Sunday, January 4, 2009

one year later.

here i year later. another january. another looming birthday.
another attempt at blogging.

i blame my post-holiday depression and the 25 degree windchill for my sudden state of self-reflection...but deep down i think it's because therapy is annoying and my free sessions are about to run out.

this is my 5th attempt at blogging, excluding my brief stint on myspace. there's nothing revolutionary about yet another 20-something single girl blogging about the trials and tribulations of being such. however, i'm going to try and stick with this and while i blog i plan on being painfully honest. if it's in my head, it's going to end up here.

i've had several friends tell me that i should blog...i've had several friends try and even request that i blog. now that i'm blogging, i'm not quite sure i'm going to tell anyone about it. (re: this will be painfully honest).

a lot has happened since my last blog one year ago. i've turned the dreaded 2-6 and the world has not ended (although on several occassions i thought it might...particulary one sunday morning after WAY too much champagne one saturday night). i've taken a new job and moved to new york city. i've adopted another cat (in an attempt to provide a playmate for my first cat...who is currently biting my feet while i type...looks like that worked out exactly to plan). and i've joined

most people wait until january 1st to revamp their life. i apparently do it whenever i move to a new city. i thought packing my weeknights with lame dates off would not only make me feel a hell of a lot better about being single but would also make me feel a hell of a lot less of a loser come monday mornings when my coworkers are talking about crazy parties and weekends at the beach. i'm still on match....but i'm fairly inactive. too many balding 40 year olds left me feeling slightly skeeved out. but that's a whole 'nother blog post.

so here i a geographically new location, but in a fairly similar emotional state to where i was 1 year prior. when i first moved to the city, i decided it was time to get this on track. i was proud of where i'd landed in my career, but i felt it was time to do something about the nagging depression and emotional hole in my chest i'd been feeling for quite sometime. the masochistic membership wasn't making me feel any better about myself (just worse about the male already negative opinion not really in need of any more encouragement) and the fact that the only thing i had going for me was a meticulous style and successful career was expediting the loneliness i was already beginning to feel after relocating to one of the biggest and loneliness cities in the world.

i wasn't in danger of jumping out windows any time soon, but i would be lying if i didn't wonder what would happen if i just "accidentally" got nipped by a bus.

first of all...the job i'd accepted under the pretense that it'd be a lot less stressful than my old one turned out to be a complete mess. within the first week i was thrown into a complete dissarray of disfunctionality. my boss turned out to be a bipolar alcoholic...there was no order...only chaos. i turned out the be the only full time designer as the other two had just quit. one was already out...and the other, who was supposed to be training me for the next two weeks had to suddenly leave due to a family emergency. all that was left was me...and i'd had a LOT to sort out.

sorting out said new job along with sorting out a new life in one of the largest cities in the world did not make for the smooth and easy transition i had pictured for myself.

and on top of all that, i decided the skurves was lonely too...and adopted him a friend. which lead to two at-home vet vists, one emergency room visit, and almost $500 on a brand new credit card to find out that he was just unhappy sharing a litter box.

so to cope with the stress and the craziness, i figured it wouldn't hurt if i finally sought some therapy. i got 10 visits free through work, and it was something i probably should've done a long time ago. i know what's wrong with me. it's just talking about what's wrong that i struggle with. also, it's hard to confide in other 20-something friends when they're struggling with similar issues and all of a sudden this intimate confession turns into some sort of competition between who has it worse. " think THAT'S bad? my boss told me today that we aren't allowed any vacation days...INCLUDING christmas because she's jewish! at least yours is just an alcoholic!"

so i went to the therapist. i cried. i confided. i cried some more. and then i became annoyed. i already knew the root of my problems. i didn't want to talk. i wanted to know how to deal with it and get over it.

(since i'm being painfully honest, here's a quick summary:
-my dad is a clueless narcissistic workaholic who left when i was 12 and yet i still crave his approval.
-i have extreme trust issues.
-i think i'm fat. even though i'm probably 10 pounds underweight.
-i'm lonely. i love and miss my mom so much at times it is painful.
-i have mild self-diagnosed exercise bulimia because i crave the stability of waking every morning before work for a 7 am spin class.
-i struggle to find self-worth.)

so here i am. me and the blog. the free therapy sessions have run out (and honestly even if they hadn't i probably wouldn't have continued) and i've decided this will be much more effective anyway. it's not all going to be doom and gloom...i promise. it's simply going to be all about me, and the way i see the world as a casual observer from the sidelines.

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