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Heyyoooo
I never, like, ever update tha "blog" anymore, but I needed to check my SpaceHey for the violin concerto link on my profile, so I thought that I miiight as well update the 2 people reading this (generous number).

So, 
as you may or may not know, my boyfriend moved away in the beginning-mid of August for college, and we've been doing long-distance.
However...
Last week I flew across multiple states, and took a trip to visit him!
It was ah-may-zing.
I stayed for 7 days (arrived early Friday morning, left the night of the following Friday), and- ugh. It was awesome. We ate good food, watched movies, baked and cooked, went hiking, did an escape room, went hatchet throwing, went to the grocery, took lots of busses, and like I said- over all an amazing time. I don't regret a single moment I spent with him in those 7 days. 

Did I mention I've never been on a plane before?
(I didn't mention it dw)

So, yeah that was a little zany. I'd also never* Ubered before, and my first experience was in fact, not with me in the car, and instead sending my boyfriend home in an Uber by himself. Glad that worked out 😃😀😃.

*I got into an Uber once when I was like 11, but it was with my family and for like 4 minutes, I don't remember like- any of it so it doesn't count 👍

I knew I was going to have to leave, and I had anticipated the moment, trying to gauge my reaction and pre-emptively counteract my sadness and tears- only to discover that I wasn't feeling that sad. I knew that I wouldn't be super excited to go back home, to go back to long distance; but we'd BEEN long distance for 3 months, and everything was fine. Why weren't the tears coming to me? Why wasn't I sad?
Turns out, 
I was. 
I was incredibly sad, I just didn't know it.
I suppose I was having too good of a time being with him to even imagine what sadness felt like- until we were on the bus to the airport... and the speakers announced "Next stop, [REDACTED] airport."

Oh ohohoohh. THEN it happened. THEN the waterworks started. I fucking hate crying. I never cry in front of anyone. But I couldn't stop!
I just leaned into him and cried, even though I tried to fight it. I couldn't. I just kept crying, and crying, and would stop for a moment, and then the sharp, short inhales would begin. Like my heart was trying to reach out of my body to hold onto him for just a little while longer. He sat with me in the airport for a while, until he had to catch the bus again (or wait like 2+ more hours for the next bus (that was not an option)), only for us to find out suddenly that he had less time than he thought. We walked out of the airport, I walked to the bus stop with him, the bus arrived, we said our goodbyes, and I turned around to make my way back into the airport, sobbing. Through the TSA line I kept getting hit with waves of emotion, and after I passed TSA, I called him. I called him and stayed on the phone with him until I had to board my plane.

Fun sidenote: I got a smoothie bowl from Jamba Juice? Delicious. Holy carpenter ants. It was so good.

Then y'know I got home, n yeah. That's the end of that.
The following day (technically the same day because I got home after midnight), Saturday, I got SLAMMED with 50 TONS of emotional BRICKS shoved into a PILLOWCASE. I had an entire-ass breakdown. It was set off by the drastic change in location, and separation with my boyfriend, but it kinda encompassed I guess any and everything that had been lingering in the back of my mind. I have an instagram account that's completely private, only I have access to it, and I use reels to vent out my shit- it just feels better to TALK about stuff, and it's stuff I don't really want to talk to anyone about, so it works perfectly for me! Good or bad vents, it's just kinda embarassing teehee. But I said so so so much shit, dude.
I was calling, pleading, begging for an answer as to why I am a failure, and why I have nothing going for me in my life. I was asking for an answer as to what's going to become of me, and over all questioning who I am in this life. What I want to do, who I want to be. Do I even have my own interests? Does anything I do really belong to me? Are any of my emotions real? Am I faking my entire life? Do I really enjoy the things I enjoy?

It was a huge pile of hogwash, but it all came out in one crazy crying fit. I'm lucky as hell that my parents weren't home, because I got to actually let out moans of sadness through my cries, I got to truly verbal(ish)ly express the goddamn pain in my soul.
I felt a lot better afterwards.

I cleaned my room. I've never seen it this clean and tidy, it feels good.
I feel good.
I sense a change in my life.

I think that break made me see things, see things in myself.

I want to change.
I want to be better.
I will do better, for myself.

Nothing is too far out of my grasp, I just need to work for it.


