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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@committingtome-blog
I've decided that this blog isn't one I can commit to keeping up, which I think has become painfully clear. I want to utilize my main blog in a more personal and productive fashion. If you're still interested in me, please follow me there. There'll be feminism, dating, sex, hopefully exercise and excellent foods, queer shit, poly shit, and actual regular updates.
Best. Birthday. Y'all make leaving real hard.
Happy birthday to meeeee.
Don't ask me why I'm anxious.
I’ve got a million reasons, and zero. I know the question is well-meaning, but for someone with anxiety problems that are awaiting intervention (appointment scheduled Friday), asking why I’m anxious invites me to catalogue everything that could possibly go wrong. It encourages my brain to make a normal day a terrifying one in which I’m anxious that people will stop loving me, that I’ll get hurt, that someone I love will get hurt, that everything will be my fault.
Asking me why I’m anxious has another insidious effect: I feel the need to justify these feelings. I have to counter “what do you have to be stressed about?” (a fairly common question in various forms) with enough to validate my feelings to others. So then it becomes can I explain how bad this is, or am I actually faking it, because my list isn’t long enough. After all, look at all the *real* terrible things that are going on in the world, and *I* can’t leave the house? And then I’m terrible for making mountains out of mole hills, and seeking attention.
It’s a pretty messed up cycle, and it sucks that when people are well-meaning can be when the questions hurt the worst. Telling me how well some things are going sometimes serves to remind me of all the things that are going to stop going well and start imploding.
Saturday was the worst of it, thus far. It took me hours to get out of the house to go for a run. I just kept crying. Finally I went, and I cried some on the road, but I felt better. For about an hour. Then the tears came back. Despite the date I had planned, I couldn’t leave the house again. Instead, we feasted on wings and pizza and garlic cheesy bread and beer over TV and movies. I still feel badly for ruining the weekend. For talking a big game and falling through.
I can take everything personally. I can see in any comment or inaction or action a personal slight, because this is a sign that people are over me. And why wouldn’t they be, when I’m like this all the time now?
Stress dreams, eye twitches, shaking. I fell asleep during my second viewing of GOTG last night and woke up to an anxiety attack, so I left. What was there to be anxious about?
This is what’s going on with me right now (and also my second attempt at writing this, thxtumblr) and the post is designed to be transparent and not attention seeking. But if you want to go on this journey with me, please don’t ask what I’m anxious about.
Ask me if it’s a good day or a bad one. Ask me where I’m at on a 1 to 10 scale of various feels. Hang out with me, check in with me, keep loving me while I struggle with this. It’s gonna be a while, I think, but it’ll be worth it. I just gotta get through it.
I want to go to the gym or for a run, but the anxiety is so bad that I'm just sitting here in my workout clothes crying. How do you leave the house when everything hurts this bad?
Monday, no
Goals for the week: 10 miles on my feet A commute on my bike Exercise the demons (that’s not a typo) Believe in love, and myself Nurture my enough Drink water and tea and good coffee and, if you must, only good beer. Post on Tumblr more.
Missing y’all.
(Photo from the start of my 5k yesterday. I'm on the left for those of you who are like damn Tonya you been gone so long we don't even know you anymore)
Pacific Ocean forever and always. (at Ocean Beach, San Francisco)
I'm not trying to tempt the universe. I'm just grateful for the reminder that things could always be worse. That wasn't my bus.
The Cliff House. Thanks to the magic of Instagram, I made it look bright & sunny. (at Ocean Beach, San Francisco)
I procrastinated taking a shower by going for a run and then to breakfast. This is especially odd considering I woke up a little hungover after much debauchery last night.
I still haven't showered. I'm enjoying the funk. You might think it's gross but I haven't been earning my sweat lately, so this feels satisfying and awesome.
My slow 3 miles didn't particularly merit hash browns and breakfast burrito for refueling purposes, but I am trying to quit thinking about calories and my belly in negative ways and just do what makes me feel good.
36 Days til my next half marathon. Yikes.
Game of Thrones Theme (1986 Remix)
This speaks to me on a spiritual level
I need this on my running playlist(s).
Movies in the park. The cops don't even care we drankin. (at Dolores Park)
Completely blown out, and not even home yet. Paused for a break just past the halfway point. @bhrd and @ssuriano I could use you guys right now! (at William Mckinley Statue)
I signed up for Kaiser and took their online health assessment, and despite my general attitude that I live a fairly healthy lifestyle, apparently thinking about working out a few times a week and drinking more beers than running miles does not equate to being active and enjoying a great deal of wellness.
The algorithms gave me all kinds of results, not the least among them (no, seriously, the assessment chose this one as the number one thing I should focus on above all other health concerns): DEPRESSION.
Now, I'm not going to say I am suffering from depression because some Kaiser algorithms are suspecting my mental well-being is somehow un-well.
But it sort of makes sense.
And it sort of makes me feel a bit freer to fucking do something about it. In the last three days, I have only drank one night. I got pretty housed Tuesday, but I also was triggered as hell over the shooting at UCSB and all the misogyny all over the goddamn internet, and went to my boyfriend's to go cry about it. This morning, I woke up well-rested (even if I didn't want to get out of bed) and clear-headed. And randy. Despite having a more active sex life these days, I rarely feel the desire to do much for myself. This morning, I did. It felt good. (Well duh, but you know, in like, more ways than one.)
I injured my foot doing Bay to Breakers and am in need of new shoes (suggestions welcome - I am going to go to a proper running store, but have previously had success with Brooks Glycerin, Nike Pegasus, and ... one I can't remember, whoops - but if you know of similar shoes (that might be on sale) please let me know). I am planning on going to cycling at the Y tonight, because once upon a time I loved doing things like that.
In addition to knowing I am enough, I need to treat myself like I am enough. It feels a bit like a cloud of self-doubt, derision, insecurity, and worthlessness is lifting, and wow, do I want to be in the sunshine again.
Maybe I'll be back around here some more, maybe not, but please send me your good vibes.
Not a bad haul for a box on top of a trash can. (at 39th and Geary Bus Stop)
I did rull good at ribs yesterday. Must make again.
