Two inches away from me there is... his eyes, his face, his mouth. There is his hands on my lips, on my back, there are his words, "you're beautiful, I love you, I love you". And it's hard to believe that I, me paranoid of touch, me, paranoid of sexual abuse, me with my dissociation and my PTSD, had my tongue in his mouth, that I held his hand and was in his arms for hours when I was angry and he was there.
I've always thought this could never happen, it was something I expected only once everything else in my life got fixed, something I never expected in high school, so soon, now. I guess I'm almost sixteen, and everyone else is dating, but it's weird, to imagine me, that there is a boy who will kiss me if I want it, that somebody loves my body in that sort of... sexual way, which I can't imagine.
Wow. I'm still in shock that I've fallen in love somehow after all these years of all this abuse and anger and pain.
That must make me a miracle.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Sunday, February 27, 2005
not good enough
My mom told me today that I'm just "not good enough at the piano to get a good score at district festival". Nothing's made me as mad as that made me in quite a while. First of all, I don't think it's ever fair to tell someone they're not good enough, and that something is impossible because of that. I told my mom this, and she said, "Well you've always known me to be honest". Which brings me to my second point: sometimes what you think isn't true, and it's not fair to tell someone it is when it may not be.
I guess the reason all these feelings and tears and anger are welling up inside of me is it's not just about piano, it's about forever. My mom has always supported me, yes, but she's also always been whispering in my ear that I'm not good enough, don't work hard enough, am not smart enough to do great things. And I believed her for so long. All I wanted was to be good enough. Now I know that the things she told me weren't true, and that I always was good enough, as a human being, and in everything that I did. I have not met anyone as hard-working as me.
And despite all of my mother's discouraging words over the years and several emotional breakdowns, I believe that I am capable of absolutely anything if I set my mind to it. I will never be "not good enough". This doesn't exist for me. If I set a goal, I will reach it. I set a goal to be in calculus. Here I am. I set a goal to be happy and love myself. Here I am. And if I work hard enough, I know without a doubt I am very capable of getting a good score at district music festival. I'm sick of my mom's crap. I'm sick of her tearing me down and making me think things are impossible. With that attitude, the attitude that I've already lost even before I've tried, I will never get a high score. Only my mother's words taken to heart can possibly make them true. But I know I'm better than that.
And I'm sick of allowing people to tell me I'm not good enough. I'm not going to allow it anymore. I am good enough for anything.
I guess the reason all these feelings and tears and anger are welling up inside of me is it's not just about piano, it's about forever. My mom has always supported me, yes, but she's also always been whispering in my ear that I'm not good enough, don't work hard enough, am not smart enough to do great things. And I believed her for so long. All I wanted was to be good enough. Now I know that the things she told me weren't true, and that I always was good enough, as a human being, and in everything that I did. I have not met anyone as hard-working as me.
And despite all of my mother's discouraging words over the years and several emotional breakdowns, I believe that I am capable of absolutely anything if I set my mind to it. I will never be "not good enough". This doesn't exist for me. If I set a goal, I will reach it. I set a goal to be in calculus. Here I am. I set a goal to be happy and love myself. Here I am. And if I work hard enough, I know without a doubt I am very capable of getting a good score at district music festival. I'm sick of my mom's crap. I'm sick of her tearing me down and making me think things are impossible. With that attitude, the attitude that I've already lost even before I've tried, I will never get a high score. Only my mother's words taken to heart can possibly make them true. But I know I'm better than that.
And I'm sick of allowing people to tell me I'm not good enough. I'm not going to allow it anymore. I am good enough for anything.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Infinite sadness
I went to a party today, with a lot of people who I am friends with or have been friends with. I've been feeling weird all day, sentimental, overwhelmed with memories from elementary and middle school. And at this party I was dancing with Shauna and Ellie and Mallory and Matt, and everything just sort of split open. I don't know how else to describe it. I looked around the room, and it was like everything was cut out and pasted in its place in my past, present, and future. Olivia and I used to cut out paper dolls from magazines and line them up in careful rows in her living room. It was kind of like that, except with these memories. The sense of time running in a river ceased to exist as well, and the past and the present and the impossible unknowns of the future all seemed to be happening at once.
Most of all, I felt sad... this sort of infinite sadness that isn't like depression, but more of a hollow, empty ache I have begun to feel constantly when I am with my friends, or driving around town. I look at these buildings, and I remember being in them, all the memories of my life in these buildings. I look at my friends and I remember who we were and I'm sad that we've changed, and I love who we are but I'm sad that we will change and that nothing lasts. I guess I'm greedy or something... I don't want things to change. I want them to stay the way they are so I don't ever have to feel sad remembering them.
I hate this sadness. I get it all the time now. I'm constantly aching. For what, I'm not sure. I feel like I've lost everything, even though I haven't, I've just lost the past, but gained the present. The present seems monochrome in comparison to the past on some days, on others it's the other way around.
I think there's something wrong with me. I'm so weird. I had fun at the party, but I was sad. And afterward Ellie invited me to her house where a bunch of my friends were going but I said no. And last night Shauna invited me over but I said no. Part of it is I want to be alone... part of it is I'm terrified of that hollow sadness.
Even remembering fifth grade, I know I was different than everyone else because I thought about the sadness that I felt, and the way it tied in infinitely with the world.
I can't get this e.e. cummings (the best poet of all time) poem out of my head:
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear where our heads lived and were.
I think this poem is the only way to express exactly how I'm feeling right now, like doom has come to smooth our minds of the past, and I'm leaving a room, or my town, or my childhood, or something abstract and ungraspable, and all the memories of how we lived and were, how we existed, how we breathed and fought to survive, are so powerful that the only thing that I can experience from them is their collective concentrated sadness.
Most of all, I felt sad... this sort of infinite sadness that isn't like depression, but more of a hollow, empty ache I have begun to feel constantly when I am with my friends, or driving around town. I look at these buildings, and I remember being in them, all the memories of my life in these buildings. I look at my friends and I remember who we were and I'm sad that we've changed, and I love who we are but I'm sad that we will change and that nothing lasts. I guess I'm greedy or something... I don't want things to change. I want them to stay the way they are so I don't ever have to feel sad remembering them.
I hate this sadness. I get it all the time now. I'm constantly aching. For what, I'm not sure. I feel like I've lost everything, even though I haven't, I've just lost the past, but gained the present. The present seems monochrome in comparison to the past on some days, on others it's the other way around.
I think there's something wrong with me. I'm so weird. I had fun at the party, but I was sad. And afterward Ellie invited me to her house where a bunch of my friends were going but I said no. And last night Shauna invited me over but I said no. Part of it is I want to be alone... part of it is I'm terrified of that hollow sadness.
Even remembering fifth grade, I know I was different than everyone else because I thought about the sadness that I felt, and the way it tied in infinitely with the world.
I can't get this e.e. cummings (the best poet of all time) poem out of my head:
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear where our heads lived and were.
I think this poem is the only way to express exactly how I'm feeling right now, like doom has come to smooth our minds of the past, and I'm leaving a room, or my town, or my childhood, or something abstract and ungraspable, and all the memories of how we lived and were, how we existed, how we breathed and fought to survive, are so powerful that the only thing that I can experience from them is their collective concentrated sadness.
Friday, February 25, 2005
politics (again)
So I read in Newsweek that an increasing majority of Iraqis just want the Americans out. Although Saddam Hussein (if I spelled that right) was an evil dictator, at least the Iraqis had electricity and running water, which has not been constant in these last few years. The Iraqis said Saddam also promised democratic ideals, just like the Americans.
The problem with this whole situation is that Bush didn't really have a plan for what to do after he removed Saddam Hussein from power. That was the first big mistake.
Also, the most recent horrible situation: those Iraqi parents were driving in their car with their kids in back, and the American soldiers were yelling at them to stop but they didn't understand or something, so the Americans shot the parents, and splattered the kids with their blood. What a horrible lose-lose situation. First of all, if American soldiers were yelling at you in a war-torn country, wouldn't you stop? That was the fault of the Iraqi parents. Second of all, if a car isn't stopping, which do you shoot, the parents who haven't actually really done anything wrong yet, or the tires, so you don't kill anyone but get the car stopped? That was the soldiers fault. Third of all, how are you supposed to know the car won't blow up like several cars do in Iraq? That was the soldiers dillema.
I've been reading about Iran, and how there's no freedom left, and Iraq, and how Bush has been hypocritical and embraced Putin, and how a few years ago with democratic Taiwan was fighting with China or whatever, Bush sided with China, and I've been reading about what happened in Mexico and in South America, where even once democracies were put in place there still wasn't really freedom of anything, the governments just said that it was okay, because there wasn't a dictatorship... and then there were all the communists, and all the Marxists, and nobody knew what to do, and there were the guerellas that decided the only way to fight the government was violence... And how no country in the world really has it figured out right now, there's some okayish ones like Germany and Canada and the US and such, but even those have major faults, Canada's socialism making healthcare unaffordable, Germany's church-state creating religious persecution of minorities, the US being idiots and involved in a war they can't figure out how to fight that is a dead-end, with a president that is a hypocrite and a presidential candidate that is a maniac, and that is still in debt... and you look at countries like Iraq, or Iran, or Cuba, where there is either no freedom or just plain turmoil, like in Iraq...
And can't you see why I'm just completely disgusted with politics? The whole world's so freaking screwed up! Everyone's a hypocrite, no country has it figured out. I'm sure of one thing though, that democracy doesn't work everywhere, obviously not in what was recently a theocratic dictatorship with the population is split between Shi-ites and Sunnis. I'm just sick of all the corruption and crap. I have no suggestions... my opinions tend to be moderate, because I think there is a line, you could use the line between democrat and republican, or liberal and conservative, for example, and i believe that there's no such thing as extremes, that the truth, or the best solution, is only slightly to one side or the other of the line, with only a slight deviation. I don't believe in extreme opinions.
But I'm fed up with government. I'm not an anarchist... government is necessary. But my gosh, why can't we get it right?
(Not that I have any true ideas at this point in time, because the whole world's hit a dead end politically in my opinion, and every decision is going to have bad consequences, and there's definitely no obvious right or wrong. I'm just complaining).
The problem with this whole situation is that Bush didn't really have a plan for what to do after he removed Saddam Hussein from power. That was the first big mistake.
Also, the most recent horrible situation: those Iraqi parents were driving in their car with their kids in back, and the American soldiers were yelling at them to stop but they didn't understand or something, so the Americans shot the parents, and splattered the kids with their blood. What a horrible lose-lose situation. First of all, if American soldiers were yelling at you in a war-torn country, wouldn't you stop? That was the fault of the Iraqi parents. Second of all, if a car isn't stopping, which do you shoot, the parents who haven't actually really done anything wrong yet, or the tires, so you don't kill anyone but get the car stopped? That was the soldiers fault. Third of all, how are you supposed to know the car won't blow up like several cars do in Iraq? That was the soldiers dillema.
