Maybe it's a paradox that my two favorite holidays are Halloween and Christmas, but they've both become secularized, thankfully for Halloween, not thankfully, in my opinion, for Christmas.
Anyway, this is the first year in a long time that I'm not going trick-or-treating. It's very cold, and I have so much homework. Apparently our teachers decided we are too old for trick-or-treating, because they sure didn't give us a break.
I still love Halloween though. I love the kids in costumes, I love the pumpkin carving (although I didn't do that this year either), I love... the feeling.
Happy Halloween.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
life yesterday and today
Yesterday during lunch after Jill got her Mountain Dew fix we stumbled into the science olympiad meeting at the last minute. I had to sign up for time slots for the three events I'm doing (genetics, forensics, and this music thing), and once I was all signed up it added up to five hours a week or something. So then I sort of started freaking out, because I don't know how I have time to add five more hours a week to my schedule when I don't even have time to practice violin, cello, and piano. I felt really stressed and really terrible. Not like debating at all.
I guess I just didn't feel ready to debate this weekend. I didn't have enough stamina to care about winning. Caring is a dangerous thing in debate. It can burn you so easily.
So I'm off to a bit of a rocky start in debate. Last night went pretty well, I was 2-1 when I came home. Then I was trying to do my math homework on the computer and my mom said, "Don't you ever get off the computer?" but in this really bad tone of voice, and then I started making a lot of mistakes very against what I said in my last post. I replied, "Well, don't you ever stop watching TV? It's the same thing!" Which is true, because all my mom ever does at night is watch TV, and she won't talk to me unless it's during a commercial (this was a commercial). Then she got all upset and said I don't appreciate her etc., and I said I do appreciate her, she's the one that thinks I don't and nothing I say can change that. Then she said, "Am I not supportive of you?" and I made my biggest mistake of all: I said, "You are financially." Which is very mean and hurtful and unfair of me to say, because although my mother really isn't emotionally supportive of me, she really tries to be, and I need to acknowledge that. I know she loves me and cares about my emotional well-being.
Anyway, she responded with, "Well up yours!" and nothing got better after that.
Thank gosh my dad is back today. Left too long together, my mom and I might kill each other.
So I started debating this morning with not the most enthusiastic of spirits. My speaker points are always very high (last week I was first speaker for a long while) and there were an odd number of people in the 2-1 bracket so I got pulled up because of my high speaker points and had to debate someone that was 3-0: red-haired girl. I've got to hand it to her, she is legitimately good. It was a really good debate. There was a lot of clash, and the clarity was there. I think I did pretty well. But anyway, I lost, and red-haired girl went on to break 5-0 and win the tournament. (Two years ago at my home-town tournament she knocked me out in semifinals. Oh, the injustice.)
Then, my final round I was a bit upset from my fourth round and I hit the girl I hit two weeks ago in Great Falls, and it was the most muddled round you can imagine. There was no clarity of issues at all, we were off topic (we argued about whether water is free for way too much of the debate). I have a problem with muddled opponants: I buy into it. I get even more confused than they are, and I almost always lose. Apparently we sufficiently confused the judge, though, because Amanda said he changed the winner on the ballot- first he had me as winning, then he switched it around.
It's really too bad I lost that round because if I had won I would have definitely broken because my speaker points were so high. The girl that beat me didn't break, I don't think.
I was feeling a bit depressed at going 2-3, but I knew I couldn't have expected a lot because I just really didn't feel like debating this weekend. I get so frustrated with debate and caring... when you care and you do badly it just makes you want to quit. I was also reading Tolstoy's Resurrection which is this amazing book, but I find the cynicism in it very Randian and depressing. Everything is becoming so complicated.
To solve that problem, Jill and I found the rolling platforms for the policy tubs and started pushing each other down the hall as fast as we could and letting go and trying not to crash into lockers as we rolled along. First I ran Jill about into red-haired girl (whose name is Hannah, by the way), and she just sort of stared at us and asked what we were doing. There was a long, awkward pause during which I tried to think of how to respond before I finally said, "rolling?" Red-haired girl sort of stared at us. "Oh," she said, "Well, it looks like... fun..." Jill then took the opportunity to ameleorate the situation by saying, "Yeah, it's Lindsay's turn now!" at which the pause lengthened uncomfortably until red-haired girl emitted a forced laugh and walked away with her minions. (She really is nice outside of rounds though. I think Jill and I just may be too weird for her.)
