While You Weren't Sleeping

These past couple weeks, I haven't been sleeping properly. I've been suffering from anxiety attacks that keep me up at night, and nightmares what wake me up once I'm finally down. I got no sleep for so many days in a row that I couldn't remember my last good night's sleep. It was so brutal that one night, I had to get out of bed, and turn on the lights to fight off the anxiety, and then I was so frustrated and tired that I lay on my living room floor, sobbing.

When I first started not-sleeping I wished for a fast-foreward button. I just wanted to be a few years ahead of where I am now. I'm making progress towards what I want, but it's slow-going. I was miserable with everything. I started to write a blog post about it. About how I felt miserable even though my life is great, even though everything is going in my favor, about how confused I was about feeling so awful. Things for me a great, so why did I feel so down?

By the end of last week, I was so tried, and so miserable that I wanted to kill myself. It's been a while since I felt like that, and admitting it right now makes me really uncomfortable. I think it was just the lack-of-sleep. Right now, I don't want to die. Not at all. At the time, I just wanted the pain to stop, and sometimes I get caught thinking that's the only way to make it. Not usually, not often, but sometimes. Sometimes, when I'm emotionally drained and phsyically unwell, when the anxiety is too much, and the exhaustion is overwhelming, I think like that. I think it would be easier to just roll over and die. Just to make it stop.

And I think that's why I stopped blogging last year. And I think that's why I don't talk to my best friend anymore. Because when I feel like that, I know better than to share. If they believe me, they will be worried, scared. No matter how desperate I get, I wouldn't do it, because I couldn't do that to the people I love. Jeffrey, Amanda, Lauren, all of my friends, would be hurt. I couldn't hurt them like that, no matter how desperate I was. One person's pain is nothing compared to the pain of three, four, five or ten people.

So if my friends realized how serious I was, they would be concerned. And more likely, they would think I was just attention-whoring, and that would be even worse, I think.

I don't think like this very often. I need anyone who reads this to understand that. The big, the bad, the bold "I want to kill myself" is not an everyday occurrence, or even an every month, or every year thing. It just happens once in a while.What I'm really talking about is that miserable feelign that proceeds it. That "fast-foreward button" thinking that I do. That's why I stopped talking. That's why I shut down. That's why.

Sometimes I fall apart. And I'm okay. I will eventually be okay. I'm blogging right now, because holding myself accountable is something that will, I hope, help me be okay, and stay okay.

Even when I fall apart, it's not that bad. While I was drowning in exhaustion, I made a friend. I'm not good at making friends. I have friends in Massachusetts, and I have friendly acquaintances everywhere I look, but I don't really have any local friends, besides Jeffrey and his family. I am friends with my manager at work, but if she gets caught hanging out with me outside work, she'll be fired, so we don't very often. I don't want to. I don't want her to get in trouble, and I get nervous. I worry. I care. But now I finally have a friend who I wouldn't be afraid to call up and say "Let's go on an adventure, today." Of course, he's moving at the end of this month, so that sucks. I already have plenty of friends who I talk to online only. I want an adventure buddy while Jeffrey is at work! I want someone who I can invite to have dinner with Jeffrey and I!

And now I've totally changed topics, but I'm going to leave it, because I think it's also good to remind myself that there is hope. There are good things.

A New Leaf

It's been a year and a half since I posted on this blog, but not for lack of caring, or lack of wanting to. I still want to blog. I'm now going to be blogging again.

Before I stopped posting, I was posting less and less, and less. I can't pinpoint exactly when it started because it wasn't a sudden thing, it wasn't a certain moment. It happened slowly. Bit by bit, I stopped.... stopped everything. I stopped writing, I stopped reading, I stopped cooking, I stopped caring about school, but most importantly, I stopped loving, and I nearly stopped caring.

