Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 1 of 2)

April 17

April 17

It's got to be a psychological thing, but it always seems as though the TV shows and movies I watch, or the music I listen to, is personally tailored to my current real-world situation.

I've been watching Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt a lot lately. Netflix released the new season on Friday. Today, one of the episodes I watched dealt with the end of Kimmy's first real love. One scene in particular was this very blunt moment of: "It ended badly, and the sooner you can get past the bad, the sooner you can move on to something better." After that, Kimmy deleted the guy out of her phone.

The episode was just like what Moira Nightingale had told me to do with Logan: remove the guy from your life. Move on. I almost deleted Logan today, actually. Almost wiped my iPhone clean. I'm not sure why I didn't. I don't know if I'm ready to erase Logan from my life just yet. I'm getting there.

For a number of reasons, my time with Logan really was something quite special to me. Nonetheless, it ended badly. That's it. I don't even want to say I got wrapped up in the situation. That's who I am. I'm a passionate person, and I was passionate about Logan. But, I also wasn't treated right. While a stubborn part of me doesn't want to admit defeat, I know that I was played by a smooth motherfucker from the Midwest. Fucking asshole.

I applied to a couple of jobs today. That resulted in a bit of anxiety. Literally all I have to do is read certain job descriptions or "qualifications required," and then I'll walk into my bathroom, stare into the mirror, and freak out because I don't think I'm smart enough.

I compare myself to a lot of my friends. However, the reality is that I'm not them. It's not even that I'm not "them" – it's more like I don't have that type of personality. Yes, I want a job. I want a career, and I want to do something with my days. But, fuck, man. All of these recent job postings make watching paint dry sound like primetime television.

I'm not meant for a cubicle. I'm not that type of person. I can't be contained like that. There's so much that I want to do with my life. There's so much that I can do with my life, and I know that's why I'm unable to focus on one thing. I don't need to rely on a single skill, though. I have a lot of unique talents. I want to write a book. I once wanted to open a nightclub. I planned an event downtown. Who do I know that would have even one of those interests or goals, let alone all three? I'm just waiting for my parking spot to open up.

Aside from the job stuff, I worked out and avoided my parents all day. Being at Casa Z for extended amounts of time makes me feel so many different things. I feel comfortable and safe. I feel secure. I feel loved. I feel annoyed. I feel like "Big Brother is always watching." And sometimes I feel like I want to move to another continent to gain the space and independence I want.

Being at Casa Z this week has reminded me of when I lived here full-time, and all of the reasons why I wanted to move out. I love my parents so much. Yet, something about our relationship can spark such an anger in me at times. Or a need to avoid them. It's awful. I barely talk to Dad. Today, Mom asked if I wanted to sit down and talk about work stuff next week, "Because we have such a good relationship." I told Mom that our conversations about work have been ruining our relationship. It's true. They have been.

I worked at The Store from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. tonight. I'm really beginning to think that maybe it's those shifts that have been making me so unhappy. I'm forced to bottle up all of my frustrations at work, only to come home and explode. Casa Z and my parents have essentially become a punching bag.

For the most part, work tonight was fine. After my shift, I came home, ate food, and stayed up way too late, watching TV until 1 a.m. Only at that point did I realize that I hadn't talked to Bryan since this afternoon. I felt guilty, so I sent him a lie saying that I worked late. Fuck. I didn't think about Bryan at all today. He's back from Saskatchewan tomorrow, and will no doubt want to get together multiple times this week. I'll probably have to lie about working again in order to avoid him. I don't see us lasting longer than a couple more weeks. I could be wrong.

Sometimes – and I do this in many different areas of my life – I will imagine a complete narrative for how I think an event or potential conflict will unfold. Here's an example. Today, while daydreaming at home, I thought:

"My parents and I don't get along. We're headed for a huge fight about work and my tattoos. They're going to completely cut me off. When that happens, I'm going to move back downtown, live my life, and never see them again. Then, I'm going to move to Europe and be as far away from them as possible."

Of course, none of that would ever happen. I adore my parents. Still, a narrative like the one above is a perfect example of my negative mind running wild. Although the thoughts are a little less dramatic, something similar has been happening with Bryan.

I've already decided that I don't want to marry Bryan. As such, it's sort of like there's a cloud lingering over our relationship now. I still want to see what happens with Bryan, though. Often times, I think I might be too quick to place my stamp of disapproval on something – or someone. On the other hand, sometimes I wonder if I should consider those thoughts my "intuition" and trust them accordingly. Typically, the latter prevails. However, I usually give the benefit of the doubt to the former.

Now, it's 2 a.m. I have to be up at 7 a.m. Great way to start the week. Although, I did just look at my Unemployment Insurance report. I've been approved for another two weeks! By Tuesday, I'll have over $3K in my bank account. It won't last long, given my rent and expenses, but seeing that figure makes me feel very secure.

Time for bed. No weed, and no Panic Pills. I haven't taken a Panic Pill in a while, actually. I'm proud of that. The weed will be a struggle. I'm not stupid. I can see all of the patterns that arise every time I start smoking weed again. I say it's going to be – insert excuse here – but the blazing becomes habitual, and I end up losing focus. I want to smoke. I'm not going to lie. However, what encourages my avoidance is when I remind myself of how low weed makes me feel when all is said and done.

Goodnight xo