💔 U, ANX


Prior to making myself get to sleep, I thought it might be good try make an update on here. Again, I don’t really know what to say, but I’ll just start putting words down and see where it goes. Overall, this week feels as though it has held some positive progress, despite its predecessor’s ending note turning out a complete fuckmess. Sitting here, trying to rack my brain for any major catastrophes or catalysts feels more difficult than usual, which I think is a good sign. For the past month, depression and general lethargy — among other issues and setbacks — found my apartment looking like it rarely does. Typically, this place is so fucking spotless, were we not still winding down through this pandemic, I would say you could probably eat off the floors. While this can be an instigator to my OCD — not the OCD that non-sufferers like to casually claim to have, but the kind that can actually fuck my ability to just exist, and impedes normal functionality and fluid movement if not kept in check — living in such a chaotic atmosphere as it was becoming was starting to agitate my anxiety and lent a feeling of weight to my resting mood. Anyways, it was something that was long overdue and we finally got around to it. Our apartment is really nice, and while I’m excited at the prospect of moving into something more accommodating to two people, I plan and would like to enjoy what time we have in this unit.

Additionally, following a short hiatus, I reestablished my recovery treatment — another looming issue, which has had me feeling down in recent weeks. Feeling as though things have regained a kind of equilibrium, I’m eager to pick back up from where I had left off, only this time, with a better sense of what I’m supposed to be doing. If that comes off as vague, that’s at least somewhat intentional. Some things I just don’t want to put out there for the world to see, but I recently removed the password function from this journal/blog/whatever so I don’t know if I feel comfortable writing as freely as I otherwise might. Once I can figure out the proper code for augmenting the appearance of the password page’s typeface to match with the rest of the site, I’ll probably change it back. Anyways, this upcoming week is allegedly going to be really nice, weather-wise, which also should help with feeling more empowered to stay productive and enact some positive changes, both for myself and in helping Elle to do the same. Next on the list is getting myself back into therapy. For the time being, my general practitioner has prescribed a low dose of Wellbutrin, but I would like to be involved with something a bit more hands-on, in order that we can tailor and make necessary adjustments to my regimen, based on my needs — whatever we find out those may be. First, I need to actually start taking the medicine regularly. Whenever I first begin something like this, I’m always a bit apprehensive and nervous that it’s going to have some negative drawbacks, but if not for my own well-being, I feel like it might better equip me to be of the necessary mind to support Elle and get her feeling the way we both wish we could be. About a month and a half ago, we both looked into it at a clinic right up the street from our apartment, but it seems like they’re either grossly overextended, understaffed, or generally speaking, just don’t have their shit together. Not having our own shit together, whatever disheartenment we’d felt was enough to serve to put the endeavor on indefinite hold. There are a couple more places, which I’ve been meaning to get around to calling but as of yet, have not. This week, I would like to finally check this box and get things underway with this, for both myself and Elle — assuming this is still something she’s interested in participating in. Concurrent to this, couples counseling is something we’ve discussed looking into, so this would be an ideal opportunity for exploring those options.

It’s now the morning. I’ve gotta start getting ready for the day. Later this afternoon, I have an appointment to have some cavities filled, along with a deep cleaning — not sure whether they’ll get around to that part today, though I know that this procedure as a whole will be split across multiple visits. About two years ago, while living in NV with Elle, I some dental work done, which left a pretty bad taste in my mouth was a pretty traumatizing experience. While I know this won’t be anything like major oral surgery, leaving me in the kind of pain that hydrocodone did little to quell, it still makes me a little nervous. After that experience, I remember talking to my dad on the phone about it, during which he told me he’d gone in for a deep cleaning — he’s been an avid tobacco user for 55+ years now — and that it had left him in pain so bad that he’ll never go back to the dentist. Not very helpful, although this is a person who has probably been to any kind of doctor as many times as I could count on one hand. Anyways, I’m trying to keep calm about it. If I need, I might take some Clonidine, and maybe if I ask real nicely, they’ll administer some nitrous oxide on top of novocaine. Gotta go put some coffee on and get things moving. Elle is cooking breakfast, after which we’ll shower and paint my nails, because I wanna go into this appointment looking like the pretty, pretty princess that I am.


