It’s been almost two months since my emotional episode. I haven’t had a drink in 46 days. My sister flew from Syracuse, New York out to Seattle, Washington to provide me with a week of much needed support. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to find a therapist, which has proven more difficult than expected because of bureaucratic hoops and barriers. Fortunately, I will have health insurance through my job at the beginning of April (so soon!) which will be easier to work with than my previous stapled-and-taped-together insurance policy.
Even though a lot of the fallout from my personal drama has been difficult, so many good things have happened in the past 46 days. I moved into a new house in Seattle’s Eastlake neighborhood with some of my closest friends. We have a big kitchen, a view of Lake Union and the Space Needle, a tiny dog and a quickly-growing cat. My room is coming together slowly (all my books are stacked in piles along the walls), but it is my room in a house that feels like home.
I got a small raise at my job, and even though my boss says that sometimes I am prone to staring off into space and mis-measuring garments, he has made it a point to tell me that he has full confidence in my abilities to grow into my role at the menswear boutique. I’ve been given more and more responsibilities, and also have accumulated some really nice shirts in the process.
I struggle to find the right way to talk about my friends and how helpful they have been, because thinking about them and all they have done for me makes my heart ache. In the days after my episode, I wandered through Elliott’s room and saw that he had a copy of one of my unpublished books sitting by his bedside, pages marked from beginning to end with Post Its. I am not sure why this makes me cry so much.
I’ve spent a lot of quality time with my friends, either cooking or watching movies or making podcasts. It would be tedious to list all of the moments they have made me feel loved and wanted. They are, for lack of a better word, “goons” in the sense that they are all goofy and fun while simultaneously being very supportive. I am particularly thankful for Jake, who is brash and hilarious and does not give in to the pleas to “not be so hard on Connor.” Almost everything he says is too much for the internet to handle, which was refreshing to be around when many other loved ones simply didn’t know how to behave around me.
This morning I am on the move (as I often am). I’ll be at work in about an hour, and I have the beginnings of my Spring Playlist lined up on Spotify. I don’t know exactly what I want to tell you other than that I am doing well. So many of you sent me messages (my favorite ones were from my cousins begging me to move back to the Bay Area) and though I couldn’t reply and respond to everyone, I still wanted to reach out somehow and let you know that I am here in Seattle, taking small steps towards getting better, and listening to a lot of Brockhampton on the bus.
[Confused? Read The Heavy Thing.]