An agoraphobic's worst nightmare. Especially mine... I really do not like strangers getting in my space bubble.
I am locking myself in my house, and decorating for Christmas.
I've gone Black Friday shopping a few times with my mom (when I was much younger) but I haven't done it in years... and have no desire (or money, for that matter) to. Going out in public feels like utter chaos to me on a normal day as it is. The few times I went when I was younger, I was honestly kind of terrified. Too much.
Good luck to anyone who will be gaming up for Retail Dooms Day a week from now :) You are a much braver soul than I...
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I'm in LOVE
...with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. Waving the bright red flag of nerd proudly ;)
But seriously, there are VERY few movies that I can sit through and just watch. My anxiety really messes with my attention span; I like having TV on in the background, but it's very difficult for me to sit through a movie, or even an episode of a TV show (though they are easier). I sat through the whole HP 7 Part 2 last night, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have it on in the background right now... watching the regular version, right after watching it in "Maximum Movie Mode." So yeah, a tiny bit obsessed with this movie X_x
Yeah, I'm totally a crazy HP fan. Those books are some of the happiest memories to me, you know? I freaking loved/still love reading the Harry Potter books. I love how they transport the reader into this amazing world of magic... Rowling is a genius! In all cliche-ness, the books are damn enchanting... and I can't help but love the movies as well. I started reading the books when I was only 14 years old; nearly a year and a half later, the first movie came out. It's been amazing, the progression of the books and the films... parasocial interaction big time <3
Oh yes, and... HP 7 Part 2 is even more special to me because it was a surprise that Vuni got for me last night :D We had a blast watching it! Wow, I really feel lucky & loved <3
Monday, November 14, 2011
Grateful
I think I've mentioned this before: my mom is a 2nd grade teacher. I spend a lot of time volunteering in her classroom; I truly love it. I love the kids; they're so cute and sweet.
Anyways, this week my mom handed out these paper feathers that say "I'm thankful for..." and then have a few blank lines for them to fill in. Before I get sentimental and stuff...
I'm sort of dreading the holidays this year. Honestly, I have a love/hate relationship with the holidays. I love the decorations, the lights, the smells, sounds, ect. but I despise the drama and stress... which, with a big family, there's always more then plenty of that. But I'm really fretting about it this year, because our lack of $$$ means that we don't have money for presents. My mom has been so sweet, telling me repeatedly not to worry, that her and my dad were unable to afford gifts for people the first few years they were together, and that everyone understands... which made me think...
well, I've realized for awhile that I'm in a pretty rough patch in my life. Vuni and I barely, and I mean, barely (with help from our parents) make it. I honestly can't remember the last time I went on a shopping trip to just... shop. I've downgraded on a lot of things (Bare Minerals to cheap makeup) and try to make things last as long as possible. I can't buy something just to buy it. Hell, I can't even buy necessities just to buy them; sometimes it comes down to, do I need the package of toilet paper or the bag of frozen blueberries more? Essentially, we're just scraping by, and it sucks.
But then- I remember: I have a roof over my head. I'm warm. I'm clean. I have clean clothes. I have clean, drinkable water. I have a car to get places. A phone to call people. I have all of the necessities to live comfortably. And really... I have SO MUCH more than that.
I honestly don't know how I was so lucky to end up with Vuni. The past few nights, we have fallen asleep on the couch, our two kitty girls cuddled next to us, while watching TV. And I've been incredibly happy. In fact, I look forward to the evenings when we can just snuggle together. I love that I get to just mush out and relax with this person who knows me better than anyone, who loves me like I never thought I'd be loved, and who still thinks I'm worthwhile and lovable despite all of my flaws and scars. I love living with my best friend. I love falling asleep with my legs tangled in his. I love seeing his smile when he comes home from work. Five and a half years, and he still gives me butterflies...
I wish our situation were better. I wish I were better. Because honestly, I know our situation is my fault... or at least, is because of me, if not my fault.
That being said, it truly has made me realize just how little material things mean. They're nice; I love getting a new outfit, pair of shoes, or even eyeshadow as much as the next girl. But they're just things. Things that I would not trade for Vuni. I guess, what I'm trying to say is- yes, we struggle. No, life is not as comfortable as it could be (and by comfortable, I mean, not worrying about finances so much). But- I have the best friend/lover that I could have ever imagined. He makes me forget that we're just barely making it. He makes me forget that I have an anxiety disorder and am extremely socially awkward. I can be myself around him, more than I can anyone else... no material thing, or things, could ever match that.
So, we may just barely be struggling by... but, when I am nice and warm in bed, with my best friend and our two kitties at our feet, I can gladly say that, yes, I have a LOT to be thankful for.
Anyways, this week my mom handed out these paper feathers that say "I'm thankful for..." and then have a few blank lines for them to fill in. Before I get sentimental and stuff...
I'm sort of dreading the holidays this year. Honestly, I have a love/hate relationship with the holidays. I love the decorations, the lights, the smells, sounds, ect. but I despise the drama and stress... which, with a big family, there's always more then plenty of that. But I'm really fretting about it this year, because our lack of $$$ means that we don't have money for presents. My mom has been so sweet, telling me repeatedly not to worry, that her and my dad were unable to afford gifts for people the first few years they were together, and that everyone understands... which made me think...
well, I've realized for awhile that I'm in a pretty rough patch in my life. Vuni and I barely, and I mean, barely (with help from our parents) make it. I honestly can't remember the last time I went on a shopping trip to just... shop. I've downgraded on a lot of things (Bare Minerals to cheap makeup) and try to make things last as long as possible. I can't buy something just to buy it. Hell, I can't even buy necessities just to buy them; sometimes it comes down to, do I need the package of toilet paper or the bag of frozen blueberries more? Essentially, we're just scraping by, and it sucks.
But then- I remember: I have a roof over my head. I'm warm. I'm clean. I have clean clothes. I have clean, drinkable water. I have a car to get places. A phone to call people. I have all of the necessities to live comfortably. And really... I have SO MUCH more than that.
I honestly don't know how I was so lucky to end up with Vuni. The past few nights, we have fallen asleep on the couch, our two kitty girls cuddled next to us, while watching TV. And I've been incredibly happy. In fact, I look forward to the evenings when we can just snuggle together. I love that I get to just mush out and relax with this person who knows me better than anyone, who loves me like I never thought I'd be loved, and who still thinks I'm worthwhile and lovable despite all of my flaws and scars. I love living with my best friend. I love falling asleep with my legs tangled in his. I love seeing his smile when he comes home from work. Five and a half years, and he still gives me butterflies...
I wish our situation were better. I wish I were better. Because honestly, I know our situation is my fault... or at least, is because of me, if not my fault.
That being said, it truly has made me realize just how little material things mean. They're nice; I love getting a new outfit, pair of shoes, or even eyeshadow as much as the next girl. But they're just things. Things that I would not trade for Vuni. I guess, what I'm trying to say is- yes, we struggle. No, life is not as comfortable as it could be (and by comfortable, I mean, not worrying about finances so much). But- I have the best friend/lover that I could have ever imagined. He makes me forget that we're just barely making it. He makes me forget that I have an anxiety disorder and am extremely socially awkward. I can be myself around him, more than I can anyone else... no material thing, or things, could ever match that.
So, we may just barely be struggling by... but, when I am nice and warm in bed, with my best friend and our two kitties at our feet, I can gladly say that, yes, I have a LOT to be thankful for.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Uncomfortable Realization (part 2)
So, realizing that my distorted body image correlates with me feeling uncomfortable in my body... I also realized that I cannot stand to feel uncomfortable in many situations. I tend to avoid a lot of things- even necessary things- out of fear.
For example, I've not been the best with finances; I'm afraid to talk to call the people at the credit card company. Afraid to ask my parents for assistance... I kept avoiding these things, because they're uncomfortable to deal with. I've avoided it to the point that I backed myself into a corner, meaning, that if I didn't do something soon, I was gonna start wrecking my credit. SO- last week, with no other option, I went to the bank, explained my situation, and was like, "HELP. Please?" Not only did the wonderful lady at the bank help me set up a repayment plan for my credit card, she assured me that I really wasn't doing as bad as I thought, and helped me set up a budget and a few other things. After that, I was able to talk to my parents about everything.
I was avoiding these two things, making them seem bigger and scarier than they ever needed to be... and now that I've taken care of them, I feel so relieved. My problems didn't vanish obviously, but now that I have a plan and know that I have the support of my parents, life seems doable on my minimum budget.
I guess my point is, I either run from things that make me uncomfortable (this, often making the problem bigger by avoiding it), or I find some really messed up way to deal with it.
Yet another thing to work on...
For example, I've not been the best with finances; I'm afraid to talk to call the people at the credit card company. Afraid to ask my parents for assistance... I kept avoiding these things, because they're uncomfortable to deal with. I've avoided it to the point that I backed myself into a corner, meaning, that if I didn't do something soon, I was gonna start wrecking my credit. SO- last week, with no other option, I went to the bank, explained my situation, and was like, "HELP. Please?" Not only did the wonderful lady at the bank help me set up a repayment plan for my credit card, she assured me that I really wasn't doing as bad as I thought, and helped me set up a budget and a few other things. After that, I was able to talk to my parents about everything.
I was avoiding these two things, making them seem bigger and scarier than they ever needed to be... and now that I've taken care of them, I feel so relieved. My problems didn't vanish obviously, but now that I have a plan and know that I have the support of my parents, life seems doable on my minimum budget.
I guess my point is, I either run from things that make me uncomfortable (this, often making the problem bigger by avoiding it), or I find some really messed up way to deal with it.
Yet another thing to work on...
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Uncomfortable Realization (part 1)
Must... get... better... at... BLOGGING.
Must stop being hyper critical of myself. Must stop worrying about being judged.
