Revisiting 2014 Blog Entries!
1/14/14Â
I read things and I recognize myself. Every time, this makes me feel a little less alone, a little more “normal”. I ache for the young, miserable, vulnerable girl I was. Had I realized then that I wasn’t alone…well, things might have been different. I am still this little lost girl in many respects, but I have worked to build up supports. I have put myself out there in ways I never thought possible. And maybe it wasn’t possible at 14, 18, 24… it takes time to realize what you are capable of and what you deserve from life.
I am not perfect. Far from it. I often allow my mistakes to consume me, to eat away at me until I am just a shell of what I could be. I am quick to turn against myself, quick to believe any criticism I hear, whether it be from a close friend or someone I don’t even know. I am fighting everyday to learn to live with my mistakes and my imperfections. I am also quick to discredit the support I have, quick to dismiss the people who care about me. I am fighting to let them in and believe that I am worth caring about.
The main thing I’ve learned from therapy and the books I’ve been reading lately, is that my thoughts drive my emotions…my thoughts ARE my emotions…and they are often (usually) completely false. I understand this on a cognitive level, but change is incredibly difficult. Trying to combat feelings of worthlessness goes against years and years of ingrained thought patterns.
I am trying….and it’s frustrating. The pills aren’t magic. Therapy isn’t magic. Sometimes I want to quit. I still expect more than what I can do. I still let other people get in my head. I convince myself I can’t do the work it takes to get better. But sometimes, I look around me, and I feel so incredibly lucky. The people standing by me aren’t perfect either, but they are my people, and I love them. And that means that they can still love me, despite my imperfections. I have to believe that. Even when my mind is screaming that I am alone, I have to remember that I’m not.
“If you are chronically down, it is a lifelong fight to keep from sinking.”
“You’re too young to understand which thoughts are useless to you.”
- Girls
1/15/14Â
Last Session with my current APRN
She’s leaving, and all of a sudden she was much cooler.
(My blood pressure was FINALLY normal) “Well, it was probably up because you were drinking so much…but you were depressed. Whatever, I’ve been there, but I’m a nurse so at least I know to take magnesium supplements when I drink alot.”
"I like puzzles too, I glued some recently and hung them up." (Me: Yea, we did that too but we were too lazy to buy frames so they’re sitting on top of our dryer.) "Frames? Oh yea, that seemed like way too much cost & effort, I just put some sticky stuff on the back and put them on the wall."
"You’re very smart, so keep reading, but obviously you know more about yourself than books are going to tell you. Nothing is as easy as they make it sound."
…huh. Of course she didn’t let me appreciate her until I’ll never see her again. Thanks for my drugs, Mary. Good luck.
The Good, the Bad, & the Neutral.
There are certain places that have left a bad taste in my mouth, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over that feeling. These include really unfortunate places such as: Bingham, Myrtle Beach, Cabo, the Hamptons, Philly. It has nothing to do with the places themselves or the people I was with, just the mindset I was in while I was there. There are also places I’ve been to so many times that the good and the bad sort of balance themselves out: NHS, Calhoun, Bridle Trail Dr., New York, Storm’s apt on Avon, the Old Corner, work. And then there are places that I have overwhelmingly happy memories of: Wedgewood Dr., the 4-square blocks on Tanglewood, Hillside, Texas, Canada, the Cambridge, Boston, Quinnipiac, Cali, Block Island, Baltimore, 91 Avon St.
It does make me upset to think about how many good things I’ve ruined just based on how I was feeling at the time. But I also love that I have so many great memories from when I WAS feeling good. It reminds me that I’m not always depressed. I’m not always anxious. I’m not always feeling bad about myself. My life is not all bad, and it never has been. Sometimes I forget to remember the good times, and that there really are SO many of them. They outweigh the bad times 100 fold. My focus is skewed the majority of the time, but when I occasionally find that perspective, I feel content :)
If I was living with a significant other, my life would be very different
Something I just realized:
There is a difference between being suicidal, not being suicidal, and being somewhere in between. I have never tried to kill myself. I have never had a plan to kill myself. But I have thought about it. I have hurt so badly that I have thought it would be better to be dead. I have hurt so badly that I felt the need to hurt myself. I don’t want to kill myself. I am more interested in what is going to happen in my life than what is going to happen when I’m dead. But these thoughts do cross my mind from time to time. I’m not suicidal. But I flirt with ideas that most people would never even think about. What does that make me?
(Not gonna lie…I watch or read something where someone is thinking about killing themselves…I’m shot for the night. Maybe it should be me.)
