit comments. Like telling a porn star that his one wish in life before he dies is to go on ONE date with her. Or telling a girl that even though she MIGHT never be his woman, he wakes up every morning thinking of how lucky he is to know her. Or telling a girl that his baby sister agrees with him that the girl is the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen.

Cue the emotions.

I angrily confront him, trying to stay cool. He’s defensive, telling me I’m being really insecure for no reason. I realize I can’t get through to him, then realize I had wasted the last five years with him (as he had other incidents where he’s talked to other girls about having sex with them and planning to meet them). I get very suicidal but not confident enough to go through with it, pack my bags, leave a note, and leave the house at 2AM. I end up in the hospital, my friends freak out in the morning because I had just disappeared, they create a search team for me (where they aptly decided to make it a Pokemon Go themed search party calling me a rare “Jenachu”). And the police find me the next night around midnight.

My friends tried really hard to support me emotionally then. They came to visit me at the hospital, they helped with my discharge, and they tried to keep in touch after I  came home. But it fell apart, as was expected, honestly.

My ex and I were keeping in touch. I was confused at the time, but didn’t think getting back together with him would be a good idea. But I would have loved to have had him back. I just knew logically that it wouldn’t be a good idea. However, me keeping in touch with him caused a lot of my friends to turn their backs on me. Especially my best friend at the time who had been with me through thick and thin since I was 17. She assumed the worst, took it personally, and to this day, she and I don’t talk.

My best friend from youth since I was 7, she has the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen. Her birthday was approaching in August. My friend’s brother and I started talking a lot before the trip. To the point where my ex felt threatened and texted him using ‘car trouble’ as an excuse.

August comes along, my friend’s brother drives me there. We really start connecting. It’s crazy that someone I knew since I was 7 or 8 is someone I never really thought much of. And how odd, he’s a remarkable person at that.

My ex and I went to Boston together in September for a mutual friend’s birthday. He felt we really connected. All it did was reassure me I wasn’t going to be able to be with him. I let him know once and for all after the trip this would never happen. He was devastated. And I felt like a horrible person for doing this to him.

Fast forward a bit. My friend’s brother and I are still talking. A lot talking. Every hour of the day, seven days a week talking. More talking than my ex and I did and more talking than I did with any other friend. Initially, I reject the idea of having feelings for him, partially because I was still wrapped up in the drama between my ex and I and partially because his sister approached me and told me she’d be very uncomfortable with it, and partially because he is her brother and I wouldn’t know how to approach the situation if we ever got serious and broke up. I think maybe I’m wooed very easily, but he approaches all situations so perfectly, it becomes impossible for me not to develop feelings for him and it becomes impossible to try and ignore it.

Fast forward some more, I’ve feelings for him while dealing with my ex’s nonsense and unable to pursue anything because I’m afraid of upsetting my friend. He and I spend more time together regardless, and in inevitability, we end up in a relationship. This was yesterday.

I don’t know where I’m going and what I want. I thought for sure I’d kill myself off by September and then for sure I’d kill myself off by October. It’s now October, I’m in a new relationship, working on a future for myself vigorously, and scared of stopping this momentum I’m rolling on. Because lord knows, if the wheel stops, it may just end up being the end. If it’s not the end, then I know it’ll take a long time for me to start up again.