I have had some people recently reach out to me privately about my writing, and I decided to go back on here and re-read some of my old posts. I hadn't realized that my last public post was in April of last year. Thinking about how my life has changed since just that day--April 27th, 2018--makes my stomach turn. Some changes have been for the better, and other's have begun dictating how I perceive the world. I feel like all of my reactions are mandated at this point, but at the same time my emotions have never been more genuine.
I'm going to really open up, because I'm sick of people underestimating what can happen behind the scenes of someone's life. Around that date in April I mentioned earlier, I went through something that nearly destroyed me. I haven't talked to many people about it at all, but I did write a personal piece on it that I plan on eventually (maybe) posting. I was sexually assaulted. The words make me feel absolutely numb, now. I told my friend recently that when I recount stories from my past to other people or my friends, especially the particularly traumatizing ones, I tell the story as if it was an intriguing movie I saw on TV, played out by an actor who was receiving compensation for their genuine portrayal of a character. I often forget that the stories I tell really happened. It's surreal, and things happen really quickly. I haven't even thought about this in a while, but it's a good depiction of where I was at about a year ago.
I barely slept back then. I felt myself flaking away in small shreds, and I could see it in the way I treated the people around me. I comforted those I loved with white lies when I really had no control over what I was saying. And then, as I always do, I got over it. I've never been one to necessarily 'dwell' on things. It's more so a feeling I get every now and then that's linked to a specific and simultaneously hard memory.
In juxtaposition to the person I was last April, my life has almost completely changed. I'm no longer a young adult in love, I moved away from New York, I am taking time off of school, I was diagnosed with a mental illness that I've suspected for a few years, I got clean from old vices, I changed my major, I was also diagnosed with a mass in my brain and have begun treatment for that, I moved back to my hometown, I have been working a lot and seeing old friends...
With all of those changes to my lifestyle in mind, I feel like the old me would have just decomposed even further. I also don't think I would have ever allowed myself to prioritize my needs and make some of those changes. Self-destruction was an escape for me, and now I have escaped self-destruction.
Surprisingly, my mental health has remained neutral since I've been back in Florida. I say 'surprisingly' because I've gotten used to a completely different environment in New York. Besides the cold, I was living in my own house in a large room where I'd wake up next to the person I used to love most mornings. I had a big group of friends and routines and classes and different kinds of goals. And it's actually pretty funny, because once I had found out about the mass in my brain, and told my parents about it, my step-father actually wanted me to move back to Saint Petersburg. Secretly, I had wanted that the second I felt New York start to get cold. I had thought about it during a rough patch I went through in September and October.
On December 27th, the day before my flight from Saint Petersburg back to New York City, I was at a bar I frequent with some of my friends. I remember looking outside and noticing a vivid kind of warmth beginning to lure me in. Rather than feeling suffocating, though, my mind began to race around the idea of not getting on the plane. My relationship had ended, I had the opportunity for new jobs in my hometown, and the brisk cold of New York in January repelled me.
That night, something happened prohibited me from leaving Saint Petersburg in general. So I didn't get on the plane. I left all of my shit in New York and threw away the whole damn story I'd written there. Yeah, I ended up going back to say the most rushed goodbye of my life to someone and grab my things, but it was a closed book.
At first it was a little mundane. I felt apathetic about the move back to Florida before I actually had gone and packed up my things at my house in Long Island. But, I remember how it felt standing in the threshold of my room for the last time: It was a sunnier day, then, and the rays of light creeping through the window blinds were illuminating the dust, already collecting, on the furniture. I cried in my friend's car while leaving and forced myself to stop until a sad song came on and I cried more. I cried at the airport, I cried on the plane...and then once I was home I stopped crying, which freaked me out.
Over the past month that I've been 'officially' moved home, I've only gotten choked up a few times. At first I was disappointed in myself for taking time off of school to focus on my health and development as a person, but now, somehow already, I feel like a different, better person. Although I'm scared as hell about my health and what could happen in the future, I've limited the amount of impulsive choices I make, I've been happier, I've been working towards a 'me' who sees a bright future, and I feel like a completely different person than I was last April.
Despite all this positive improvement, I just gave myself this last hour or two I've been writing and plotting to ponder how I'd feel if I came to New York to visit. A lot happened there. I feel ready, seeing as I've made a lot of positive changes already, but...
I don't know what it is, really. I'm planning a short visit there in April and another one (to there and Connecticut) in early June for a friend's birthday, and the idea of seeing my friends and loved ones make me feel ecstatic, but...there are some loose ends that should have been tied up by now that I am still tripping over, if that makes sense. And I guess April is still two months away, but based on who I was last April, I wonder who I'll be by then?
4 those reading:
If you have questions you want me to answer publicly on the blog, you can comment them on any of my posts. If you don't feel comfortable asking publicly you can click here to contact me by email & specify if you want me to answer publicly or privately.
Welcome to my blog (again)! For one of my journalism classes, a semester-long assignment was to start a blog on a topic about which we were passionate. I chose horror movies because I am actually obsessed with them. I ended up enjoying keeping up with the blog so much that I decided to move it over to this account and continue reviewing scary movies. Enjoy.