1/17/14
Dad
my dad was not a hero. he didn’t do anything great. he didn’t save lives. he wasn’t well-known.
but he was my dad. he was my hero. he saved me. he was the most well-known person in my life.
he died, and maybe it was his fault. well, not his fault, because he didn’t do anything wrong on purpose, but maybe he caused an accident. and accidents are just that. maybe he made a mistake. we all make mistakes, they just usually don’t cost us our lives. i don’t know what happened. it’s never really bothered me. maybe it should. i was there, i should know what happened.
but to me, there was not much to know. i knew my dad. i knew he was a good person, a great father, and he would not have done anything to put my life at risk. so whatever happened, happened. accidents happen. it sucks. that one second that changed everything….it sucks. i wish i could go back and fix it. i wish i could remember, and maybe then i could have done something. i wish i could go back to a few minutes before and have a conversation with him. i keep saying that sudden death is better than a prolonged illness, but i wish i got to say goodbye. i wish i could have asked him more questions. i wish he could have given me more advice.
i don’t think about it very often…my mantra has always been “it is what it is” and i haven’t spent much time looking back on the “what if’s”. but occasionally i just get upset that he isn’t here. that i didn’t get enough time. that he didn’t get enough time. it’s not fair.
1/26/14Â
College Blues
Reading the Yale Alumni Mag often makes me feel guilt over being accepted, and anger toward myself for wasting such an incredible opportunity.
2/6/14Â
Setting SMART Goals in 2014
If you know me, you know I’m not one for New Year’s Resolutions. I think, for the most part, they are a waste of time. Most people set themselves up for failure by laying out completely unrealistic goals. They gain a false sense of accomplishment when they are able to stick with them for a week or so, and then laziness, apathy, stress, or just the demands of everyday life set in, and all of their good intentions go out the window. If there is one thing I’ve learned from being a special education teacher, it is how to set achievable goals.SMART goals are: Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Timely.
Specific & Measurable: Don’t just say you want to “lose weight” or “get heathy”. How much weight do you want to lose? How are you defining healthy? What strategies will you be using to meet these goals? What benchmarks are you using to measure your progress and how often are you checking in? If you are asked how things are going with your goal, and you can’t provide some sort of concrete data, it might be time to rephrase.
Attainable & Realistic: Smart goals are set based on prior knowledge, current skill levels, and with a plan for success in mind. I never write a goal for a child that says they will be able to do something 100% correctly, 100% of the time. No one can achieve that level of perfection, and it is damaging to expect that from yourself. You know yourself better than anyone, and you should know your limits. If you have tried something in the past and failed, don’t set the exact same goal again. Tweak it so it fits your needs. Break one big goal into a few smaller ones so that you will be successful, and then build off of your success. Which brings me to:
Timely: You are not going to lose 10 lbs in a week. You are not going to pay off your college loans in a month (at least not if you’re me). You have to allot yourself a reasonable amount of time, but you can’t just say “someday”. It is important to have an endpoint, or even better, checkpoints along the way.
Now, all of that being said, I will be the first to admit that I am no expert at setting and achieving goals. As a fairly new teacher, I still struggle to do this for my students at times, never mind myself. However, just like I can call a PPT in the middle of the year to change something that’s not working or add on to something that is, I can alter my goals throughout the year as well. Although the goals I have written below do not all fit the SMART format as right now, I have tried to make them realistic based on what I know about myself and what the coming year will bring. I will continue to revise and add to them as the year progresses, even minor successes will be celebrated, and I will not be too hard on myself if I slip up here and there. Like most things in life, goal setting is a learning process, and the more you work at it, the easier it gets (or so I’ve heard…)
My Goals for 2014:
-continue no smoking streak
-lose 15 lbs by June (get under 130), maintain weight of <135 after
-research & learn more about nutrition & what I’m putting in my body
-start up yoga again in spring
-move into 1BR apt by July, streamline possessions
-get a cat sometime after the move
-write curriculum over the summer
-pay off credit card debt by August (~4,000)
-open savings account
-buy new car in October
-pick ONE hobby and stick with it (guitar, photography, knitting, writing, etc)
2/7/14Â
I caved. I got drunk and texted storm tonight. It wasn’t necessarily because I wanted to see him. It was more just to see if he answered. And he did. But he answered to say he’s not drinking anymore. And that was what our entire relationship was built on. So I know we don’t have anything anymore. And that’s okay.
Honestly, I’m just sad sometimes, because I had something that I wanted so badly, and I haven’t felt anything remotely close to that in a while. It’s really difficult to give up on a feeling.
2/8/14Â
Fucking Bravo TV
(At that point in the night when I start feeling self-important. Like what I have to say matters….it doesn’t.)
Jax on Vanderpump Rules. He IS Storm. He is one of those people (usually an attractive male) that never has any consequences, and has grown so used to that, that he doesn’t even feel remorse when he does something wrong. It’s incredible to watch, even more incredible to have experienced first hand.
I thought I wanted that once. Not only wanted him, but wanted to be that way myself. I totally get it. It’s a shell, it’s protection from being hurt. But if you do it too long, it becomes who you are. You can’t go back.
…I still want to go back.
