I have some incredible news to share! I’m going back to get my masters in education. Okay, I get it. Woop de do, the majority of teachers do. But I’m different.
You see, everytime I even thought to myself, you should get your masters, I reminded myself it would cost too much money and that I wouldn’t have time.
Time for me was supposed to be short. I never thought or wanted to live past 50. When I turned 50, I gave it a few months to see if it was worth it and after two months I realized, it wasn’t. I said, fuck this, my life is shit, and I wanted out. So, as I shared with you before, I tried. I tried pretty hard but I’m not a pharmacist or a chemist and the chemicals I mixed didn’t produce the reaction I wanted. Hmm… maybe the next time I mix chemicals in science class I might want to do a little more research. The point is, who needs a masters if you’re dead. Right?
Now, after weeks of residential treatment, weeks of PHP, and one week of IOP (I dropped out a bit early of that) and heart wrenching therapy with my daughters, I’ve come to realize that they need me to stick around. If I’m going to stick around, I might as well make it worth it. So… going back to school sounded like a great idea.
People that know me, really well, know this is a major commitment. Just like the semicolon ring I wear and eventually, the semicolon tattoo I’ll get. To have this stuff before just made me feel like a hypocrite. Yes, I get it, I survived an attempt or two but I wasn’t done planning. so realistically, I had reason to wear it but what a hypocrite I would be. Before, that whole, ‘my story isn’t over’ shit was just bullshit. My story was supposed to be a short story with a sad ending. Now, I guess that shit isn’t bullshit anymore. My story hasn’t ended and I’m willing to write the novel. (Funny thing is, besides this blog, I have a manuscript ready to go if interested. Lol. It’s young adult fiction but about 90% of it is my life and someday, I might just have to publish this blog!)
I’m a new person. I’m not the same person that went into residential treatment. Yes, depression is still weighing me down as well as my struggles with my ED but the will to live is much greater. I’ve been trying to do things that will make it worthwhile.
I’ve been teaching myself how to play the guitar, writing a hell of a lot more, going for my masters, hiking, and doing paint by numbers. I’ve been spending more time with my kids, quality time. I think I’m a better person. But….. with Ted, things have changed as well. Not for the better really.
Since I’ve been home I’ve had little interest in intimacy. It’s the whole weight thing and past trauma. I don’t enjoy his company as much. He’s a bit too much of a narcissist for me. His temper and his negative views about a lot of things is wearing on me. And let’s face it, he’s not helping with me at all when it comes to my ED. I keep thinking that it’s all because of my weight change. That if I was thinner then it would be all fine and dandy.
Lately, I don’t think that’s true. I think he fell in love with someone who I no longer am. He might not see it and might think it doesn’t matter but this new me thinks maybe it does.
I’m not in a hurry to call it quits. I’ll stick it out for now and see where it goes.
BUT, I will not skip to my last chapter. I’ll read every page. I know that some of it will make me cry, some of it will be challenging, but I also know that there will be pages and pages of smiles and laughter too.
Hmm…. how the hell would I title that book?