I think I have masochistic tendencies.
After waking up for the trillionth time with anxiety, that's the conclusion I came to.
N: I kind of hate SF so far. Is that normal?
Me: Oh, that's totally normal. I'm six months in and I've just started not to hate it.
N: I can't imagine not hating it at this point.
Me: It gets better.
Let me be clear. I don't hate San Francisco. It just makes me feel very uncomfortable to be here.
Rewind to the beginning of the year. I had this bright idea to surround myself with challenges in order to become a stronger, more grounded person.
Back in LA, I fell into a routine with friends and family that made me feel like complacency was settling in. As a youth, I thought being complacent meant you weren't driven to reach higher.
I didn't realize I might be tired of reaching.
What happened was unanticipated.
It's like being thrown into an ocean and told to swim. You have no idea which direction you're supposed to be swimming in, but you know that you need to keep going. And all you really need is that one buoy. It doesn't have to be grounded to anything or be all that sturdy. It just has to exist so that even though you find yourself in an ocean, at least you know you can hold onto something. And figure shit out.
I guess for me, I need to figure out what that buoy is. Before I drown.