Things happen. That’s all they ever do.

(Title song is “Things Happen” by Dawes.)

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

I’m doing a little better today.

And now I fully understand why my adolescent psych thought I was bipolar.

I still have no idea in hell where I’ll end up six weeks from now, but I’ve been “adulting” to the best of my ability, which makes me feel like I have the tiniest bit of control. (Even though I probably don’t and I’m totally at the mercy of kind strangers as usual.)

It’s hard being a functional human when you have social anxiety. Even facing the possibility of living in a box, it’s still so damn difficult to reply to a Craigslist ad saying, “I’m interested in your room for rent. Here’s my info.” What’s the worst that could happen? They say no. It’s such a tiny little word, but when you get your hopes up about a sweet apartment deal, it can do a lot of emotional damage.

But I did it. I emailed ONE woman. Tomorrow, I should make it a goal to email two. Or three!

An even sillier thing I was worrying about: Emailing my last boss and asking him to mail my W2s to my local address so I can file taxes. There’s literally no way that could have gone negatively, but I still put it off for days. But that’s done too!

And my birth certificate! Boom! 3 in a row! In order to get my South Carolina state ID, I needed to order a copy of my birth certificate. Do you know how many better things I could have bought with that $46? Well, not that many. But I didn’t buy those hypothetical things because adult-me knows it’s necessary to have a birth certificate if I ever want to take my driver’s test or get a passport. I don’t care much for driving, but I do want the better job opportunities that come from knowing how, and I’m dying to travel when I’m more settled.

It seems like such tiny steps for a 27-year old to take. But it’s important that I take them.

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