this space doesn’t feel safe anymore, and that sucks.
here’s a life update:
my last few months of uni have begun. of the two courses i am taking (one in philosophy and one in english), i am most excited for advanced creative writing, even though it is not the creative writing of the type i had expected, but rather focussed on narrative non fiction / personal essays. which is nice i suppose, to move onto a different style of writing, after spending some time focussing on poetry.
speaking of, my poetry collection is almost complete and ready to send off into the publishing void. i want to get to 40 poems total, since a minimum of 60-80 pages is generally expected for a poetry manuscript.
ENID, the journalism platform i helped to revive, is doing really well. i am especially proud of this special article, which went live on R U OK Day (the 10th of September).
i finally admitted that i have spent the past few months amid a relapse into anorexia, which was a difficult fact to confront. when i moved house, my scales started going haywire, and it is giving my major anxiety. how can my weight have ‘gone up’ by x number of kilos, when my size x jeans still seem to fit the same? i’m trying to remember that the number on the scales is nothing more than a reflection of my relationship to gravity, but far fucking out, ana loves to remind me of how much of my worth fits onto that tiny screen.
so yeah, i moved house! for the first time in almost three years. i now live directly across the road from campus, which has been a blessing, since my licence was medically revoked for 6 months after complications from one of my attempts earlier this year. i get my licence back on the 22nd of october – not long to go!
i had a decent clean streak, and was self harm free for almost 6 weeks, but relapsed pretty bad. i hit beans (that’s fat, for all of you non-self-harmers) but i didn’t get it stitched. i’ll probably regret that later, but after my recent experiences at emergency / the local psych ward, i don’t trust them to protect me anymore. they don’t have my best interests at heart. also, they almost always schedule (involuntarily detain) me, and i’ll be fucked if i’m going through that nightmare of a situation again.
my most precious houseplant, philip the giant syngonium, has started to damp off, which is affecting me more than it probably should. i’ve had philip for a really long time and when i got him from a friend, he was just an itty bitty cutting. since then, he has more than tripled in size, i reckon. hopefully with a haircut and some fresh soil and fertiliser he’ll come good.
i think i’ve accepted that i don’t have any friends again, and that’s okay.
my favourite colleague (not the one who was stalking me lol, but the one that warned me about said stalking) has had an offer for her dream job at a vet practice, so i probably only have a couple more weeks left to work with her, which i am very sad about.
this guy at the climbing gym (and in his defence, i don’t think he was inherently an asshole, just ignorant) implied that i needed to ‘even up’ my arms, since all my scarring is on my left. well, duh, i’m right handed. so next time i see him i will make sure to have done that. i’ll wear shorts and a singlet too; if my left arm was a shock, imagine how he will react to the rest of my disgusting body.
anyway, i’m trying to do more writing. go check out enid, and have a look at what i’m doing over there.
much love, my lovelies.