I've been reading about Iran, and how there's no freedom left, and Iraq, and how Bush has been hypocritical and embraced Putin, and how a few years ago with democratic Taiwan was fighting with China or whatever, Bush sided with China, and I've been reading about what happened in Mexico and in South America, where even once democracies were put in place there still wasn't really freedom of anything, the governments just said that it was okay, because there wasn't a dictatorship... and then there were all the communists, and all the Marxists, and nobody knew what to do, and there were the guerellas that decided the only way to fight the government was violence... And how no country in the world really has it figured out right now, there's some okayish ones like Germany and Canada and the US and such, but even those have major faults, Canada's socialism making healthcare unaffordable, Germany's church-state creating religious persecution of minorities, the US being idiots and involved in a war they can't figure out how to fight that is a dead-end, with a president that is a hypocrite and a presidential candidate that is a maniac, and that is still in debt... and you look at countries like Iraq, or Iran, or Cuba, where there is either no freedom or just plain turmoil, like in Iraq...
And can't you see why I'm just completely disgusted with politics? The whole world's so freaking screwed up! Everyone's a hypocrite, no country has it figured out. I'm sure of one thing though, that democracy doesn't work everywhere, obviously not in what was recently a theocratic dictatorship with the population is split between Shi-ites and Sunnis. I'm just sick of all the corruption and crap. I have no suggestions... my opinions tend to be moderate, because I think there is a line, you could use the line between democrat and republican, or liberal and conservative, for example, and i believe that there's no such thing as extremes, that the truth, or the best solution, is only slightly to one side or the other of the line, with only a slight deviation. I don't believe in extreme opinions.
But I'm fed up with government. I'm not an anarchist... government is necessary. But my gosh, why can't we get it right?
(Not that I have any true ideas at this point in time, because the whole world's hit a dead end politically in my opinion, and every decision is going to have bad consequences, and there's definitely no obvious right or wrong. I'm just complaining).
Thursday, February 24, 2005
hatred and contention erupting in my math class...
I had a calculus test today, on integrals and integrating and area under a curve and the first and second fundamental theorums of calculus and the Simpson's and Trapezoidal rule (which annoy me to no end). I realized that I had fifteen minutes of the class left and 75% of the test. Not a good thing to realize. Especially when you're prone to panic attacks. So I started breathing really hard, my hands started shaking so much that I couldn't write, I couldn't see straight everything started blurring. I had fifteen minutes, and I couldn't even hold my pencil. I closed my eyes, I tried to breathe. I finally calmed myself down a little bit and erratically finished the test. I left one problem blank and guessed on two of the last ones.
It turns out I did okay, I got an A, so now I feel good, but I really, truly need to work on my time management, because given the time I could have gotten a hundred on that test, it wasn't that difficult. And I hate that panicked, paranoid feeling you get when you're running out of time on a test. The things that went through my mind when I looked at the clock... mainly report cards full of A's except for the lone F in calculus.
About the violence though... Nick, this boy who is in love with me whom I really don't like in that way, got over one hundred on the test. Our math teacher curves the tests. Nick is completely ruining the curve for the rest of us (nevermind the fact that if I had more time, I would be too). Violence has erupted. People hate me for ruining the curve of the semester test, people want to tar and feather Nick (me included). So although I truly love teachers who curve tests that are very hard and such, I am inclined to believe that curving tests could quite possibly lead to extreme instances of violence. I can sense the hatred boiling and building in my class. Both towards me and towards Nick. Gosh... you're smart, you love calculus, and you nearly get run out of your math class.
On a brighter note, I did really well on the American Math Competition test, I was one of three kids my age from our school to score over 90 on the AMC 12. Last year I did really well too, on the AMC 10. I got 3rd place. This year I got about 15th, but it is a senior test, and several freshmen and sophomores took it, and I apparently did very well comparitively. So I feel okay about myself right now. And I've lost two pounds again. My weight keeps fluctuating, it's annoying. I'm learning to not freak out and throw up/take laxatives when it's a little higher than usual, because it could be back down again by the next day.
We are entering the dark ages of the year, when school stretches forever and ever in the future, and we are all busy and so exhausted we can barely breathe. Tonight in fact I have to go to piano and do all my homework and practice violin and piano (I should practice cello but I conveniently "forgot" it at school). There's no time to read or do anything in my life right now. And my one shining beacon of hope, tennis, has been torn away. They are cutting people this year. And everyone else has memberships to the tennis club, but I couldn't afford one, and didn't have time for private lessons. So I really haven't practiced. I love tennis. It's almost as fun as debate, and that's saying something. But now I may not get a chance to do it until next year (after I practice). But I might as well try. It'll hurt if I get cut, but if I make it, I have that shining beacon of hope that the end of the year is near.
Well I'm off to piano... (oh joy)...
It turns out I did okay, I got an A, so now I feel good, but I really, truly need to work on my time management, because given the time I could have gotten a hundred on that test, it wasn't that difficult. And I hate that panicked, paranoid feeling you get when you're running out of time on a test. The things that went through my mind when I looked at the clock... mainly report cards full of A's except for the lone F in calculus.
About the violence though... Nick, this boy who is in love with me whom I really don't like in that way, got over one hundred on the test. Our math teacher curves the tests. Nick is completely ruining the curve for the rest of us (nevermind the fact that if I had more time, I would be too). Violence has erupted. People hate me for ruining the curve of the semester test, people want to tar and feather Nick (me included). So although I truly love teachers who curve tests that are very hard and such, I am inclined to believe that curving tests could quite possibly lead to extreme instances of violence. I can sense the hatred boiling and building in my class. Both towards me and towards Nick. Gosh... you're smart, you love calculus, and you nearly get run out of your math class.
On a brighter note, I did really well on the American Math Competition test, I was one of three kids my age from our school to score over 90 on the AMC 12. Last year I did really well too, on the AMC 10. I got 3rd place. This year I got about 15th, but it is a senior test, and several freshmen and sophomores took it, and I apparently did very well comparitively. So I feel okay about myself right now. And I've lost two pounds again. My weight keeps fluctuating, it's annoying. I'm learning to not freak out and throw up/take laxatives when it's a little higher than usual, because it could be back down again by the next day.
We are entering the dark ages of the year, when school stretches forever and ever in the future, and we are all busy and so exhausted we can barely breathe. Tonight in fact I have to go to piano and do all my homework and practice violin and piano (I should practice cello but I conveniently "forgot" it at school). There's no time to read or do anything in my life right now. And my one shining beacon of hope, tennis, has been torn away. They are cutting people this year. And everyone else has memberships to the tennis club, but I couldn't afford one, and didn't have time for private lessons. So I really haven't practiced. I love tennis. It's almost as fun as debate, and that's saying something. But now I may not get a chance to do it until next year (after I practice). But I might as well try. It'll hurt if I get cut, but if I make it, I have that shining beacon of hope that the end of the year is near.
Well I'm off to piano... (oh joy)...
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
curse the idiot teenage america (do i sound like greenday? have i grown that cynical?)
I read in several magazines that somewhere around 38% of teenagers said they believe the government should have the power to edit and censor the press.
Okay. We went through two hundred years of history, watched several nations fall to communism because of rights abuses, and ten years of history class to say this? I am ashamed with the teenagers of America... but more than that I'm freaking horrified. You take away freedom of the press, you take away part of the first ammendment. You start taking away our constitutional rights, and pretty soon we don't have any rights. You allow the government power to censor things, and pretty soon the government has too much power. You give the government too much power and a way to cover up atrocities, and they will become corrupted. You allow a corrupted government, and pretty soon you have either communism, a dictatorship, some sort of theocracy, or a totalitarian government.
WHERE HAVE ALL THE NIHILISTS GONE? Not that nihilism is the answer, but kids are supposed to be smart right now, cynicial, analytical. BUT NO! A horrifying percent of us is just fine with giving away our constitutional rights as an individual in a democracy (dysfunctional, I'll admit, but still the most developed democracy on Earth). Hasn't anyone learned anything from what happened in Russia? Iran? Iraq? Germany? Have teenagers not grasped the concept of the second world war, of Hussein, of Stalin, of Hitler?
Whoops, sorry Iraq, we can't help you become a democracy anymore because the youth of America are prepared to let it slide into dictatorship!
And I thought the Sunni's were stupid for not voting.
My gosh where is our country headed?!?!?!
Okay. We went through two hundred years of history, watched several nations fall to communism because of rights abuses, and ten years of history class to say this? I am ashamed with the teenagers of America... but more than that I'm freaking horrified. You take away freedom of the press, you take away part of the first ammendment. You start taking away our constitutional rights, and pretty soon we don't have any rights. You allow the government power to censor things, and pretty soon the government has too much power. You give the government too much power and a way to cover up atrocities, and they will become corrupted. You allow a corrupted government, and pretty soon you have either communism, a dictatorship, some sort of theocracy, or a totalitarian government.
WHERE HAVE ALL THE NIHILISTS GONE? Not that nihilism is the answer, but kids are supposed to be smart right now, cynicial, analytical. BUT NO! A horrifying percent of us is just fine with giving away our constitutional rights as an individual in a democracy (dysfunctional, I'll admit, but still the most developed democracy on Earth). Hasn't anyone learned anything from what happened in Russia? Iran? Iraq? Germany? Have teenagers not grasped the concept of the second world war, of Hussein, of Stalin, of Hitler?
Whoops, sorry Iraq, we can't help you become a democracy anymore because the youth of America are prepared to let it slide into dictatorship!
And I thought the Sunni's were stupid for not voting.
My gosh where is our country headed?!?!?!
Monday, February 21, 2005
Guilt and ethics
Yesterday I took one of my mother's glasses and threw it in the bathtub, picking up the pieces and shattering them over and over again. I wasn't mad; I don't know what I was. It was so uncharacteristic of me, that destruction, that it frightened me.
I'm back to myself again. The high is over, the drugs are out of my system. But it's not over. Not really.
I climbed into my mom's bed last night. "I'm sorry," I said, "for everything." I don't know how to say it any differently.
Mostly I feel guilty because of my religion. I truly do believe in my religion. I hated God a long time, for letting me live, for letting me be the idiosyncrasy, the one that couldn't handle what was given to her. I've come to terms with that. Now I just feel incessently guilty, guilt black and dark and impenetrable, because looking back, I did everything wrong. It was all a choice, and I've never been daring enough to believe God wasn't just or fair. I don't know what I deserve. I'm scared of what I deserve. But I do love God and I know he loves me and I know maybe someday I can forgive myself, and as soon as I stop what I'm doing, God will forgive me.
So here's a question... the government is beginning this test where it actually prescribes heroin addicts heroin in hopes that they will be able to stop dealing drugs and being prostitutes and stuff to pay for the habit and get themselves help. I read this in TIME magazine. My father says they've been doing this in Europe for a while. The question is this: is it ethical? There are a lot of ethics involved, like how a government is breaking its own laws, and how some drug abusers are still prosecuted while others, simply because they're participating in an experiment, get off free. But maybe it will work? I don't know. I don't think it's ethical.
I'm back to myself again. The high is over, the drugs are out of my system. But it's not over. Not really.
I climbed into my mom's bed last night. "I'm sorry," I said, "for everything." I don't know how to say it any differently.
Mostly I feel guilty because of my religion. I truly do believe in my religion. I hated God a long time, for letting me live, for letting me be the idiosyncrasy, the one that couldn't handle what was given to her. I've come to terms with that. Now I just feel incessently guilty, guilt black and dark and impenetrable, because looking back, I did everything wrong. It was all a choice, and I've never been daring enough to believe God wasn't just or fair. I don't know what I deserve. I'm scared of what I deserve. But I do love God and I know he loves me and I know maybe someday I can forgive myself, and as soon as I stop what I'm doing, God will forgive me.
