Today I woke up happy. After talking to the cafe guys about work and life and tasks… I had an amazing time with them.
I cleaned, served, cooked… had fun. I even interacted with customers.
And then I spent the rest of the evening talking to the waves. They playing at my feet matching the rythym of my breathing.
Watching the sun set into that gorgeous sea… with the waves at my feet… music in ears… wind in my hair… I celebrated my first day after birth. :-)
Thank you life for a new lease🙂
I kicked myself emotionally to get my shit together.
So… I got up. Dressed up in a pretty dress. Even wore some make up and set forth.
I rode around for a couple of hours singing along with my music. I enjoyed the wind in my hair, staring at the beach in the darkness and singing out to my heart’s content. I couldn’t help but smile. Then I went to an amazing restaurant and ordered an amazing beef ravioli and wine.
I ate my first ever restaurant meal alone listening to music and reading a book.
Today I took my first step towards becoming me.
Then I decided to go to a quaint homely cafe for a slice of their home made cake. But alas. They were closed for the day. The bakery opposite the cafe didn’t have bibinca either, a famous Goan sweet.
So instead of mourning at home, I decided to ride around listening to music.
That’s when 3 guys on a bike started following me. Luckily for me another guy on a bike started riding alongside me until the bike guys sped off.
I thanked the guy who coincidentally is from Kerala. He rode alongside me for a while longer… hoping I’d hook up with him I think… and then bought me a chocolate from a local shop, caught up with me and gifted it. For my birthday.🙂
So… scary and unsafe… yet yaaaay.
Here’s to becoming more me every day🙂
I want to go out. Ride around. Eat a nice meal. Wear a dress. Listen to music.
But all I’m managing to do is to lie here crying and watching Gilmore girls white junking.
This is no way to celebrate my birthday.
How do I stop being lazy?
Yes today is my birthday. And happy birthday to me. But after days of shit, conversations, realisations, acceptance… I’ve realised all alone. Not just today.
I’ve been so tired with just the act of survival that I started expecting help for everything else. For my emotional baggage, financial needs, physical… everything.
But my problems are my own. My baggage, my bipolar, my insecurities are all my own. If I find someone who can help me and not hold it over my head, then great. But if not, it’s great too. Expecting help isn’t me. I used to be independent. Self sufficient. Now I’m not even a self. Leave alone being sufficient.
I have been craving for people to make me feel special. For being me. For getting better. For completing 1.5years of no medication or therapy. For not killing myself or someone else every day.
But I myself don’t appreciate these things. I don’t love myself or think I’m special. Then why should someone else? Why would they?
So today, I’m born new. No strings attached. Coz this time, I don’t even have an umbilical cord to cut off!
Somebody call me. Help me. Please.
Happy birthday to me!
30 years of surviving. Lonely. Alone. Failure. Miserable. Jealous. Mean. Fat. Obese. Ugly.
I am all that and much more.
Don’t break me and leave me alone. If you can’t help me then don’t fucking promise. Don’t break my walls and then leave me vulnerable and alone you monster.