It’s May 3rd. You know what that means. We have to leave out chicky nuggies and chocky milk so Baby Yoda can visit us. Pro tip if you make your nuggies a little crispy, Anakin will visit too.
I’ve been gone for a while, but now I’m back. I have the time and motivation to make this blog my priority. Was April a busy month? Yes. Should I still have tried to make an effort to blog? Yes. Was I discouraged to continue writing after I got a few hate comments? Yes
This blog was created to share things about my life, what I’m thinking about, or struggling with because maybe someone else is too. The best way to help someone is by being open and upfront with them, but lately, I haven’t been honest with myself.
I’ve been in a slump. At first, I thought it was because I was no longer working two jobs, and now I have time to do things. But if I’m honest, it’s because when I’m alone, I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve always based my personality on tv characters I grew up with. Now that I’m mostly home alone, I do not need sarcastic one-liners or witty zingers.
The fact that I now hate being alone has made my relationship complicated. I have become one of those girls who is always with her boyfriend. I feel like that Spongebob meme.
Is that separation anxiety? I feel that I’ve gotten so used to being in quarantine and always being with him. Then in March and April when I was working so much and was tired all the time. I was distracted and more busy stressing over my job and customers, and life. Now I have no distractions and feel very clingy and needy. He’s like a safety blanket. When I’m with him, I can forget about my family and my stress. And I feel terrible using him like that. Our conversations are now filler because if I talk about anything serious, I’m sure I will start crying.
But then I feel bad for wanting to cry because I still have it better than others. But I hate that I’m not making progress. I hate that I used my savings. I hate my living situation, my roommates suck, and I’m sleeping on a broken-down couch. I hate that I quit the job making my hair fall out due to stress, and now I don’t make as much money.
Whoever commented about how I’m just complaining about my first-world problems, you’re right, I am. And I probably am going to continue to complain about my first-world problems. Because they are relatable. My problems are basic. I’m basic.