sorry. thanks, too..

i don't even know where to start.

to all you amazing people who have been putting up with my ass while i fell to bits the last couple years, giving zero shits.. i'm sorry. and thanks. you know what for, you know who you are. i fucked up huge, i let myself slip.. emotionally, mentally, physically, financially.. i've been in pretty rough shape. well up to me neck in what-the-fucks. i'm sorry for losing my head. i'm still working on getting it back. sorry to the friends and fams i kinda stopped talking to, i felt i had nothing good to say. sorry for pissing and moaning about the inevitable given my choices. thanks for listening. sorry i've been a real fucking tool the past little while. thanks for loving me anyways.

now about that getting back to the better me. or moving forward rather..
i have one hell of a long path to wander.
but i'm on my way.

i know letting go is a big part of this. letting go of people on several levels, places, things... all the things. oh and the feels too. it ain't easy. especially when those people hold big chunks of your heart. especially when those places are/were the worldly homes of those people. especially when those things belong(ed) to them. and fuck the feels. there's that one thing i have no idea how i should feel about.. the truck. miss Sally.

when i used that there trust for the first time in a while, mixed with a little credit (no, a lot).. things got messy. go team. on one hand i know it was stupid to register my vehicle in someone else's name. i had given it away right then and there. on the other hand even if i didn't, i wouldn't be able to take it back just the same. i do have a heart, obviously. this way i have no choice. i let it go. what else can i do? same as the friendship with the person driving her. and the credit that bought her.. an all around unfortunate set of losses. i fucked up. or did i? guess i'll never know.

i had a hard time with my mother's ashes. i know it's just ash but.. i liked having that physical representation of carrying her. as i did all my life. i wanted to take her to the sea shore below the mountains and set her to the wind this past mother's day. two years that weekend. i lost my shit when i couldn't get at her ashes. i lost my shit even harder when i got my things back and found they were gone. i was off in the head for a bit over that one.

and the slanty shanty too. i miss that house. it was the first place i called 'home' here on this transplanting to the west coast. i squatted there a few times before i finally got a room of my own. unfortunately the friend who lived in there previously had passed on shortly after giving me the place. and that was a hard pill to swallow. so was being forced to leave, when it finally became [beyond] uninhabitable. a couple seasons of camping out and the odd couch it took before i could accept the possibility of a place to call mine. here i am, still sort of adjusting.

speaking of which, thanks to the lovely lady who took me in. an angel, in the flesh. for real. she truly lives up to her name. by supposed random coincidence, she saved the day. and i am so incredibly grateful. i have a home base. still do a lot of camping, by choice instead of necessity. kinda nicer that way.

anyhoo.. i owe a pretty big apology to myself too. dah.. i worked sooo freakin hard to get my health back before i moved out west. it's been on a steady down hill slide since shortly after i got here. i became complacent, i got lazy. i stopped giving a shit, really. i'm pretty sure i found about thirty of the eighty pounds i lost, my kidneys ache constantly and my digestive system refuses to move in the right direction at times. it's time to pay better attention to what i'm putting in me, and take better care of myself. again.

somewhere along the line i stopped believing i was worth it. more like i'm just passing time instead of serving a purpose so i just kinda said fuck it. i felt not so worthy of good things, good feelings... not like me i know. i'm sorry to me for feeling that way. time to pull up me socks and get on with it. i still have a panic attack every now and then, slightly less symptomatic of the PTSD the past month or so, most likely due to far less environmental triggers. having a home base helps immensely, even if it's just a shared flat. i feel like i can finally start to get back on my feet. and i'm taking full advantage of what i've got. i will find my health again. i will get my sexy back. i will not only survive this shit, i will thrive. i will not give up.

i'm thankful for this second [or fifth or sixth] chance at making it out here. in a lot of ways i'm not doing all too well, but in the most important ways right now, i'm doing a lot better. shit gets rough but i'm still in love with life. it never ceases to trip me right the hell out, and bless me with the presence of some crazy rad people. hella sweet views too. and i am eternally blessed to finally find some balance... or rather have the balance find me. thank you. so much.



xo