Y'know, on my trip, like I said, we went hatchet-throwing. And it sounded so fun and exciting, I was genuinely so intrigued and amped to try it. If I remember correctly, he went first. They for some reason only gave one hatchet between the two of us (later asked for another), so I had to watch him throw once or twice, then it was my turn. While maybe 5 minutes ago I was feeling ready and confident... once it was in my hand, I went numb. My anxiety started creeping up my spine, from seemingly nowhere, and whispering to me from left to right thoughts about how I wasn't good enough, and how I was an embarrassment. I threw it for the first time, and fucking m i s s e d . It was terrible. I was in my own head, yes, but I had also never done this before, I have no muscle memory built up for it! Of couse I'm not going to get it on the first try! But I am a raging perfectionist (it is something I am working on), and the fucking spine-demon wouldn't let me let go of the idea that I was shameful. 

I think after one throw, I handed the hatchet off to my boyfriend and was like "Your turn. Nope. That's all for me." 

God, I could barely look up from the floor.

He threw quite a few times, then would hand it to me, I would do it once, and then give it back. I expressed, something, I don't even know what I said, I know I expressed discomfort, and was like "I can't do this. I wanted to do this, but I can't do this. My heart is racing and I think my anxiety is acting up, I'm sorry I'm sorry. I don't know why this is happening, I know nobody cares about what I'm doing. Yadda yadda blah blah blah." I donno, it sounds about right. Bottom line, he knew that I was having a silly little panicked perfectionist nonsense moment, and would tell me that it was okay, and congratulate my attempts. At one point he hugged me, and I commented on how he was so warm, but apparently, I was just freezing cold to the touch. I was kinda sweating, so I replied that it was probably tied to a physiological fight/flight anxiety response.

I threw again, and he has experience throwing, mind you, so he was trying to give me helpful feedback, and it didn't feel like it was working, but I knew he was trying, and coming from a place of care. I "gave up" again, and he looked at me and told me something along the lines of:

"It's okayyyy. You aren't going to get it the first time, and that's okay. You can't just give up, though. I have experience, I didn't just get it right the first time I did it. If you give up, you'll never improve."

And while on paper, I know that, I logically, understand that, and could tell it to myself a million times, I always end up ignoring it, or "debunking" it.
However, something about someone else saying it to me. Something about him saying it to me... I took a break to recuperate my composure and wits. And I tried again. And again. And again. And while I did stare at the floor basically the entire time I wasn't looking at the target, I kept going.
Eventually, I got it to stick into the wooden panel. And then I got it to stick again. And again. There were a few (many) times where it didn't, but I knew that I could. That I was capable of doing something that I was so needlessly afraid to do, and didn't really think that I could do. 

While not permanently, my boyfriend somehow managed to help me tame that looming demon that would crawl up my back. Not entirely, whenever I'd miss the target I'd mumble shit to myself about how I was an embarrassment (embarrassing to admit, honestly), but I didn't allow those words and thoughts to control me to stop me from trying again.

OKAY! Let's take a breather,
after all of that.

The reason I went off on that rambling story-time tangent, is this:
Those words, what he said to me, the spiel about not improving if you give up, it has stuck with me in a way I didn't really think it could. And it's not a conscious "stick" either. I think it just nestled itself into a warm corner of my brain, and quietly lives there. My room is clean. I finished cleaning it last night. And I cannot express how big of an accomplishment this is for me. Today, when I got home from work, I picked up a few pieces of trash that found themselves on my floor, and threw them away. I took my dishes from the night prior to the dishwasher. I hung up my coat after I had let it lie on my bed for a few hours, so that I wouldn't forget. I took off my shoes, and put them where I had them yesterday; where I guess they're "supposed" to go now. After I ate my dinner, I almost left my bowl on the floor. I got back up, grabbed the dish, and took it to the dishwasher, and threw away the bottle I was drinking out of. Once I came back, I finished my other drink, and I almost let it sit there; I almost convinced myself "tomorrow" would be fine to take it down. But I told myself that I can't improve if I fall into the same traps I have before. So I did the inconvenient thing, and took another trip to the kitchen, and hand-washed the cup (not dishwasher-safe), I almost didn't. I almost left the cup for "tomorrow". I came back to my room, and instead of immediately hopping onto my bed, I got my clothes ready for work tomorrow, cleared my bed, made it all nice, and got in it.

I am improving. I am doing better.
I am making changes.
I am making improvements.
I got this.
I can do this.

Haha, this was just supposed to be a short vacation recap, but kinda turned inspirational? Oh well. That's the beauty of "blogging". I can just write whatever I want. Whatever thoughts flow from my mind to my fingertips. No rules here!

*also I am going to travel back for New Year's

Mkbye