I didn't let that stop me though. I got on that scooter thing and Jill pushed me as hard as she could for the entire length of the hall. I went flying down the ramp and the end of a hall and crashed into a heater, falling off the scooter, and looking up to see Mr. Pogreba and some other coach talking a few feet away. Basically, Mr. Po was having a nice little private conversation when out of nowhere I came flying by on a policy tub scooter and crashed right into the conversation. Mr. Po said, "What the h**l?" and for a moment I was rather nervous that he would be angry, but I was laughing too hard to respond. Jill took another opportunity to ameleorate the situation here by running after me and shouting something like, "Oh man, you cra..." and trailing off as she rounded the corner, nearly smashing into Pogreba.
It's a good thing Tiaphany and Sean were winning, because Mr. Pogreba might have crucified us if he wasn't in a good mood.
It was very fun though, very youth-affirming. I don't really care what people think about me. I'll go flying down the hallways on scooters whilst wearing a suit if I want to.
I guess, though, that we were really loud and policy rounds going on in nearby rooms could hear us. Or at least according to Tiaphany, who also asked us later what the h**l Jill and I were doing that was making so much noise.
Feeling better, but still daunted by masses of homework I couldn't do during the tournament due to the ample distractions of teenage boys hurling footballs and kickballs in Mr. Po's room, I went to the quarter-final LD round. It was Kristin versus red-haired girl, and it was a really good round. I thought it was worthwhile, much more worthwhile than the final round two weeks ago.
Brittany, Jill, Greg and I skipped sems for a necessary Starbucks run, during which I watched Greg kill Jill at chess even though she wouldn't let him have a queen to try to make the match more fair.
I dragged Brittany to policy finals (I really, really like policy- it reminds me of chess) and during the round I felt my debating spirit rekindle in me for the first time this year. When Sean ended the debate with his lovely Wendy's analogy (the 2AR began with, "In the 1980's there was a Wendy's commercial of a woman opening a McDonald's hamburger and shouting 'where's the meat?' This is exactly what I feel like shouting at the negative team) I realized I was ready to win, I was ready to try. I feel like I have it in me to win if I just apply myself. I need a spirit. This weekend I just didn't have it, or two weeks ago. But it's in me. At the end of last year I was breaking at every tournament with 4-0, 3-1, 4-1 etc. I know I have that in me. Sometimes it's just so dangerous to care...
But you have to care about things, don't you? I'm so tempted to just switch to original oratory or something because then my failure can be excused by my newness. I have no excuses in LD. It's so dangerous that I actually sabatoge myself. What happened this tournament was I didn't try my best so I would actually have an excuse if I didn't do well. I feel, though, that this philosophy isn't right. I am ready to try next weekend. I need to change my cases, but I'm ready to give it my all. Sometimes life takes risks. I can't be so afraid of failing that I don't even try.
I guess I just didn't feel ready to debate this weekend. I didn't have enough stamina to care about winning. Caring is a dangerous thing in debate. It can burn you so easily.
So I'm off to a bit of a rocky start in debate. Last night went pretty well, I was 2-1 when I came home. Then I was trying to do my math homework on the computer and my mom said, "Don't you ever get off the computer?" but in this really bad tone of voice, and then I started making a lot of mistakes very against what I said in my last post. I replied, "Well, don't you ever stop watching TV? It's the same thing!" Which is true, because all my mom ever does at night is watch TV, and she won't talk to me unless it's during a commercial (this was a commercial). Then she got all upset and said I don't appreciate her etc., and I said I do appreciate her, she's the one that thinks I don't and nothing I say can change that. Then she said, "Am I not supportive of you?" and I made my biggest mistake of all: I said, "You are financially." Which is very mean and hurtful and unfair of me to say, because although my mother really isn't emotionally supportive of me, she really tries to be, and I need to acknowledge that. I know she loves me and cares about my emotional well-being.
Anyway, she responded with, "Well up yours!" and nothing got better after that.
Thank gosh my dad is back today. Left too long together, my mom and I might kill each other.
So I started debating this morning with not the most enthusiastic of spirits. My speaker points are always very high (last week I was first speaker for a long while) and there were an odd number of people in the 2-1 bracket so I got pulled up because of my high speaker points and had to debate someone that was 3-0: red-haired girl. I've got to hand it to her, she is legitimately good. It was a really good debate. There was a lot of clash, and the clarity was there. I think I did pretty well. But anyway, I lost, and red-haired girl went on to break 5-0 and win the tournament. (Two years ago at my home-town tournament she knocked me out in semifinals. Oh, the injustice.)