I seriously have 4 or 5 posts in my drafts box from the last two weeks, because I'll start to write, then get nervous that I sound really stupid or am just not making sense... or that what I'm writing isn't important. I have a LOT that I've been wanting to blog about, I just end up feeling stupid when I sit down to write...
Anyways, I've had this realization that I've been meaning to write about/ponder. I don't think anyone likes being uncomfortable; but I absolute cannot stand it. I'm not talking about physical pain (which, ironically enough, I am very good at tolerating physical pain), but moreso emotional uncomfortableness.
What made me realize this is the fact that I do not feel comfortable in my body; I don't think I've ever felt comfortable in my body. The irrationalness has been thinking along the lines if you just get small enough, if you just get thin enough, you WILL feel comfortable in your body.
I became aware at age 4 that I was overweight, and that it was not desirable. I felt uncomfortable at age 4, in my body. Year after year, I thought that if I could get out of my pudgey little body and be a skinny, pretty little girl, I'd be happier and more confident, and that my classmates would like me. I was ashamed of being fat; I thought I was ugly. I was teased a lot. I became shyer and shyer, more introverted, because I was teased. I was obese by 13; I'd spend hours in front of the mirror, pinching my fat rolls and thinking if only I were thin enough to feel good and confident in my body, life would be so much better. At age 15, things changed; in less than a year, I went from obese to underweight. The damage had already been done by this point...
...I spent such a little amount of time at an actual "healthy" weight that I never really got a good look at myself as to what healthy should be. It doesn't matter; even underweight, I have nasty reminders that continue to distort the image I see in the mirror.
I have stretch marks. EVERYWHERE. All over my stomach, my thighs, the inside of my arms, my chest... yeah. Everywhere. They're disgusting. They make me want to rip my skin off. I don't have a valid excuse; I'd wear stretch marks with pride if I could say that my skin stretched to accommodate a baby. But it didn't; some of these stretch marks appeared before I could even get pregnant. How freaking sad is that?
It's fucking torture to have to look in the mirror, to desperately want to see what everyone else apparently sees... but have it ruined by the fact that my body is laced in stretch marks, a constant reminder of how big I once was, and constantly distorting my body image...
How does that relate to me being uncomfortable? Because of how it's tricking me into thinking I'm still fat, when I'm obviously not.
It makes me laugh, in a macabre sort of way, that there's those thinspo groups out there promoting ED's as a way of life, saying that "once you're thin enough, you can wear skimpy clothing, ect." Ha... newsflash, people: it does NOT matter how fucking skinny you get, you're still going to feel like a fat ass. I use to fantasize about wearing tight/revealing clothing once I was "thin enough"... and still sometimes do. But the reality is, I hide my body. I'm thoroughly ashamed of it. I still think I'm too fat (despite knowing otherwise) to be wearing form fitting or revealing clothing. Heck, that's one reason I love cold weather so much; it means I can hide in layers and hoodies.
Bottom line is, I still feel very uncomfortable in my body, and it makes me excessively anxious... hence me turning to manage it in some not so practical ways...
Must stop being hyper critical of myself. Must stop worrying about being judged.
I seriously have 4 or 5 posts in my drafts box from the last two weeks, because I'll start to write, then get nervous that I sound really stupid or am just not making sense... or that what I'm writing isn't important. I have a LOT that I've been wanting to blog about, I just end up feeling stupid when I sit down to write...
Anyways, I've had this realization that I've been meaning to write about/ponder. I don't think anyone likes being uncomfortable; but I absolute cannot stand it. I'm not talking about physical pain (which, ironically enough, I am very good at tolerating physical pain), but moreso emotional uncomfortableness.
What made me realize this is the fact that I do not feel comfortable in my body; I don't think I've ever felt comfortable in my body. The irrationalness has been thinking along the lines if you just get small enough, if you just get thin enough, you WILL feel comfortable in your body.
I became aware at age 4 that I was overweight, and that it was not desirable. I felt uncomfortable at age 4, in my body. Year after year, I thought that if I could get out of my pudgey little body and be a skinny, pretty little girl, I'd be happier and more confident, and that my classmates would like me. I was ashamed of being fat; I thought I was ugly. I was teased a lot. I became shyer and shyer, more introverted, because I was teased. I was obese by 13; I'd spend hours in front of the mirror, pinching my fat rolls and thinking if only I were thin enough to feel good and confident in my body, life would be so much better. At age 15, things changed; in less than a year, I went from obese to underweight. The damage had already been done by this point...
...I spent such a little amount of time at an actual "healthy" weight that I never really got a good look at myself as to what healthy should be. It doesn't matter; even underweight, I have nasty reminders that continue to distort the image I see in the mirror.
I have stretch marks. EVERYWHERE. All over my stomach, my thighs, the inside of my arms, my chest... yeah. Everywhere. They're disgusting. They make me want to rip my skin off. I don't have a valid excuse; I'd wear stretch marks with pride if I could say that my skin stretched to accommodate a baby. But it didn't; some of these stretch marks appeared before I could even get pregnant. How freaking sad is that?
It's fucking torture to have to look in the mirror, to desperately want to see what everyone else apparently sees... but have it ruined by the fact that my body is laced in stretch marks, a constant reminder of how big I once was, and constantly distorting my body image...
How does that relate to me being uncomfortable? Because of how it's tricking me into thinking I'm still fat, when I'm obviously not.
It makes me laugh, in a macabre sort of way, that there's those thinspo groups out there promoting ED's as a way of life, saying that "once you're thin enough, you can wear skimpy clothing, ect." Ha... newsflash, people: it does NOT matter how fucking skinny you get, you're still going to feel like a fat ass. I use to fantasize about wearing tight/revealing clothing once I was "thin enough"... and still sometimes do. But the reality is, I hide my body. I'm thoroughly ashamed of it. I still think I'm too fat (despite knowing otherwise) to be wearing form fitting or revealing clothing. Heck, that's one reason I love cold weather so much; it means I can hide in layers and hoodies.
Bottom line is, I still feel very uncomfortable in my body, and it makes me excessively anxious... hence me turning to manage it in some not so practical ways...
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I Sure As Hell Didn't See That One Coming
Note!: If you are currently struggling with an eating disorder... this post may be triggering. I won't mention numbers exactly, but there is some triggering stuff. Just an FYI.
I am stunned.
I was totally caught off guard last night. Vuni went to his parent's house for a little while yesterday evening, and when he came back, I could tell he was upset. I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "My mom is really, really worried about you."
"Worried?... Why?"
"Because you're so skinny."
Ooof. Definitely didn't see that coming. At all.
And what really, really freaks me out is my thinking up until this point. I've mentioned in previous posts how my mother in law (Aren) and sis in law (Krisi) talk about dieting/exercise/weight loss around me all the freaking time, and how much it irks me. But I didn't exactly give the whole reason as to why; obviously, with my eating/body image issues, it's a sensitive topic to me anyways. Right. But the other thing, which I was afraid to admit... is I always worried that they talked about it excessively because they thought I maybe needed to lose weight. Maybe it was their subtle hints that I am too fat. Neither of them has ever commented on my weight/appearance... so it's always made me curious how they see me. Sadly, that very irrational part of my mind has always shouted, "Well, they think you're a fat ass, because you are one, duh."
So imagine my shock when, after all of this time irrational thoughts deluding my mind into thinking that they must see me as a blob, I hear that Aren is really worried about me being too thin.
It's things like this that make me realize just how utterly distorted my body image and irrational thoughts are. It terrifies me. How? How can I see a overweight, doughy body when everyone else sees the opposite? I just don't get it... and it's scaring the hell out of me.
I am stunned.
I was totally caught off guard last night. Vuni went to his parent's house for a little while yesterday evening, and when he came back, I could tell he was upset. I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "My mom is really, really worried about you."
"Worried?... Why?"
"Because you're so skinny."
Ooof. Definitely didn't see that coming. At all.
And what really, really freaks me out is my thinking up until this point. I've mentioned in previous posts how my mother in law (Aren) and sis in law (Krisi) talk about dieting/exercise/weight loss around me all the freaking time, and how much it irks me. But I didn't exactly give the whole reason as to why; obviously, with my eating/body image issues, it's a sensitive topic to me anyways. Right. But the other thing, which I was afraid to admit... is I always worried that they talked about it excessively because they thought I maybe needed to lose weight. Maybe it was their subtle hints that I am too fat. Neither of them has ever commented on my weight/appearance... so it's always made me curious how they see me. Sadly, that very irrational part of my mind has always shouted, "Well, they think you're a fat ass, because you are one, duh."
So imagine my shock when, after all of this time irrational thoughts deluding my mind into thinking that they must see me as a blob, I hear that Aren is really worried about me being too thin.
It's things like this that make me realize just how utterly distorted my body image and irrational thoughts are. It terrifies me. How? How can I see a overweight, doughy body when everyone else sees the opposite? I just don't get it... and it's scaring the hell out of me.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
A Year Ago Today...
I was delirious from lack of sleep (did not sleep AT ALL during the night) and simultaneously very keyed up.
Last night was the one year anniversary of my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
I'm not quite to one year of sobriety... that's not until November 22 (slipped twice, somewhat intentionally, in the first 30 days). But going to the AA meeting is one of the bravest things I have ever done. Nobody forced me to go. Nobody went with me. I, agoraphobic, anxious, shy Em, found the strength and the courage to walk into an AA meeting, full of strangers, alone.
Going to an AA meeting for the first time is scary enough when you're not a little ball of anxiety. I know, because of the countless stories I've heard. And, I mean, think about it... admitting that you have an addiction to alcohol, that you are letting your life be ruled by a nearly uncontrollable, never-ceasing craving to drink. It's embarrassing. It's shameful. Not only are you admitting this shit to yourself... you're admitting it to a room full of total strangers.
Needless to say, it takes a lot. Lots of inner strength, lots of courage. But it is very possible- and very worth it.
I'm still not convinced I need to abstain from alcohol my whole life.
