I thought this picture was very romantic yet has a gloomy tint to it - very appropriate to the theme of this post, I think.
My dad's undershirt, Forever21 necklace, Anthropology belt, Marshalls maxi skirt, Lohemann's black heels and I am flaunting a fish tale braid!
So I've been asked very recently, in person and via comments on my blog, how my 90 days are going. I haven't addressed my absence of alcohol in a while and thought I should share. To be completely honest, it has been pretty easy. The couple times I have gone out this past week, I have driven. Since I think drinking and driving is the stupidest thing you can ever do, it has never been hard for me to turn down a drink when I know I will be driving home. Up at school we walk everywhere so the temptation will be harder. However, my other issues I have told myself I will explore more during my 90 days have been on my mind a lot. See, since I lack any real relationship with my older brother I crave to have some sort of replacement of male companionship - aka a boyfriend. I some how have deluded my mind with thoughts that if only I had a boyfriend, someone to actually like me (potentially love me?! what? ...na) that I would be a lot better off. You see, I wouldn't be so sad about my brother's empty promises if I had another guy to really depend on. Of course, I know a BF can't fix my problems but sometimes I think that someone special could make them a little more bearable.
Just because I have struggled with some issues I have also made some progress! I give complete credit to my family. The experience I had visiting my brother in rehab was hands down the worst couple days of my life. When I would talk about it in the past, I would actually get really agitated and upset. Sometimes even have to fight back a few tears. However, just recently as my family and I were sitting down at dinner, our weekend in Florida was brought up. But this time in a more lighter tone. In fact, we all couldn't stop laughing. The extent of how ridiculously horrible my experience was is actually comical.
It started off very pleasant: My sister, mom, and myself arrive first Tuesday afternoon. Grab a bite to eat and then catch some rays before the sun goes down. Then as we decide to go inside, we come to find out that we locked ourselves out and the key doesn't work. I have to shimmy up a palm tree, scale the building, and climb over the balcony to get into the apartment. Then on our way to pick up my dad and younger brother at the airport a wave of nausea hits me. I end up puking my brains out every half hour on the dot until 5 in the morning. I miss the first session of the family program at rehab the next morning but force myself out of bed for the second session to see my brother. Not only do I only get to see P. from across a room, I find out that no one is his group had any idea he had siblings (in other words, while everything in my life revolved around him for the past 9 months I didn't exist in his). The next day while in family program, I get my period, the zipper on my pants break, I have to change into my sisters shorts that are 2 sizes too small, and P. confesses to me that he has never even liked me. While there was no tear shed remorse shone by P., I didn't even get to receive an apology from him because another kid in his group started crying about his douche bag of a dad. Not to mention that the counselors working in the rehab try to tell me that I should emit myself in rehab because they think I am an alcoholic.
As you can tell, some of the details of the weekend really do suck, but the combination of everything was just so horrible that it's actually hilarious. I am really relieved that I am able to laugh about the worst experience I have ever had to go through. But as I said earlier, I give a lot of credit to my family - I absolutely adore them... sometimes :)
To show you the joy they give me, here is a little montage of footage and photography of my cousins graduation party!
-M.
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