No, it’s not that I want to go back, it’s that I’ve never truly been there. I’ve never quite been able to let go of my conscience, no matter how hard I’ve tried. I care a great deal about other people. I feel terrible when I’m bad to them. I beat myself up over everything. I can’t NOT care. I’ve pretended not to, I’ve wished I didn’t…but why? It’s a blessing, not a curse. I am a real person with real feelings, regardless of how much I’ve pushed them down. It’s good to feel, it keeps your actions in check. When I tell myself I don’t care, I end up doing things I regret. I want to learn how to care again…not just hidden away internally, but I want it to show. I want to learn how to put myself out there. And that is so terrifying. It really is so much easier to hide out. But it’s never going to get me anywhere. By protecting myself from all the bad feelings, I’m missing out on all the good ones. And that sucks. I’ve just been doing it for so long, that I honestly don’t know how to change.
Free Verse (I’ll keep my day job)
"So it’ll be just you then?"
She asks and a thousand lives and a thousand answers flash through my head before I reply
Yes.
Awkwardly but I don’t know why, It’s always been this way.
On the way home
A vision of the future stops me dead in my tracks -
I could never love anyone but this bottle of wine,
And some yet unnamed furry creature who I will cry for
But really I will be crying for myself.
I watch the silhouette across the street and his long neck reminds me of ET,
and I think of my childhood and wonder if anyone will ever watch me like this.
I’ve been unusually cold lately.
There is a REASON I avoid dating like the plague
"All of the Dating Advice I Have:
5. If you can’t confidently say you like yourself, put a fucking halt on your dating life and work really hard to start.”
Very, VERY beginning stages.
"When you’re living in a bunch of shame, that’s when your mind goes to harming yourself, and that’s kind of how it happens."
"This obviously isn’t working, it hasn’t been working. Fuck, I just wanna be happy. What do I have to do to be happy?"
- Demi Lovato
2/10/14Â
jesus. fucking. christ. i hate him i hate him i hate him. manipulative son of a bitch. don’t talk to me for 7 months, wait till i contact you in a moment of weakness, then ask me for a favor 2 days later. you’ve got to be kidding me.
(I am fucking doing algebra right now after a bottle of wine. Kill me.)
2/13/14Â
I often get this urge to say “Hey, congratulate me!”
Sometimes it’s things I know are little, and seem normal to other people: “I didn’t drink for 3 days in a row, I haven’t smoked for 3 weeks”
Other times it’s obscure things that no one would really get: “I haven’t cut for 3 months, I turned down a dinner date with the only person I’ve ever loved”
I’ve been trying very hard to congratulate MYSELF for these things. I can’t rely on other people to do it for me. I’m the one that has to keep myself in check.
The hardest thing is to make myself believe these are all good things. I know objectively I’m doing the right thing. But I still have feelings and urges that place me in difficult situations. Sometimes it’s hard not to drink, to smoke, to cut, to give in to someone.
Even that’s a lie - not sometimes, ALWAYS. I always feel conflicted. Which is why when I make a good decision, I expect bells and whistles. I know I’m not going to get that from anyone else, but I think I should start giving it to myself.
Me, to me: You can do this. You are stronger than you think. You deserve congratulations every time you make a decision that makes you stronger. Maybe someday, it won’t be so hard…
2/16/14
A reason, a season, a lifetime.
I’ve been trying to remember a quote I’ve always liked about people coming into your life… the most similar thing I could find was this: “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.”
While usually I am so against the idea of things happening for a reason, I can’t help but believe this is true about certain people in my life. There have been times where I have been stuck, or sinking, and someone has come along and just by the power of their presence, have somehow changed it. These people may not have lasted long in my life, but they have pulled me out of some dark places, and I will be forever grateful.
A season…I would change this to a year, or 2 years, or maybe even 3. There are people I could not have lived without, that were my best friends, that I shared all my secrets with, that I spent all of my time with… but that for whatever reason, are no longer a part of my life. At least not a large part. I also owe them the world, they helped me grow and develop into the person I am today.
A lifetime….it’s hard to pinpoint who will last a lifetime. At any given moment, you think you know, but everything can change, and it has. However, there are some people in my life that have come and gone and come again, that were close than distant than close again….that no matter how bad things get, no matter how much we stray off each other’s paths, we always seem to reconnect. I feel like I’ve already lived a lifetime with them, and I want to live a lifetime more. We are inexplicably bound to each other, and I don’t see that changing.
I feel a deep sense of loss when I think of those who I only knew for a reason or a season; I feel a deep sense of comfort when I think of those who I (hopefully) will know for a lifetime. And I feel privileged when I think of all these wonderful people I have had a chance to cross paths with in my life thus far.
It is easy for me to isolate myself, to think I don’t need anyone. But looking back at my life, I realize there have been people there every step of the way, helping me through the hard times and celebrating the good. I couldn’t, I can’t, and I won’t be able to do it without them.
3/3/14
“It’s a new art form showing people how little we care”
My therapist deserves props today for going 15 min over our time to give me a pep talk after a somewhat difficult session. And by difficult, I mean I was being difficult. She showed no signs of frustration, although I was pretty frustrated with myself by the end.
And frustrated is probably too strong of a word, since what I’ve really been experiencing is a profound sense of apathy. Any deviation could best be described as mild annoyance or amusement, but nothing more intense than that.
