After three nights of not taking Zyprexa, I’m starting to feel like myself again. I imagine that tomorrow I’ll be fully back to my usual personality, and maybe I’ll be able to do some good writing again.
I’m not feeling very happy right now. I had a housing interview today that went well, but they said it would be three or four weeks until I heard if I was accepted. It just feels like a long time, considering I’ve been in this treatment program for almost 14 months. This place fucked up my housing document almost a year ago, and it took eight months to fix it. Why would I expect things to start moving quickly out of nowhere?
Wasn’t I just accepting reality the other day for what it was? Why couldn’t I stay in that place of acceptance? Obviously, where I am is better than being on the streets. Why can’t I look at it that way? Where is all of that stuff about leaving here being bittersweet? I think I was writing about that just last night. What’s wrong with me?
I am safe. I have a bed, I have food. I can listen to whatever I want. I can play retro video games on this computer I got for free shortly after my last one kicked the bucket (which I also got for free). I’ve cut down to one cigarette per day from about 15, and it’s cheaper, and I feel better for it.
I should look at today as a good day. My most loyal reader sent me $100, despite having just lost her fiancé in a freak accident. I was going to be totally broke (again). I didn’t even ask; she surprised me. Not only that, but I did something that is putting me on the road back to independent living (the housing interview), and it went well. I made the interviewer laugh.
I don’t know; it’s weird to feel something and then feel guilty for feeling it. I can’t really nail down my emotions. If I’m protected by the universe (I am), isn’t everything that happens for my protection? Maybe this is the amount of time I need to be where I am to learn what I’m going to need to know when I do move on, which will eventually happen. I just need to be patient. I’ve made it this far; why can’t I make it a little longer?
I remember feeling this way when I was waiting to come here, and look how that all turned out.