Alcohol itself wasn't the thing I was addicted to; I was addicted to the way it made me feel. The rush of self-confidence it gave me. The way the room warmed and blurred, making everything seem "safe." The feeling of contentment. The numbness. The blacking out; not having to worry about insomnia. And the forgetfulness- in the morning I never remembered how stupid I'd behaved; I only knew what Vuni told me.
I'm proud to say that, while I feel a slight sense of longing for these things... it's such a fleeting desire. Like a veil hiding something hideous; pretty, but look beyond it, and there's nothing but despair. I still literally feel sick remembering the absolutely awful hangover I had a year ago yesterday. It was tempting to do the "easy" (and expensive) thing- my parents asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital/a detox center... but no. I felt I had to suffer the consequences of my actions. I needed to burn into my mind just how physically painful it was, how destructive alcohol could be. And this has helped me- because that memory has reminded me of why I need to stay away from alcohol. Why it's not worth slipping up.
I don't think I could ever get addicted to alcohol again, but now is not the time for me to be taking chances. I'd love to enjoy a tasty beer again, or margarita... but until I am more skilled at using positive coping methods, it's best that I stick to the sobriety path :)
Happy one year- never forget how brave you can be <3
Last night was the one year anniversary of my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
I'm not quite to one year of sobriety... that's not until November 22 (slipped twice, somewhat intentionally, in the first 30 days). But going to the AA meeting is one of the bravest things I have ever done. Nobody forced me to go. Nobody went with me. I, agoraphobic, anxious, shy Em, found the strength and the courage to walk into an AA meeting, full of strangers, alone.
Going to an AA meeting for the first time is scary enough when you're not a little ball of anxiety. I know, because of the countless stories I've heard. And, I mean, think about it... admitting that you have an addiction to alcohol, that you are letting your life be ruled by a nearly uncontrollable, never-ceasing craving to drink. It's embarrassing. It's shameful. Not only are you admitting this shit to yourself... you're admitting it to a room full of total strangers.
Needless to say, it takes a lot. Lots of inner strength, lots of courage. But it is very possible- and very worth it.
I'm still not convinced I need to abstain from alcohol my whole life.
Alcohol itself wasn't the thing I was addicted to; I was addicted to the way it made me feel. The rush of self-confidence it gave me. The way the room warmed and blurred, making everything seem "safe." The feeling of contentment. The numbness. The blacking out; not having to worry about insomnia. And the forgetfulness- in the morning I never remembered how stupid I'd behaved; I only knew what Vuni told me.
I'm proud to say that, while I feel a slight sense of longing for these things... it's such a fleeting desire. Like a veil hiding something hideous; pretty, but look beyond it, and there's nothing but despair. I still literally feel sick remembering the absolutely awful hangover I had a year ago yesterday. It was tempting to do the "easy" (and expensive) thing- my parents asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital/a detox center... but no. I felt I had to suffer the consequences of my actions. I needed to burn into my mind just how physically painful it was, how destructive alcohol could be. And this has helped me- because that memory has reminded me of why I need to stay away from alcohol. Why it's not worth slipping up.
I don't think I could ever get addicted to alcohol again, but now is not the time for me to be taking chances. I'd love to enjoy a tasty beer again, or margarita... but until I am more skilled at using positive coping methods, it's best that I stick to the sobriety path :)
Happy one year- never forget how brave you can be <3
Monday, October 17, 2011
Suffocating :(
I need some serious help. Soon.
I think I talked about this in a previous post (maybe my last one?) but I tend to run and/or evade problems. I don't like to deal with stuff head on, until I absolutely have to. You'd think I would've learned by now... that addressing a problem early on, before it becomes much of a problem, is the best way to handle things. I don't seem to learn though...
I am so stuck right now :( Seriously, I'm boxed in.
I'm pretty much absolutely broke.
Vuni asked me last week if I could please start asking my parents for rent money, until I am able to come up with it. It's absolutely fair for him to ask... only I don't know what the hell to do. My parents have been helping me pay bills as it is... I hate to ask for ever MORE money.
One option is that my mom suggested we move in with her and my dad; she said we could turn the large family room that is downstairs into our room... so we'd have a little bit of privacy, and our own bathroom. I was SO scared to bring this idea up to Vuni... and I did manage to bring it up, but it didn't come out right. Or moreso, I wanted to wait to propose this idea until we could talk about it with my therapist; seeing as it is already the middle of the month, and my therapist can't squeeze me in for another week and a half... I brought the idea up last Friday by saying, "Hey babe... what would you think about possibly moving in with my parents?" To which he said something along the lines of, "I'm not that crazy about it."
I don't blame him. Not in the least bit. We absolutely adore my parents; LOVE them... but living with them?
I've always had a pretty great relationship with my parents, but the past few years of me living with them, before Vuni and I moved in together, were rough. We are on completely different sleep schedules, and of course, don't see eye-to-eye on everything. Once I moved out, even despite the alcoholic period, our relationship improved. We just needed that space, you know?
But it's not just about the space that is complicating things. It's the privacy, the success, the independence... I don't think I need to explain the privacy part, or the independence. Vuni and are in our mid-twenties, thus we're (relatively) independent from our parents, and obviously we want our privacy (TMI- but who honestly doesn't enjoy walking around their house in their undies?). Also, I say "relatively" independent mostly for my sake- considering the financial mess I'm in. The success part- that's a toughie. Maybe it's all me, and things I bring upon myself, but I can't help thinking that moving in with my parents would mean admitting failure. I would hate for Vuni to feel the same way, when really, it's my fault.
So I've been dealing with a LOT of shame and guilt recently. I feel like I've failed Vuni. We moved in together in the understanding that we would make this work together. I had no intention of losing my job; I had no intention of being unemployed for this long. I had no intention of the anxiety and agoraphobia, which have always been present in my life, completely taking over me to the degree that they have. Because it's not just job hunting and the prospect of working closely with people that terrifies me; I can't do things I once enjoyed, let alone face the things I absolutely dread.
This leaves me... stuck. I'm broke. I've been job hunting ever since losing my job over a year ago; but I am also waiting to be approved for disability (under my Dr.'s recommendation: severe anxiety and heart conditions do NOT mix well). I feel worthless; although I try, I have not been contributing to our relationship financially (other than our internet bill). I feel incredibly guilty; is it my lack of contribution and disorders that are holding my boyfriend back? Not to mention... what must his parents think of me? I keep thinking that he deserves so much better... but I don't want to be apart from him. It's painful to even imagine.
What do I do? As I sit here typing this, my ears are ringing and my hands are tingling out of sheer anxiety. I feel so boxed in. Like I'm suffocating...
I think I talked about this in a previous post (maybe my last one?) but I tend to run and/or evade problems. I don't like to deal with stuff head on, until I absolutely have to. You'd think I would've learned by now... that addressing a problem early on, before it becomes much of a problem, is the best way to handle things. I don't seem to learn though...
I am so stuck right now :( Seriously, I'm boxed in.
I'm pretty much absolutely broke.
Vuni asked me last week if I could please start asking my parents for rent money, until I am able to come up with it. It's absolutely fair for him to ask... only I don't know what the hell to do. My parents have been helping me pay bills as it is... I hate to ask for ever MORE money.
One option is that my mom suggested we move in with her and my dad; she said we could turn the large family room that is downstairs into our room... so we'd have a little bit of privacy, and our own bathroom. I was SO scared to bring this idea up to Vuni... and I did manage to bring it up, but it didn't come out right. Or moreso, I wanted to wait to propose this idea until we could talk about it with my therapist; seeing as it is already the middle of the month, and my therapist can't squeeze me in for another week and a half... I brought the idea up last Friday by saying, "Hey babe... what would you think about possibly moving in with my parents?" To which he said something along the lines of, "I'm not that crazy about it."
I don't blame him. Not in the least bit. We absolutely adore my parents; LOVE them... but living with them?
I've always had a pretty great relationship with my parents, but the past few years of me living with them, before Vuni and I moved in together, were rough. We are on completely different sleep schedules, and of course, don't see eye-to-eye on everything. Once I moved out, even despite the alcoholic period, our relationship improved. We just needed that space, you know?
But it's not just about the space that is complicating things. It's the privacy, the success, the independence... I don't think I need to explain the privacy part, or the independence. Vuni and are in our mid-twenties, thus we're (relatively) independent from our parents, and obviously we want our privacy (TMI- but who honestly doesn't enjoy walking around their house in their undies?). Also, I say "relatively" independent mostly for my sake- considering the financial mess I'm in. The success part- that's a toughie. Maybe it's all me, and things I bring upon myself, but I can't help thinking that moving in with my parents would mean admitting failure. I would hate for Vuni to feel the same way, when really, it's my fault.
So I've been dealing with a LOT of shame and guilt recently. I feel like I've failed Vuni. We moved in together in the understanding that we would make this work together. I had no intention of losing my job; I had no intention of being unemployed for this long. I had no intention of the anxiety and agoraphobia, which have always been present in my life, completely taking over me to the degree that they have. Because it's not just job hunting and the prospect of working closely with people that terrifies me; I can't do things I once enjoyed, let alone face the things I absolutely dread.
This leaves me... stuck. I'm broke. I've been job hunting ever since losing my job over a year ago; but I am also waiting to be approved for disability (under my Dr.'s recommendation: severe anxiety and heart conditions do NOT mix well). I feel worthless; although I try, I have not been contributing to our relationship financially (other than our internet bill). I feel incredibly guilty; is it my lack of contribution and disorders that are holding my boyfriend back? Not to mention... what must his parents think of me? I keep thinking that he deserves so much better... but I don't want to be apart from him. It's painful to even imagine.
What do I do? As I sit here typing this, my ears are ringing and my hands are tingling out of sheer anxiety. I feel so boxed in. Like I'm suffocating...
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Note to Self: You Don't Always Need Permission
Sonofaf*ckingbiscuit.
