Main » August 2004
August 22, 2004
I am supremely exhausted. I
I am supremely exhausted. I worked fourteen hours today babysitting two active kids, beginning at 7 am. I'm sure a lot of you go to work at that time or even earlier, but I am not set to get up at 7 am. That's the deepest part of my sleep cycle right there.
Hopefully, though, this will jolt me out of my insomnia. And at least I made good money.
I leave for college the day after tomorrow and I think the stress is going to kill me. Not to mention that I've only packed one box. My apprehension has overtaken any actual fears to become a self-sustaining entity. I'm anxious to get therw and get my family gone so I can run into a wall and be certain that not everything has changed.
I was talking to some people the other night ... okay, I was talking to myself, but I imagined I was talking to them, and realized that I hadn't written poetry in over a year. I don't write poetry as anything other than a catharsis, and never read it. Poetry is far too subjective to judge. If someone's poetry is good, then it shouldn't mean anything to me, and shouldn't be meant to, in my opinion.
And I only write poetry when I need that catharsis. I realized in my mono/dialogue that I'm about the worst off mentally that I've been in over a year, and sat down and scribbled off three poems, one right after the other. It helped, up until I fell asleep twenty minutes later and forgot all about them for the next 48 hours. And here we are.
School will be good. My dish chair will be good, and my independence will be good. Good.
Posted by Maya at 12:30 AM | Comments (0)
August 16, 2004
Wow. So I'm looking around,
Wow. So I'm looking around, click on my blog, and guess what ad I see?
Cutting
Great deals on new and used items.
Search for cutting now! -aff
www.eBay.com
Oopsies.
So on a whim I click the link, which takes me here. Yeah, that'll get the job done. And only $299.00 too! But shipping... shipping is 19 bucks. No way I'm shelling out that kind of cash.
Besides, I then run across the company name, nestled in the special instructions section that Ebay idolizes.
Please send paypal payments to support@toolsteal.com.
Toolsteal? I'm sorry, I'm just interested in a little bloodshed in the interest of self-mutilation. No stealing for me.
Actually, I hate that term, self-mutilation. But I saw The Bourne Supremacy today and all that bloody nut-kicking action has made me temporarily immune to the willies I get from icky-sounding words.
Yes, I cut myself and blood creeps me out. Makes sense, right? I think I only have a problem with blood when it's associated with a loss of control. The fact that I control my bleeding makes cutting all the more attractive to my unorthodox mind. Seriously. If you can control that, what else is there?
Posted by Maya at 09:55 PM | Comments (0)
August 15, 2004
The insanity of the insomnia!
The insanity of the insomnia!
It's 3 am and I'm awake again. I've tried so hard to get to sleep, to have a good sleeping pattern for college. I want to make a list of my problems so far. They seem to be multiplying. (I'm big on lists.)
Things Wrong With Me
- Clinically Depressed
- Cutter
- Anxiety
- Obsessive Compulsive Tendencies
- Bipolar II
- Insomnia
- Overweight
And there's the whole overanalyzation/overemotional thing. But that's not really classifiable.
I've been watching the Olympics, which is fun. My boyfriend makes fun of me because I would never otherwise watch beach volleyball or water polo or any of it, but I like watching the Olympics. I told him they were special, even though I don't really think they are, but it feels special to watch things I wouldn't normally watch, and I like that I can prove exceptions so easily for it. If saying "It's the Olympics!" is enough to convince someone of its importance, then isn't it important?
I feel so bad for imposing myself on my boyfriend. The poor guy is in love with a crazy girl.
Posted by Maya at 11:57 PM | Comments (0)
August 14, 2004
Ooh I received a question!
Ooh I received a question! Two, actually.
Well, first of all, my favorite color is green, and actually, it's close to this exact shade of emerald green that I adore.
Second of all, I guess I haven't addressed this yet. The question was "Do you cut?"
Not really anymore. I used to be once a week girl, then a once a day, then two to three times a day until I told my parents and started seeing a psychologist and a psychiatrist. Neither of those really helped, but the meds did. I was addicted to cutting myself, and that ended the addiction. I've lapsed once or twice, but not majorly.
And I still don't see a logical reason why I shouldn't have done it. It was small cuts, limited bleeding, and it helped immensely with my coping skills. Supposedly the act of cutting (or being injured) releases chemicals in your brain that dull pain. In some people it works for emotional pain as well.
I'm generally an intelligent, logical person. I'm guessing many will disagree or think it's a part of my illness that I perceive cutting as a possible solution to my depression. However, of the things you can do to yourself, the ways you can punish yourself because you hate yourself, this is one with the least serious or long-term physical repercussions.
So no, I don't cut any more, but it's more because I don't have a pressing need to, so I might as well not because it's inconvenient to hide your wrists and worry and explain and avoid conflict.
I also kind of wish I did cut, because my life was so much richer then, before I went on medication. I think I needed something to help me cope because I experienced the world more intensely than most people. I've only figured this out since my boyfriend has told me this summer that he feels like I feel things more intensely than he does. So if I'm still above average now, imagine where I was.
It was fantastic though, being so inspired to write and live and enjoy existence. It also led to worse depressions, but even those were rich in their despondency. Those two experiences were the extent of my life, that and frustration with people who wanted to change it. That was what led me to believe I had symptoms of Bipolar II, later confirmed by a doctor, and overturned by a second opinion.
There, far more than you needed to know.