So here's a question... the government is beginning this test where it actually prescribes heroin addicts heroin in hopes that they will be able to stop dealing drugs and being prostitutes and stuff to pay for the habit and get themselves help. I read this in TIME magazine. My father says they've been doing this in Europe for a while. The question is this: is it ethical? There are a lot of ethics involved, like how a government is breaking its own laws, and how some drug abusers are still prosecuted while others, simply because they're participating in an experiment, get off free. But maybe it will work? I don't know. I don't think it's ethical.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
numb
I'm about to throw up again. I took the pills. It's almost surreal to me. I can't actually imagine the pink capsules dissolving in my stomach acid, essentially poisoning me. I can feel it, in the way my stomach is pressing up my throat, the way I'm hot and feel everything I always feel after an overdose. But it can't possibly be real.
I'm not mad at myself. I don't hate myself. I'm just in shock. I'm numb. I wouldn't have believed it was humanly possible to ever be this much of a failure. My parents aren't failures. My brother isn't. I wonder what's wrong with me? I really want to know.
In fact, at the moment, I don't feel anything, except numb, apathetic, and nauseous. I'm not sure why. I'm guessing I should, that most normal human beings would. But I don't.
I don't understand why I can't handle gaining weight. I don't understand why I'm even gaining weight at all. I weigh 110. I am goliath. Monolithic. I'm eating 800 calories a day and I've gained ten pounds in two months. Why?
I know this has to stop. This has to be the last time. This can't go on. I'll give my medicine to my parents to control. I don't care what I do, I just have to do something. This cannot happen again. None of this. None of the drugs. Nothing.
I can't believe how much of a failure I am.
I'm not mad at myself. I don't hate myself. I'm just in shock. I'm numb. I wouldn't have believed it was humanly possible to ever be this much of a failure. My parents aren't failures. My brother isn't. I wonder what's wrong with me? I really want to know.
In fact, at the moment, I don't feel anything, except numb, apathetic, and nauseous. I'm not sure why. I'm guessing I should, that most normal human beings would. But I don't.
I don't understand why I can't handle gaining weight. I don't understand why I'm even gaining weight at all. I weigh 110. I am goliath. Monolithic. I'm eating 800 calories a day and I've gained ten pounds in two months. Why?
I know this has to stop. This has to be the last time. This can't go on. I'll give my medicine to my parents to control. I don't care what I do, I just have to do something. This cannot happen again. None of this. None of the drugs. Nothing.
I can't believe how much of a failure I am.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Ranting
I was so frusterated today. I was going to the store to buy strawberries when I cracked. I started sobbing, hitting the steering wheel. Sadly this just tends to make loud noises (who knew?) and attract angry attention to me. Stupid horns, why do they have to be right where you feel like punching? Anyway, as I was sobbing, I also realized I was speeding (why is it that with anger comes slamming down the gas pedal?), and I wondered what a police officer would think if he happened to pull me over, which he wouldn't have because I was only going 30 in a 25, but if one had, it would have been entertaining, me all sobbing, him/her thinking I was probably going to some funeral or something, me telling him I was on my way to the store to buy strawberries.
But I was frusterated about being exhausted, about being what I consider overweight, about America and the stigma placed on food and eating, and how much I just hate the whole mess, and wish I wasn't human, wish I didn't have to eat. I told my mom I was frusterated (this is a big step, talking to her), and I may end up going to a dietician for one session, just to try to be okay with eating.
Here's essentially how I'm feeling, it's a rant I wrote a few weeks ago and posted on a forum:
someone needs to tell the women of america that no amount of big macs or ice cream sundaes can take away the emptiness they feel!!! Struggling with bulimia, I am continually annoyed by the hypocrisy of our nation. Everything is so incredibly freaking convoluted and messed up. The media tells us we need to be anorexically thin, and many of us are convinced of it, and ruin our lives with diet pills and laxatives and this burning, unsurmountable desire to weigh nothing, to be less than air. That is what I have observed in myself and others, anyway. The rest of American women (I'm singling out women specifically, but a lot of this is also applicable to men) are mostly overweight, either slightly or significantly, from years of greasy foods like Mc Donald's or Dairy Queen, and a perpetual lack of self-control that's not really their fault. I am familiar with that lack though. Being bulimic, nearly every time I binge I know I am going to do it before I do. That doesn't necessarily mean I have the control to prevent it, but it means I recognize the signs; essentially that I always feel empty, emotionally. And as I am eating, there is no control, but only the feeling that somehow maybe if I eat enough I won't feel empty inside anymore. I feel this is also true for many women in America. They are not bulimic or anorexic, but surely their eating patterns are not healthy either. They struggle with diets and not eating fastfood, but crack at midnight and stuff plates of cookies in their mouths. They don't mean to be hypocrites, but look at our society! We live in a place where we turn on the tv and see models so thin you can count their ribs for one commercial, and very next shows us large pictures of tasty looking hamburgers with colossal amounts of calories. Having an eating disorder, I feel like I'm more aware of this whole screwed up system than most. It's pathetic. It's not fair. It's exploitive. I'm sick of it and I hate it. I want to move to Japan where people are healthy and eat rice and fish.
I've grown to be so repulsed just by eating, and how corrupted and screwed up it gets. I hate it. I wish I didn't need food. I wish I could eat without all those strings attatched.
But I was frusterated about being exhausted, about being what I consider overweight, about America and the stigma placed on food and eating, and how much I just hate the whole mess, and wish I wasn't human, wish I didn't have to eat. I told my mom I was frusterated (this is a big step, talking to her), and I may end up going to a dietician for one session, just to try to be okay with eating.
Here's essentially how I'm feeling, it's a rant I wrote a few weeks ago and posted on a forum:
someone needs to tell the women of america that no amount of big macs or ice cream sundaes can take away the emptiness they feel!!! Struggling with bulimia, I am continually annoyed by the hypocrisy of our nation. Everything is so incredibly freaking convoluted and messed up. The media tells us we need to be anorexically thin, and many of us are convinced of it, and ruin our lives with diet pills and laxatives and this burning, unsurmountable desire to weigh nothing, to be less than air. That is what I have observed in myself and others, anyway. The rest of American women (I'm singling out women specifically, but a lot of this is also applicable to men) are mostly overweight, either slightly or significantly, from years of greasy foods like Mc Donald's or Dairy Queen, and a perpetual lack of self-control that's not really their fault. I am familiar with that lack though. Being bulimic, nearly every time I binge I know I am going to do it before I do. That doesn't necessarily mean I have the control to prevent it, but it means I recognize the signs; essentially that I always feel empty, emotionally. And as I am eating, there is no control, but only the feeling that somehow maybe if I eat enough I won't feel empty inside anymore. I feel this is also true for many women in America. They are not bulimic or anorexic, but surely their eating patterns are not healthy either. They struggle with diets and not eating fastfood, but crack at midnight and stuff plates of cookies in their mouths. They don't mean to be hypocrites, but look at our society! We live in a place where we turn on the tv and see models so thin you can count their ribs for one commercial, and very next shows us large pictures of tasty looking hamburgers with colossal amounts of calories. Having an eating disorder, I feel like I'm more aware of this whole screwed up system than most. It's pathetic. It's not fair. It's exploitive. I'm sick of it and I hate it. I want to move to Japan where people are healthy and eat rice and fish.
I've grown to be so repulsed just by eating, and how corrupted and screwed up it gets. I hate it. I wish I didn't need food. I wish I could eat without all those strings attatched.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I've gained two pounds. I feel like screaming. I don't understand. I'm eating 1000 calories a day and running three miles.
Yesterday I was so frusterated, so mad. I took four laxatives. I went outside to run. I ran so hard, so fast. I was just thinking how mad I was at everything. At myself for being ugly and fat and gaining weight, for breaking my word, for being incapable of beating this eating disorder, for being a hypocrite, for being miserable when I so want to be happy.
I've lost the weight again, in fact now I've lost a pound after the purge, but who knows if it will stay off? I HATE FOOD I HATE BEING HUMAN!
Matt gave me this thing going on about how beautiful I am and everything, and I just can't see that... when I look in the mirror I just see myself, fat and ugly. Everyone says that's wrong, but I've fooled the world before. My eyes are fully functional... what I objectively see cannot be inaccurate. Mom says I just won't allow myself to be beautiful because of the abuse. That's crap. I'd love being beautiful. I'm just... not.
Why did I have to live in America where everything is so messed up and hypocritical and about weight and calories????!!!!!!!!!
I FEEL LIKE SCREAMING, or breaking something.
Yesterday I was so frusterated, so mad. I took four laxatives. I went outside to run. I ran so hard, so fast. I was just thinking how mad I was at everything. At myself for being ugly and fat and gaining weight, for breaking my word, for being incapable of beating this eating disorder, for being a hypocrite, for being miserable when I so want to be happy.
I've lost the weight again, in fact now I've lost a pound after the purge, but who knows if it will stay off? I HATE FOOD I HATE BEING HUMAN!
Matt gave me this thing going on about how beautiful I am and everything, and I just can't see that... when I look in the mirror I just see myself, fat and ugly. Everyone says that's wrong, but I've fooled the world before. My eyes are fully functional... what I objectively see cannot be inaccurate. Mom says I just won't allow myself to be beautiful because of the abuse. That's crap. I'd love being beautiful. I'm just... not.
Why did I have to live in America where everything is so messed up and hypocritical and about weight and calories????!!!!!!!!!
I FEEL LIKE SCREAMING, or breaking something.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
11th grade registration
Only slightly over half way through tenth grade, and they make me register for eleventh. It's frusterating, and stressful, because I still have so many classes I need to take, and so little time. Last year, it wasn't as big of a deal becuase I still had three years. The year before, graduation seemed distant and far off, as I was still in eigth grade. Now suddenly everything seems a lot sooner, a lot closer. I still won't be able to take all the science I want to. Oh well...
FOUR YEAR SCHEDULE:
Freshman year (over):
1. Honors Earth Science
2. Gym
3. Honors math 2
4. Honors English 1
5. Spanish 2
6. Concert Orchestra
7. World cultures
Sophomore year:
1. Calculus
2. Health/gym
3. Honors English 2
4. Chamber Orchestra
5. Honors biology 1
6. Concert Orchestra
7. Music theory
Junior year: (subject to change)
1. Honors English 3
2. Carrol College Calculus
3. Biology 2
4. Chemistry 1
5. American history (AP???)
6. Chamber Orchestra
7. Debate/Family and consumer science 2
Senior year: (subject to change)
1. AP English
2. AP American Government
3. some math at Carroll (engineering calculus?)
4. physics
5. creative writing/computer science
6. Chamber Orchestra
7. (if math doesn't take two hours) Science seminar
Well there you go. Several things are being debated right now... like whether to take AP American History, which is, I hear, one of the hardest classes in the school, and whether to take orchestra next year. I am kicking myself for taking three music classes this year, it was a stupid decision made because laziness seemed enticing. But now, next year, junior year, which everyone says is suicide year anyway, is going to be even harder. Wow I'm the smart one.