Then, my final round I was a bit upset from my fourth round and I hit the girl I hit two weeks ago in Great Falls, and it was the most muddled round you can imagine. There was no clarity of issues at all, we were off topic (we argued about whether water is free for way too much of the debate). I have a problem with muddled opponants: I buy into it. I get even more confused than they are, and I almost always lose. Apparently we sufficiently confused the judge, though, because Amanda said he changed the winner on the ballot- first he had me as winning, then he switched it around.
It's really too bad I lost that round because if I had won I would have definitely broken because my speaker points were so high. The girl that beat me didn't break, I don't think.
I was feeling a bit depressed at going 2-3, but I knew I couldn't have expected a lot because I just really didn't feel like debating this weekend. I get so frustrated with debate and caring... when you care and you do badly it just makes you want to quit. I was also reading Tolstoy's Resurrection which is this amazing book, but I find the cynicism in it very Randian and depressing. Everything is becoming so complicated.
To solve that problem, Jill and I found the rolling platforms for the policy tubs and started pushing each other down the hall as fast as we could and letting go and trying not to crash into lockers as we rolled along. First I ran Jill about into red-haired girl (whose name is Hannah, by the way), and she just sort of stared at us and asked what we were doing. There was a long, awkward pause during which I tried to think of how to respond before I finally said, "rolling?" Red-haired girl sort of stared at us. "Oh," she said, "Well, it looks like... fun..." Jill then took the opportunity to ameleorate the situation by saying, "Yeah, it's Lindsay's turn now!" at which the pause lengthened uncomfortably until red-haired girl emitted a forced laugh and walked away with her minions. (She really is nice outside of rounds though. I think Jill and I just may be too weird for her.)
I didn't let that stop me though. I got on that scooter thing and Jill pushed me as hard as she could for the entire length of the hall. I went flying down the ramp and the end of a hall and crashed into a heater, falling off the scooter, and looking up to see Mr. Pogreba and some other coach talking a few feet away. Basically, Mr. Po was having a nice little private conversation when out of nowhere I came flying by on a policy tub scooter and crashed right into the conversation. Mr. Po said, "What the h**l?" and for a moment I was rather nervous that he would be angry, but I was laughing too hard to respond. Jill took another opportunity to ameleorate the situation here by running after me and shouting something like, "Oh man, you cra..." and trailing off as she rounded the corner, nearly smashing into Pogreba.
It's a good thing Tiaphany and Sean were winning, because Mr. Pogreba might have crucified us if he wasn't in a good mood.
It was very fun though, very youth-affirming. I don't really care what people think about me. I'll go flying down the hallways on scooters whilst wearing a suit if I want to.
I guess, though, that we were really loud and policy rounds going on in nearby rooms could hear us. Or at least according to Tiaphany, who also asked us later what the h**l Jill and I were doing that was making so much noise.
Feeling better, but still daunted by masses of homework I couldn't do during the tournament due to the ample distractions of teenage boys hurling footballs and kickballs in Mr. Po's room, I went to the quarter-final LD round. It was Kristin versus red-haired girl, and it was a really good round. I thought it was worthwhile, much more worthwhile than the final round two weeks ago.
Brittany, Jill, Greg and I skipped sems for a necessary Starbucks run, during which I watched Greg kill Jill at chess even though she wouldn't let him have a queen to try to make the match more fair.
I dragged Brittany to policy finals (I really, really like policy- it reminds me of chess) and during the round I felt my debating spirit rekindle in me for the first time this year. When Sean ended the debate with his lovely Wendy's analogy (the 2AR began with, "In the 1980's there was a Wendy's commercial of a woman opening a McDonald's hamburger and shouting 'where's the meat?' This is exactly what I feel like shouting at the negative team) I realized I was ready to win, I was ready to try. I feel like I have it in me to win if I just apply myself. I need a spirit. This weekend I just didn't have it, or two weeks ago. But it's in me. At the end of last year I was breaking at every tournament with 4-0, 3-1, 4-1 etc. I know I have that in me. Sometimes it's just so dangerous to care...
But you have to care about things, don't you? I'm so tempted to just switch to original oratory or something because then my failure can be excused by my newness. I have no excuses in LD. It's so dangerous that I actually sabatoge myself. What happened this tournament was I didn't try my best so I would actually have an excuse if I didn't do well. I feel, though, that this philosophy isn't right. I am ready to try next weekend. I need to change my cases, but I'm ready to give it my all. Sometimes life takes risks. I can't be so afraid of failing that I don't even try.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
I feel like I keep complaining about the same things over and over. But they don't go away. I think that's probably my fault. I think I should fix them. I think I should be accountable.