I started this blog, as well as my tumblr, because I often feel that in the "real" world, I do not have much of a voice. I have been a shy, quiet, ANXIOUS introvert my whole entire life. I have always been obedient, the rule-follower, the peace-maker. Although I don't like being bossed around exactly, and I'd like to think I'm somewhat independent, I've always preferred to be given instruction. Teachers told me what to do, and I did it. Professors told me what to do, and I did it. Employers told me what to do... you get the picture.
Although I feel like I've been doing an okay job at trying to be honest and really say what I'm feeling, I know I also hold back a lot as well. I edit obsessively. I read, and re-read things to make sure they sound right. I delete something if I think it sounds lame or stupid. Believe me, ever since I published my previous post, I've been debating whether or not I should delete it.
Basically, I'm always worried about being judged, and I'm always concerned about having validation.
You know the saying, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all?" Well, I take that to the extreme. I feel if I don't have something important, relevant, ect. I shouldn't be saying it.
But this is my blog. This is my voice. It matters, and is relevant, because it's mine.
So my new goal is to try and remember that if I feel like writing about something... I should. Write about it, and not worry that it's stupid or that people are judging me. I know that worry will probably stay on the back burner in my mind, but I need to suck it up and just write anyways.
Here's to less self-censored blogging :)
By the way, I should also mention, I electronically met a new friend who planted these thoughts in my head :) Ah, the internet... Tessa, if you read this, thank you for the kind encouragement <3 I so needed it!
I started this blog, as well as my tumblr, because I often feel that in the "real" world, I do not have much of a voice. I have been a shy, quiet, ANXIOUS introvert my whole entire life. I have always been obedient, the rule-follower, the peace-maker. Although I don't like being bossed around exactly, and I'd like to think I'm somewhat independent, I've always preferred to be given instruction. Teachers told me what to do, and I did it. Professors told me what to do, and I did it. Employers told me what to do... you get the picture.
Although I feel like I've been doing an okay job at trying to be honest and really say what I'm feeling, I know I also hold back a lot as well. I edit obsessively. I read, and re-read things to make sure they sound right. I delete something if I think it sounds lame or stupid. Believe me, ever since I published my previous post, I've been debating whether or not I should delete it.
Basically, I'm always worried about being judged, and I'm always concerned about having validation.
You know the saying, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all?" Well, I take that to the extreme. I feel if I don't have something important, relevant, ect. I shouldn't be saying it.
But this is my blog. This is my voice. It matters, and is relevant, because it's mine.
So my new goal is to try and remember that if I feel like writing about something... I should. Write about it, and not worry that it's stupid or that people are judging me. I know that worry will probably stay on the back burner in my mind, but I need to suck it up and just write anyways.
Here's to less self-censored blogging :)
By the way, I should also mention, I electronically met a new friend who planted these thoughts in my head :) Ah, the internet... Tessa, if you read this, thank you for the kind encouragement <3 I so needed it!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Midnight Sun: A Parallel
I feel so fucking trapped these days, and it only seems to get worse. Every. Single. Day. It's like I'm stuck in one of those rooms, where there's spikes on the walls, and they keep moving closer together. Or a lava pit in the center. Every single day, I wonder how much longer I can teeter on the edge before I fall into the lava.
The biggest worry of all, right now, is my relationship with Vuni.
Who's read Midnight Sun? *raises hand guiltily* I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoy the Twilight series... and I've read the partial draft of Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward's perspective) that Stephenie Meyer posted on her official website. I'm feeling a lot like Edward these days... excessively torn.
I know I'm causing Vuni a lot of stress. I know I'm the majority of what's holding him back. I'm pretty convinced, although I haven't smoked around him (I almost never smoke anyways) or physically shoved a cigarette and lighter in his face, that I am the reason he started smoking again... after abstaining so well...
As I've said before, I feel like his parents do not think I am good enough for him (at the very least, I've been put on a pretty good guilt trip regarding not having a job by his mom...). Not only that, but recently, I've literally been having nightmares about his mom just up and chewing me out, telling me that I will never be good enough to deserve her amazing son. It's like I can never escape these thoughts of guilt, shame, and feeling worthless... not even in my sleep anymore. Horrifying.
If we didn't have financial issues (due to MY anxiety disorder), mine and Vuni's life together would be pretty darn awesome. Yes, even despite my anxiety disorder. I'm not trying to sound pessimistic, I'm being real: I don't ever remember NOT having extreme anxiety, so it's hard for me to imagine life without it. But I've had other periods of time in my life where I've been relatively happy and comfortable, despite the anxiety disorder.
Back to my point! If we didn't have financial issues, it'd eliminate A LOT of the problems we're currently dealing with. I haven't had a job in over a year now. Believe me, I feel immensely guilty about this; EXTREMELY. Vuni doesn't even want to think about "moving forward" in life with things going the way they are now.
Which is why I feel so awful... he'd probably be better off without me.
It's painful thinking that, it's painful typing that, it's all-around unfathomable. I'm a selfish, horrible bitch for what I'm doing to him. If I were a better, selfless person, and if I truly loved him, I'd let him get on with his life, without me, the train-wreck, prisoner-to-her-own-mind.
But I can't.
I know he has the freedom to leave; he himself has told me that he is with me because he loves me. And I'm grateful for this. I'm so thankful that he is able to love the girl behind the anxiety disorder.
Maybe this is why I like the Twilight series. Especially Midnight Sun... Edward disgusted with himself, for being a vampire and feeling undeserving of a human girl's love, but not being able to stay away from her. Not being able to walk away. Edward feeling like Bella is too good for him, and that she deserves so much more. Not having the strength to let go...
... but she loves him. She wants him; she doesn't want him to let go.
I'm feeling pretty ashamed of myself, being that I'm comparing my life to a damn vampire romance novel, but nonetheless...
I feel very much like Edward. I can't control the fact that I have an anxiety disorder (I sure as hell didn't ask to have one, and wouldn't wish it on ANYONE). I can control certain aspects of it (major thing I need to work on), but in the mean time, it's wreaking havoc on my life. I'm feeling utterly undeserving of the absolute most amazing person I've ever met... yet for some reason he loves me and wants me. A part of me is telling myself that he would be so much better off without me... but I know I would never have the strength to leave him. Probably because I'm too selfish... maybe because I'm too in love.
Because I love him more than anything. He's given me strength, when I felt like I couldn't cope. He gives me a reason to keep fighting; even when I feel like it's not worth it. He constantly reminds me that yes, there is a person behind the anxiety disorder, and she is very much worth loving.
The anxiety is my midnight; he is my sun.
The biggest worry of all, right now, is my relationship with Vuni.
Who's read Midnight Sun? *raises hand guiltily* I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoy the Twilight series... and I've read the partial draft of Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward's perspective) that Stephenie Meyer posted on her official website. I'm feeling a lot like Edward these days... excessively torn.
I know I'm causing Vuni a lot of stress. I know I'm the majority of what's holding him back. I'm pretty convinced, although I haven't smoked around him (I almost never smoke anyways) or physically shoved a cigarette and lighter in his face, that I am the reason he started smoking again... after abstaining so well...
As I've said before, I feel like his parents do not think I am good enough for him (at the very least, I've been put on a pretty good guilt trip regarding not having a job by his mom...). Not only that, but recently, I've literally been having nightmares about his mom just up and chewing me out, telling me that I will never be good enough to deserve her amazing son. It's like I can never escape these thoughts of guilt, shame, and feeling worthless... not even in my sleep anymore. Horrifying.
If we didn't have financial issues (due to MY anxiety disorder), mine and Vuni's life together would be pretty darn awesome. Yes, even despite my anxiety disorder. I'm not trying to sound pessimistic, I'm being real: I don't ever remember NOT having extreme anxiety, so it's hard for me to imagine life without it. But I've had other periods of time in my life where I've been relatively happy and comfortable, despite the anxiety disorder.
Back to my point! If we didn't have financial issues, it'd eliminate A LOT of the problems we're currently dealing with. I haven't had a job in over a year now. Believe me, I feel immensely guilty about this; EXTREMELY. Vuni doesn't even want to think about "moving forward" in life with things going the way they are now.
Which is why I feel so awful... he'd probably be better off without me.
It's painful thinking that, it's painful typing that, it's all-around unfathomable. I'm a selfish, horrible bitch for what I'm doing to him. If I were a better, selfless person, and if I truly loved him, I'd let him get on with his life, without me, the train-wreck, prisoner-to-her-own-mind.
But I can't.
I know he has the freedom to leave; he himself has told me that he is with me because he loves me. And I'm grateful for this. I'm so thankful that he is able to love the girl behind the anxiety disorder.
Maybe this is why I like the Twilight series. Especially Midnight Sun... Edward disgusted with himself, for being a vampire and feeling undeserving of a human girl's love, but not being able to stay away from her. Not being able to walk away. Edward feeling like Bella is too good for him, and that she deserves so much more. Not having the strength to let go...
... but she loves him. She wants him; she doesn't want him to let go.
I'm feeling pretty ashamed of myself, being that I'm comparing my life to a damn vampire romance novel, but nonetheless...
I feel very much like Edward. I can't control the fact that I have an anxiety disorder (I sure as hell didn't ask to have one, and wouldn't wish it on ANYONE). I can control certain aspects of it (major thing I need to work on), but in the mean time, it's wreaking havoc on my life. I'm feeling utterly undeserving of the absolute most amazing person I've ever met... yet for some reason he loves me and wants me. A part of me is telling myself that he would be so much better off without me... but I know I would never have the strength to leave him. Probably because I'm too selfish... maybe because I'm too in love.
Because I love him more than anything. He's given me strength, when I felt like I couldn't cope. He gives me a reason to keep fighting; even when I feel like it's not worth it. He constantly reminds me that yes, there is a person behind the anxiety disorder, and she is very much worth loving.
The anxiety is my midnight; he is my sun.