I wish we didn't have to take a vocational, home ec next year is definitely NOT going to be lovely. I'm not looking forward to it. When I cook, I tend to light things on fire and set smoke alarms off and melt things etc., and I hate sewing so much from having to do it for years that anything I do is incredibly sloppy. But I really want to take debate first semester next year, and it was the only second semester vocational that wasn't like advanced welding or something. I really hope my debate coach student teaches though. If she doesn't, I won't take debate, because the teacher hates me and I hate the teacher.
College seemed really far off a while ago, but it's getting closer and closer. I'm taking the ACT's in April. That should be interesting.
FOUR YEAR SCHEDULE:
Freshman year (over):
1. Honors Earth Science
2. Gym
3. Honors math 2
4. Honors English 1
5. Spanish 2
6. Concert Orchestra
7. World cultures
Sophomore year:
1. Calculus
2. Health/gym
3. Honors English 2
4. Chamber Orchestra
5. Honors biology 1
6. Concert Orchestra
7. Music theory
Junior year: (subject to change)
1. Honors English 3
2. Carrol College Calculus
3. Biology 2
4. Chemistry 1
5. American history (AP???)
6. Chamber Orchestra
7. Debate/Family and consumer science 2
Senior year: (subject to change)
1. AP English
2. AP American Government
3. some math at Carroll (engineering calculus?)
4. physics
5. creative writing/computer science
6. Chamber Orchestra
7. (if math doesn't take two hours) Science seminar
Well there you go. Several things are being debated right now... like whether to take AP American History, which is, I hear, one of the hardest classes in the school, and whether to take orchestra next year. I am kicking myself for taking three music classes this year, it was a stupid decision made because laziness seemed enticing. But now, next year, junior year, which everyone says is suicide year anyway, is going to be even harder. Wow I'm the smart one.
I wish we didn't have to take a vocational, home ec next year is definitely NOT going to be lovely. I'm not looking forward to it. When I cook, I tend to light things on fire and set smoke alarms off and melt things etc., and I hate sewing so much from having to do it for years that anything I do is incredibly sloppy. But I really want to take debate first semester next year, and it was the only second semester vocational that wasn't like advanced welding or something. I really hope my debate coach student teaches though. If she doesn't, I won't take debate, because the teacher hates me and I hate the teacher.
College seemed really far off a while ago, but it's getting closer and closer. I'm taking the ACT's in April. That should be interesting.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Romanticism
I'm eating about 800 calories a day, and jogging about 2 miles. The jogging is good for making me feel okay with eating twice the amount of calories I was eating daily, and is also good for giving me the sort of masochistic feeling I get from cutting, without actually cutting. Running is a sort of high, of course, the endorphins and all. But I still love cutting and have no idea how I'm going to quit.
Yesterday was Valentine's Day of course, and the first one in a few years that I've had a boyfriend. Guys are supposed to be the unsentimental ones, that just buy you roses, right (according to the stereotype)? Well first of all Matt would never buy roses since he knows that little kids and their families in foreign countries have to get up at ungodly hours of the day to go pick thorny roses for little or no money (he also doesn't approve of diamonds... apparently Mother Jones magazine has affected his opinions of the romanticism of diamonds and roses). But Matt did do something really creative and far more sentimental than my gift to him yesterday.
He gave me a loaf of bread (I love bread) and ninety-seven Hershey's kisses. Because he says (yesterday) it's ninety-seven days until my birthday. So it's a kiss for every day until he can kiss me again for real.
I just gave him chocolate, and C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, because that's an awesome theological book, and I knew he'd like it, although in its own way it's terrifying, kind of like the terror of The Lord of the Flies by William Goldes or Golding or whatever.
Anyway, Matt has proved himself every day to be respectful and sweet and romantic and sentimental and everything I want in a guy... so I guess I approve (I'm being sarcastic. Sometimes it's hard to tell in writing).
Yesterday was Valentine's Day of course, and the first one in a few years that I've had a boyfriend. Guys are supposed to be the unsentimental ones, that just buy you roses, right (according to the stereotype)? Well first of all Matt would never buy roses since he knows that little kids and their families in foreign countries have to get up at ungodly hours of the day to go pick thorny roses for little or no money (he also doesn't approve of diamonds... apparently Mother Jones magazine has affected his opinions of the romanticism of diamonds and roses). But Matt did do something really creative and far more sentimental than my gift to him yesterday.
He gave me a loaf of bread (I love bread) and ninety-seven Hershey's kisses. Because he says (yesterday) it's ninety-seven days until my birthday. So it's a kiss for every day until he can kiss me again for real.
I just gave him chocolate, and C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, because that's an awesome theological book, and I knew he'd like it, although in its own way it's terrifying, kind of like the terror of The Lord of the Flies by William Goldes or Golding or whatever.
Anyway, Matt has proved himself every day to be respectful and sweet and romantic and sentimental and everything I want in a guy... so I guess I approve (I'm being sarcastic. Sometimes it's hard to tell in writing).
Sunday, February 13, 2005
I don't know how I'll ever quit when all I want is pain...
Maybe I'm just having a weak moment, and I'm not going to go cut myself, but right now, today, I don't want to quit. I love the pain, I love the feeling, I love the control, I love the crazy adrenaline rush of seriously hurting yourself. It's not madness, it's a desire to feel, because the world has made me numb. My parents will never understand it, even my therapist never will. It's partly masochism but goes past that. I enjoy the cutting and the pain. It doesn't take courage. It doesn't hurt the way accidental injuries do. I don't cry as I do it. It doesn't even necessarily have to be emotional anymore, as it is a simple connection to the body I feel like doesn't belong to me, isn't real, isn't mine.
Pain is my pleasure, my joy, my reality. I don't know any happiness outside of the steel slip of something sharp in my skin.
Terrified? Yeah, I'm terrified of quitting. Because I want the cutting. I need it. It's not an addiction, it's a choice. Is it wrong to allow someone to continue living if you know they're hurting themselves, if it's simply the lifestyle they choose to live? What if I choose, not as a coping mechanism, not as an addiction, not as anything really connected to any significant emotion at all but rather to numbness, to masochism, to live my life as a cutter? What's so wrong with cutting?
I get the feeling I need to see something wrong with cutting before I can ever condemn it, ever think it is bad, and ever even think about permanantly quitting.
As for the bulimia, I want to stop abusing drugs, I find no joy in that, but I want to be thin. And I don't know how to be as thin as I want and not be doing something to make it happen. Maybe I can learn though. I do believe it's possible for me to live without my eating disorder. But without the cutting?
I just don't know. I'm not a freak to like pain. It's just part of me. And there is an aesthetic beauty to blood and dissociation and self-inflicted wounds.
Call me crazy. I don't freaking care. I love self-injury and I don't want to quit.
Pain is my pleasure, my joy, my reality. I don't know any happiness outside of the steel slip of something sharp in my skin.
Terrified? Yeah, I'm terrified of quitting. Because I want the cutting. I need it. It's not an addiction, it's a choice. Is it wrong to allow someone to continue living if you know they're hurting themselves, if it's simply the lifestyle they choose to live? What if I choose, not as a coping mechanism, not as an addiction, not as anything really connected to any significant emotion at all but rather to numbness, to masochism, to live my life as a cutter? What's so wrong with cutting?
I get the feeling I need to see something wrong with cutting before I can ever condemn it, ever think it is bad, and ever even think about permanantly quitting.
As for the bulimia, I want to stop abusing drugs, I find no joy in that, but I want to be thin. And I don't know how to be as thin as I want and not be doing something to make it happen. Maybe I can learn though. I do believe it's possible for me to live without my eating disorder. But without the cutting?
I just don't know. I'm not a freak to like pain. It's just part of me. And there is an aesthetic beauty to blood and dissociation and self-inflicted wounds.
Call me crazy. I don't freaking care. I love self-injury and I don't want to quit.
Preoccupations
My parents say I have a preoccupation with mental illness. It's not really mental illness in and of itself. It's the way people's minds work. The way the conscious builds our personalities and convictions. I have a preoccupation with discovering what makes us human.
I find it fascinating, how lives fall apart. The falling apart is never sudden, cataclysmic, or dramatic, in my opinion. It happens slowly, so slowly you don't see it, and pretty soon you are so deeply entwined in your descent into darkness that there is no way out. At least that's how my life fell apart. I never planned to end up like this.
Today I couldn't handle it. I purged. I had to. I didn't know how to fight the feeling. Someone needs to teach me. Someone needs to support me. I don't know who. I should be able to do this on my own. I used to pride myself in being able to live completely independent of any other human being. Now I'm not so sure. Now I think maybe I need to allow myself to be dependent on someone, need to allow myself to be taken care of and helped.
I feel bad, for not being strong enough to just completely quit being bulimic, but I guess it can't happen all of a sudden. My life didn't fall apart all of a sudden, and I don't think it can be fixed all of a sudden either.
I think that my sight is either incredibly myopic, or incredibly far-sighted. I concentrate solely on what I need to do on a daily or weekly basis, but I obsess over the far off future. I think I need to learn how to appreciate the present more.
I finished The Hours again. By the way, me reading that for the second time is what spurred my parents into saying again that I am preoccupied with mental illness. I guess that accusation isn't ungrounded, I read a lot of books on psychiatric disorders and such. Psychology is interesting though... it's something I want desperately to understand. I'm not sure why, except that parts of me still yearn to be able to completely label and compartmentalize all the abuse I've endured. I guess sometimes though there is no answer, no reason, but I hate to accept that.
That hate group from Kansas, the anti-homosexuals one, is here. I heard their website says "God hates fags" or something. That's so stupid, so anti-Christ-like. I don't really agree with being gay, but I'm not going to get after people that are gay, and tell them they're wrong or horrible people just because it's what I believe. And I think there's no chance that God hates homosexual people. I think he loves them just as much as the rest of us. GRR... all this hatred in the world really ticks me off.
I find it fascinating, how lives fall apart. The falling apart is never sudden, cataclysmic, or dramatic, in my opinion. It happens slowly, so slowly you don't see it, and pretty soon you are so deeply entwined in your descent into darkness that there is no way out. At least that's how my life fell apart. I never planned to end up like this.
Today I couldn't handle it. I purged. I had to. I didn't know how to fight the feeling. Someone needs to teach me. Someone needs to support me. I don't know who. I should be able to do this on my own. I used to pride myself in being able to live completely independent of any other human being. Now I'm not so sure. Now I think maybe I need to allow myself to be dependent on someone, need to allow myself to be taken care of and helped.
I feel bad, for not being strong enough to just completely quit being bulimic, but I guess it can't happen all of a sudden. My life didn't fall apart all of a sudden, and I don't think it can be fixed all of a sudden either.
I think that my sight is either incredibly myopic, or incredibly far-sighted. I concentrate solely on what I need to do on a daily or weekly basis, but I obsess over the far off future. I think I need to learn how to appreciate the present more.
I finished The Hours again. By the way, me reading that for the second time is what spurred my parents into saying again that I am preoccupied with mental illness. I guess that accusation isn't ungrounded, I read a lot of books on psychiatric disorders and such. Psychology is interesting though... it's something I want desperately to understand. I'm not sure why, except that parts of me still yearn to be able to completely label and compartmentalize all the abuse I've endured. I guess sometimes though there is no answer, no reason, but I hate to accept that.
