Falling Off That High Horse in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

I hadn’t seen Richard since February. We talk at least three times a week, I even got him hooked on a few Thai dramas that I’d been watching, and he’s laughably been trying to keep up with all of it.

I wrote a whole entry about that, but really, I’m not here to gossip and Richard’s drama is Richard’s drama, not mine.

I finally got to see him Wednesday because I went to his parents’ house (his roommates have forbidden him from having guests despite the fact that they throw barbecues bi-weekly). It was great getting to see him, but I haven’t been around people in a long time and it was kind of exhausting. Not Richard, but his parents.

People think “introvert” means shy, but that’s not what that means. It means that we gain energy from being alone and being around people drains our energy. Richard’s parents definitely fall into the draining category.

He’s getting himself situated to transfer to a four-year University and had asked for my help with that since I have already been through that hustle and bustle. It’s mind-blowing to me that 9 years ago I was going through this same exact process, it doesn’t seem that long ago, but I guess that’s what happens when illness steals years of your life.

I’ve been doing good, I’ve begun whittling down my possessions to the point that I can easily port them all out of the country once the US borders are open. It’s been quite a process, sorting through my whole life, which is what I’ve been doing. I’ve been trying to wrestle with the question of how important are objects of our past. I think I’m erring on the side of “burn it all” but then again, I’ve never been sentimental.

One interesting thing that reared it’s head while I was at Richard’s was the fact that I haven’t had any alcohol since March. I think I’ve had a drink here and there at the beginning, but I hadn’t had anything period since my Palm Springs vacation. I have booze in my house, but I don’t drink alone at home.

I was at Richard’s and they offered me a beer, which I politely accepted, and then Richard and I both took shots (well, I took like a half of one before sputtering in disgust). That beer really made me feel sick all day. So I guess I don’t drink anymore.

I’m not saying this to be all “LoOk At Me, I’m SoBeR nOw” because I hate those people, it’s just that I feel better when I don’t drink. It’s like eating certain foods; I don’t eat them because they make me feel sick, but if you enjoy sushi, by all means, go ahead. I think I’m learning how to make choices without necessarily being on my high horse about it.

I know that sounds silly, but I’ve always been a rather proud individual about my ability to reason things out… but reasoning goes out the door when your hurt, wounded, suffering from anxiety and just trying to survive. But there’s no humility in that situation because that’s completely counter-intuitive to being at your lowest moment.

I happen to hear that Kacey Musgraves song, and while I was bopping to it, I realized that I probably have made a lot of people feel that way in my life, and it’s probably best to change.