"My life was an unending, unchanging midnight... so how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?" Edward, from Midnight SunI'll probably write more about this (the issues between Vuni and I) at a later time, but for now, I'm pretty shocked that I was able to draw these parallels. Maybe I'm crazy. If you're feeling sappy, and are interested, here's the link to Midnight Sun. I like it much better than Twilight ;)
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Suicide: From an Attemptee's Perspective, and Why It's Never Worth It
How true this meme is...
Let me start by clarifying, I'm NOT suicidal... but sadly, I've been there before.
It's the absolute worst place to be. I've never felt so hopeless, so consumed by overwhelming thoughts and pain.
It wasn't that I wanted to die. It wasn't that I wanted to hurt anyone who loved me. Quite the opposite.
I just didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel; I didn't see anything but endless pain. I didn't think my life would ever be happy and whole.
It's been over 5.5 years now, and thinking about the suicide attempt still makes me feel completely sick, in more ways than one. It's awful to think I actually did it; it's equally awful remembering what I was going through at the time.
Here's what happened in a nutshell:
It was Spring of 2006. I was living alone, a 2.5 hour drive away from home. I was 19 years old, going to school full time, and working almost full time, at a job I absolutely hated. I had one person who was a true friend... and another. An ex boyfriend. In all honesty... I had followed him.
The previous August, he and I were together. I found out he was moving away less than 3 weeks before he actually left. Our relationship (if you could call it that) was very rocky; K didn't treat me well at all, but didn't seem willing to just break up with me. I'm assuming his solution was to move away and wait until the last possible minute to tell me; I didn't even find out he was moving from him. One of his friends let it slip. K told me he didn't think he could make a long-distance relationship work, so we "separated on good terms." Being the idiot that I was, I applied to the same school, and in January, I moved up there, assuming he'd take me back. The next few months were absolute hell; I was lonely, anxious, and depressed, I was falling further and further into my eating disorder, and he was leading me on. I called K out on it once; I told him that if he was going to be playing games with me, we might as well cease contact with one another. He promised to shape up, but said he still wanted his "freedom" and didn't want to get back together "yet". Being the naive, innocent person that I was, I didn't see this as a glaring red flag.
In late April, I took a handful of Tylenol PM. I was mostly hoping it'd knock me out for a few hours, and I figured, if it did worse, then it did worse. I woke up the next day in the ICU. After all was said and done, I convinced everyone it was stupid mistake, I promised to do better, I looked into therapists and support groups, and I signed up for summer classes.
Exactly one month later, K and I were out to lunch, when he received a phone call. Whoever was on the other side, he was being very flirty with them. When he hung up, he seemed nervous, and said, "I have something to tell you..." He then proceeded to tell me that was this girl he'd been dating for the past few weeks.
I didn't feel like I could handle this. I ran, on foot. He tried to follow me, but couldn't keep up (he was wearing flip flops). After wandering around the streets for about an hour, I returned to the restaurant. He was gone, but he kept trying to call me. I kept ignoring him. I drove to a grocery store that had a Starbucks in it, purchased the largest bottle of Tylenol PM that they had, and an iced black tea. K was still trying to get ahold of me. I stopped at another store, and got a bottle of Advil PM. K was still calling. I took almost all of the pills. Finally, I answered his call; he begged me to go to his house. I don't know what made me go, but I did.
When I got there, he started crying, and saying that he was a flaky person who shouldn't be with anyone. He confessed to cheating on me (something I'd figured anyways) and was basically flipping out. He then begged me to stay at his house that night; he was going to work for the evening, and in the morning, we'd take care of things, whatever that meant. As he was leaving (I was really feeling the meds by this time), I followed him out to his car. I said, "I did something bad." He began to panic, remembering what had happened only a month ago; he grabbed me by my shoulders, and asked, "What did you do?! Tell me, what did you do?!" I stumbled over to my car, and handed him the keys. He opened it, searched frantically inside (I was really messed up by this point) and found the bottles. He pulled me into his car, and drove me to the emergency room. I spent the next three days in the ICU, the next five in a locked ward, and the day I got out... K and I talked for the last time. We agreed to cut off all contact one another. My parents brought me home that day; we returned a few days later, packed up my stuff, and I was home for good.
It's so difficult to explain everything that was going through my mind at the time. A lot of conflicting thoughts.
Bottom line was, I didn't want to die; I just had overwhelming, excruciating emotional pain that I didn't know how to deal with, and I wanted it to end.
I felt like I was failing my attempt at becoming an adult. I was torn, because for some reason I still don't understand, I was infatuated with this guy who obviously wanted nothing to do with me; he'd cheated and been emotionally abusive. The only reason he did what he did the day of the suicide attempt was out of guilt, fear, and pity. I hated how much of a fuck up I felt like, and I thought that if I no longer existed, I would be doing everyone a favor. It might be painful at first, but I figured that the "benefits" of me being gone would far outweigh this; I wouldn't be wasting anyone's money, and I'd never cause anyone pain again. But namely... I wouldn't have to deal with such feelings of being rejected, unwanted, and not enough. It was an EXTREMELY selfish thing to do... but at the time, I thought that if I was successful, it'd be better for everyone.
I also still don't know what made me follow K out to his car, and more or less confess to what I had done. The only thing I can think of is that the tiny sane part of me, deep inside, knew that I didn't want to die. Was it a desperate cry for attention? It looks that way, and maybe on some sub-conscience level, it was. At the time, up until I did "confess" to K about taking the pills, I seriously just wanted to escape from the pain I was feeling, in whatever way that may be. Perhaps because I was feeling so fucked up by that point, I realized the true seriousness of what I'd done; I knew that if K left, there would be no going back. I was losing it as it was. If he left, I would've passed out... and not woken up.
So why am I bringing all of this up now?
Well, recently, I've been dealing with some pretty damn fucked up feelings. And a lot of pain. I feel like a worthless failure, a waste of space/air/money, a total fuck up. My anxiety gets so overwhelming, and I often feel so hopeless, I wonder if things will ever be okay. I hate dealing with this; the anxiety, the pain and guilt it brings... I feel like I am suffocating, trapped in my body.
But I know suicide isn't the answer. I know hurting myself isn't the answer.
Even though I may often feel lonely, and trapped, I know that I have some insanely awesome people who love me, and they obviously love me for a reason. They've never given up on me; they believe in me, when I don't always believe in myself. I think I said it in my last post: I live for curling up in bed next Vuni. I know that no matter how shitty the day is- if I've had panic attacks, heard bad news, been put on a guilt trip, gotten in a fight with the mirror, felt utterly hopeless and useless... at the end of the day, I will be snuggled up, nice and warm, to the most amazing person I could ever imagine. I know that, while I am cuddled up to this utterly stunning human being, there are two people several miles away, who brought me into this world, are proud of me regardless of my fucked up past, and loved me with all of their hearts. I have a brother who has looked up to me his whole life. I have a professor who NEVER gave up on me. I have friends and family who truly care about me, even if I am flightly and strange. All of these people believe in me... even when I don't.
There's obviously a reason I'm worth caring about and believing in... even when I don't see it.
Do I have to see everything to believe in it? I wish I could- but I know I don't. At the time of my suicide attempt, I never saw myself being happy again. Low and behold, despite some of the shit I've since been through, I've also had the best times. Vuni has loved me like I never thought possible. Last year, consumed by alcoholism, I never imagined that I could go more than a day without several shots of vodka. To my immense shock, I haven't had a single drop of alcohol pass through my lips in the past 10.5 months. This summer, although I didn't show it, I often felt paralyzed with fear at the thought of another heart surgery... but I had to believe that it would be okay, and despite some complications, it was.
This has been one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn: sometimes, life really sucks, and it doesn't look like it's ever going to get better... but I HAVE to believe that it will. Because it does. It may be slow and gradual. There may be bumps and set backs and more pain and bullshit along the way... but eventually, it does get better.
"When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on," Thomas Jefferson.
I read this quote a long time ago; I feel this is what I've been living every day recently. I keep thinking that I can't take anymore bad news, any more anxiety or pain or guilt... but I refuse to losen my grip. I can't let go; I won't give up.
So for those of you, like me, who feel trapped, lost, out-of-touch, overwhelmed, riddled with shame and guilt, and just aren't seeing a light at the end of the tunnel... well, remember, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Think about it- are you breathing right now? We don't see the very thing that is crucial to our existence, that courses through our bodies every second of every day of our lives. But it's there, just like the light at the end of the tunnel.
I've said it a gazillion times before: I have a long way to go. I have a lot of work to do. But in the mean time, I have to keep believing. I've tied a knot, and I am NOT letting go.
Note- if you are feeling suicidal, please, please get help:
Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696
Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433
LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255
Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386
Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743
Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438
Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673
Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272
Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000
Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Taking The Bad With The Good
Last weekend Vuni and I went on a short little trip; his ska band had an out-of-town gig that was a 6 hour drive away.
I don't know what's wrong with me, but for as long as I can remember, I have never truly been able to just relax on vacations and getaways, no matter how small they are. I feel riddled with guilt, for some reason; I worry about the kitties back home (I'm lucky enough to say that I've always had a cat in my life ;), but I also worry a lot about money... even if I know that certain money has been saved up/set aside for the trip! Ridiculous.
Anyway, we left town at about 12:30 last Saturday, with the guitarist, drummer, and a bunch of gear in tow. I was determined to learn how to crochet on this little trip. I sat in the passenger's seat with a crochet hook, a tiny pair of scissors, some yarn, a "Crochet for Beginners" book, and Vuni's iPhone so I could watch YouTube how-tos. About an hour before we hit our destination and with aching fingers, I more or less had the gist of it... but I also had to take many photo breaks:
Between crocheting and the breathtaking scenery, it did NOT feel like a 6 hour drive.