My mom and I do not get along. At all. I don't know whose fault it is. I would love to blame her for all of my anger and stress, because I'm usually doing pretty well when I come home from school but after I'm with her a while I get very angry and anxious. And I argue, I guess. I know it's partially my fault. I talk back. I don't let her walk all over me. I fight.
When I was about nine I figured out that if when she was yelling at me and such I remained calm then she would probably get even more angry than if I argued, but she wouldn't be able to justify screaming or hitting me as easily. So I started telling myself "stiff as a board" every time I felt myself starting to get angry. I would stand there and stay calm with rage boiling like lava inside of me, so I felt like all of my insides were bubbling against my skin, expanding to the point of explosion... but I got pretty good at it. I swallowed the anger like bad medicine; I kept it all inside.
I'm not as good at that as I used to be, and I need to start doing it again. I get so angry. I'm not an angry person, I'm really not. But I get SO incredibly angry at my mom. I feel like hurting something. I never really feel like hurting her, just myself, or I feel like taking everything breakable in the house and throwing it as hard as I can against the ground. It's so satisfying to see things shatter, to know you caused it. I don't know how to deal with the anger I have towards my mom. I need to start trying the stiff as a board thing again. I need to stop fighting. I need to swallow all of that rage (swallow all your bitter pills, that's what makes you beautiful...).
It makes me so angry, though. When I was young, I watched my brother and my mom rage, worse fights than my mom and I have ever been in. He screamed at her every day. He told her he hated her. I watched it all turn to self-pity in her. I watched her cry, victimize herself. I told myself I would never do to her what my brother did. I promised myself I would be a better child. I would never make her stay up all night aching with worry. I would never, ever tell her I hated her. I would never do anything as bad as Craig did.
And that was my life... that was my goal in life. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to be the opposite of Craig. I wanted to be good enough for her. I wanted to be the child that didn't cause her trouble. But through everything she always said to me, "You're acting just like Craig!"
I don't think any other five words could sting a heart as badly as those words stung mine. It was like she was saying, "I know everything that you want to be in life; I know all of your secrets, your dreams, your aspirations. I know that, and I know how to hurt you the most: you'll never accomplish them. You'll fail at them all."
All I ever wanted was to be good enough, and every day she told me I was failing.
Let me tell you how unfair it is... my mom and my brother get along perfectly right now. They have for years. No more fights. My mom accepts my brother for who he is. My brother completely supports my mom, or at least it seems like it. He and I don't really talk anymore about anything other than money and jobs.
He's the one that fought with her! He's the one that did all of those horrible things to her! He's the one that told her he hated her for weeks on end, that ran away, that stole her car, that broke her heart!
But his relationship with her is better than mine with her will ever be. There are no secret animosities in that relationship. There is no buried rage, because my brother never buried it; he always bore it in his screaming and his anger. I swallow, swallow, swallow all those pills. Why? Because I want to be the good child! I want to be the one she loves!
It's so unfair! All he ever did was hurt her, and she forgave him for every bit of it. He never tried to honor her; he never tried to follow her wishes; he never respected her. My whole life I have struggled to do all of those things. But I told someone something. I made her a villain. I drove a wedge between us.
And now he's on her side, and every night my mom and I argue.
I'M THE ONE THAT CARED!!! I'M THE ONE THAT TRIED!!! I'M THE ONE THAT WATCHES YOU CRY, AND HATES MYSELF FOR EVERY TEAR!! I'M THE ONE THAT DID EVERYTHING SO YOU WOULD BE PROUD OF ME! I'M THE ONE THAT WANTED YOUR APPROVAL, THAT NEVER REBELLED!!
why can't you love me like you love him?
why wasn't it ever enough?
how can I be enough for you?
I'm the one now that's fighting to maintain a relationship with you, fighting to be forgiven, but it's him you talk to without anger. It's him you're really proud of.
I'm so bitter. So angry, so resentful. And I hate those feelings. I hate them so much. And I know I'm allowing them to coalesce within me, and it makes me hate myself for not stopping it, because I know I must have the power to stop it within me somewhere.
i want to be good enough for you, because that is what my life has been about, and if you tell me i have failed at that...
then what am i?
My mom and I do not get along. At all. I don't know whose fault it is. I would love to blame her for all of my anger and stress, because I'm usually doing pretty well when I come home from school but after I'm with her a while I get very angry and anxious. And I argue, I guess. I know it's partially my fault. I talk back. I don't let her walk all over me. I fight.