"Let’s remember that you just made it through what is usually a difficult time of year for you, and in the past you would have been cutting. You’re not cutting, you’re not smoking, you have been limiting your alcohol consumption…. You are not self-soothing in the ways that have become comforting and familiar to you, so it makes sense for you to be having a hard time or feeling kind of off.
You are doing better than you have been in the past, and that is something.
Push yourself to keep having social contact with your friends, even when you don’t particularly want to. If you do it and it’s horrible you can come back and tell me so.”
Of course somehow what I took away from all this was: “Go buy a bottle of wine and cheat on your diet because it might make you feel better.”
I don’t think it’s what she had in mind, but sometimes we all bend words into what we need to hear at the moment. Just trying to feel something again, even if it ends up being shame and guilt over the choices I’m making tonight.
Untitled
Apathy rules this head and this heart
And all the best intentions are swallowed
by the gray waves of a sea that claims no loyalties.
How shall we proceed
When every horizon looks the same
And none look like home.
3/21/14
All or Nothing
There are people that are normal, and then there are people who are extremists.
After a long bout of exercising, eating healthy, not smoking, & drinking minimally, I was reminded of life.
Daylight savings time. St. Paddy’s shenanigans. A short but fierce cold. Insurance. Drama at work. Lawyers. Parent conferences.
Cue Friday afternoon. Things I picked up: 1 bottle of wine, 1 6-pack of beer, 1 pack of cigarettes, 1 block of smoked gouda. There is a good chance I will make it through approximately 80% of the aforementioned tonight.
I wish I could do moderation. Alas, I cannot.
Good luck to the rest of you.
Black & White
My Andy Warhol calendar pictures span the length of my room. I put them up at the end of summer, during the climax of my depression. I look at each square and I remember each month as a blur, and I count and realize how quickly time passes. And how it has somehow already been 7 months.
I think being medicated has made me feel less. My highs are less high, but my lows are significantly less low. I guess that’s all I could have hoped for. Life just…goes on. I still make mistakes, I just don’t freak out and shut down the way I used to. I still worry about my relationships, I just don’t overanalyze every single interaction. I still give in to my crutches when I feel overwhelmed, they just don’t lead me to quite as dark a place.
At the end of the day, I still feel….alone. I wanted my relationships to be stable, and they are. But that doesn’t mean I feel any closer to people. If anything, I feel less connected. Yet I’m okay with it. I’m not freaking out about it. I’m wondering if that is a problem in and of itself. I went from desperately needing people, to really not needing them at all.
I keep letting my feelings drive my life. I feel crazy and needy, I pull people down with me. I feel calm and closed off, I push people away. I forget to ask myself what I really want. Of course, the answer is neither. I have put myself in a situation where I only really allow myself one or the other. It’s certainly not fair to the people in my life, nor is it really fair to me, because I am never getting what I actually want.
If I’m being honest, I am terrified of the ups and downs of relationships. I want things to be black and white; I want to either hate or love, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of that. I am fighting so hard against the natural order of things, in which nothing can really be perceived as black and white. I don’t know why I’m so afraid. When it comes to myself, I am a walking contradiction, and exhibit so many shades of gray. Why can’t I project that onto the rest of world? Why can’t I accept people for what they are?
It follows then, that I don’t expect people to accept me, with all my shades. I envision myself in others’ eyes as black or white. I feel great as long as I perceive myself as good. As soon as I mess up, I am bad, and other people must see me that way as well. What a fucked up way to live, huh? It sounds so crazy.
*Caveat: Once I see you as good, it would take a hell of a lot to turn me against you. People that I love could fuck up again and again and I’m not going to hold it against them. But if I see you as bad, you will probably never do anything right lol.
3/27/14
I bought a new car. People keep asking me if I’m excited. I don’t know how to answer.
Work this week has been objectively stressful. Other people keep expressing their stress. I just look at them blankly.
I’ve been so tired. I’ve been drinking so I can just sleep. I have woken up late every morning.
I haven’t talked to or seen most of my friends in a week and a half. It bothers me on a conscious level, but I feel nothing. People don’t seem to want to interact with me, and I can’t bring myself to care. I assume I did something wrong. I don’t want to have to deal with fixing it. So here we are. Luckily my bed is comfortable.
I haven’t seen my therapist in 3 weeks, which is the longest I’ve gone since I started seeing her in late August. Perhaps I need that outlet in order to function normally.
My brother just texted me and he can still make me laugh. My mother and stepfather also made me laugh this week. Perhaps I can limit social interactions to my family.
They will never truly know me though. I will always be alone.
3/31/14
I can literally only write when drinking.
There’s something about that family aspect of living together that I’ll miss. I can eat their food when I’m starving and/or drunk, I can wear their jackets when I go outside to smoke a cig, I can steal advil from their room when I have a headache. I can have a few glasses of wine and stand in their doorway and wax poetic while they are eating dinner or folding laundry. I can blame the dirty dishes on someone else. I can be roped into watching random tv shows that I would otherwise have no interest in but end up enjoying nonetheless.
