I’m still stuck, but I’m determined to inch forward. I keep going to the gym, I keep writing, I keep getting out of bed everyday. I can’t remember sometimes if this is how my life always was. Well that’s not really true, because I remember I used to think I was pretty funny. It was a vanity actually. <\/p>\n
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I have graduated from always wanting to talk about how my grief to always wanting to talk about my minor accomplishments. I brag loudly, braying about my exercises and successful days at work. My old self winces at my child-like need for soothing praise. Is that different than how I used to be?<\/p>\n
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I feel like I’m trying to squint my way past Christmas. Every time someone brings it up I act like I don’t speak English. I can’t stand that it’s right around the corner, and I’m pretty sure this is not different than how I used to be. Or at least I can’t remember a time recently when I wasn’t dreading Christmas. <\/p>\n
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I keep telling myself that this blog is keeping my pain frustratingly raw. Many days I sit down and want to chatter about what I did over the weekend or something I’m looking forward to. But the easiest thing to write about is how I feel; that’s what bubbles up the fastest. Now I’m trying to write a book and am finding that I can’t write about myself anymore. If I don’t turn this into a work of fiction it really will be a laundry list of my shifting emotional state. Bore. I want to write a story. <\/p>\n
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\nIt really feels irresponsible to be trying to bury myself in writing and not be smoking cigarettes. My desk is disturbingly ash free. There is not even a greasy glass of red wine or a can of beer to urge on my creativity and fuel some self-loathing. F*cking anti-depressents and a glass of water. That is what I am reduced to. It should be illegal to try and write under the influence of anti-depressents. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’m still stuck, but I’m determined to inch forward. I keep going to the gym, I keep writing, I keep getting out of bed everyday. I can’t remember sometimes if this is how my life always was. Well that’s not really true, because I remember I used to think I was pretty funny. It was … Continue reading “Distracting Sobriety – Sunday November 14th”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2259","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2259","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2259"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2259\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3465,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2259\/revisions\/3465"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2259"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2259"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2259"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}