That hate group from Kansas, the anti-homosexuals one, is here. I heard their website says "God hates fags" or something. That's so stupid, so anti-Christ-like. I don't really agree with being gay, but I'm not going to get after people that are gay, and tell them they're wrong or horrible people just because it's what I believe. And I think there's no chance that God hates homosexual people. I think he loves them just as much as the rest of us. GRR... all this hatred in the world really ticks me off.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Confusion
I'm writing a lot today, but I'm in one of my philosophical, confused moods. I'm really confused at the moment, so I'm going to try to express what's going through my mind at the speed of light.
Essentially, things feel violent. There's nothing in my life at the moment even remotely violent, I have not been violent in any way in a very long time, but I keep remembering in fourth grade when the bird got loose out of its cage in our classroom, and our classroom had so many windows, and over and over again the bird just kept smashing into the windows. I felt like throwing up or crying. I've been hit, I've been raped, I've been hurt by so many people, but that day in fourth grade, and that bird, is the most violent thing I have ever seen. Because it was so senseless. So cruel.
That's how I'm feeling right now. And a lot of things are flashing in my mind. Shauna's eyes. She said, "You seem so distant". Most people at school tell me that. There are very few people I can be myself around. Olivia, sometimes. Brittany, Amanda, Matt. I'm not quite sure exactly why I am so introverted and disconnected the rest of the time, but I am. I've drifted away. In fact it's hard to think about kissing Matt, to believe I actually did it, was able to do it, was in that moment, in my seat, that I was alive and tasted the mint in his mouth. It doesn't seem like I'd be capable of it. But I was. My therapist was really excited when I told her that.
And I'm confused because of all the people, kids I've known since sixth grade, or like Olivia, my best friend since I was seven, or Kristin, who I've known since i was four... out all of all these people, Brittany, who I just barely met, knows me the best. I don't know how or why, but I know she is an amazingly good person. And... she listens to me. I think that's what it is. Nobody else is truly (well besides Amanda and Matt of course) willing to listen to my philosophical babbling and psychological hypothesis and political ideas. Nobody else seems to care about having intellectual conversations. Because Brittany has, she has gotten to know a part of me that only Matt and her and Amanda know, because nobody else has ever bothered to listen. I'm usually listening to them. Many of my relationships with my friends are all one-sided. They talk to me about themselves. With Brittany, I can talk about everything... the entire world, and I know she'll listen, and think, and talk back. Somehow, when I'm talking to people about morality and ethics and hard issues, I can understand myself better. Although I have decided that my political philosophy is simply to oppose issues. I have analyzed so many situations... Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, the UK, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, India, everything, and I've decided there are no good decisions made by the US government, because they seem to be simply made on what makes the president more popular, not on morals or pragmatics like they should be or claim to be. So I have decided I'm simply anti-issues. I can have my own form of government, Lindsayism, in which we oppose all issues. It would never work of course, but it seems to be where I have ended up politically... at a dead end. There seems to be no right or wrong left in the world. This have gotten so twisted and messed up.
I don't understand the world, and I'm so confused. It seems odd that, considering the amount of time and effort I put into trying to figure the universe out, I have simply come upon the conclusion that there are no real answers besides those based on faith. For example, I know that my relgion is true because I feel it within me. But things that I should also know are true, things about elements or politics or anything, end up being differentiable.
Anyway, I won't go on, because I could go on and on, analyzing the entire world, everything in it, etc., but that would be pointless because I'd just end up back here, anti-issues, confused and unknowing.
Essentially, things feel violent. There's nothing in my life at the moment even remotely violent, I have not been violent in any way in a very long time, but I keep remembering in fourth grade when the bird got loose out of its cage in our classroom, and our classroom had so many windows, and over and over again the bird just kept smashing into the windows. I felt like throwing up or crying. I've been hit, I've been raped, I've been hurt by so many people, but that day in fourth grade, and that bird, is the most violent thing I have ever seen. Because it was so senseless. So cruel.
That's how I'm feeling right now. And a lot of things are flashing in my mind. Shauna's eyes. She said, "You seem so distant". Most people at school tell me that. There are very few people I can be myself around. Olivia, sometimes. Brittany, Amanda, Matt. I'm not quite sure exactly why I am so introverted and disconnected the rest of the time, but I am. I've drifted away. In fact it's hard to think about kissing Matt, to believe I actually did it, was able to do it, was in that moment, in my seat, that I was alive and tasted the mint in his mouth. It doesn't seem like I'd be capable of it. But I was. My therapist was really excited when I told her that.
And I'm confused because of all the people, kids I've known since sixth grade, or like Olivia, my best friend since I was seven, or Kristin, who I've known since i was four... out all of all these people, Brittany, who I just barely met, knows me the best. I don't know how or why, but I know she is an amazingly good person. And... she listens to me. I think that's what it is. Nobody else is truly (well besides Amanda and Matt of course) willing to listen to my philosophical babbling and psychological hypothesis and political ideas. Nobody else seems to care about having intellectual conversations. Because Brittany has, she has gotten to know a part of me that only Matt and her and Amanda know, because nobody else has ever bothered to listen. I'm usually listening to them. Many of my relationships with my friends are all one-sided. They talk to me about themselves. With Brittany, I can talk about everything... the entire world, and I know she'll listen, and think, and talk back. Somehow, when I'm talking to people about morality and ethics and hard issues, I can understand myself better. Although I have decided that my political philosophy is simply to oppose issues. I have analyzed so many situations... Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, the UK, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, India, everything, and I've decided there are no good decisions made by the US government, because they seem to be simply made on what makes the president more popular, not on morals or pragmatics like they should be or claim to be. So I have decided I'm simply anti-issues. I can have my own form of government, Lindsayism, in which we oppose all issues. It would never work of course, but it seems to be where I have ended up politically... at a dead end. There seems to be no right or wrong left in the world. This have gotten so twisted and messed up.
I don't understand the world, and I'm so confused. It seems odd that, considering the amount of time and effort I put into trying to figure the universe out, I have simply come upon the conclusion that there are no real answers besides those based on faith. For example, I know that my relgion is true because I feel it within me. But things that I should also know are true, things about elements or politics or anything, end up being differentiable.
Anyway, I won't go on, because I could go on and on, analyzing the entire world, everything in it, etc., but that would be pointless because I'd just end up back here, anti-issues, confused and unknowing.
The future...
I'm reading The Hours by Michael Cunningham for the third time. I really like it, and the way he made it quite a bit like Virginia Woolf's writing. He's a really good author. I also bought another book by him, A Home at the End of the World. But it's third on my list, because I also have to read Eva Luna by Isabelle Aliende (I think I massacred her last name, oh well), and another book by her. I read House of the Spirits a while ago and really liked it. Oh and I also need to get around to reading A Separate Peace, For Whom the Bell Tolls, Atlas Shrugged, and fifty trillion other books. Well there's so many books I need to read, all the books in the world, so I won't try to list them.
I'm not sure why exactly I love reading and writing so much. Maybe because it's like going to another world, and I've never really felt like I belong in the world people say I should belong in. I guess inside of me seems so much more real. And I get really lost within myself. For being 5'1.5" and 107 pounds, there sure are amazingly, infinitely vast places inside of me. Plenty of room to get lost in, and never find my way back out. But that's okay with me. I understand myself and my world.
I have a vague fear that I will end up like many intellectual artists do who get lost inside themselves... burn out, and grow incredibly depressed. Although it is possible to aesthetically utilize that depression, it just hurts all the more in the end. I cannot possibly compare myself to such artists as Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Pablo Picasso, Van Gough, etc., but I can fear their lives and their fates.
And I do fear it all, all of it, the bipolar and other mental stuff, the intellect, the disconnection, the perfectionism, the personality of an over-achiever. I don't mind admitting to the fear. I sat in my car today, at the mall, and asked myself, "Do I really want to live my life like this? Going and going and going and never taking a break, never letting myself be bored or be still?"
No. I don't. But it doesn't seem to matter what I want, whether innate or developed, whether by nature or by nurture, I am an extreme perfectionist and I find comfort in the structure and order that paranoia provides.
I'm not sure why exactly I love reading and writing so much. Maybe because it's like going to another world, and I've never really felt like I belong in the world people say I should belong in. I guess inside of me seems so much more real. And I get really lost within myself. For being 5'1.5" and 107 pounds, there sure are amazingly, infinitely vast places inside of me. Plenty of room to get lost in, and never find my way back out. But that's okay with me. I understand myself and my world.
I have a vague fear that I will end up like many intellectual artists do who get lost inside themselves... burn out, and grow incredibly depressed. Although it is possible to aesthetically utilize that depression, it just hurts all the more in the end. I cannot possibly compare myself to such artists as Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Pablo Picasso, Van Gough, etc., but I can fear their lives and their fates.
And I do fear it all, all of it, the bipolar and other mental stuff, the intellect, the disconnection, the perfectionism, the personality of an over-achiever. I don't mind admitting to the fear. I sat in my car today, at the mall, and asked myself, "Do I really want to live my life like this? Going and going and going and never taking a break, never letting myself be bored or be still?"
No. I don't. But it doesn't seem to matter what I want, whether innate or developed, whether by nature or by nurture, I am an extreme perfectionist and I find comfort in the structure and order that paranoia provides.
Friday, February 11, 2005
fighting (for the first time in a while)
I feel like purging right now very much, but I'm fighting the compulsion with all that I am. It's very late, so it's no use calling anyone... they're all asleep. So I guess this is it... my first test. I talked to my therapist today about how we're going to fix the bulimia. She says I may need to see a dietician once, but either way we need to start planning meals and calories. And try to plan what to do when I get that emotionally empty feeling right before I binge.
SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL THE WOMEN OF AMERICA THAT NO AMOUNT OF BIG MACS OR ICE CREAM SUNDAES CAN TAKE AWAY THAT EMPTINESS THEY FEEL.
Anyway, I sort of binged tonight. I think I had a total of 1000 calories today, which is more than usual. I'm fighting the thoughts, the voice telling me that's way too much, I need to purge, but it's hard. I think I'm strong enough though. I just wish it wasn't the middle of the night so I could get myself help.
I went to Shauna's surprize birthday party at Ellie's house. There were a bunch of Shauna's girl friends there, and Matt, Pat, and Amo. Pat's in love with Shauna, but Shauna really likes Amo and I'm pretty sure he likes her, they just have a lack of communication.
Anyway, it was really fun we played "honey if you love me then please, please smile" for like an hour until it turned more into a contest of who could act the most like a prostitute, crawling on people and such to get them to smile. I did Matt, and got in his lap, and it was okay, and I did Shauna, and it was okay, but those were the only two there I was really confident in touching. Shauna was doing me and I was staring out the window, and someone said you have to look in her eyes, and I did, and it was the first time I looked in her eyes in months, since things all went to Hell. And Shauna turned around and said, "Oh, God, we can't do this" (direct quote, I'm not using the Lord's name in vain), but then she said, "Yes we can," and she turned around, and I looked in her eyes, and I ended up smiling but that's not what matters. The point is, in that moment, we realized we'd allowed ourselves to be scared of repeating the past, and it had torn us apart, and we decided we wanted to be good friends again, because we're both more stable now.