There is also a comfort factor for myself. I know I can’t get away with everything. I know I have to at least try to hide certain things. When I live alone, I can drink as much as I want. I can eat as much as I want. I can smoke as much as I want. If I want to punch through the wall or slice myself up with razorblades or take 5 sleeping pills…well, why not?
I am scared shitless about being on my own and not having to hide anything. Not that the people I live with are constantly checking up on me now, but at least I know they’re there. There’s something about the threat of being discovered that keeps me somewhat in check.
That all sounds worse than it actually is. I do want to live on my own. I want to be independent. If I really thought I would fail that miserably, I wouldn’t do it. And I haven’t for that reason in the past. I think I’m ready. I just don’t always have a lot of faith in myself. And I assume I will fall apart. And maybe, to some extent, it is a challenge to myself. Let’s see how long it takes you to fuck up.
….as I’m writing this, I’m realizing exactly what is going on in my head. I’ve already decided. I am giving myself an excuse to do these things once I live alone. I am setting myself up for failure, and I’m trying to make it sound like it was inevitable. I want to give up, I want to mess up, and I want to blame it on something or someone else.
Amazing. Well, then. 2 months left to get my head straight.
(This is why I write when I’m drunk…it allows me to explore my thoughts and get to the bottom of my feelings, more so than I could ever do while sober. Actually - this is why I get drunk in the first place.)
4/4/14Â
"But you have made changes. The old you would have just gone this weekend without trying to process your feelings beforehand, and you would have gotten drunk, and inevitably done something you regretted. Now, you are thinking about it. You are weighing your options. You are going to make a choice and no matter what it is, you should feel good about it…and whatever happens, we will work through it next week. Although, I do wish, for you, that you could just go out and be yourself, without having to think and worry so much. We’ll get there."
My therapist is awesome. I never realized how beneficial it could be to have someone help me put things in perspective and validate the good that I am not always able to see in myself. It is different from my relationships with my friends for a number of reasons, but lately I’m starting to realize that the main reason I get so anxious with my friends is because they HAVE seen me at my worst. I’m constantly terrified that I will go back to that place, and I’m constantly ashamed at the fact that I have been there. It makes relationships more complicated than they should be. I’m always wondering what everyone is thinking of me….what they remember….what they anticipate….what they can hold against me. I’m scared to be around people a lot of the time. I wish that wasn’t the case.
4/5/14Â
The thing I love the absolute most about reading a well-written novel: that my inner voice starts to speak in the same rhythm and style of the author. It’s exhilarating. I love knowing that I am so adaptable, that maybe one day one of these voices will stick, and I will become someone else…
4/12/14Â
how could anyone possibly overcome this overwhelming apathy? the definition implies that there would be no reason to care enough to do so. my eyelids are heavy and rimmed red because all i can do is lay in bed without the satisfaction of sleep. but who am i kidding, i’ve never liked sleep. my mind jumps around and my heartbeat sometimes flutters uncomfortably, but the rest of my body just wants to stay in one place, maybe forever. i’m not even thinking about what i “should” be doing…that only leads to anxiety which i have no use for at the moment. i am content not to be doing any of those things. yet i am anything but content in the standard iteration of the word. i am yearning for blood by proxy, which happens more often than i’d like to admit. turning the last page of a book in which the narrator is a cutter feels like i’ve just lost a best friend that i can never get back. the depression feels warm like a hug, and i embrace it back for the time being. i crave these unstructured blocks of time so i can fall deeply into the nothingness, even though the back of my mind is filled with the voices of others railing on about unhealthy behavior, and even my own voice comes through every now and again, to warn me of the danger of strolling the edge of this particular cliff. the way to shut off the voices is to engage in my preferred self-soothing methods of incessant drinking and smoking, i know the pendulum will inevitably swing both ways, but at these times i don’t much care whether the outcome is feeling more alive or more dead inside…either one eases the internal conflict for a while. not to mention, there really is nothing else i have to be doing. so why not drift around for a while and see what comes of it? the only thing i really desire is emotional stimulation (intellectual stimulation is important as well, but serves as a distraction more than anything). sometimes when i can’t get it elsewhere, i have to bring it upon myself, though the means may seem unconventional. i will compromise with myself however, and will at least take a shower before venturing out to buy my booze and cigarettes. this is my first sober writing in months…hopefully it gets more interesting later.
Second Grade
When I was in second grade my best friend’s mom died from cancer. We had probably been friends for about a year at that point. I don’t really remember how long we had been “best friends”, as those things are as fluid in elementary school as “boyfriends” are in middle school, but I know if you had asked me at any point that year, I would have named her as my best friend.
I don’t remember much about the differences between “before” and “after”… Her mom used to be there when I would go over her house, and then she wasn’t. I don’t remember if I ever said anything to her about it, if we ever had a conversation about it. Maybe not. After all, we were 7.