We arrived plenty early, so we secured a parking spot at the bar the band's gig was at, then walked downtown to find a place to eat. I wasn't too keen on this. Anyone with an eating disorder can confirm that vacations really agitate the ED... especially if you're really routine driven. Major step out of the comfort zone. But also... I really, really don't like going out to eat as it is. I just feel guilty.
I would've been content, in all honesty, going to McDonalds. (I love the Southwest Salads, sans chicken and dressing, yum yum!) We instead ending up at a fancy and expensive Italian restaurant... where I ironically ordered a flipping $8 Greek salad. After we left there, we wandered by an Indian cuisine restaurant, and I excitedly exclaimed, "Oh! Too bad we didn't see this place first!"
To which Vuni said, "Why? So you could get a salad at an Indian restaurant?"
This stung a little. I wasn't mad at Vuni, because, well, he spoke the truth. But it reminded me of the reasons why I don't like going out to eat in the first place:
1.) I'm terrified of ordering anything other than a salad. ED aside, and I'd probably still be too afraid to get anything besides a salad. I like that everything is fresh and uncooked, and I can easily and clearly see everything, unlike a casserole or something... mostly because I've been a vegetarian for a good majority of my life, and I'm paranoid about my food being cooked/prepared with any meat or meat products.
2.) The fact that I do always get a salad... and when we go to a nice restaurant, it usually is an $8+ meal. For freaking vegetables, sometimes some cheese and/or nuts, and a little dressing. Fuck I feel guilty...
Anyway, we headed back to the bar. Due to a bunch of bullshit band drama caused by ONE band member (mostly stemming from his under [drinking] age girlfriend), they got started an hour behind schedule. This wasn't cool to Vuni and I, who had another 2-2.5 hour drive ahead of us after the show (Vuni wanted to play in a poker tournament the next morning in a town that was 4 hour drive away, so we booked our hotel a city in between).
As I said in my previous post, I was being tortured by the urge to drink. It was a big bar, packed with people, and I felt super lame because this was a 21-and-over show, so I was probably the only person in the crowd not drinking.
Then, some freaking creep came and stood next to me. I edged away from him, but he moved closer and started talking to me; I could immediately tell he was pretty damn tipsy. He said something like, "Don't move, I wanted to come watch them with you," I gave him a quick half smile but didn't say anything. He tried talking some more, but I could hear him too well because the music was so loud. Finally I heard him ask if I knew the band, to which I proudly said, "yes, the bass player is my boyfriend." He didn't seem to like that- at all. His friendly demeanor changed to sullen, and he went quiet for a few minutes.
I tried edging away some more, but I really didn't want to move; I was right at the side of the stage, Vuni and I could easily make eye contact, I was close to the door and bouncer, and had easy access to the restrooms. A prime spot to plant myself. The creep kept edging closer to me though.
I'm not good at dealing with over-friendly, space bubble invading, drunk weirdos. Never have been. This guy was really creeping me out, too. He keep trying to talk to me, and then, started touching me. Putting his arm around me and touching me on the shoulder. I was getting really freaked out, and wanted to escape... but I also didn't want him following me, and I was too chicken to grab the bouncer's attention. I was able to seize my chance when he turned back to the bar to order another beer; I acted like I was heading to the bathroom, then I ducked down behind a crowd of people, and snuck out the door. I moved as fast as I could, went around the side of the bar, and waited a few minutes (with my thumb over the panic button on the car opener) to make sure I wasn't followed. Then I locked myself in the van, and waited until Vuni was finished. Needless to say, he was a little angry about my admirer. I was just creeped out, and happy to be away from him.
Vuni and I departed for our hotel, sans drummer and guitarist (they were staying there, and had other riding arrangements). We figured we'd arrive at our hotel sometime between 1:30-2 am.
We passed through several tunnels on the way there. Funny, we both held our breaths (yes, at ages 24 and 25) to make wishes at the end...
On this drive through the pitch black, listening and singing along to Weird Al (we've been on a major Weird Al kick since seeing him in concert not too long ago), and just enjoying one another's company, I fell in love with Vuni all over again.
I think maybe that's one of the important things about relationships not being perfect. Vuni and I have lived together for just over a year, and it's been our most difficult (out of 5) yet... but nights like the night of this drive make all of the hardships so worth it. I'm reminded of why we're in love; it's the reward a million times over for making it through the rough times. When we first started dating, and I had admitted to him all of the shit I'd been through and that I still had a long road ahead of me, he told me, "I'll be here for you, sitting in your passenger's seat." I don't mean to sound all sappy, but really, despite all of the crap I've dealt with, and how fucked up many other areas of my life are right now... I have Vuni. I love him SO much, it's unreal. Like, how is it possible to love someone so much that you can't describe it in any measurable quantity?
And since I'm being sickeningly romantic... I'll throw in a Twilight reference, and say that that drive, that night, had to go on my list of top favorite nights of my life. My heart was just overflowing with exhilarating, overwhelming love for this boy <3 It made dealing with the feelings of wanting to drink and dealing with that idiot at the bar SO worth it... plus there was the anticipation of locking ourselves in our hotel room :D
We arrived at our hotel shortly before 2 am. I swear I live for the loving, sexy, pre-sleep cuddle sessions with Vuni :D Our hotel was amazing, BTW:
I don't know what's wrong with me, but for as long as I can remember, I have never truly been able to just relax on vacations and getaways, no matter how small they are. I feel riddled with guilt, for some reason; I worry about the kitties back home (I'm lucky enough to say that I've always had a cat in my life ;), but I also worry a lot about money... even if I know that certain money has been saved up/set aside for the trip! Ridiculous.
Anyway, we left town at about 12:30 last Saturday, with the guitarist, drummer, and a bunch of gear in tow. I was determined to learn how to crochet on this little trip. I sat in the passenger's seat with a crochet hook, a tiny pair of scissors, some yarn, a "Crochet for Beginners" book, and Vuni's iPhone so I could watch YouTube how-tos. About an hour before we hit our destination and with aching fingers, I more or less had the gist of it... but I also had to take many photo breaks:
Between crocheting and the breathtaking scenery, it did NOT feel like a 6 hour drive.
We arrived plenty early, so we secured a parking spot at the bar the band's gig was at, then walked downtown to find a place to eat. I wasn't too keen on this. Anyone with an eating disorder can confirm that vacations really agitate the ED... especially if you're really routine driven. Major step out of the comfort zone. But also... I really, really don't like going out to eat as it is. I just feel guilty.
I would've been content, in all honesty, going to McDonalds. (I love the Southwest Salads, sans chicken and dressing, yum yum!) We instead ending up at a fancy and expensive Italian restaurant... where I ironically ordered a flipping $8 Greek salad. After we left there, we wandered by an Indian cuisine restaurant, and I excitedly exclaimed, "Oh! Too bad we didn't see this place first!"
To which Vuni said, "Why? So you could get a salad at an Indian restaurant?"
This stung a little. I wasn't mad at Vuni, because, well, he spoke the truth. But it reminded me of the reasons why I don't like going out to eat in the first place:
1.) I'm terrified of ordering anything other than a salad. ED aside, and I'd probably still be too afraid to get anything besides a salad. I like that everything is fresh and uncooked, and I can easily and clearly see everything, unlike a casserole or something... mostly because I've been a vegetarian for a good majority of my life, and I'm paranoid about my food being cooked/prepared with any meat or meat products.
2.) The fact that I do always get a salad... and when we go to a nice restaurant, it usually is an $8+ meal. For freaking vegetables, sometimes some cheese and/or nuts, and a little dressing. Fuck I feel guilty...
Anyway, we headed back to the bar. Due to a bunch of bullshit band drama caused by ONE band member (mostly stemming from his under [drinking] age girlfriend), they got started an hour behind schedule. This wasn't cool to Vuni and I, who had another 2-2.5 hour drive ahead of us after the show (Vuni wanted to play in a poker tournament the next morning in a town that was 4 hour drive away, so we booked our hotel a city in between).
As I said in my previous post, I was being tortured by the urge to drink. It was a big bar, packed with people, and I felt super lame because this was a 21-and-over show, so I was probably the only person in the crowd not drinking.
Then, some freaking creep came and stood next to me. I edged away from him, but he moved closer and started talking to me; I could immediately tell he was pretty damn tipsy. He said something like, "Don't move, I wanted to come watch them with you," I gave him a quick half smile but didn't say anything. He tried talking some more, but I could hear him too well because the music was so loud. Finally I heard him ask if I knew the band, to which I proudly said, "yes, the bass player is my boyfriend." He didn't seem to like that- at all. His friendly demeanor changed to sullen, and he went quiet for a few minutes.
I tried edging away some more, but I really didn't want to move; I was right at the side of the stage, Vuni and I could easily make eye contact, I was close to the door and bouncer, and had easy access to the restrooms. A prime spot to plant myself. The creep kept edging closer to me though.
I'm not good at dealing with over-friendly, space bubble invading, drunk weirdos. Never have been. This guy was really creeping me out, too. He keep trying to talk to me, and then, started touching me. Putting his arm around me and touching me on the shoulder. I was getting really freaked out, and wanted to escape... but I also didn't want him following me, and I was too chicken to grab the bouncer's attention. I was able to seize my chance when he turned back to the bar to order another beer; I acted like I was heading to the bathroom, then I ducked down behind a crowd of people, and snuck out the door. I moved as fast as I could, went around the side of the bar, and waited a few minutes (with my thumb over the panic button on the car opener) to make sure I wasn't followed. Then I locked myself in the van, and waited until Vuni was finished. Needless to say, he was a little angry about my admirer. I was just creeped out, and happy to be away from him.
Vuni and I departed for our hotel, sans drummer and guitarist (they were staying there, and had other riding arrangements). We figured we'd arrive at our hotel sometime between 1:30-2 am.
We passed through several tunnels on the way there. Funny, we both held our breaths (yes, at ages 24 and 25) to make wishes at the end...
On this drive through the pitch black, listening and singing along to Weird Al (we've been on a major Weird Al kick since seeing him in concert not too long ago), and just enjoying one another's company, I fell in love with Vuni all over again.
