Hey! I have officially finished a week of work, and it feels great. I am pretty much hating my job. I like kids, but a) my feet are killing me after a day of work because of my Achilles tendonitis, and b) the kids are fucking crazy. I am so glad it's the weekend, but I am having a hard time imagining how I'm going to get through 9 more weeks of this... My parents are out of town again this weekend, but no fun plans. Last night, and I ate Taco Bell (which I'm not really allowed to have usually, since my parents think I'm fat) and made s'mores in the microwave. DELICIOUS. Then I watched TV until 1 am. I slept till noon today, watched more TV, and I'm about to go see my gramma. We are going to shop for a new recliner for her, have dinner, and see a movie. My gramma is the coolest lady. I love her so much <3
Oh, I should mention that my hamstring is mostly fine (remember, I injured it on Saturday last week). It still bothers me some when I'm on the bike, but I'm taking it slow and trying to be careful.
In other news, I found a razor when I was cleaning my room the other day. I don't quite know what to do with it. I realize I should throw it away, but part of me wants to keep it, just in case. Stupid, I know. I'll probably throw it away this weekend. Bleh.
Also, I found this gem when reading some old journal entries: "Everything sucks balls. Life sucks balls. And that sucks, because I’m gay so I don’t like sucking balls. Lol."
Direct quote there. I am SO COOL. Ahahahaha :)
I'm starting to think that maybe I don't need therapy after all. Here's the thing: I feel good. Yes, I'm stressed out as hell because of my job. Yes, sometimes I feel like shit. Yes, sometimes I feel like self-harming, but I only think about it (briefly) and never do it. But honestly, since I got my medication dose upped, I feel great. I like myself, I'm happy, I laugh more, I don't want to kill my parents. I don't have flashbacks. I'm in therapy because I have flashbacks. And I really don't anymore. And even when I think about that bitch, I don't freak out much. I sure as hell don't forgive her, but I don't have a panic attack when I think about her. If I start thinking about exactly what might have happened, then it gets a little dicey. But otherwise, I'm good. I don't know. I have an appointment with my therapist on Monday. I guess I'll tell her this stuff, and we'll see how it goes.
Finally, I have a cavity. I know, big deal. But it's my first one, and I'm freaking out a little bit. I have a filling scheduled for Monday (which, oopsies, is scheduled for 2.5 hours before my therapy appointment... I hope I don't look/talk funny during that). I'm scared! I don't want a filling! I don't want a cavity!! LAME.
Ok... I have to go. BYE! I hope your weekends are fabulous. Stay awesome.