There is one event I remember very clearly, however. I loved my teacher that year - it was her first year teaching, she was young and vibrant, and full of fresh ideas to make school fun and interesting. The amount of incentives she had for us was enough to make any elementary school kid drool - the Reward Board and Cookie Jar are things I loved so much you would think I would have incorporated them into my own teaching - but that’s beside the point. Anyway, after Sara’s mom died, I vividly recall that my teacher did something very bold, something I can’t see any teacher risking, or bothering to do these days. She gathered us together on the rug in the back of the room, and we sat around in a circle while she facilitated an open and honest discussion about death. Eighteen or so second-graders, sans Sara, as she was obviously absent for a few days, and our teacher, talking about a subject that to this day remains taboo for most of society.
As young as we were, our experiences with death were minimal - grandparents, an aunt, mostly pets - yet what I remember most about that day was the amount of trust and safety we all felt as a part of that circle. Kids were sharing stories, sharing feelings, that they never had before, certainly not with their peers or teachers. Everyone, from class clown to class nerd to class bully, was appropriately solemn, displaying a maturity that seemed well beyond our years. I’m sure the conversation was slightly less poignant than I remember it - again, we were 7 - but the feeling I remember was genuine. We all shared in something special that day. The talk touched upon how to treat Sara when she returned to class…what to say, what to do…but I don’t remember any of the details, just the overwhelming support that we wanted to show as a class, as a “school family”.
Second grade was one of my favorite years of school for a variety of reasons, but looking back I have to say that this one incident has something to do with that. I cannot recall any other time in my schooling where I have been in a situation quite like that. There have been a lot of teachers through the years I have loved and admired, but none that did anything quite like that.
Anyway, this memory popped into my head unexpectedly today, and I realized that I haven’t ever really fleshed out how much it meant to me. I still don’t think I’m ready to do that in writing, I just felt like putting down the facts for now.
Celexa, 30mg/day
Debating with myself about taking my meds this week. I’ve skipped 2 days. I currently don’t have anyone to prescribe me my next round once these run out. I plan on putting myself into a depression and alcohol infused coma this week anyway. Why waste the pills, right? And I always like a good experiment. Let’s see if these things are actually pulling their weight, or if I can use that $20/month toward my car payment instead. Also, self-handicapping. Duh. I can fuck up all I want and blame the lack of pills. My mind really does work in these ways. Being medicated hasn’t fixed that…
New Beginnings?
She didn’t know I knew what I knew. And I didn’t know that she knew what she knew. And I realized in the span of a 5 minute conversation that we never really know….what the people closest to us know about us, what they hide, the choices they make to protect us, the choices we make to protect them, how these choices affect us, affect them. I was finally able to let go of something I’ve held onto for years, and I hope she was able to do the same. How much better would it have been to have an honest conversation years ago? Would that have even been possible?
I sensed a slight change in my relationship with my mother the other day. I think it came after I told her that I was seeing a therapist. I think she was relieved. I think we’ve both been so afraid to be honest with each other for so long because we are so scared of causing any more pain than we’ve already been dealt. My therapist has broached the idea of being more honest with my mom, and I’ve shrugged it off because I can’t stand the idea of her worrying any more about me. But maybe I am being selfish, and maybe we owe each other more honest conversations so we can let go of some of the unspoken worries we already have.
Pretty much as soon as my dad died I stopped letting other people comfort me, my mother included. And that was never really fair to her. It kills me that I ever acted in a way to make her think she wasn’t a good enough mother. I don’t think she still feels that way, but I wonder how much she’s still trying to make up for. I’ve always wanted to keep our relationship simple, but I’m beginning to realize it’s never been as simple as I’ve deluded myself into believing.
The scariest part for me is that I’m still not okay. It would be one thing for me to talk to my mom about the past if I was fine now. We could put it all behind us. But I don’t know that I’ll ever really be fine, and I really don’t want my family to know that about me. That no matter how much they love me, no matter how much they do for me, I’m still not happy, and don’t know if I’ll ever be. What then? I already feel that burden from my friends, I cannot deal with feeling that from my family as well. I love playing pretend around them…sometimes it’s my only escape. I selfishly don’t want to jeopardize that. Is there a way to separate the past from the present?
4/23/14Â
Being “right”
I feel like I often have to deal with the backlash of being smart: You were valedictorian of your high school, you went to Yale, you’re…a teacher? Why aren’t you doing more? Why don’t you WANT to do more?
Well…there’s actually a good reason for that. I like to do what someone tells me to do. I am good at doing what someone tells me to do. What do you think high school and college are all about? School in general, is doing what you are told. It’s getting the right answer. I am good at getting the right answer. In the real world, the people who are ambitious, the people who succeed, and climb to the top, are the people who don’t need to be told what to do. They are people who create answers for themselves. They don’t care about being “right”.
I do. I care. I have no interest in being in charge or telling other people what to do. The one thing that makes me happy in life is helping others. And I don’t know how to do that unless someone tells me. So there. I will never climb the ladder. I will never make tons of money. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t think I could handle it. I’ll tell you what though - if someone tells me what I should do, I will do it the best it’s ever been done. It’s why I got straight A’s my entire life. It’s why I have excelled in jobs I have to perform in a certain way. It’s why I sometimes struggle in my job now. It’s why I long for a career in which my only task is to do things “right”.
