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

October 15

October 15

I really do enjoy waking up in my own bed. Well, I typically wake up in my own bed. I mean my bed at Casa Z. I often have that moment where I think I'm in my Witch Cave bed, until I slowly open one crusty eye and realize that, while the space might be the same size, I'm actually waking up in a mansion with a cat I can play with, people I can talk to, and enough space to cure my claustrophobia.

I'm looking forward to moving back home. The thing is, I know that it won't be permanent. I think that's what makes the transition even more appealing. Moving back to Casa Z will be a moment for me to catch my breath, figure things out, and of course, have the opportunity to get up and skip town if I want to. I'll no longer have the obligation or responsibility of keeping an apartment downtown, paying rent, and blah, blah, blah. I thought about putting my place on Airbnb or subletting it, but at the end of the day, that's just a Band-Aid on the fact that I don't want to live there anymore. I don't want a temporary fix while I figure things out. I want to rip that Band-Aid off and run away. So, I'm going to!

After rolling out of bed this morning, I weighed myself. I'm now at 185 pounds, which is an improvement, but still a long way to my goal of 170. I had my coffee and breakfast downstairs, then returned to my room to put away some of the things I brought home from the Witch Cave. It wasn't long before I got distracted and proceeded to try on my Halloween wigs, dresses, and heels for the next 45 minutes. I have a lot of stuff at my apartment. Finding a way to fit it all into my room at Casa Z might be a struggle.

That's part of the "downsizing" I was writing about last night. The clothes won't be an issue. My closet at Casa Z is about the size of my apartment's kitchen. Still, I still want to purge a lot of my wardrobe. I don't want to own that much stuff anymore! It's something I try to tackle each time I come home so that I'm not stuck organizing everything in one day. I have so much stuff in my room as it is, and I'm about to import an entire second life here in two months. I want to be ready for the move. Ideally, it would be nice to sell a lot of things – Lord knows I'll need the money – but there are certain items that I am more than willing to donate, especially to kids I know.

Eventually, I threw my chunk of a body into the gym for a couple of hours and basically ran to Mariah Carey's "Heartbreaker" music video the entire time. I am very excited for Halloween. Obviously, the weight thing stresses me out to a certain degree. However, sometimes I think that I need a push like this to get my body in check. Halloween typically does a pretty good job with that.

I often think back to Halloween 2013, during that time when I was deathly ill. It boggles my mind to think that at one point I was almost 160 pounds. I can't even imagine being at that weight now. I knew it was unhealthy at the time. I remember during one of my skinniest days, looking in the mirror and being slightly horrified by what I saw. Nonetheless, the fact that I got my weight that low seems almost impossible at this point. Granted, it was two solid weeks of not eating. But, still.

Once I finished in the gym, I drove out to the tattoo parlor in Aurora for my long-awaited touch-ups. There are a few spots on the Sankofa and butterflies I had done in April that needed filling. In typical unorganized tattoo artist fashion, Sid was running behind schedule. After waiting over a month for this appointment, I was forced to reschedule. Oh, well. It's been this long already. What's another month?

I decided to use my newfound time for some Halloween costume shopping. I stopped by a Value Village and tried on a variety of potential "Heartbreaker" jeans. Some came close, but none were perfect. As for the pink halter top, I've commissioned an old friend from LA to custom knit the piece for me. Alice will be shipping it out at the beginning of next week so that it will be in Niagara Falls by Saturday, which is when Dan and I will go to pick it up. I'm not paying $45 to express ship a top to Canada! Anyway, considering I haven't seen Dan in about two months, I thought the road trip would be a good getaway and Mariah Carey sing-a-long moment for the two of us.

The final stop of the night was Jack Astor's for my goodbye dinner with the crew from The Store. As suspected, a bunch of people cancelled. Despite a month's notice, Holly, Bridget, and Madison all told me this morning that they couldn't come. Bridget was really the only one I cared about, to be honest. I could tell she was genuinely sorry that she couldn't be there, so I let it slide. The other two are dead to me. Goodbye! Courtney couldn't come either, but that didn't faze me too much. As Stephanie put it tonight: "Courtney's the devil." It was fine.

The dinner was great. There were ten of us in total. We spent the entire night swapping stories, talking shit about customers and old employees, and laughing. The funny thing is that half of the people at tonight's dinner don't even work at The Store anymore. However, we all developed such a close relationship after four years of working together that it's easy to get together and catch up. You learn a lot about someone when you work that closely with them for so long – especially when you've had ample opportunities to share in the misery that is the holiday retail season. If you can make it through Christmas together, you will be friends for a long time.

Surprisingly, I wasn't upset about the fact that it's all over with The Store. It's still a bit surreal to me that I'm leaving the company after eight years, but I know it's the right decision. The messages in my card were what really got me going. Alicia, Cheryl, Rose, and Donna had all written me incredibly nice notes, which I read when I got back home. To know that so many people see something special in me was amazing to read. Alicia wrote me a separate message in another card, which was so touching. I mean, these women are like second mothers to me. At one point, I was probably seeing more of them than I was my own mom. Helen was there tonight, too. I hadn't seen her in years. Helen bought my dinner, which was so sweet. Basically, the messages all wished me well, and noted that I am destined for something incredible. It was exactly the kind of positivity and encouragement that I needed.

As I said, tonight's dinner was great. The restaurant staff had me stand on a chair for my "45th Birthday" – a long-running joke I used to tell customers when talking about my co-workers – and we all said our final goodbyes in the parking lot. It's the end of an era. However, like Alicia said, "The door is always open." I can return to The Store whenever I want.

I went back to Casa Z, chatted with Mom and Dad's friends who were over for dinner, and then escaped to my room with Grumpy Cat. We played around on the computer before eventually crawling into bed together.

I feel – I don't know. I'm not sad as I used to be, but I'm also not completely happy. I know something is missing. I don't know what it is, though. I feel as though I'm in a bit of a purgatory state. I'm also okay with that right now. Anything is better than drowning in the depths of my darkest depression.

I still find myself spending too much time lurking people I either don't know, or don't want to know on social media. I wonder how long it takes for agony to turn into experience? I hope that, through everything, I will come out brighter than ever before. I'm also trying not to dwell, which is definitely easier said than done.

I'm tired. I want to sleep. I'm going to do that right now.

There. No more dwelling!

Goodnight xo