Gonna write some words now. I don’t really know what to say. I went out for the first time since the start of the pandemic, not counting the time spent bartending/managing bar at the last restaurant I worked in, back in the fall, when restrictions loosened for a minute. That doesn’t really feel like something worth counting, although the risks posed are somewhat similar — however, back then, we hadn’t a vaccine. Vietnamese, since it’s my favorite, and her second favorite, after Greek cuisine.

Anyways, Elle and I spent three hours, getting through the last of our phó and one beer each, people watching and talking shit to one another, as well as about every passerby. You know, I always used to resent those types of people. Fucking lingerers. This felt like a momentous occasion and as much as we’ve enjoyed talking shit about people who have been going out at every first chance and easing of regulation, I think it was something that felt long overdue, anyways.

Afterward, we hit up the market and I bought her a tie-dye plush animal and some garbage-sugar-coffee-energy drinks. One was drunk, the others will be breakfast come morningtime. Maybe that last detail isn’t so important to mention. Last night we drank too much and embarrassing as it is to admit, as though anyone really reads this, we got into a verbal altercation which escalated to the point that someone called the cops on us. Cops are so fucking dumb. The loaded questions they ask, it’s like they’ve never had a human interaction, much less a relationship. That’s not so much my concern as is my fear that my building manager is gonna kill me.

Anyways, I’m mentioning it because I think being cooped up inside for months on end is starting to wear us down. She’s been helping me so much with my recovery, which has also made it near impossible for her to get away from the apartment and spend time tending to her own needs — it makes me feel so awful and grateful at the same time. Still, we’re only human and overexposure breeds animosity sometimes. Getting out for a day felt so nice, even more so now that the winter weather is giving way to sunnier, warmer, and longer days. As though winters in the PNW aren’t enough, when every option outside of sitting in your apartment goes away, and the anxiety of knowing COVID case numbers are skyrocketing is skyrocketing... well, I’m just happy that things mig by be returning to some semblance of ‘normal’ soon.

Okay, I need to join her in sleeping here soon. She turned in a little early, and I want to start getting down at the same time as her. Another thing that will help us in feeling closer. Kinda wanted to fuck around with some of the CSS for this and https://tits.international, as there were some loose ends in the code that I needed to tidy up. Also, I’ve gotta get tits.international’s domain set up with ProtonMail. Also, also I’m gonna start rambling if I don’t end it now.


Currently, massive wildfires are blazing throughout OR and into southern WA, filling the Seattle sky with a foggy haze of smoke. Accordingly, making seasonally comparative comments about the weather with any accuracy becomes difficult – especially when I’m relatively in the dark on the actual status of said fires – though if looking skyward offers any valid metric by which to judge, I’d say things are likely still fucked.

Pretending for the sake of this post that I’m writing these words under normal circumstances — and since wildfires have been the OG new normal for roughly a decade anyways — this time of year carries with it a certain mood. There’s a kind of quiet introspection that lacks the weariness which accompanies this emotion, when you’re deep into the winter and stifled by a lack of vitamin D. It’s the feelings-equivalent of moving into Springtime’s laid back cousin, but most importantly: it’s fleeting and something that should be seized upon, should it slip away by the time you’ve even noticed it’s there.

So, I’m going to try and do just that – and hopefully by the time the sun is setting at 4pm each day, I won’t be sitting with the feeling of having wasted another season, in a year that for many of us, has felt like a complete waste to begin with. With a laundry list of areas in need of improvement, one stands distinguished from the rest, feels the most looming, and will act as a barrier to all else, unless nipped in the bud early on. Also, it’s likely to blame for how stagnant this blog has remained since its inception – to say nothing of my life in general.

Diagnosed with clinical depression at the age of 10 and subsequently medicated throughout my adolescence, my first experiences with chemical dependency occured during crucial stages of my development. With my genetics only serving to further offset my brain chemistry, addiction is a disorder which I’ve struggled with to varying degrees for many, many years. Beginning around 2015, this has progressed into something severe enough to impede my daily routines, personal growth, financial and relationship stability, and quality of life at large.

Periodically reminding myself that nothing is fucked and that, with work, situations can and do improve is massively helpful – and essentially, it’s the reason I’m writing this today.