After I dropped Matt off at about midnight, and it was just me and Shauna in the car, we talked a lot about the past, and the present. Basically, we both realize what happened about two years ago was a big mistake on both of our parts, and we regret it, and we learned from it, and we're far more stable and emotionally ready for a friendship now, and we're going to start doing more together again. I love her so much, and I think she understands some things about me nobody else will.
When I looked in her eyes tonight, everything from two years ago came flooding back. And my gosh I can't believe how much I missed her in that instant. More, I think, than I've ever missed anyone.
Anyway, I'm going to go to bed now, continue fighting the urge to throw up or take laxatives.
SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL THE WOMEN OF AMERICA THAT NO AMOUNT OF BIG MACS OR ICE CREAM SUNDAES CAN TAKE AWAY THAT EMPTINESS THEY FEEL.
Anyway, I sort of binged tonight. I think I had a total of 1000 calories today, which is more than usual. I'm fighting the thoughts, the voice telling me that's way too much, I need to purge, but it's hard. I think I'm strong enough though. I just wish it wasn't the middle of the night so I could get myself help.
I went to Shauna's surprize birthday party at Ellie's house. There were a bunch of Shauna's girl friends there, and Matt, Pat, and Amo. Pat's in love with Shauna, but Shauna really likes Amo and I'm pretty sure he likes her, they just have a lack of communication.
Anyway, it was really fun we played "honey if you love me then please, please smile" for like an hour until it turned more into a contest of who could act the most like a prostitute, crawling on people and such to get them to smile. I did Matt, and got in his lap, and it was okay, and I did Shauna, and it was okay, but those were the only two there I was really confident in touching. Shauna was doing me and I was staring out the window, and someone said you have to look in her eyes, and I did, and it was the first time I looked in her eyes in months, since things all went to Hell. And Shauna turned around and said, "Oh, God, we can't do this" (direct quote, I'm not using the Lord's name in vain), but then she said, "Yes we can," and she turned around, and I looked in her eyes, and I ended up smiling but that's not what matters. The point is, in that moment, we realized we'd allowed ourselves to be scared of repeating the past, and it had torn us apart, and we decided we wanted to be good friends again, because we're both more stable now.
After I dropped Matt off at about midnight, and it was just me and Shauna in the car, we talked a lot about the past, and the present. Basically, we both realize what happened about two years ago was a big mistake on both of our parts, and we regret it, and we learned from it, and we're far more stable and emotionally ready for a friendship now, and we're going to start doing more together again. I love her so much, and I think she understands some things about me nobody else will.
When I looked in her eyes tonight, everything from two years ago came flooding back. And my gosh I can't believe how much I missed her in that instant. More, I think, than I've ever missed anyone.
Anyway, I'm going to go to bed now, continue fighting the urge to throw up or take laxatives.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
teenagers and politics and moderates that can't make up their minds
I think that a lot of times I forget exactly who I am, and where I am. Sometimes I forget that I am a human teenager, in high school. It's easy when all that seems real or concrete or tangible to me are the things that most people view as abstract and inconsistent: trust, emotion, human behavior, philosophy, consciousness. And on the occasion (days like today, where I seem closer to reality as others view it than I usually am, and things seem more blurred as they should be and not sharp from mental illness) that I do remember where I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, I find everything ridiculously funny. That everyone is so concerned about what they look like. I suppose I have started caring about that more since Matt came along, but not because it matters to me, but because he isn't an odd, crazy person like me who doesn't care. But he told me today he'd be willing to have sex with me. He knows of course that I will never allow that, and he respects it, but it is odd to hear that. I look at myself in the mirror and can only see ugliness. I can't figure out what he sees in me.
I've never seen kids be truly cruel, the way I know they must to some people, people like those kids that snapped at Columbine, Klebloid or something, and someone else. Sometimes I think I'm living in my own fantasy world where the edge of the earth is lined in dissections of human behavior, and the human soul, pinned neatly and labeled. Ultimately, I have grown extremely good at predicting people and understanding emotions and why they happen. But in the end, some reactions surprize even me. People are unpredictible. Life is malleable. So is reality. The only real things are math and science.
I do love history and philosophy and learning about government and economics and global issues. And I suppose it should matter more to me that there is a war going on in Iraq and such. But this is just a sort of mob psychology. I'm convinced that if you isolate all of us, there are going to be some outliers, but people generally experience the same worries and stresses and emotions.
But then again I'm an outlier too. Most teenage girls wake up an hour early to do their hair. I wake up ten minutes before I have to leave, and show up at seminary every morning looking as if I have been through a monsoon or a freak desert tornado, or sandstorm. In short, my hair tends to look like crap because I just don't care. I don't like how my legs are fat or how my butt is big or how there is some fat on my stomach. Every night before bed I do 100 crunches and 25 pushups. I suppose I'm not eating enough. It's odd that I'm so incredibly disconnected, but my weight still matters to me. But I've given up on looking pretty. I'll never understand why Matt thinks I'm beautiful, why he'd want to have sex with me.
I have SO freaking much homework. I'm sort of doing some right now, looking for stuff on telomeres, but there seem to be no recent articles/breakthroughs and it's very frusterating. It is an interesting concept, to think that some enzyme (telomerase) could hold the secret to immortality, and battling cancer. I don't think I'd want to live a human life forever though. There is too much pain and hate in the world.
I think I am a moderate on most political issues. I read the news and stuff, but for instance Matt and Shea and Amanda amaze me with how much they know about politics and the history of every country's government. Brittany is a conservative republican, and an advocate of the Iraqi War, or excuse me "Project Iraqi Freedom". In my opinion Bush screwed up. He's killing more people than he's helping.
I think I want to take a global issues class next year. I'll take debate first semester, and global issues second. I've decided not to take psychology in high school, because although it would look good on my transcript if I want to be a psychiatrist, I hear it's a waste of time. But I really want to know more about history and politics and what's going on in the world. I think I'm rather uneducated in that respect. I'm so good at English and math and science, and I know a lot about science and what's going on in the science world because I have subscriptions to science magazines and such, but I just don't know much about politics. I care, but I think I have trouble formulating opinions. Especially after debate, which has taught me to analyze both sides of the issue. In the end, I end up over-analyzing everything, seeing that both sides of an issue have disastrous consequences, and neither one really seems superior to me. So I end up as a moderate, not agreeing with anyone, hating both political parties, but with absolutely no ideas of my own on how to fix things. I just don't think it's possible to make good choices. Even pragmatically, quagmires happen.
Anyway I really need to do my homework now. I just thought I'd rant about politics and teenagers.
I've never seen kids be truly cruel, the way I know they must to some people, people like those kids that snapped at Columbine, Klebloid or something, and someone else. Sometimes I think I'm living in my own fantasy world where the edge of the earth is lined in dissections of human behavior, and the human soul, pinned neatly and labeled. Ultimately, I have grown extremely good at predicting people and understanding emotions and why they happen. But in the end, some reactions surprize even me. People are unpredictible. Life is malleable. So is reality. The only real things are math and science.
I do love history and philosophy and learning about government and economics and global issues. And I suppose it should matter more to me that there is a war going on in Iraq and such. But this is just a sort of mob psychology. I'm convinced that if you isolate all of us, there are going to be some outliers, but people generally experience the same worries and stresses and emotions.
But then again I'm an outlier too. Most teenage girls wake up an hour early to do their hair. I wake up ten minutes before I have to leave, and show up at seminary every morning looking as if I have been through a monsoon or a freak desert tornado, or sandstorm. In short, my hair tends to look like crap because I just don't care. I don't like how my legs are fat or how my butt is big or how there is some fat on my stomach. Every night before bed I do 100 crunches and 25 pushups. I suppose I'm not eating enough. It's odd that I'm so incredibly disconnected, but my weight still matters to me. But I've given up on looking pretty. I'll never understand why Matt thinks I'm beautiful, why he'd want to have sex with me.
I have SO freaking much homework. I'm sort of doing some right now, looking for stuff on telomeres, but there seem to be no recent articles/breakthroughs and it's very frusterating. It is an interesting concept, to think that some enzyme (telomerase) could hold the secret to immortality, and battling cancer. I don't think I'd want to live a human life forever though. There is too much pain and hate in the world.
I think I am a moderate on most political issues. I read the news and stuff, but for instance Matt and Shea and Amanda amaze me with how much they know about politics and the history of every country's government. Brittany is a conservative republican, and an advocate of the Iraqi War, or excuse me "Project Iraqi Freedom". In my opinion Bush screwed up. He's killing more people than he's helping.
I think I want to take a global issues class next year. I'll take debate first semester, and global issues second. I've decided not to take psychology in high school, because although it would look good on my transcript if I want to be a psychiatrist, I hear it's a waste of time. But I really want to know more about history and politics and what's going on in the world. I think I'm rather uneducated in that respect. I'm so good at English and math and science, and I know a lot about science and what's going on in the science world because I have subscriptions to science magazines and such, but I just don't know much about politics. I care, but I think I have trouble formulating opinions. Especially after debate, which has taught me to analyze both sides of the issue. In the end, I end up over-analyzing everything, seeing that both sides of an issue have disastrous consequences, and neither one really seems superior to me. So I end up as a moderate, not agreeing with anyone, hating both political parties, but with absolutely no ideas of my own on how to fix things. I just don't think it's possible to make good choices. Even pragmatically, quagmires happen.
Anyway I really need to do my homework now. I just thought I'd rant about politics and teenagers.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Lots of things
"I know you're bulimic," she said on Sunday, in the kitchen, and for a second, right before the universe blew open, I could see everything hanging from a thread in my heart: Matt, Amanda hugging me, Shea leaning against the wall in her sunglasses, my guts cramping, my mom hitting me, my dad crying, that feeling you get before throwing up, my brother being mad at my dad for overdosing, me alone in a big, dark room, the gash in my arm. It was as if everything from forever had been hanging, seeded, within me, and had been crystalizing for years into a colossal chandelier of secrets I'd kept inside of me forever.
I saw all this, in the kitchen, for an instant. It was horribly beautiful, reflecting every color. But I hated it with all that I was. For the first time ever, I let go of everything. It fell in slow motion, reflecting what little light there was left in my life, before shattering.
I sobbed for the first time in months. Flashes of everything were lighting up my mind. Debate, Amanda at nationals, Hannah, sleeping until it all went away; Lightning strikes of memories and emotions I'd tried to ignore and repress. Pain, guilt, anger, but most of all a hopeless, desperate confusion.
I let my mom hug me then, for the first time in a long time. I cried on her shoulder. All the darkness and monsters were escaped from the chandelier, dancing out in the open. And I was glad, because I could deal with them there.
Amanda said, "everything's going to be okay." Maybe it is. I still have a lot of problems when I try to talk to my mom. We usually end up yelling at each other. But we're trying and I guess that's what counts.
So my life is going to be hard for a while. My mom essentially said, this is your last chance. Stop taking laxatives, stop throwing up, stop cutting, and we won't put you in residential treatment. But this is it. She says I have to stop choosing to hurt myself. I guess she's right. I guess it's time to fix things.
I'm so sick of being weak. I really want to be strong. It's hard, to start eating. My mom says she'll start cooking weight watchers stuff. I don't have to eat a lot, but I have to eat enough for my body to not consume itself, and I can't throw up or take laxatives.
