It also occurs to me that it takes more than writing and sex to sustain me.
Thing is, I spent so long judging my self worth based on what I could do, physically, on the things I’d done, my academic accomplishments, that when I stop actively reaching toward those things, challenging myself, I lose that vital sense of self, of strength. I don’t get my strength from other people, or how others see me. Quite the opposite, actually.
I have to go out and push. And with all the health issues, the spastic plane jumping and angst and trying to hold onto this great job and wow everybody professionally (and personally – relationships are stressful), I haven’t been doing the things that make me me. I think that’s what’s starting to hit me now.
OK, that and my sugar has fucking sucked for three months.
Yeah, well, there’s that too. And they all feed into each other. I have to figure out how to physically challenge myself the way I used to. It’s been a fucked-up three months, though. I’ve spent a lot of time running, surviving, you know? It’s like, if I just stayed busy enough, I didn’t have to think about anything.
Now I’m thinking, and I realize there’s stuff missing.
Math is hard, yo.
“Too much boyfriend(s). Not enough roller derby.”
Yeah. Just like that.