I think maybe that's one of the important things about relationships not being perfect. Vuni and I have lived together for just over a year, and it's been our most difficult (out of 5) yet... but nights like the night of this drive make all of the hardships so worth it. I'm reminded of why we're in love; it's the reward a million times over for making it through the rough times. When we first started dating, and I had admitted to him all of the shit I'd been through and that I still had a long road ahead of me, he told me, "I'll be here for you, sitting in your passenger's seat." I don't mean to sound all sappy, but really, despite all of the crap I've dealt with, and how fucked up many other areas of my life are right now... I have Vuni. I love him SO much, it's unreal. Like, how is it possible to love someone so much that you can't describe it in any measurable quantity?
And since I'm being sickeningly romantic... I'll throw in a Twilight reference, and say that that drive, that night, had to go on my list of top favorite nights of my life. My heart was just overflowing with exhilarating, overwhelming love for this boy <3 It made dealing with the feelings of wanting to drink and dealing with that idiot at the bar SO worth it... plus there was the anticipation of locking ourselves in our hotel room :D
We arrived at our hotel shortly before 2 am. I swear I live for the loving, sexy, pre-sleep cuddle sessions with Vuni :D Our hotel was amazing, BTW:
To the North...
To the South
We got ready, got coffee and gas-ola, and headed to the casino for Vuni's tournament. While he was playing, I was working on my crochet, and lo and behold... one of the dealers (I think that's what she was?) helped me out! She corrected my mistakes and answered my concerns... so I can OFFICIALLY say that I know how to crochet now :D
It's amazing all that happened on this short little weekend getaway. It's a reminder that, anxiety disorder or sane (me... and Vuni ;), you have to learn to take the good with the bad; but that being said... "the good" (ahem... GREAT/AMAZING/AWESOME/SPECTACULAR/WONDERFUL) makes the bad all the worthwhile <3
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
"Yes, you do have a choice; you're just making the right one."
So, the past few days have basically been Hell-in-Em's-head.
Friday started out shitty; I had to give a presentation on a study I did with one of my professors (Ellie); the last official thing I had to do for school. I know I've already graduated, but I agreed to this presentation when I signed up for the study back in May. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong that morning, did; from realizing that the pages were numbered incorrectly in my report, to the printer not being friendly, to wardrobe crisis, to not finding a parking spot (and thus having to park in a 15 minutes max slot, and pray that I wouldn't get busted by a lot attendant)... add on the fact that I was nervous as all hell. But to my immense surprise, once I got up to the podium and started presenting, it all went smooth. I just kept telling myself... you do NOT want to disappoint Ellie. That thought got me through it, and I did great; I actually amazed myself. I left the college feeling wonderful to finally be 100% finished, and to have rocked my presentation. I was happy, and felt a sense of relief.
Too bad it was so short lived.
Three hours later, I was at home, anticipating the little weekend getaway we had planned (Vuni's band playing out of town again), when the mail arrived: a single, fat envelope from Social Security. I hesitated, knowing very likely that their could be bad news in that envelope... and there was. A big, bold DENIED. My disability claim... denied. And even worse? My therapist never submitted her paperwork. I know she got it; I talked to her about it. So either she dropped the ball, or someone's lying about having not received it... which they could be. The letter also stated that they never received a report from my mom, however, she never got any paper work to fill out in the first place. Bottom line is, I'm for sure going to appeal it.
But in the mean time, this leaves me with more anxiety and desperation than ever. I was hoping, with school finally finished for me, that I could at least enjoy the weekend with Vuni... but fucking no. I get the denial letter in the mail. What the fuck? I spent Friday evening filling out two long ass online job applications (one for a school lunch lady... one for a dishwasher in a hospital cafeteria. Real glamourous; but shit, I'll take those over customer service any day).
I decided not to tell my parents about the denial right away, because even though I already felt awful about it, I figured waiting and at least trying to semi-enjoy the weekend, with keeping the news to just Vuni and I, would help a little.
Saturday night was Vuni's band's show. I really, REALLY wanted to drink. Or smoke. The denial letter was eating me away from the inside; I could have used going numb. But I can't be drinking. And as for smoking... well, I'm not worried about becoming addicted to it. I never have; the smell is too freaking nasty for me to tolerate. I smoke every now and then when I'm stressed, but it's never been an issue. I wanted a cigarette on Saturday night, before the show, when we were standing outside and everyone was smoking. HOWEVER- Vuni has been trying to quit. He's actually gone 3 weeks so far without one. Part of my mind (the bitchy part) was telling me, well, Vuni doesn't care about your drinking issues, he always drinks in front of you, so why should you be considerate to him? Because, if he were to smoke since I was doing it... I'd feel responsible. I'd feel like I was the one who threw him off of the wagon, regardless of reality. So no smoking.
I plan on doing a separate post on our little trip, but I have to throw this in: not only was I wanting to numb by drinking... I was nervous as shit being in a bar, in a different city, not knowing anyone but the people on stage performing... I felt extremely awkward and anxious. Some drunk asshole just had to come along and start hassling me. Awful. I'll elaborate on that in my trip post, but just know, he ruined the little bit of fun I was trying to have; I ended up "escaping" to the car.
The thought of cuddling with Vuni in the hotel room later was the only thing that kept me sane on Saturday night...
Clearly, this was not my weekend. I'm amazed that I didn't fall apart, or just snap... I honestly thought, when sending out all of my disability paperwork, that if I got a denial letter, I'd lose it. It would be THE END. I'm not sure what I thought I'd do, but I didn't think I'd just be able to... cope with it.
But the worst was yet to come.
Since we were gone all weekend, Vuni and I decided to go to his parent's house yesterday evening to do some laundry. I always feel slightly awkward going to his parent's house. I don't feel like I am good enough for them, especially these days. They're almost too "perfect," and in very subtle ways, they make it clear that I'm not living up to their idea of perfection. I've ranted about it before. So why I was expecting things to go smoothly last night is beyond me.
Vuni's mom put me on one of the worst fucking guilt trips of my entire life...
Vun had already gone downstairs to watch TV, so I was alone with MIL in the kitchen, still trying to eat dinner and arguing with myself that it was okay to be eating... okay that I was getting seconds of salad and cooked spinach (aren't ED voices just a treat? FML). With feeling ultra imperfect and trying to be comfortable eating, plus the crappy events of the past few days, I was already in a very vulnerable spot.
She began very slowly, by suggesting different things I should be doing. As in, trying to find a job type things. Suggesting I try this, suggesting I try that. Asking why I don't try to apply to Clear Channel, or one of the TV stations? Well, I've told her why before: most broadcasting companies, whether it's TV or radio, will not even consider you unless you've interned with them, or have years of experience. I know, because I've had classmates go into both. I re-explained this to her, to which she replied, "well, is it to late for you to do an internship?" I told her it most likely was, considering I've already graduated, and if I did by some chance get one, it'd be for little to no pay. "Well, why should that matter? You're not bringing in any money anyways, and you have the time to do it." She should have just slapped me; it would've been less painful.
It matters because I do not want to do either, so why the fuck should I waste my time?
"I know the economy's bad, but with you not having a job, it must just be so stressful for you guys,"
Okay, Captain Obvious, thanks. You know what? I know you guys don't exactly like me (right now at least); I realize I'm not good enough for your precious boy. I know that you want a perfect, preppy, athletic little white girl who just graduated from med school or something for your son. But you know what? For whatever reason, he wants ME. He loves ME. He sees beyond the mess and anxiety, and sees a person, a person that he obviously loves very, very much. Do you not think I feel guilty every single fucking day? Do you think I don't question, constantly, whether I really do deserve your son's love? And do you think that I'm totally unaware of what you guys think of me? I have an anxiety disorder; I'm not fucking stupid. I'm sorry I'm tainting your perfect lives; I'm sorry you don't think I'm good enough for your son. God fucking damn.
I suddenly couldn't finish eating. I dumped the rest of my food out, and tried to decide what to do. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to want to grab a knife from the drawer, lock myself in the bathroom, and start cutting. I wanted to HURT physically. I wanted to freaking peel my skin off; to scratch myself until I bled, couldn't feel any pain but burning. I thought about running away, but to where, I don't know. Going to Walmart and getting a giant bottle of Tylenol PM VERY briefly crossed my mind; I can't imagine my life without Vuni, but yet I hate myself for being such an apparent burden to him (at least that's what I'm getting from his mom).
No, no, no. I have nowhere to run. If I were to cut myself, I'd merely be left with scars reminding me of how horrible I felt last night. And suicide... it's just never an option. NEVER. It may be tempting when everything feels so hopeless, but I've learned that hopelessness isn't forever; and I don't want to die, I want things to fucking change. So what did I do? I text my mom, asking her for a picture of Penny (my little fur sister). She sent one a few minutes later, and I replied with "Thanks, I needed that, I've just been put on the biggest guilt trip of my life." She asked by who...
So I walked out the back door, with Vuni completely oblivious, and called her. I started walking down the street, and told her what happened. The tears finally fell. I also admitted that my claim had been denied, to which she replied, "Wow. I'm so proud of you... I never would have known, you're handling it so well." I told her how tempted I was to drink, to smoke, to cut... anything for release, but I also said I know that it won't do anything but set me back. I told her I feel like I'm suffocating, because I so badly WANT to temporarily numb myself by some bad behavior, but I'm tortured by the thoughts of how much it'd hurt her, my dad, and Vuni if I did so... which keeps me from doing it. I told her, "It's so hard, to not do these things, to just keep getting bad news, to feel this way... and to stay strong. But I'm at the point where I don't have a choice; I don't have a choice but to be strong."
to which she replied, "Yes, you do have a choice; you're just making the right one."