I'm going to try. I really, truly am. Maybe now that I can get the help I need, it'll be okay. Relations are a bit... tense... with my parents right now, but I'm really trying to talk to them. I realize I need to start talking to people that have the power to help me fix things.
On a different note, Shea and Amanda talked to my counselor today, and it was very anticlimatic. She was in the middle of some luncheon. (Teachers seem to have one of those every day). It was funny, because after all this drama, we get to this anticlimatic moment and for a second Shea and Amanda looked at each other and didn't know what to say. I guess the luncheon threw them off. Finally Amanda told her that she's worried I might be a risk to myself or something. The counselor made me come in alone sixth period. I told her I was having trouble taking my meds, but my parents were helping me. She wants to see Amanda on Friday. I'm glad Amanda is out of legal danger.
I'm talking to Brittany right now on IM, about depression and stuff. She has this facade of apathy, but it's just that- a facade. She said she was really depressed and suicidal in sixth grade. It's funny how easy it is to talk to her. Becuase i know that no matter what I say, she'll still think I'm a good person.
I think my mom read part of this blog. Before I figured that out, the brief possibility that Amanda told her this stuff crossed my mind. But the miraculous thing is I didn't even need to think about it. I dismissed it immediately. I know there's no chance in Hell that Amanda would do that. I trust her completely and absolutely.
It's an odd feeling, this trusting thing. I've been thinking about it all afternoon. It's frightening, but I am savoring it. It feels good. Even though it is throwing all caution to the winds, I feel safe. Because I know Amanda would never break my trust.
I've never actually completely known that about anyone before.
I saw all this, in the kitchen, for an instant. It was horribly beautiful, reflecting every color. But I hated it with all that I was. For the first time ever, I let go of everything. It fell in slow motion, reflecting what little light there was left in my life, before shattering.
I sobbed for the first time in months. Flashes of everything were lighting up my mind. Debate, Amanda at nationals, Hannah, sleeping until it all went away; Lightning strikes of memories and emotions I'd tried to ignore and repress. Pain, guilt, anger, but most of all a hopeless, desperate confusion.
I let my mom hug me then, for the first time in a long time. I cried on her shoulder. All the darkness and monsters were escaped from the chandelier, dancing out in the open. And I was glad, because I could deal with them there.
Amanda said, "everything's going to be okay." Maybe it is. I still have a lot of problems when I try to talk to my mom. We usually end up yelling at each other. But we're trying and I guess that's what counts.
So my life is going to be hard for a while. My mom essentially said, this is your last chance. Stop taking laxatives, stop throwing up, stop cutting, and we won't put you in residential treatment. But this is it. She says I have to stop choosing to hurt myself. I guess she's right. I guess it's time to fix things.
I'm so sick of being weak. I really want to be strong. It's hard, to start eating. My mom says she'll start cooking weight watchers stuff. I don't have to eat a lot, but I have to eat enough for my body to not consume itself, and I can't throw up or take laxatives.
I'm going to try. I really, truly am. Maybe now that I can get the help I need, it'll be okay. Relations are a bit... tense... with my parents right now, but I'm really trying to talk to them. I realize I need to start talking to people that have the power to help me fix things.
On a different note, Shea and Amanda talked to my counselor today, and it was very anticlimatic. She was in the middle of some luncheon. (Teachers seem to have one of those every day). It was funny, because after all this drama, we get to this anticlimatic moment and for a second Shea and Amanda looked at each other and didn't know what to say. I guess the luncheon threw them off. Finally Amanda told her that she's worried I might be a risk to myself or something. The counselor made me come in alone sixth period. I told her I was having trouble taking my meds, but my parents were helping me. She wants to see Amanda on Friday. I'm glad Amanda is out of legal danger.
I'm talking to Brittany right now on IM, about depression and stuff. She has this facade of apathy, but it's just that- a facade. She said she was really depressed and suicidal in sixth grade. It's funny how easy it is to talk to her. Becuase i know that no matter what I say, she'll still think I'm a good person.
I think my mom read part of this blog. Before I figured that out, the brief possibility that Amanda told her this stuff crossed my mind. But the miraculous thing is I didn't even need to think about it. I dismissed it immediately. I know there's no chance in Hell that Amanda would do that. I trust her completely and absolutely.
It's an odd feeling, this trusting thing. I've been thinking about it all afternoon. It's frightening, but I am savoring it. It feels good. Even though it is throwing all caution to the winds, I feel safe. Because I know Amanda would never break my trust.
I've never actually completely known that about anyone before.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
carpe diem
"Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die." It's what the fools say in the bible. It's how I've lived my weekend. I haven't done anything horrible. I did lift my ban on... relations with Matt. I believe it's possible to break a rule without breaking your morals. I didn't have sex with him. I still believe firmly in abstinence until marriage. I hope that God can see that I needed this this weekend. I don't know if I'll ever regret it or not.
But when I was kissing him, when his arms were around me, I felt safe. I felt loved. And even the French kisses, though they scared me, did not cause me to dissociate, because I was ready for them and expecting them and prepared for them, and I did enjoy them, although I'm not sure Brittany enjoyed watching them.
I'm very interested in how I look when I'm kissing someone. I asked Brittany. She said we looked like in the movies, except our mouths were open a bit wider (obviously because we were some what making out). I didn't do it for masochism, I didn't do it as some last ferocious attempt at screwing myself and my sexuality up. I did it because I needed it.
I felt like cutting a lot. Brittany, Will, and I all got out after two debates. It was frusterating, because a lot of bad people were still in. And the girl that should have won the tournament didn't. I was SO mad. I was crying. Life is never fair. I couldn't imagine how horrible she must have felt as she went home last night. I'm sure she cried herself to sleep. I think nearly anyone would. Even Brittany would, and she's convinced she's apathetic, but I'm not so convinced. I just think she has a facade of apathy. She says her parents taught her to be apathetic. That horrifies me. What if something horribly traumatic happened and suddenly her apathy couldn't contain her emotions? She'd have no one to talk to, no where to turn, no idea how to deal with it.
Anyway, every time I felt like cutting it seemed like someone appeared. I set up my emotional support system before I went: Amanda, Shea, Matt, Brittany. On Friday night after I got out I sat there listening to Pink Floyd and feeling floaty. (I felt floaty and disconnected when I was alone for the whole weekend. But somehow when people were with me I didn't feel like that). I wanted to go be alone. I knew that if I did leave the cafeteria, I'd probably hurt myself. I didn't want to. I knew that I had only a few days until the end of my life as I know it, and I wanted to still control my attitude towards my surroundings, like Frankl said, I wanted to still, for only a few days, have control over my actions and I didn't want to cut.
I don't know if I would have or not. I was feeling basically emotionally strong, so maybe I would have been able to beat the compulsion. But I was glad when Shea suddenly appeared and came and talked to me. I know she's doing what she's doing mostly for Amanda, but it must be somewhat about me too, and I appreciated what she did. All the other times I felt like cutting, Amanda or Brittany or Matt would suddenly appear out of thin air.
I felt proud of myself on the way home, being able to touch Matt, actually craving his touch, being able to kiss him. The interesting thing is that on Thursday night, after Shea and Amanda blew my world apart, I didn't allow myself to cut. I went to the school, to debate, and I told Amanda I wasn't emotionally in a safe place, and she took me to Starbucks and sat with me until I was. Here's the interesting thing: after I went home from coffee with her, I didn't feel like cutting anymore, but I really wanted Matt. I just really wanted to be in his arms, to kiss him, to know he loved me and I loved him and somehow something about the world hadn't been knocked completely off-balance by the tornado that hit my life.
I was angry, on the way home, about Hannah (the girl who should have won) getting fourth, and not qualifying for nationals, after she's won every tournament all year except state and NFL's, after she's worked so hard and it's her senior year. I admire her greatly. I can only hope to be as nice as she is. Even after her own dream was shattered as they announced her place, she shook everyone's hand. She is amazing. And she's definitely the best LD-er in the state, no doubt.
But it made me think a lot about how debate, something that should be so fair, obviously isn't. How the one place where there should be clear-cut, obvious, black and white issues there is in actuality a converging of colors and a constant question. I thought about Amanda's final round at nationals, and talked to some people about it, and how she should have won it. But in the end, there are no universal standards of wrong and right, no definitions to be absolutely sure of, so people can only do what they are personally inclined toward, like what Shea is doing.
I'm scared but I have three more days and I'm going to continue trying to live them to the fullest.
But when I was kissing him, when his arms were around me, I felt safe. I felt loved. And even the French kisses, though they scared me, did not cause me to dissociate, because I was ready for them and expecting them and prepared for them, and I did enjoy them, although I'm not sure Brittany enjoyed watching them.
I'm very interested in how I look when I'm kissing someone. I asked Brittany. She said we looked like in the movies, except our mouths were open a bit wider (obviously because we were some what making out). I didn't do it for masochism, I didn't do it as some last ferocious attempt at screwing myself and my sexuality up. I did it because I needed it.
I felt like cutting a lot. Brittany, Will, and I all got out after two debates. It was frusterating, because a lot of bad people were still in. And the girl that should have won the tournament didn't. I was SO mad. I was crying. Life is never fair. I couldn't imagine how horrible she must have felt as she went home last night. I'm sure she cried herself to sleep. I think nearly anyone would. Even Brittany would, and she's convinced she's apathetic, but I'm not so convinced. I just think she has a facade of apathy. She says her parents taught her to be apathetic. That horrifies me. What if something horribly traumatic happened and suddenly her apathy couldn't contain her emotions? She'd have no one to talk to, no where to turn, no idea how to deal with it.
Anyway, every time I felt like cutting it seemed like someone appeared. I set up my emotional support system before I went: Amanda, Shea, Matt, Brittany. On Friday night after I got out I sat there listening to Pink Floyd and feeling floaty. (I felt floaty and disconnected when I was alone for the whole weekend. But somehow when people were with me I didn't feel like that). I wanted to go be alone. I knew that if I did leave the cafeteria, I'd probably hurt myself. I didn't want to. I knew that I had only a few days until the end of my life as I know it, and I wanted to still control my attitude towards my surroundings, like Frankl said, I wanted to still, for only a few days, have control over my actions and I didn't want to cut.
I don't know if I would have or not. I was feeling basically emotionally strong, so maybe I would have been able to beat the compulsion. But I was glad when Shea suddenly appeared and came and talked to me. I know she's doing what she's doing mostly for Amanda, but it must be somewhat about me too, and I appreciated what she did. All the other times I felt like cutting, Amanda or Brittany or Matt would suddenly appear out of thin air.
I felt proud of myself on the way home, being able to touch Matt, actually craving his touch, being able to kiss him. The interesting thing is that on Thursday night, after Shea and Amanda blew my world apart, I didn't allow myself to cut. I went to the school, to debate, and I told Amanda I wasn't emotionally in a safe place, and she took me to Starbucks and sat with me until I was. Here's the interesting thing: after I went home from coffee with her, I didn't feel like cutting anymore, but I really wanted Matt. I just really wanted to be in his arms, to kiss him, to know he loved me and I loved him and somehow something about the world hadn't been knocked completely off-balance by the tornado that hit my life.
