2020... fuck

31, single, engineer, artist, musician, photographer, witty, nonconformist, fighter, skateboarder in training, big thinker, daughter, sister, friend, baker, mystery lover, and a thousand more things I am.

Sometimes I let labels establish what I should be or have been by now.

I started this post on August 2020... And it's taken me this long to continue after just one paragraph...

Times are hard. I've been lucky. I managed to stay with my parents as a temporary stay before all the Rona shit... and then... obviously had to stay.

Lucky cuz' I've been taken care of, they've provided me with therapy (which I needed and I still do and I'm having), food, shelter, unconditional love despite my addictions, love despite everything else, love in all my healing, despite how I was. It has been hard on them, but oh God, I am thankful to have them.

For a good while I didn't. I despised them.

Yeah, all parents have their faults. No parent is perfect. No parent is gonna provide with all your needs. Even less if you're a Highly Sensitive Person and they have their own issues they don't know how to deal with whilst you're growing up.

But they've made amends, they've gone to family therapy with me, they've tried to understand me, even if it's still out of their range, they try and understand the sensitive person I am, and HOW I have lived certain experiences.

Last December I was on sick leave due to anxiety. One of the things they suggested was to exercise, to get out, to get the sun. As a consequence of my own recklessness I got an MCL sprain that may also have compromised my ACL.

I am slowly but surely recovering. On my own. By myself. I refused help. I wanted to heal myself and I'm doing it so good no surgeon could believe the improvements I made on a month and a half.

My knee is still busted. I cannot really do deep squats as I used to (or the asian squat if you will, which used to be my own comfort position), but at least now I can walk and I'm regaining my hyperextension on my knee, which my surgeon believed I wouldn't be able to regain ever again.

It's been a mishmash of a lot of shit. Getting a job, getting abused at that job, getting on leave because of that abuse, getting fired cuz' I was on leave... and then the sprain... a month without therapy cuz of the holidays... going back to old habits... but what I'm proudest of is being 6 and a half months sober of weed, which was an addiction that had taken over my life.

Every day is a fight. Every day I feel lonely. Every day is rough... but I keep going. And YES, I have it easier than MANY other folks, and for that I am so fucking privileged. But accepting last July that I was an Addict was the hardest thing I've ever done.

With that I just wanna say... Thank you. To whichever forces made it possible.

Thank you, for the journey.

♥