Flying under the clouds
Today I had my first official flight lesson in a Cessna 172. It went well, even though I tended to zigzag during taxiing. Instead of asking to do something daring, I concentrated on learning the airplane. We flew at 7500 feet (2500 meters) and above the lower mountains, but the clouds lingered above us.
And I guess that's how I'm living. I landed successfully (actually had help). Maybe I need help landing from Frank. I called him after my flight and told him about it. It was a stupid idea to think that I could be "just friends" with him--or at least so quickly after we broke up. I miss him. I'm going to miss him. I tried to call J., but he wasn't in, so I left a message. The airplane that I am writing about at work has a parachute built into it so that you can pull it in case of emergency. I wonder if J. will be my parachute from Frank? I don't want to louse things up with J just because of Frank. I want there to be a real possibility.
Love really hurts. I think I better jump back into the air again, or I'll stay stuck on the ground. I keep thinking that if I was lucky at work, maybe I can be lucky and find a mate who will love me back. Why is it so difficult to find someone to love and who loves you back?
I'm not cutting, but I am using. So I'm not coping in a healthy way. But I am coping in my own way. Dare I hope for lightening to strike twice? It can kill, you know.
I'm completely off of Abilify. Fucking anti-psychotic. I hope that's a good thing. I'm so sick of taking pills, and yet, that's exactly what I turn to in times of stress. Feeling the pain of life? Take a pill. Works for a while. But I have to take a drug test in less than 48 hours, so I have to be smart about it. Or at least try to control my urges. It's so hard when things aren't going well. When things were going well with work and Frank, I wasn't using at all. So that's all it takes. A perfect life. I wasn't lonely before Frank. I was happy. Sort of lonely, but mostly happy.
All you have to do is keep yourself in the air without crashing. No more impossible than that.
And I guess that's how I'm living. I landed successfully (actually had help). Maybe I need help landing from Frank. I called him after my flight and told him about it. It was a stupid idea to think that I could be "just friends" with him--or at least so quickly after we broke up. I miss him. I'm going to miss him. I tried to call J., but he wasn't in, so I left a message. The airplane that I am writing about at work has a parachute built into it so that you can pull it in case of emergency. I wonder if J. will be my parachute from Frank? I don't want to louse things up with J just because of Frank. I want there to be a real possibility.
Love really hurts. I think I better jump back into the air again, or I'll stay stuck on the ground. I keep thinking that if I was lucky at work, maybe I can be lucky and find a mate who will love me back. Why is it so difficult to find someone to love and who loves you back?
I'm not cutting, but I am using. So I'm not coping in a healthy way. But I am coping in my own way. Dare I hope for lightening to strike twice? It can kill, you know.
I'm completely off of Abilify. Fucking anti-psychotic. I hope that's a good thing. I'm so sick of taking pills, and yet, that's exactly what I turn to in times of stress. Feeling the pain of life? Take a pill. Works for a while. But I have to take a drug test in less than 48 hours, so I have to be smart about it. Or at least try to control my urges. It's so hard when things aren't going well. When things were going well with work and Frank, I wasn't using at all. So that's all it takes. A perfect life. I wasn't lonely before Frank. I was happy. Sort of lonely, but mostly happy.
All you have to do is keep yourself in the air without crashing. No more impossible than that.
posted by borderline savvy at 6:50 PM
1 Comments:
Be careful. Reading this post I can see you're on that borderline. You can keep it together-I know it. I know you'll come out better in the next situation. You're a good gal.
XOXOXO Maggs
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