I was angry, on the way home, about Hannah (the girl who should have won) getting fourth, and not qualifying for nationals, after she's won every tournament all year except state and NFL's, after she's worked so hard and it's her senior year. I admire her greatly. I can only hope to be as nice as she is. Even after her own dream was shattered as they announced her place, she shook everyone's hand. She is amazing. And she's definitely the best LD-er in the state, no doubt.
But it made me think a lot about how debate, something that should be so fair, obviously isn't. How the one place where there should be clear-cut, obvious, black and white issues there is in actuality a converging of colors and a constant question. I thought about Amanda's final round at nationals, and talked to some people about it, and how she should have won it. But in the end, there are no universal standards of wrong and right, no definitions to be absolutely sure of, so people can only do what they are personally inclined toward, like what Shea is doing.
I'm scared but I have three more days and I'm going to continue trying to live them to the fullest.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
all we have...
ALL I HAVE TO FEAR IS FEAR ITSELF. ALL I HAVE TO FEAR IS FEAR ITSELF. Ahh shitzus what kind of an idiot said that? Well I know who said it, but the point is, it's crap, it's sh*t, it's not true, I'm sorry I'm swearing so much I feel like I'm slipping away and I could never swear outloud... I just feel stupid and dirty when I do.
Even if that quote is true, there is still the issue that fear is pretty dam* scary. And we're still afraid. We're always afraid. Because fear itself isn't the only thing any rational human being fears. Those quotes that are supposed to be all uplifting... they're just irrational. No human can ever completely beat fear. Even if the strongest, fear exist. What is strength? I don't know. Strength is being afraid and still living five days like they're your last. I hope. I hope.
Fear is being the most fuc*ing afraid you've ever been, being terrified, and not hurting yourself, when it's what you want to do.
I hope that's strength. I hope I'm not as weak as I appear to be.
Even if that quote is true, there is still the issue that fear is pretty dam* scary. And we're still afraid. We're always afraid. Because fear itself isn't the only thing any rational human being fears. Those quotes that are supposed to be all uplifting... they're just irrational. No human can ever completely beat fear. Even if the strongest, fear exist. What is strength? I don't know. Strength is being afraid and still living five days like they're your last. I hope. I hope.
Fear is being the most fuc*ing afraid you've ever been, being terrified, and not hurting yourself, when it's what you want to do.
I hope that's strength. I hope I'm not as weak as I appear to be.
no regrets but it's not f**king worth it
I don't regret talking to Amanda. Letting Shea read this. I don't regret it but it's not f*cking worth it, talking to people, trusting people, loving people.
No. I still love Matt. But he's being taken away.
They tell the counselors on Wednesday, I think. They said Monday but I won't be in town. I just broke down and cried in the middle of biology. I went to the bathroom. It's the first time I've cried in months. But I need it. I only wish someone was there, to let me cry, to hold me. No one ever is. Matt would be, if I had the courage to tell him any of this.
I don't.
I have five days left, five days of sure existance, five days of my life as it is right now, five days of school and friends and debate and cd's. And then everything will be taken away. It's horrible to know this, that you have only five days. But it does make five days infinitely precious. I want to live them so later when I'm holed up in some institution, they'll make me smile and cry at the same time, because those are the best memories.
I don't know. Cosmic balance.
Life's not worth it. Being human isn't worth it. But i refuse to hate myself any longer. I love myself and I know my potential and I know my strength and that's the only reason I know I can get through this.
Amanda's convinced she can fight for my freedom. She doesn't know my mom.
I'm going to keep writing like they don't read this. Because I need somewhere I can tell the truth. And not lie. I'm so freaking sick of lies. Lies and "legal obligations". And the way I felt that night as we drove my dad to the hospital. It felt like this. Powerless.
And it's the way it felt when they were on top of me. And it's the way it felt when my brother had oral sex with me. And it's the way it felt when my mom hit me. And it's the way it felt when I could only watch the world and not interact in it. And it's the way it felt when they took my mom away. And it's the way I felt every day of fifth grade.
And it's the way I've felt for so long that I have tried to never feel again.
Powerless. Completely, totally, fu*king powerless.
No. I still love Matt. But he's being taken away.
They tell the counselors on Wednesday, I think. They said Monday but I won't be in town. I just broke down and cried in the middle of biology. I went to the bathroom. It's the first time I've cried in months. But I need it. I only wish someone was there, to let me cry, to hold me. No one ever is. Matt would be, if I had the courage to tell him any of this.
I don't.
I have five days left, five days of sure existance, five days of my life as it is right now, five days of school and friends and debate and cd's. And then everything will be taken away. It's horrible to know this, that you have only five days. But it does make five days infinitely precious. I want to live them so later when I'm holed up in some institution, they'll make me smile and cry at the same time, because those are the best memories.
I don't know. Cosmic balance.
Life's not worth it. Being human isn't worth it. But i refuse to hate myself any longer. I love myself and I know my potential and I know my strength and that's the only reason I know I can get through this.
Amanda's convinced she can fight for my freedom. She doesn't know my mom.
I'm going to keep writing like they don't read this. Because I need somewhere I can tell the truth. And not lie. I'm so freaking sick of lies. Lies and "legal obligations". And the way I felt that night as we drove my dad to the hospital. It felt like this. Powerless.
And it's the way it felt when they were on top of me. And it's the way it felt when my brother had oral sex with me. And it's the way it felt when my mom hit me. And it's the way it felt when I could only watch the world and not interact in it. And it's the way it felt when they took my mom away. And it's the way I felt every day of fifth grade.
And it's the way I've felt for so long that I have tried to never feel again.
Powerless. Completely, totally, fu*king powerless.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
enlightening conversations
After debate, I had nowhere to go until I had to teach my violin lesson at 6, so Brittany and I were just kind of standing around in the hallway, tossing this bouncy ball Amanda gave us back and forth and talking about a lot of things.
I don't know why, but I can talk to her easily about some things that everyone else laughs at me when I try to talk to them. But I'm never actually that serious with her... I don't really understand our relationship. Anyway, we talked about how in middle school we may have hated the popular people but we secretly tried to emulate them, and about how now in high school we'd rather kill ourselves than be like the "sluts" that used to be popular in middle school. We talked about how I used to think everything was just a race to get kissed, but now I'm realizing it's a lot more complicated than that. In fact, I think Amanda has the right idea not having a relationship until she's 21. I would've thought, a year ago, that she'd lost that race... now I realize she was just smart. And if I hadn't fallen in love with Matt I might do that. I didn't intend to fall in love with him, but here I am, in love.
I talked to Brittany about how it's hard, loving him, how the whole relationship thing makes me feel suffocated and claustrophobic, but I'm working on it, and working on believing him when he says I am beautiful and brilliant and amazing and one-of-a-kind (which he tells me every day). I talked to her about how although it is frightening, this loving and trusting thing, it's worth it.
How crazy that after never completely trusting anyone my whole life, in the course of a month I have fallen in love with a boy and given all my trust to my debate coach. It's crazy how life happens.
Perhaps our most interesting conversation over that bouncy ball was about homosexuality. I think it's become less of a taboo topic in high school, and now that I see it around me, it is something I've thought a lot about. Brittany and I agreed that everyone at some point wonders if they're gay, and that everyone has some degree of lesbianism in them (well, every girl), but that ultimately straight people realize they can't imagine being romantically involved with another girl. We talked about how sometimes friendships get really close, and it's confusing, that line between lesbian and friendly relationship. Like the closest thing I've ever had to a lesbian relationship was with a very close friend. It's confusing trying to draw a line. Shauna says this line is stupid... all humans crave touch. But I can't imagine kissing a girl and I don't think I could be capable of doing it without feeling some degree of revulsion, just because I'm not gay.
Brittany and I talked about how it might be easier being a lesbian, because guys seem to think about sex far more than girls, and to expect it, or to at least ponder it, in any relationship, while girls don't have relationships just for those sexual/sensual aspects. It would be easy to be a lesbian because girls are understanding, and sensitive, and you could have the best of both worlds... a sensitive, understanding girl who completely understands you, and a sexual relationship not entirely based on some horny guy's hormoines.
Obviously I don't approve of homosexuality, and I would never remain homosexual if I discovered I was, but it is a gray area in my life and I'm still not really sure what I believe about it. For sure I'm tolerant of people that are homosexual and okay with it. I just don't think I would ever be able to morally or physically do it myself.
On another note, we had to run the mile today and my time has lengthened by two minutes since early October- I got 9:05. But it was hard since I'm in bad shape and I haven't run since early October. I had an asthma attack and I think I'm getting pneumonia again.
I don't know why, but I can talk to her easily about some things that everyone else laughs at me when I try to talk to them. But I'm never actually that serious with her... I don't really understand our relationship. Anyway, we talked about how in middle school we may have hated the popular people but we secretly tried to emulate them, and about how now in high school we'd rather kill ourselves than be like the "sluts" that used to be popular in middle school. We talked about how I used to think everything was just a race to get kissed, but now I'm realizing it's a lot more complicated than that. In fact, I think Amanda has the right idea not having a relationship until she's 21. I would've thought, a year ago, that she'd lost that race... now I realize she was just smart. And if I hadn't fallen in love with Matt I might do that. I didn't intend to fall in love with him, but here I am, in love.
I talked to Brittany about how it's hard, loving him, how the whole relationship thing makes me feel suffocated and claustrophobic, but I'm working on it, and working on believing him when he says I am beautiful and brilliant and amazing and one-of-a-kind (which he tells me every day). I talked to her about how although it is frightening, this loving and trusting thing, it's worth it.
How crazy that after never completely trusting anyone my whole life, in the course of a month I have fallen in love with a boy and given all my trust to my debate coach. It's crazy how life happens.
Perhaps our most interesting conversation over that bouncy ball was about homosexuality. I think it's become less of a taboo topic in high school, and now that I see it around me, it is something I've thought a lot about. Brittany and I agreed that everyone at some point wonders if they're gay, and that everyone has some degree of lesbianism in them (well, every girl), but that ultimately straight people realize they can't imagine being romantically involved with another girl. We talked about how sometimes friendships get really close, and it's confusing, that line between lesbian and friendly relationship. Like the closest thing I've ever had to a lesbian relationship was with a very close friend. It's confusing trying to draw a line. Shauna says this line is stupid... all humans crave touch. But I can't imagine kissing a girl and I don't think I could be capable of doing it without feeling some degree of revulsion, just because I'm not gay.
Brittany and I talked about how it might be easier being a lesbian, because guys seem to think about sex far more than girls, and to expect it, or to at least ponder it, in any relationship, while girls don't have relationships just for those sexual/sensual aspects. It would be easy to be a lesbian because girls are understanding, and sensitive, and you could have the best of both worlds... a sensitive, understanding girl who completely understands you, and a sexual relationship not entirely based on some horny guy's hormoines.
Obviously I don't approve of homosexuality, and I would never remain homosexual if I discovered I was, but it is a gray area in my life and I'm still not really sure what I believe about it. For sure I'm tolerant of people that are homosexual and okay with it. I just don't think I would ever be able to morally or physically do it myself.
On another note, we had to run the mile today and my time has lengthened by two minutes since early October- I got 9:05. But it was hard since I'm in bad shape and I haven't run since early October. I had an asthma attack and I think I'm getting pneumonia again.
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