This blog was one of the first things to go, because no one who read it would hold me accountable. No one would send me a concerned email, and I knew that. Then I stopped writing entire. It was a solitary activity. No one would notice. Slowly, I began to hate myself, and stopped doing things that  made me happy. I knew I didn't deserve to be happy. I knew I didn't deserve to waste my time on frivolous activities that weren't actually productive. I withdrew from my family, from my friends, even though I was having really intense social cravings. I wanted friends more than anything in the world, but I pushed away the ones I had, and I couldn't make new ones - I didn't deserve it, I didn't need it, I'm socially awkward, I get anxious in social situations: I had every excuse in the book playing through my head, constantly.


I still cared for everyone, in my heart, but in my actions, I may as well have been a stranger, or worse. I was even driving a wedge between Jeffrey and I. We started arguing. I was nasty towards him. I'd say mean things, try to get him angry with me, provoke him until finally, he would get angry, and then, when I realized I hurt him, I would shatter. I'd cry, and I'd revert back to the tiny child I had once been. I would crawl into the smallest, darkest corner of the room and isolate myself to get myself under control. He, knowing that small corners are my safe-spaces, would get concerned - Had he hurt me that badly? - and he'd crawl into the closet or under the desk alongside me, and rock me, and let me know he wasn't going anywhere. He'd tell me he loved me, apologize for his part in the argument, apologize for upsetting me.

We argued a while back, a couple weeks ago, I can't remember over what, but I remember trying to think of something to say to make him angry, and I remember realizing, all of a sudden, what I was doing. I hadn't been doing it on purpose, and suddenly I was aware. The whole argument is a blur now, besides that one tiny moment, but I ended up opening up a whole lot that day to Jeffrey. There were a lot of tears and I crawled up under my desk twice, but both times I crawled out on my own, and I made a decision. I know it's February, a little late for New Year's Resolutions, but I'm making one anyways.

I am going to spend this year getting myself back. I'm not going to push people out. I'm not going to be mean to the people I love most, and I'm going to get back to taking care of myself, and my mental health.

When I was in high school, I did my nails every day. I shaped them, I buffed and polished them, and I painted them. Every day, I did my nails. I didn't do it because I like having nice nails (although I do like that too). I did it because I found going through those motions to be very theraputic. But for over a year after I moved out (the second time) I didn't even own a single one of my nail supplies. No buffer, no nail file, no nail polish. I mentioned that to a friend a few days ago, when I was just getting back to painting my nails, and she said "Wow. I don't even know what your hands would look like if they weren't done. I can't picture it."

So this is me, turning over my new leaf. I'm going to get back to being the person I like being, rather than someone I hate. I'm going to be me again.

Apparently, this is about Harry Potter

Pride, Anger, and other emotions

Lately, I’ve been super-emotional, but I haven’t been able to figure out why. Today it hit me. I haven’t been sharing. Not only have I not been blogging, but I haven’t been talking about things either. There has been a LOT going on, but I just haven’t been willing to talk. I put myself under pressure, trying to keep it all to myself, trying to “be strong.”

I should know by now that “be strong” means “do what is necessary to take care of yourself.” It doesn’t mean hold all that emotion in. It doesn’t mean you can’t share.

It’s not all bad things. It’s just an overwhelming number of things. Just as a warning: this post is going to be really long, and really all over the place. It’s going to be a dump of everything I’ve been feeling for the past month. Get Ready or Stop Reading. There are no other options.

Virginia. I moved back down here, and I can’t help but feel a little ashamed. Everyone feels like I gave up, and it’s so easy for me to feel like I’ve done so too. I don’t like giving up. I know, in my head, that what I did was the right thing. I couldn’t, honestly was not capable of doing what it was I wanted. I couldn’t make money appear from thin air. I couldn’t make my mother stop drinking. And since I was unable to do those two things, I was slowly losing my sanity there. I was trying to make the impossible happen.