In my personal life, I often feel the opposite. I rebel against conformity, I don’t want to just do what other people have decided is “right”. I think I’ve realized that there is no “right”, yet I still feel the pressure of societal norms, and my student-oriented brain wants to do whatever I can to get that metaphorical pat on the back.
I long to be adventurous. I long for freedom. I long to fuck up every once in a while and be okay with it. I don’t think I can ever be that person. My mistakes will always haunt me, and my perfectionism will never take a back seat.
I miss the days when there was only one right answer.
5/4/14Â
FCF
A little over a year ago, I embarked on a short-lived quest called “Free Compliment Friday”. My goal was to compliment the people in my life on their accomplishments as well as what they have done for me, without being prompted or asking for anything in return. However, I now realize that this, like most of my endeavors, was somewhat selfish. I was not necessarily expecting anything back from those whom I complimented, but what I got was undeniably meaningful. So perhaps that is what I was going for all along, whether I intended it or not.
I just read through the responses for the first time in a while, and I felt humbled, honored, and in some respects very sad. There are people I felt so close to a year ago, that are now no longer a part of my life. And I know it’s my fault. I read through the nice things people said about me, and I have my doubts as to whether they are really true. Or maybe they were at the time, and I have regressed into the kind of person that would never elicit those responses.
I have never been able to maintain a balance between making myself happy and making other people happy. Time and time again I find that these two sentiments come into direct opposition with one another. But I want both. I want to be happy. I also want, even more so, to be the person who makes other people happy. I feel like I have a tendency to fall short, and it makes me sad. Perhaps I have sought out the wrong kind of people in my life, people who have expectations I will never live up to, no matter how much I want to. Perhaps I am just not trying hard enough. I tend to throw in the towel when times get tough. I was not built to deal with criticism. At least I still have the kind words I was given when I was living up to expectations. I will continue to cherish these no matter what.
5/10/14Â
"An ex-professor once told him he had a diamond-hard intellect and he’d been flattered at the time. Now he considers the nature of diamonds. Although sharp and glittering and useful for cutting glass, they shine with reflected light only. They’re no use at all in the dark."
“The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself.”
“I stood outside my house, my former house, waiting to have an emotion of any kind at all. None came. Having experienced both, I am not sure which is worse: intense feeling, or the absence of it.”
"I thought, they do understand something the others don’t, the French. They understand the anxiety of the body. At least they admit it exists."
"Was this a betrayal, or was it an act of courage? Perhaps both. Neither one involves forethought: such things take place in an instant, in an eyeblink. This can only be because they have been rehearsed by us already, over and over, in silence and darkness; in such silence, such darkness, that we are ignorant of them ourselves. Blind but sure-footed, we step forward as if into a remembered dance."
- The Blind Assasin, Margaret Atwood
5/12/14Â
What am I feeling right now? I feel like this is important. I need to know what is going on in my head when I have these urges. I am feeling alone, I am feeling that I have no friends, even though I just spent all night with them. I am feeling hopeless, or just that I will never be different and I will always go back to what I know, and this is what I know. I am talking myself out of it only because I will have to be with my family soon and I don’t want to have to hide the scars. And I am feeling resentful because they are preventing me from doing what I want to do. I am feeling different than everyone else. I am feeling like they all have plans to abandon me, and they do, to some extent. There are so many words they have said that crash through my head at any given moment… I’m sure they probably don’t even remember saying them. But I do. And I replay them again and again until I feel so much less than what I started as.
5/24/14Â
“I”
There is a part of my mind that sometimes wanders into a territory that I feel as if I should not be privy too…at least not the “I” that I have constructed for myself. It is at these times that I feel most acutely that I am living two parallel lives - and I have an incredibly hard time figuring out which one is real. Or, maybe not real - I know which one is real; it is the tangible one, the one that I can touch, the one that involves the people I know to be my friends and family, the one that involves my job, my apartment, my accomplishments and my regrets. The other life is intangible - it involves my thoughts, my dreams, my fantasies, and my deepest feelings that I am often not willing to admit to even my conscious self. It is not filled with real people, rather those who exist purely in fiction, whether created by others or myself, yet whom I have forged a deeper connection with than many of the real live people I interact with everyday. It is here that I play out my life unrestrained by social conventions, monetary necessity, and familial obligations. I can’t say that I am happier in either version of life - they are just different. They allow me different pleasures and different sorrows. They each shed a different light on who I am, at my core. And at my core, I am desperately conflicted. These two selves are constantly at odds, each unconsciously holding the other one back from what they might achieve in either version of the truth. I now realize that my motivation should be to reconcile the two; to allow myself parts of each, to let go of parts of each…to reach peace within my dueling mind.
In case it seems like I am narcissistically naive - I am not. I recognize that everyone is in a constant battle with themselves all the time. I have a deep admiration for those who have come to terms with this, for better or for worse. I am just not there yet…
Here:
Please always remember the one thing I never told you: see yourself through the eyes of others, and you will always be either irreparably damaged, or pleasantly surprised…
Once upon a time the world set out to harm you. Once upon a time the world set out to make you brilliant. But you never gave the world a chance.