When I was about nine I figured out that if when she was yelling at me and such I remained calm then she would probably get even more angry than if I argued, but she wouldn't be able to justify screaming or hitting me as easily. So I started telling myself "stiff as a board" every time I felt myself starting to get angry. I would stand there and stay calm with rage boiling like lava inside of me, so I felt like all of my insides were bubbling against my skin, expanding to the point of explosion... but I got pretty good at it. I swallowed the anger like bad medicine; I kept it all inside.
I'm not as good at that as I used to be, and I need to start doing it again. I get so angry. I'm not an angry person, I'm really not. But I get SO incredibly angry at my mom. I feel like hurting something. I never really feel like hurting her, just myself, or I feel like taking everything breakable in the house and throwing it as hard as I can against the ground. It's so satisfying to see things shatter, to know you caused it. I don't know how to deal with the anger I have towards my mom. I need to start trying the stiff as a board thing again. I need to stop fighting. I need to swallow all of that rage (swallow all your bitter pills, that's what makes you beautiful...).
It makes me so angry, though. When I was young, I watched my brother and my mom rage, worse fights than my mom and I have ever been in. He screamed at her every day. He told her he hated her. I watched it all turn to self-pity in her. I watched her cry, victimize herself. I told myself I would never do to her what my brother did. I promised myself I would be a better child. I would never make her stay up all night aching with worry. I would never, ever tell her I hated her. I would never do anything as bad as Craig did.
And that was my life... that was my goal in life. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to be the opposite of Craig. I wanted to be good enough for her. I wanted to be the child that didn't cause her trouble. But through everything she always said to me, "You're acting just like Craig!"
I don't think any other five words could sting a heart as badly as those words stung mine. It was like she was saying, "I know everything that you want to be in life; I know all of your secrets, your dreams, your aspirations. I know that, and I know how to hurt you the most: you'll never accomplish them. You'll fail at them all."
All I ever wanted was to be good enough, and every day she told me I was failing.
Let me tell you how unfair it is... my mom and my brother get along perfectly right now. They have for years. No more fights. My mom accepts my brother for who he is. My brother completely supports my mom, or at least it seems like it. He and I don't really talk anymore about anything other than money and jobs.
He's the one that fought with her! He's the one that did all of those horrible things to her! He's the one that told her he hated her for weeks on end, that ran away, that stole her car, that broke her heart!
But his relationship with her is better than mine with her will ever be. There are no secret animosities in that relationship. There is no buried rage, because my brother never buried it; he always bore it in his screaming and his anger. I swallow, swallow, swallow all those pills. Why? Because I want to be the good child! I want to be the one she loves!
It's so unfair! All he ever did was hurt her, and she forgave him for every bit of it. He never tried to honor her; he never tried to follow her wishes; he never respected her. My whole life I have struggled to do all of those things. But I told someone something. I made her a villain. I drove a wedge between us.
And now he's on her side, and every night my mom and I argue.
I'M THE ONE THAT CARED!!! I'M THE ONE THAT TRIED!!! I'M THE ONE THAT WATCHES YOU CRY, AND HATES MYSELF FOR EVERY TEAR!! I'M THE ONE THAT DID EVERYTHING SO YOU WOULD BE PROUD OF ME! I'M THE ONE THAT WANTED YOUR APPROVAL, THAT NEVER REBELLED!!
why can't you love me like you love him?
why wasn't it ever enough?
how can I be enough for you?
I'm the one now that's fighting to maintain a relationship with you, fighting to be forgiven, but it's him you talk to without anger. It's him you're really proud of.
I'm so bitter. So angry, so resentful. And I hate those feelings. I hate them so much. And I know I'm allowing them to coalesce within me, and it makes me hate myself for not stopping it, because I know I must have the power to stop it within me somewhere.
i want to be good enough for you, because that is what my life has been about, and if you tell me i have failed at that...
then what am i?
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
I guess what Frankl meant was that if you are the eye of the storm, you can take peace with you into every hurricane.
Today I was rather depressed for a while, but then I had another moment of realization or something, and everything was suddenly just so beautiful I couldn't handle it.
I can live with it. I can live with bipolar. I can be peace.
Today I was rather depressed for a while, but then I had another moment of realization or something, and everything was suddenly just so beautiful I couldn't handle it.
I can live with it. I can live with bipolar. I can be peace.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
epiphany
I went to all-state this week. There are a lot of details I could elaborate on that don't matter. I chose to take a drug to get through the auditions. I got seventh chair out of fifteen, about what I wanted. The concert went well except I played through a rest and got an unintentional solo. I got to see Brad, my friend from Billings. I ate a lot the first day and not as much the second day. I felt like an emotional spiral, churning through space. Erin spent the whole time flirting with Carson, and that was really cute. Shauna decided to act out something with her boyfriend and sort of mindlessly grabbed my crotch, and that wasn't as cute but I still love Shauna. Siobhan said something really nice to me. I rode the bus home last night and slept until 1:30 p.m. today, and although that was xanax induced it's the most I've slept in years. I missed math thursday and friday and now I'm confused.