It's strange though, because I used to envy people who were screwed up, I envied people who thought about important things for a reason, because before I got messed up, I thought about life and death and social inequity and all sorts of things, with no suffering to balance my beliefs. Having come all through this, it's supremely reassuring that my abstract ideology has remained steady.
Posted by Maya at 10:35 PM | Comments (0)
August 13, 2004
Well, our lovely webmaster has
Well, our lovely webmaster has inspired me to write. At her suggestion, I would like to open up my blog to questions from the peanut gallery (which you can ask through the comments option), but seeing as how I'm not even sure that anyone reads this, I'll be making up my own questions until one comes along.
I've been a wreck these past two days. I'm terrified of what I'll become at college. More that I'm terrified I won't change. I'll still be an overweight depressed slob who wants to overacheive, but restrains herself because she knows she could never do it right. Sure, things will be different, I'll be homesick, and at least farther away from the Bible Belt, but wow. I didn't really expect to get scared. I also would have expected any fear to be more along the lines of a homesick butterflies in the stomach feeling.
In lieu of sanity, I've thrown myself headfirst into web design, working on a complex one for myself, and a few fun things for some friends. I feel so obsessive right now. I haven't been getting to sleep until three in the morning most nights, simply because I haven't been tired. I'm finally slipping into summer mode now that work is over, and I only have a week of it left.
Things change, everything changes. I just don't want to resort to cutting myself or anything else obsessive to help put blinders on. I don't want the blinders.
Julia Child died recently at age 92, in her sleep. I'm not that terrified of death... ok yes I am. I'm not that terrified of being dead, but the idea of living and not knowing if you'll wake up the next morning terrifies me. I wonder how people cope with that sort of ultimate uncertainty, and then I realize that they don't cope with it. At all. It sounds lovely at first, but what a cop out way to exist.
I'm almost positive that those here with terminal illnesses would agree. It's better to address your fears than to let them lie in wait like a fox in the underbrush.
Posted by Maya at 10:43 PM | Comments (1)
August 12, 2004
Well, I've been writng more
Well, I've been writng more so I haven't needed to blog so much. It's a little depressing that I'm spending so much time on something that, even if I get it published, will never sell well. But on I press, a starving, misunderstood artist.
Leaving for college in less than two weeks has made me eerily bratty. I'm sensitive to the slightest offense, and burst into tears when my anger is addressed. I suppose that's par for the course, but I'd been so ready, so eager, it scares me now to think that maybe I wasn't healed, and was just trying to keep to a schedule.
On the menu of this blogging too there's a button that says "<-- Back to Dashboard" and that's where I feel like I should be going. Back to the drawing board.
I really need a therapist who listens more than she talks. Serial killers talk to therapists, why should I have to feel weird candidly telling someone about something as mundane as sad thoughts?
Posted by Maya at 10:50 PM | Comments (0)
August 06, 2004
Well, the recent comment has
Well, the recent comment has convinced me that I'm not talking to myself, alone in the dark. Thanks Judy!
So here I am, another day, another dollar. I'm fruitlessly trying to learn how to work web databases and wondering if I'll have a source of income when college rolls around. I won't miss my job, but I don't want to call my parents for money either. The interest on my savings account went up, so I guess that's something to smile about.
My boyfriend is being hardcore about trying to help me eat healthily, but all it's doing is making me cave, letting me lean on him entirely. We're going on trips tomorrow and the next day, both his idea, so maybe he's starting to pull out of his depression. He has to be the one to do it, what with refusing medical, familial, and girlfriend assistance.
We're going to an outlet mall tomorrow that's an hour away. That sounds terrible, but it's a colorful and fun place to be. They have everything from the Bible Factory Outlet to the Bamboo Outlet. I've only been once and he's never been, so it should be fun, for such a commercial outing. Then, the next day, we're going to have a picnic by a waterfall and go swimming. Once we're worn out, it's over to his place to play video games all afternoon. I've never had a romantic weekend like this, full of special things and one special person.
I hope I won't ruin it somehow.
Posted by Maya at 09:09 PM | Comments (1)
August 03, 2004
Three weeks and counting until
Three weeks and counting until I leave for college. I'm uncharacteristically carefree, even though I'll be 400 miles from any semblance of a safety net. I really am worried that I'm not an adult yet. Of course, I'm also worried that my parents still won't let me act like an adult, let me make my own mistakes.
I sometimes think that I've never made mistakes, that thing haven't been perfect, but I've never faced any crises. Then I remember all of this, all of my 'mental illness,' and I worry even more about not being around people who know to pay attention to my wrists.
Maybe my utter lack of crisis is what caused that one to surface, a lack of an outlet for my depression.
I could pull it off too; I could cut myself in college and nobody would notice. At least, anyone who did wouldn't say anything to me. I'm good at lying, and the main thing preventing me from reentering that double life is the hassle.
Posted by Maya at 08:00 PM | Comments (0)
August 01, 2004
I feel so alone sometimes.
I feel so alone sometimes. I feel isolated from the world, restricted by rules I never asked for, when all I want to do is reach out. I want to let people know how weak I am, how much I need them, and manipulate them into caring for me, taking care of me. I'm not malevolent, I just want to love and be loved, and without a gimmick like being the most screwed up person they've ever met, it never works. I am never enough.
I feel guilty because my boyfriend isn't enough either, when he says I am enough for him. I need friendships, relationships, outside of this one. I need to drink in all the love that is available to me.
And then I punish myself with hate.
Posted by Maya at 11:07 PM | Comments (0)
