Since I had such a volatile evening, I wanted to check in. I slept but I need to get back to it. I woke up hungry after 5 hours, so I prepped some lox on sourdough and a cup of coffee.
I’m calm again. I want to know what triggered such nasty words from myself. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and yet my mind made everything shameful. As a matter of fact, i should be feeling a swell of pride at all I’ve accomplished. Was I comparing myself to whatever the current definition of luxury is? Because what I have is what I’ve always wanted. I never wanted anything fancy. I wanted just enough to be content and not scared of people all the time. And now I have that freedom while living in my own small place. I have a job (I’ll move up and out eventually, but not right now). And I usually have time to write. Yet I was saying those things to myself – why?
I don’t know.
But I’m calm, now. I ate my lox and bread. I’m going to go back to sleep.