On and on with details.
They don't matter. What matters is this: Erin was in a hugging mood. Shauna's always been the only one that's touched me. For years before, no one did because I'm extremely unresponsive to touch for obvious reasons. On the way back from Missoula after we dropped Carson off so it was just Erin and I, I sat with her in the seat. It was 1:20 a.m. The stars were very hard and bright. I was so tired, so emotionally exhausted, and my touch barrior had been barraged with hugs from my best friends (Erin, Shauna, Jill, Siobhan, Brad, etc) so I laid my head on Erin's shoulder.
Let me explain myself. There is always a tension in me when it comes to touch. It is a tight, hard feeling in the deep parts of my chest. It went away once last May when I fell into Josh on the couch the night before prom, and it has gone away in some of my most despairing hours when I have sobbed in my mother's lap (also last May, after Josh OD'd). But nearly always, nealry all the time, it is there, impeding my breathing, impeding my life. It makes me stand stiffly when people hug me. It makes me confused about someone grabbing my hand. It makes me detatched when I am kissed. However, when it leaves me for an instant it is a fantastic whoosing, and all of the tension inside of me is gone and I suddenly realize what it could be like, how wonderful it could be like, to live without it.
It is only with poeple I trust absolutely when it comes to touch.
Last night I was tired enough, worn down enough, confused enough that for a few minutes I was tense as my head lay on Erin's shoulder, but then in a very perceptible moment all of the fear, all of the tension, all of the mistrust dissolved. All of the heaviness inside of me was replaced with a light feeling. It is the most amazing feeling in the world. More amazing than any sexual feeling, more amazing than lime popsicles, more amazing than watching Finding Nemo and sobbing.
Today I read the end of Siddhartha and in a hugely epiphanic moment the loose ends all came together. I don't even know how to explain it. The book said, "perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find." When I read that I suddenly understood. I have been searching for truth, tirelessly, inexorably plowing linearly through philosophy and religion and everything. But the truth is me. The truth is the world. It's not about tomorrow, or yesterday. Those don't exist. It's about today.
People view time as contour lines, but that's wrong. Time is the three-dimensional integration of contour lines. Life is everything; life is yesterday, life is today, life is tomorrow. Truth is pain and joy. Truth isn't something you find, it's something you are. You breathe truth. You live it. You find it in love, you find it in hate, you find it in fear, you find it in that moment when all of the tension melts away.
I understand.
On and on with details.
They don't matter. What matters is this: Erin was in a hugging mood. Shauna's always been the only one that's touched me. For years before, no one did because I'm extremely unresponsive to touch for obvious reasons. On the way back from Missoula after we dropped Carson off so it was just Erin and I, I sat with her in the seat. It was 1:20 a.m. The stars were very hard and bright. I was so tired, so emotionally exhausted, and my touch barrior had been barraged with hugs from my best friends (Erin, Shauna, Jill, Siobhan, Brad, etc) so I laid my head on Erin's shoulder.
Let me explain myself. There is always a tension in me when it comes to touch. It is a tight, hard feeling in the deep parts of my chest. It went away once last May when I fell into Josh on the couch the night before prom, and it has gone away in some of my most despairing hours when I have sobbed in my mother's lap (also last May, after Josh OD'd). But nearly always, nealry all the time, it is there, impeding my breathing, impeding my life. It makes me stand stiffly when people hug me. It makes me confused about someone grabbing my hand. It makes me detatched when I am kissed. However, when it leaves me for an instant it is a fantastic whoosing, and all of the tension inside of me is gone and I suddenly realize what it could be like, how wonderful it could be like, to live without it.
It is only with poeple I trust absolutely when it comes to touch.
Last night I was tired enough, worn down enough, confused enough that for a few minutes I was tense as my head lay on Erin's shoulder, but then in a very perceptible moment all of the fear, all of the tension, all of the mistrust dissolved. All of the heaviness inside of me was replaced with a light feeling. It is the most amazing feeling in the world. More amazing than any sexual feeling, more amazing than lime popsicles, more amazing than watching Finding Nemo and sobbing.
Today I read the end of Siddhartha and in a hugely epiphanic moment the loose ends all came together. I don't even know how to explain it. The book said, "perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find." When I read that I suddenly understood. I have been searching for truth, tirelessly, inexorably plowing linearly through philosophy and religion and everything. But the truth is me. The truth is the world. It's not about tomorrow, or yesterday. Those don't exist. It's about today.