So why do I feel guilty? My mother wont talk to me about college. I’ve decided to go to Hollins University, instead. But every time that comes up in conversation with my mother, she gets really angry. Shut up. I gave up the college I wanted to, and in part, I did so because of you. If I had a place to stay up in Massachusetts, I still wouldn’t have been able to go that semester, but I could have gone the next semester, or maybe next fall. But I couldn’t stand living with you, Mom. You made me cry EVERY SINGLE FREAKING DAY! That’s just not healthy. I couldn’t do it. So why, why, WHY do you make me feel bad every time I mention college. Shouldn’t my not being happy at home be my punishment? Shouldn’t giving up something that I wanted so badly be enough? Why do you insist on telling me how much of a mistake I’m making?.... and why can’t I be honest with you, and tell you how angry I am?

And then there’s my sisters. I still don’t know what to do about them? They don’t want me to call DCF. They will be separated again, and they would rather stay together at my mothers house, than be separated in a happier place. I understand that so very much. But it tears me apart. They deserve to be together in a happy place. They deserve better than this. Do I give them what they want? Or what I think it healthier? But is being separated from the person they trust most (each other) really any healthier?

The only person who I would feel comfortable asking for advice is my aunt, but I know what she’d say. And I’m also afraid to call her, because I also know that she’ll be disappointed in me for giving up my dream school. My whole family is college-obsessed and it drives me crazy. I’m going to school. Maybe not the school I wanted to, but school just the same. Why does it matter to them what school I go to? If they weren’t so nutty about it, I would be much better off. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone about anything, because it always comes back to college, and no one is ever satisfied with what I do. I wish people could realize that, at least so far as school goes, my choices are necessities, rather than choices. My mental well being means more to me than whatever school my degree comes from. I wish I meant more to everyone else.

And my dad. Things are fine now, I talked to him 3 days ago. But before that, I hadn’t talked to him since the day I moved out. I kept calling him, kept emailing him, kept getting no response. And I know he was around. He was commenting on facebook about thing. But never to me. It hurt me so terribly. Apparently, he was just busy, he finally called me, but even still, it stings to know that the picture of my sister’s new hair cut was more important than a quick “hey how are you?” email to me.

I’m not really happy here, if I’m going to be totally honest, but all the reasons are stupid. I think it’s more that I’m unhappy because people expect me to be, because really, the things here are okay. Jeffrey’s grandma loves to take care of people. She loves feeding people, and she’s very get-things-done-ish. She once folded my laundry, because I left it in the drier for more than an hour, and seemed pretty thrilled when I thanked her. She’s such a sweet lady. I’ve never had anyone even offer to do so much for me, never mind actually going and doing it all. She’s wonderful. In fact, all my future in-laws are wonderful. I love Jeffrey’s parents too. I wish we got up to see them more (but they live about 2 hours away)

But she has some habits that drive me crazy. For example, she buys things that she doesn’t need, because they have a low price. They aren’t on sale, its not an unusually low price, but she’ll buy 8 loaves of bread because “it’s a good deal.” It is a good price, but it’s also their regular price. She goes to the grocery store every Tuesday. She really only needs one loaf of bread. If by next week she needs another, she can grab one for the same price, since she’ll be at the store anyways. And she puts it in the freezer, to keep it from going bad. But not just the 7 extra loaves of bread. She’ll freeze all 8 of them, and defrost a little if she wants it. It’s really irritating, when I’m hungry. You can’t defrost bread in the microwave; it’ll get soggy. So I have to wait several hours for the bread to come to room temperature. It’s not just bread that she does this with. It’s everything. I’ve never been in a house with so much delicious, but inedible food. I don’t plan my snacks in advance, and because of that, I no longer eat snacks all that often. And I feel so terribly guilty for being unhappy over something so silly. The phrase “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” comes back to me. But sometimes, I’m hungry and I don’t want to wait for bread to defrost, but I have no choice and it makes me cranky. I don’t like being hungry.

