My life is making my fucking head hurt.

There is some insane baby-blocking, hormone-spewing object in my uterus and it’s giving me horrific cramps and creating CryFest 2012.

I finally felt good enough to go to a cafe and write. But when I opened up my notebook and saw everything I had written while I was in Israel suddenly I felt so anxious and nauseous that I had to take some of the anxiety medication I keep in my wallet for when I can’t calm myself the fuck down. I wrote something eventually but it fucking sucks.

I don’t think I’m doing very well here in Western Mass. This is an old, old problem, but I feel as though the more I leave and come back the worse it gets. Maybe it would be different if I got homesick for this place. But I just don’t. Ever. There’s no relief in being here. When I ride home from the airport when I get back I feel like it’s a bad dream. I don’t understand how I could be there when I had just been somewhere that makes me feel so much better. What am I doing?

And I feel like if I leave again and then have to come back I will only be breaking my own heart again. Sometimes I feel that by having left and having begun to explore other places I have essentially started to ruin my own life. How fucked is that? But I can’t imagine that I will be able to stomach making myself come back here over and over when I feel so much more vibrant when I am oceans away.  So I think I need to find a way to stop coming back. That feels a bit overwhelming.

All day long I thought about cutting all my hair off. Or dramatically changing the colour. Or getting a new piercing. Or a tattoo on a whim. This is what I do when I feel restless and trapped. This is not good.


I’m gonna go drink a giant beer.

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