People view time as contour lines, but that's wrong. Time is the three-dimensional integration of contour lines. Life is everything; life is yesterday, life is today, life is tomorrow. Truth is pain and joy. Truth isn't something you find, it's something you are. You breathe truth. You live it. You find it in love, you find it in hate, you find it in fear, you find it in that moment when all of the tension melts away.
I understand.
Monday, October 16, 2006
FORGIVE
FORGIVE. LOVE.
LEARN TO FORGIVE.
LEARN TO FORGIVE ME.
LEARN TO FORGIVE HIM.
The world doesn't turn because of revenge. It isn't beautiful because of spite. It's beautiful because of love. It's beautiful because people change. It's beautiful because people don't have to be the same person every day that they've always been.
I FORGAVE YOU.
Just learn to forgive.
LEARN TO FORGIVE.
LEARN TO FORGIVE ME.
LEARN TO FORGIVE HIM.
The world doesn't turn because of revenge. It isn't beautiful because of spite. It's beautiful because of love. It's beautiful because people change. It's beautiful because people don't have to be the same person every day that they've always been.
I FORGAVE YOU.
Just learn to forgive.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Debate tournament
I had fun today.
My mom is very mad at me because I wouldn't tell her my record, but we have argued in the past and she tends to be very critical, so I thought I'd just tell her that I had fun and I learned a lot and I know what I need to do for the next tournament. She wasn't happy with that, but too bad. The tournament today doesn't have to be about my record if I don't let it be. It was fun. That's what matters most of all.
My mom is very mad at me because I wouldn't tell her my record, but we have argued in the past and she tends to be very critical, so I thought I'd just tell her that I had fun and I learned a lot and I know what I need to do for the next tournament. She wasn't happy with that, but too bad. The tournament today doesn't have to be about my record if I don't let it be. It was fun. That's what matters most of all.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Things sort of fell apart, but I tried to minimize the damage.
On Tuesday I stayed up nearly all night doing college applications. I realized that it would help if I just got them over with so I would stop obsessing over them. I was really tired Saturday, but semi-okay.
I don't need to remind anyone that relations between my mother and I are currently not exactly optimal.
Wednesday I sort of fell apart. I cut my arm. I took a Xanax wednesday night and Thursday morning. I slept through breakfast. I fell asleep when I was driving the car to seminary and I hit a mailbox. I heard the huge thump, but characteristic to lovely xanax apathy I didn't care. At church I noticed disinterestedly that I had ripped my right mirror entirely off. I slept through seminary. I slept (literally slept- as in the yearbook pictures got taken and nobody woke me up so I'm not in them) through the first four periods. I don't remember anything.
I fell apart seventh period with Erin. We talked about how we have no control. I told her about how I'd run into the mailbox. She'd noticed I slept through everything (so did my teachers. They were all really worried.) I blew off my violin lesson. I blew off my cello lesson. We went to Wheat Montana and talked for hours about how to fix things. We went through all of our problems and solutions to those problems. I felt a lot better. I ate an entire cinnamon role.
This morning I got up to go to seminary but didn't end up going. I went to Safeway instead to buy laxatives. Erin and I talked to our counselor about switching out of AP government, but our schedules can't accomodate it so we talked to Mrs. Lynd about how to survive. I feel a lot better about it now.
I took the pills during creative writing, fourth period. I wasn't as tired today, because I didn't take any medications this morning. After school Jill, Erin, and I went to Starbucks and talked for three hours. The laxatives worked.
I feel better. The cutting/laxatives were a temporary solution, but amidst them I worked on permanent ones with Jill and Erin. I feel better. Things will be okay.
I'm worried about debate tomorrow. And all-state next week.
Mom's yelling.
On Tuesday I stayed up nearly all night doing college applications. I realized that it would help if I just got them over with so I would stop obsessing over them. I was really tired Saturday, but semi-okay.
I don't need to remind anyone that relations between my mother and I are currently not exactly optimal.
Wednesday I sort of fell apart. I cut my arm. I took a Xanax wednesday night and Thursday morning. I slept through breakfast. I fell asleep when I was driving the car to seminary and I hit a mailbox. I heard the huge thump, but characteristic to lovely xanax apathy I didn't care. At church I noticed disinterestedly that I had ripped my right mirror entirely off. I slept through seminary. I slept (literally slept- as in the yearbook pictures got taken and nobody woke me up so I'm not in them) through the first four periods. I don't remember anything.