And the final bit, the thing that really kills me inside, is that yesterday was my sister’s 13th birthday, and she told me not to call her. I couldn’t even wish her a real happy birthday. It broke my heart. I don’t even know what to say about that. She wanted me to call in the evening, since she had plans in the day. I understand that. Makes perfect sense to me. I didn’t want to interrupt her plans. I texted her throughout the day a little, and wished her a few happy birthdays that way, but I was so eager to say it to her out-loud. I love birthdays. Anyone’s birthdays. They make me happy. So in the evening I texted her “Hey are you busy?” Her response was “No, but I don’t really want to talk. I’ll probably scream at the next person who tries”

“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Someone said something but I don’t want to talk about it.”

I sort of fell apart. First of all, who the hell pissed my sister off on her birthday? That’s not okay. I was totally ready to pummel whoever did that. And then I was hurt, because I wouldn’t get to say happy birthday to her. What kind of sister does call to say happy birthday? Ten years from now will she remember that I didn’t call her on her 13th birthday and be angry? I should have called, despite the threat of being yelled at. I mean, 13 is a big birthday. It’s when you turn into the dreaded teenager (which is a whole ‘nother emotional mess for me. I can clearly  remember the day Amanda was born. How on earth did that tiny baby turn into this teenager? And even moreso, how did it happen so fast?)

So yesterday I was dealing with that when someone posted a trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I smiled. I really love when people post Harry Potter things. HP was more-or-less my entire life for a few years, and is still a very much loved part of it. I occasionally spend my free time browsing the Harry Potter Wiki. So about half a second after I smiled, I burst into tears. I wasn’t just teary-eyed. I was actually sobbing. This movie will be part-one of the very last Harry Potter book. I can’t believe its almost over. I cried when the book series ended, because it was the end. But I managed to remind myself that it wasn’t the end. There were still movies to wait for and look forward to. But that’s not going to last much longer. Since I was 9 years old, I haven’t stopped waiting, stopped anticipating Harry Potter something. First I was waiting for the 4th book. Then the first movie, then the 5th book, and so on. Now what? I have the last bits of movies, and the encyclopedia that JKR promised, and then what? That’s half my life that’s almost over. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t like endings, even when they make sense. Even when it’s time for something to end. I don’t like books to end. I don’t like series to end. I didn’t want high school to end. I don’t like when songs end. When I enjoy something, I want to continue to enjoy it.

Stubbornly, I’ve refused to watch any of the Deathly Hallows trailers. I don’t want to admit that it’s ending. But last night I remembered right before the third movie came out. I was with Chelsea, and we had been working on a school project. I was in 7th grade, and the project was to design a plant. Yes, a plant. We called it Chrelesanie, which is both of our names merged together. That night was the same day that the trailer for the third movie came out. So as we worked, we had the trailer loading on her computer. Occasionally we’d stop to see how far it had gotten. She had dial-up internet, and it took forever, but I still remember that night, and remember how important that trailer was. I remember when the cover art for the Half-Blood-Prince book came out. I remember one of my friends on the bus had internet access through her cell phone and we spent forever trying to bring up a picture that we could see on her tiny little screen. I remember how much I ENJOYED the anticipation and waiting for these movies and books. I counted down days, and even hours. I have been to midnight book releases, and a midnight movie premier. And I think I finally do have to let myself watch Deathly Hallows trailers. Putting off seeing them wont make the end not come, but it will stop me from enjoying my anticipation of this movie, the way I’ve enjoyed waiting for every other book and movie.

I can’t believe I wrote more about Harry Potter than anything else. I’m such a nerd.

Grouchy

Today and yesterday, I woke up at 5, was at work at 6, got off work at 10, came home, and spent the afternoon melting outside. I was running a yard sale for my mother. According to weather.com the high yesterday in my zip code was 88. Today was even worse (although I think it was also more humid today, so that might be a contributing factor). I don't like being hot. I get very sick very quickly, no matter how much water I drink.