Life comes to us in jagged pieces, like a puzzle fitting in around the center we were born with. But unlike a puzzle, there are no corners, there are no edges with which to start. That would make it too easy…and life, as we know, is anything but easy.
5/25/14Â
Memories
Here’s something that made me sad the other day: My brother and my mother both recalled meeting friends of my father at the reception after his funeral. The only thing I recall from that day is sneaking Mike’s Hard Lemonade from the bar downstairs. I had just turned 14. This was the beginning of the end.
7/10/14Â
I’m wondering if at some point we run out of words. We run out of ways to describe what we’re feeling, because what we’re feeling stays the same for too long. What was once shocking becomes banal. What was once sharp and jabbing is now dull and barely registers. Nothing hurts like it once did. That’s not to say it’s not still there. The pain follows us around, mocking our inability to just get over it. People change and let go and become better. And then there are those of us that stay stuck. There is nothing left to say that hasn’t already been said. There is nothing left to feel, because it’s already been felt.
Life becomes something we tolerate; we become experts at going through the motions. We only feel alive when tragedy strikes, and then we feel guilty for channeling energy from someone else’s despair. Our own despair feels far away now, yet on some level we know that to go through it again might kill us, and so there is always an underlying anxiety.
The less people we care about, the better. We either feel too much or we block it all out. Either way, we cannot be helpful, we cannot be comforting. We have never even allowed ourselves to be helped, or comforted, and we can’t start now.
7/23/14Â
Close to the end!
Ok so I’m totally shelving this blog very, very soon and moving on to happier/brighter/shinier things, which may or may not involve writing. (Potentially a new blog, that has the ability to reach out and slap me, or at least talk back to me in an exasperated yet sassy voice every time I start typing anything too emo…we’ll come back to this.)
Anyway, 2 things before I go:
1) When you are trying to change, and someone you thought had actually managed this feat suddenly reverts back to their former self, you may feel all sorts of things. Discouraged, angry, confused…but I think I mostly feel sad. And exasperated (like the genie inside my new blog will be!). And a little bit empowered. Because listen, I cannot be that person for you anymore, and I’m not going to let you suck me back in, because at this point in my life, I’m starting to get an idea of what “pathetic” actually looks like. (It unfortunately looks exactly like my ideal physical type, causing me to seriously question whether I will ever be able to experience true attraction again, without that little voice in the back of my head equating it to complete and utter disaster.) Anyway, the point is, save your apologies because it will always be too little, too late. And don’t expect me to understand you for much longer, because I am beyond sick of this lifestyle, and I no longer want to be the kind of person who understands you (….I think that sounds way harsher than it actually is.)
Well now that I just wrote the above, this will probably seem completely hypocritical. But I swear, it’s an entirely different context…
2) I’ve done a bit of sighing and eye rolling and petty commenting recently about a former friend, and I’ll admit (as if it isn’t obvious) that it’s all actually coming from a place of some pretty deep and frankly unexplored hurt (so I apologize for what might be a long-winded explanation). It certainly wasn’t the first time I had proved myself a bit of a wild card when it came to the friendship department, nor was it the first time someone had needed a break from me, however it might have been the first time someone had expressed it so blatantly, and also came at a time when I was already a bit…unstable. It has been suggested to me that an apology would solve the problem - I don’t think the people suggesting this fully understand the problem as I see it: Someone I considered a close friend basically told me that it was too difficult to continue being friends with me, mainly because my unhappiness was affecting her too much. And you know what? I don’t blame her for that. It’s entirely sucky and draining to constantly be trying to help someone who can’t be helped no matter what you do. (Contrary to the fact that I could win an Oscar for playing “that friend”, I actually do get how it feels to be on the other side.) So here’s the thing….I accepted her withdrawal of friendship. I didn’t push it, I didn’t grovel, I didn’t try to come crawling back. For one thing, that’s not in my nature (I can be a bit stubborn, shocking), but the main reason is that I understood she needed time so I decided to let her take it. I did make my apologies for specific actions which were inappropriate, but other than that we haven’t spoken in almost a year. Now, from my perspective (and I may be wrong), I don’t see the ball as being in my court. What can I possibly say to someone who made a choice to cut me out of their life? I have nothing to give her. I cannot tell her I am a completely different person than I was last year because I don’t know if that’s true. I cannot tell her that I’m now an easy person to be friends with because that’s also probably (definitely) not true. Am I sorry for everything I’ve put all of my friends through since the beginning of time? Of course! But I’m not stupid and I know that doesn’t actually fix anything. The bottom line is that fixing our friendship is not something I feel is within my control. (Or, if you totally disagree with me and want to look at it another way: losing friends really hurts and I don’t want to put myself in a situation to be rejected again.) Regardless, I have no moves to make. Still deciding if I want to endure the awkwardness/anxiety/vulnerability of Saturday or not…