Up until this point, I didn't think of it that way; I just keep telling myself, if I don't be strong, I'm going to lose it all. While that may be true, it's also true that I am very much making a choice- and it is the right one. Sure, I still fuck up, and OBVIOUSLY have a lot of major issues that I need to work through- and I'm more than likely ALWAYS going to deal with the anxiety... but I'm finally making right choices? And moreso, choices that not only I'm aware of, but someone else is too?
Maybe not everyone feels I'm good enough; maybe not everyone sees progress. But it's good to know that one of the most important people to me sees it; and that it's not all just in my head... it may be small, but I AM making progress.
...maybe one day I'll be enough.
P.S. I know I sound extremely frustrated towards my (most-likely) in-laws; this does NOT mean that I do not love them, or appreciate anything they've done for me. I also realize I've made some fucked up mistakes in the past, and that they have a right to have been angry with me at those times; but my anxiety disorder isn't one of those things. It's not something I chose, it was something I was born with. Although I can understand being frustrated (because believe me, I'm fucking frustrated with my own disorder), I just wish that they could try to be more understanding/supportive... gah, nothing in life is ever simple, is it?
Friday started out shitty; I had to give a presentation on a study I did with one of my professors (Ellie); the last official thing I had to do for school. I know I've already graduated, but I agreed to this presentation when I signed up for the study back in May. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong that morning, did; from realizing that the pages were numbered incorrectly in my report, to the printer not being friendly, to wardrobe crisis, to not finding a parking spot (and thus having to park in a 15 minutes max slot, and pray that I wouldn't get busted by a lot attendant)... add on the fact that I was nervous as all hell. But to my immense surprise, once I got up to the podium and started presenting, it all went smooth. I just kept telling myself... you do NOT want to disappoint Ellie. That thought got me through it, and I did great; I actually amazed myself. I left the college feeling wonderful to finally be 100% finished, and to have rocked my presentation. I was happy, and felt a sense of relief.
Too bad it was so short lived.
Three hours later, I was at home, anticipating the little weekend getaway we had planned (Vuni's band playing out of town again), when the mail arrived: a single, fat envelope from Social Security. I hesitated, knowing very likely that their could be bad news in that envelope... and there was. A big, bold DENIED. My disability claim... denied. And even worse? My therapist never submitted her paperwork. I know she got it; I talked to her about it. So either she dropped the ball, or someone's lying about having not received it... which they could be. The letter also stated that they never received a report from my mom, however, she never got any paper work to fill out in the first place. Bottom line is, I'm for sure going to appeal it.
But in the mean time, this leaves me with more anxiety and desperation than ever. I was hoping, with school finally finished for me, that I could at least enjoy the weekend with Vuni... but fucking no. I get the denial letter in the mail. What the fuck? I spent Friday evening filling out two long ass online job applications (one for a school lunch lady... one for a dishwasher in a hospital cafeteria. Real glamourous; but shit, I'll take those over customer service any day).
I decided not to tell my parents about the denial right away, because even though I already felt awful about it, I figured waiting and at least trying to semi-enjoy the weekend, with keeping the news to just Vuni and I, would help a little.
Saturday night was Vuni's band's show. I really, REALLY wanted to drink. Or smoke. The denial letter was eating me away from the inside; I could have used going numb. But I can't be drinking. And as for smoking... well, I'm not worried about becoming addicted to it. I never have; the smell is too freaking nasty for me to tolerate. I smoke every now and then when I'm stressed, but it's never been an issue. I wanted a cigarette on Saturday night, before the show, when we were standing outside and everyone was smoking. HOWEVER- Vuni has been trying to quit. He's actually gone 3 weeks so far without one. Part of my mind (the bitchy part) was telling me, well, Vuni doesn't care about your drinking issues, he always drinks in front of you, so why should you be considerate to him? Because, if he were to smoke since I was doing it... I'd feel responsible. I'd feel like I was the one who threw him off of the wagon, regardless of reality. So no smoking.
I plan on doing a separate post on our little trip, but I have to throw this in: not only was I wanting to numb by drinking... I was nervous as shit being in a bar, in a different city, not knowing anyone but the people on stage performing... I felt extremely awkward and anxious. Some drunk asshole just had to come along and start hassling me. Awful. I'll elaborate on that in my trip post, but just know, he ruined the little bit of fun I was trying to have; I ended up "escaping" to the car.
The thought of cuddling with Vuni in the hotel room later was the only thing that kept me sane on Saturday night...
Clearly, this was not my weekend. I'm amazed that I didn't fall apart, or just snap... I honestly thought, when sending out all of my disability paperwork, that if I got a denial letter, I'd lose it. It would be THE END. I'm not sure what I thought I'd do, but I didn't think I'd just be able to... cope with it.
But the worst was yet to come.
Since we were gone all weekend, Vuni and I decided to go to his parent's house yesterday evening to do some laundry. I always feel slightly awkward going to his parent's house. I don't feel like I am good enough for them, especially these days. They're almost too "perfect," and in very subtle ways, they make it clear that I'm not living up to their idea of perfection. I've ranted about it before. So why I was expecting things to go smoothly last night is beyond me.
Vuni's mom put me on one of the worst fucking guilt trips of my entire life...
Vun had already gone downstairs to watch TV, so I was alone with MIL in the kitchen, still trying to eat dinner and arguing with myself that it was okay to be eating... okay that I was getting seconds of salad and cooked spinach (aren't ED voices just a treat? FML). With feeling ultra imperfect and trying to be comfortable eating, plus the crappy events of the past few days, I was already in a very vulnerable spot.
She began very slowly, by suggesting different things I should be doing. As in, trying to find a job type things. Suggesting I try this, suggesting I try that. Asking why I don't try to apply to Clear Channel, or one of the TV stations? Well, I've told her why before: most broadcasting companies, whether it's TV or radio, will not even consider you unless you've interned with them, or have years of experience. I know, because I've had classmates go into both. I re-explained this to her, to which she replied, "well, is it to late for you to do an internship?" I told her it most likely was, considering I've already graduated, and if I did by some chance get one, it'd be for little to no pay. "Well, why should that matter? You're not bringing in any money anyways, and you have the time to do it." She should have just slapped me; it would've been less painful.
It matters because I do not want to do either, so why the fuck should I waste my time?
"I know the economy's bad, but with you not having a job, it must just be so stressful for you guys,"
Okay, Captain Obvious, thanks. You know what? I know you guys don't exactly like me (right now at least); I realize I'm not good enough for your precious boy. I know that you want a perfect, preppy, athletic little white girl who just graduated from med school or something for your son. But you know what? For whatever reason, he wants ME. He loves ME. He sees beyond the mess and anxiety, and sees a person, a person that he obviously loves very, very much. Do you not think I feel guilty every single fucking day? Do you think I don't question, constantly, whether I really do deserve your son's love? And do you think that I'm totally unaware of what you guys think of me? I have an anxiety disorder; I'm not fucking stupid. I'm sorry I'm tainting your perfect lives; I'm sorry you don't think I'm good enough for your son. God fucking damn.
I suddenly couldn't finish eating. I dumped the rest of my food out, and tried to decide what to do. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to want to grab a knife from the drawer, lock myself in the bathroom, and start cutting. I wanted to HURT physically. I wanted to freaking peel my skin off; to scratch myself until I bled, couldn't feel any pain but burning. I thought about running away, but to where, I don't know. Going to Walmart and getting a giant bottle of Tylenol PM VERY briefly crossed my mind; I can't imagine my life without Vuni, but yet I hate myself for being such an apparent burden to him (at least that's what I'm getting from his mom).
No, no, no. I have nowhere to run. If I were to cut myself, I'd merely be left with scars reminding me of how horrible I felt last night. And suicide... it's just never an option. NEVER. It may be tempting when everything feels so hopeless, but I've learned that hopelessness isn't forever; and I don't want to die, I want things to fucking change. So what did I do? I text my mom, asking her for a picture of Penny (my little fur sister). She sent one a few minutes later, and I replied with "Thanks, I needed that, I've just been put on the biggest guilt trip of my life." She asked by who...
So I walked out the back door, with Vuni completely oblivious, and called her. I started walking down the street, and told her what happened. The tears finally fell. I also admitted that my claim had been denied, to which she replied, "Wow. I'm so proud of you... I never would have known, you're handling it so well." I told her how tempted I was to drink, to smoke, to cut... anything for release, but I also said I know that it won't do anything but set me back. I told her I feel like I'm suffocating, because I so badly WANT to temporarily numb myself by some bad behavior, but I'm tortured by the thoughts of how much it'd hurt her, my dad, and Vuni if I did so... which keeps me from doing it. I told her, "It's so hard, to not do these things, to just keep getting bad news, to feel this way... and to stay strong. But I'm at the point where I don't have a choice; I don't have a choice but to be strong."
to which she replied, "Yes, you do have a choice; you're just making the right one."
Up until this point, I didn't think of it that way; I just keep telling myself, if I don't be strong, I'm going to lose it all. While that may be true, it's also true that I am very much making a choice- and it is the right one. Sure, I still fuck up, and OBVIOUSLY have a lot of major issues that I need to work through- and I'm more than likely ALWAYS going to deal with the anxiety... but I'm finally making right choices? And moreso, choices that not only I'm aware of, but someone else is too?
Maybe not everyone feels I'm good enough; maybe not everyone sees progress. But it's good to know that one of the most important people to me sees it; and that it's not all just in my head... it may be small, but I AM making progress.
...maybe one day I'll be enough.
P.S. I know I sound extremely frustrated towards my (most-likely) in-laws; this does NOT mean that I do not love them, or appreciate anything they've done for me. I also realize I've made some fucked up mistakes in the past, and that they have a right to have been angry with me at those times; but my anxiety disorder isn't one of those things. It's not something I chose, it was something I was born with. Although I can understand being frustrated (because believe me, I'm fucking frustrated with my own disorder), I just wish that they could try to be more understanding/supportive... gah, nothing in life is ever simple, is it?
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