Before I agreed to sit out there roasting all day, my mother told me that if we made less than $100, I could keep all of it. She wasn't interested in making money. She just wanted to get rid of all this old stuff that we wont use, but other people might. We made $57, total, about $10 of which was made by selling things that Jeffrey and I had bought ourselves but no longer wanted. Then my mom told my sister she could have $25, leaving me with $32. Fine. Then my mom told me that I had to buy cheese and potato chips, and she told me that she would be pissed if it took more than 5 minutes for me to get to the store and back. There is only one store close close enough for me to get there and back in that time. I got there, cheese was $5, and chips were $4. Over priced, but I was in a rush. Okay. I still had $21. I was a little annoyed, but I was still okay. $21 is still a little more than I had two days ago. Every penny counts.

About half an hour after I got back from the store, she calls me down again. "You didn't buy milk when you were out, did you?"
"No, but what's it matter. I can just drink my coffee black in the morning."
"I'm going to be really pissed," she said, "if my fridge doesn't have milk in it tonight."
"Why? I'm the only one who even drinks it."
"I want some."
"So that means I have to go up to the store?" I was trying my best to weasle my way out of it. I should have known it wouldn't work.
"Either go to the store, or I'm going to be angry."
"Alright." I said. I paused, hoping that she would offer me some money, but after a moment things got awkward, and I went to go get some of the yard sale money. Milk here, at any store, is around $3.50 give or take a quarter. Just before I left I went back downstairs. No way was I going to the store AGAIN.

"Before I go, I need to know if there's anything else you want. I don't want to make another trip to the store." I said. Her eyebrows rose up, the way they do when she's getting pissed. "Anything you need before I go?" I asked again, this time in a little sweeter tone.
"Yeah, actually. Can you get me two packs of cigarettes."
"Sure," I said, although I wasn't happy about what she wanted. I am rather proud to say I have never bought a pack of cigarettes in my life. "Can I have some money?" I asked. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw tightened. Quickly I corrected myself. "I mean, i dont mind buying food and stuff, but like, cigarettes I just.... I don't want to pay for your cigarettes."
"Well never mind then. I don't have any cash and I'm NOT giving my card to you." It wasn't so much what she said that bothered me, but the tone she said it in. The way she said you as if I were some kind of scum. As if I would steal her money or something. I was absolutely FUMING! The cigarettes she smokes are $8 a pack. If I had bought those and the milk I would have been left with a little over a dollar.

So I went and bought milk. She made dinner, but didn't call me down to eat. Eventually Jeffrey and I went down to get food, and even though she spoke to him several times, she ignored every attempt at conversation I made. Silent treatment. Again.

And the kicker to it all? My mom is now asleep, and I just opened the milk.

I'm rather grumpy now.

Time to Vent a Little

I'm getting really REALLY tired of strangers telling me I'm too young to get married. You’re strangers. If you were a friend, I would think you were genuinely concerned. But you aren’t a friend. I don’t even know your name. You have no reason to care about whether my marriage is a success or a failure, and so your comments about how my marriage is doomed? They almost feel like something that you’re saying just to upset me.

And it’s working. It's not making me second guess myself. It's not making me scared. It's just making me angry. You don't know who I am, you don't know who he is, and your reasons for why its a bad idea, half the time, aren't even true.

Friends, if you think I'm making a mistake, I will listen to you. I will know that you're trying to help, and I won't get angry. I will appreciate your honesty, even if our opinions are not the same.

Strangers I will NOT listen to you. Not unless you take the time to actually talk to me, whcih would make you not strangers anymore.

What prompted this? I found a message on facebook from someone who I don't know. It's a friend-of-a-facebook-friend, but I hardly even know our one mutual connection. When I first read the message, I was so offended that I deleted it instantly, but it said something along the lines of "Congratulations on ruining your life. It's impossible to make a marriage last when you're young, and no one who gets married in college ever graduates. Have fun being in debt and homeless in ten years."

