I should have realized this ages ago, but I've been stashing the bags upstairs and avoiding the issue.

The notes. Jotting things down so I won'tforget. Things I need to do, quotes I like, books, movies, games, music, podcasts, etc. Things that I might be interested in. Like my own newsfeed to myself. A sign of a decline.

Then I hoard the notes. So I'm watching Alias and sorting through bags of notes, receipts, small things I've purchased and left in the bags. Friday night, y'all.

I'll be 36 on Monday. 36 and I'm still acting like I did when I was 26. In fact, 26 was in a lot of ways, too old to be such a drunk.

I guess you need to hit rock bottom before you will deal with an addiction. That's what they say anyway. I may have been close seven years ago. I hope I was close because if it's a lot further down than that, I certainly don't want to hit it.

Seven years ago, my mental disorder was probably at its worst. It's not one that typically causes psychotic episodes, but with the right stressors, it can. I heard of erotomania from a crime show (Criminal Minds, I think). When I read into it, it seems like exactly what I was dealing with at the time. But I shouldn't really say that. A person can't diagnose themselves, even if they're a professional, and I am not qualified to diagnose anyone.

Here we are, seven years later. I'm actually really happy with my life. Which is something I've never really been able to honestly say. It's not perfect. I have bad moods. Work stresses me out sometimes. But I have a wonderful relationship. We have a house and critters. I have a decent enough job, especially considering my history and qualifications.

It's only really been summery here for a few days now (not counting a few days we had last month) and I'm already jealous if all the people that get to go to cabins/cottages/camps or whatever they want to call it. I miss sleeping in tents. I could always pitch one in the backyard but I doubt that'd be the same. I'm especially jealous because those camps often involve lakes (even though I'm usually too grossed out to go in the water) and shade.

I'm not a huge fan of the ocean, but I do like being near them and the nice, coll breezes that go along with it. So I'm jealous of the fuckers that go there too.

Like so jealous, it almost feels like hate at this moment in time. But I know that's just the intensity of the way I feel things. Of course I don't hate friends, family, acquaintances, or even strangers just because they get out of the city.

I bought a new bathing suit last year and I still haven't worn it. It won't fit me anymore. On the bright side, that's because it's too big now.

I mean, it's my fault. If my company were enjoyable, people would invite me sometimes. If I didn't insist on drinking, when we all know what annoying twat I am, especially when I drink, maybe people would invite me places even when my guy wasn't around to deal with and take care of me.

And boats! Let us not forget the people that get to go on boats. I'm mega jealous of you too!

I just need a pool in my yard.

It's insane that I'm so sad on such a beautiful day when just yesterday was the opposite. In fact, because I've been wanting to start keeping a journal again, I texted this to myself yesterday "Blog about today and chores and loving life".

But a few days before that, a conversation at work had me admit to myself and other that I "certainly won't have anyone" there for me when I'm old and frail and in need of home care.

I think the dog and I have had enough of a break. Time to continue our walk around the park and then back home.