I know this is probably bad for me

Ibyx, a selection, continued from here

15 years and three therapists later I am still coming to terms with what that diagnosis means.
After 2 years living at home and attending my state university, I packed up my little grey Plymouth Horizon and transferred to UC, Santa Cruz.
I spent 10 wonderful days crossing the country by myself [including a 3 day stop in Denver to visit with my long-term boyfriend's family].
In Santa Cruz, I shared a house a short block from the beach with two other women. I could hear the waves and the sea lions from my bedroom window at night. I took philosophy classes on what is probably one of the most beautiful campuses in the country. I ate quiet, cheap, vegetarian dinners by myself at the Saturn Cafe. I loved Santa Cruz.
I got a bad case of Bronchitis, 2/3 of the way through the year, missed finals, had to take some incompletes, and felt the strain of living a continent away from anyone who I had known long enough to ask them to run to the drugstore at 2:00 am for Orange Juice, NyQuil and tampons.
In a moment of weakness I have often regretted I withdrew from the third term at Santa Cruz and bowed to parental [and boyfriend back east's] pressures to come home.
I got better from Bronchitis and found I didn't want to leave. A good friend had to come west, pack up my things and drive me back.
Three months later I was back east, had finally ended it with my boyfriend of 5+ years, was enrolled again at my state university as a Philosophy major, and had rented a small, dark, dank room in a crunchy, funky, cooperative, vegetarian group house where I learned about composting, and nutritional yeast, made the only friends I would take away from 4+ years of college, and fell in love for the second time in my life.
Said love was a deep, moody, intelligent, peaceful, amoral, housemate drummer.
I graduated from college in December of '90 with high honors and a grade point average of nearly 4.00 [I had received one B in 4 years in ... wait for it ... weightlifting.
Despite this feat, the job highlights of my resume included: summer stints at an educational camp for Jewish teens, slinging Tacos at a local Tex-Mex dive next door to the infamous "Starlight Lounge" [whose 'dancers' would occasionally come in for a snack between 'sets'], answering the phone and collecting 'samples' at a veterinarian's office, sewing costumes for the university theatre department, and being 'let go' by a telemarketing company. [They were very nice and very apologetic. They thought I was a wonderful employee. I simply didn't make one sale the whole time I was there.]
Degree in hand, the most interesting proposal I received was from a good friend living in Israel. She said, "Africa or India?" I thought about it for maybe 12 seconds and said, "Africa." I then set about finding whatever job I could make the most money at for 6 months.
I became a Management Trainee at a local chain seafood restaurant. It was my first real, salaried position with benefits and everything. I worked like a dog mastering every job in the restaurant from fry cook, to bartender, to waitress. I worked open to close shofts 11:00 am to 11:00 pm, and did my Managerial duty making the 'rounds' of all the tables in the restaurant every 20 mins or so to ensure that everyone was happy with the food and service. I fended off the General Manager's not-so-subtle efforts to interest me in after-hours socializing. I saved every penny for 6 months.
I quit.
I sold everything I owned of any value [the futon I slept on, the car, the boom box]. I bought a backpack, good sandals, good hiking boots, an armloan of vaccinations, and one way ticket to Israel. I said a tearful good bye to my soulful musician with firm plans to reunite in San Francisco when I was done with my adventure.
I met my friend in Jerusalem. We spent a couple of weeks hanging out and looking at maps of Africa [damn, it was a really big place] and bickered over where we would go and how. We packed our backpacks with canteens, maps, a Lonely Planet guide, and mosquito netting and bought bus tickets to Cairo.
What followed was three and one half amazing, exhilirating, exhausting months traveling in Egypt, Senegal, Mali, Cote d'Ivoire, Ghana and Kenya.
Phoned musician boyfriend while in Cote d'Ivoire. He proclaimed his love for me and surprised me with plans to meet me in Israel for vacation when I returned.
Very reluctantly and only when we were down to our last couple of bucks, girlfriend and I used our plane tickets back to Cairo, charged bus tickets back to Jerusalem and collapsed.
I had no money. No plane ticket back to the US. And credit card debt to pay. But my San Franciscan soulmate would be joining me in a couple of months.
I got a room in an apartment in Jerusalem with some other Americans and a job as an English language secretary in a small medical supply import-export company. I had a regular job, took the bus, had Shabbat off, and arranged to take time off when boyfriend would arrive.
Boyfriend arrives.
Three days later we are laying in tent on the beach at the Dead Sea and he says, "I don't love you and I don't know if I ever did."
My heart shatters into a zillion tiny pieces.
He stays for two more week. I play tour guide. He goes home to San Francisco.
I wake up 3 months later with a killer hangover and the realization that I had bills to pay and needed to earn American dollars to pay them.
Arranged to return to camp for summer job. They paid my way back.
At end of summer camp sessions I had no where to go. Stayed at camp until caretaker shut down place for the season.
Ended up staying with my sister and her fiance until she and I were throwing things at one another. Needed a place to live and a way to make money.
Opened up local paper and saw a help wanted ad looking for a live-in nanny for 7 year old girl. One week later I moved into funky old house with ageing hippie, his 7 year old daughter and their two boarders just blocks from funky group house I lived in at college.
Soon realized that nanny job was only for room and board and I would need another job to pay bills.
Got a second job working the graveyard shift at a Kinko's.
Made a hell of a lot of copies.

to be continued ...