It was longer than that, but I can't remember what else it said. It was rude, and I'm quite angry. Unfortunately, I encounter this attitude pretty often. It's always "You're too young and you're ruining your life." Occasionally it's "Oh you're getting married? I didn't know you were pregnant." That's just annoying. I'm not pregnant, and even if I was, I would not get married just because of that.

Oh, and I'm not ruining my life. Just throwing that out there.

Ghosts

I need to learn to let go. The past has haunted me, is haunting me, and will continue to follow me. I need to get rid of it. What kind of person sits in the mall, and then suddenly starts crying about something that happened almost 3 years ago?

Me. I need to learn to forgive. I need to learn to forget. I need to get rid of it all. There is a shadow over my head all the time. Successful people don’t let their pasts hold them back. I want so much to be successful.

And I want to forgive my mother. I love her, and for her I have to try. I can’t keep beating myself up over the jobs I couldn’t find. I cant keep being angry over our Christmas fight. I can’t keep feeling guilty for not calling her that year on her birthday.

And I need to forgive myself. I can’t keep hating myself for not being able to get her to stop drinking. I can’t keep blaming myself for not taking care of my sisters. I can’t keep crying over the fact that her house was a mess.

My heart shouldn’t race in fear whenever I see someone who looks mildly like my sister’s father.

The ghosts of my past are following me. It’s not healthy, and I know that. And lately I’ve been all about healthy. I’ve been exercising, eating better, cutting out a lot of my contact with the people who tend to bring me down and getting back in touch with people who are good for me. I’ve been planning more and been organizing more to hopefully reduce the number and frequency of my anxiety attacks.

Mostly, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Everyone has problems, and I make too much of a big deal out of mine. I need to stop that. How can I help other people if I'm feeling bad about myself?

I’ll end this with a quote from a song which sums it all up pretty well.

I don't believe in ghosts but I'm afraid of 'em

_______________________________
Song Credit: Ghosts by Skye Sweetnam

Manners, Etiquette and All Things Proper

When I started this blog, it was because I needed a place where I could vent, and ask for help, without having to force my problems on someone else. A place where I wasn't directly addressing one individual and putting them on the spot. I did that because I felt like directly asking was impolite, invasive, and demanding.

And then just now I realized that I have started 4 separate posts and not posted because I didn't think it was acceptable to post more than one blog a day. I thought that made me appear desperate, and boring, and that no one would read if I did that. This is not the first time I've avoided putting up posts because I don't want to be invasive. I must be crazy. This place is my release. A personal blog. Personal meaning that I shouldn't care what's right. I should just say what I need to say. It's not a professional blog, and doesn't have to follow any rules.

One attempted-post was about how much I miss my dad. I never really talked much about him. Being far away from him has put a bit of distance between us and I dont like it. He doesn't like to talk on the phone, he doesn't like sending long emails. I don't think he's gotten a letter in years and if he got one from me he'd probably think I've lost it. So I don't talk to him much. And that really, really sucks. He's been the one who told me I could be a writer if I wanted, and not just in the "you can do anything" mindlessly encouraging way. He said it in the "Look closely at it. Explore it, do your research. Write your book. Look at other jobs in the business. Make sure you want it, but if you do, then go for it. You can do anything, but it takes hard work" sort of way. The kind that made me REALLY look and be sure. I know what I want.

He's done that my whole life. With everything. When I was little he would take me to toys R us and tell me I can get any toy, or as many toys as I wanted as long as they were under some set price. He told me to think carefully. What did I REALLY want? What would I play with the most? These outings weren't often, but they were good lessons.

And I miss him. It's so hard to talk to him from here. I can't wait to see him again. There are things about him that drive me crazy, for example, he's REALLY repetitive. He once told me 15 times in 5 minutes that there were peaches in the fridge and I should help myself. "There are peaches in the fridge. Help yourself to them..... And are you hungry? we've got peaches. .... On the bottom shelf of the fridge are some peaches." Thanks Dad.

The other attempted posts may or may not make an appearance here. I don't really feel them anymore. We'll see.