I fell apart seventh period with Erin. We talked about how we have no control. I told her about how I'd run into the mailbox. She'd noticed I slept through everything (so did my teachers. They were all really worried.) I blew off my violin lesson. I blew off my cello lesson. We went to Wheat Montana and talked for hours about how to fix things. We went through all of our problems and solutions to those problems. I felt a lot better. I ate an entire cinnamon role.
This morning I got up to go to seminary but didn't end up going. I went to Safeway instead to buy laxatives. Erin and I talked to our counselor about switching out of AP government, but our schedules can't accomodate it so we talked to Mrs. Lynd about how to survive. I feel a lot better about it now.
I took the pills during creative writing, fourth period. I wasn't as tired today, because I didn't take any medications this morning. After school Jill, Erin, and I went to Starbucks and talked for three hours. The laxatives worked.
I feel better. The cutting/laxatives were a temporary solution, but amidst them I worked on permanent ones with Jill and Erin. I feel better. Things will be okay.
I'm worried about debate tomorrow. And all-state next week.
Mom's yelling.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
T.S. Eliot
Hollow men...
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Stop yelling at me
Stop telling me I'm just like Craig
Stop calling me rude or nasty or other words
Stop telling me I don't care about you
Stop telling me I don't appreciate you
Stop telling me that I don't understand how stressed you are
Stop getting mad at me when I binge or purge
Stop getting mad at me for telling Terry things I don't tell you
Stop being mad at me for telling Terry you hit me
Stop telling Craig and your friends everything about me
Stop being angry with me for not being healthy
It doesn't help me
It doesn't make me less stressed
It just makes me miserable.
I'm sorry I'm not good enough.
Stop telling me I'm just like Craig
Stop calling me rude or nasty or other words
Stop telling me I don't care about you
Stop telling me I don't appreciate you
Stop telling me that I don't understand how stressed you are
Stop getting mad at me when I binge or purge
Stop getting mad at me for telling Terry things I don't tell you
Stop being mad at me for telling Terry you hit me
Stop telling Craig and your friends everything about me
Stop being angry with me for not being healthy
It doesn't help me
It doesn't make me less stressed
It just makes me miserable.
I'm sorry I'm not good enough.
I hate forums that have karma. I especially hate that my AP English forum has karma, because those members know me as a real person. I hate the karma because I care about it so much. Way more than I should. To the point where I feel totally miserable with every point taken away. Maybe I'll just quit posting.
That's a stupid reason to quit posting, just because I don't want proof that some people don't like me or what I say. I shouldn't care. I'm so stupid to care.
Some days I feel like my life is hopeless, because I can never make a difference.
(I don't know the author or the exact text)
There was a man walking along a beach where hundreds or thousands of starfish had been flung by the surf up onto the sand. The little creatures were drying out, and if they dried out all the way they would die. The man was tossing every starfish he came upon back into the ocean, making slow progress. Anothing man walked up and asked, "Why are you even bothering? There's thousands of them! You can't possibly make a difference!" The man picked up another starfish and threw it.
"Made a difference to that one," he said.
I'm so glad I'm an optimist. I'm not sure where I'd be if I wasn't. Probably in Dante's forest of trees having the bark peeled off of me forever and ever, unable to escape. It would be a fitting hell because in life I would have committed suicide to escape the pain, and in death I would have to endure the pain immobilly forever and ever with no hope of escape.
That's a stupid reason to quit posting, just because I don't want proof that some people don't like me or what I say. I shouldn't care. I'm so stupid to care.
Some days I feel like my life is hopeless, because I can never make a difference.
(I don't know the author or the exact text)
There was a man walking along a beach where hundreds or thousands of starfish had been flung by the surf up onto the sand. The little creatures were drying out, and if they dried out all the way they would die. The man was tossing every starfish he came upon back into the ocean, making slow progress. Anothing man walked up and asked, "Why are you even bothering? There's thousands of them! You can't possibly make a difference!" The man picked up another starfish and threw it.
"Made a difference to that one," he said.
I'm so glad I'm an optimist. I'm not sure where I'd be if I wasn't. Probably in Dante's forest of trees having the bark peeled off of me forever and ever, unable to escape. It would be a fitting hell because in life I would have committed suicide to escape the pain, and in death I would have to endure the pain immobilly forever and ever with no hope of escape.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
just me being emo...
I'm not suicidal, just fantasizing. I don't think I'm cut out for life. I don't think I have what it takes to survive. I'm lacking something necessary. I can't handle the pressure of breathing, much less everything else I have to do.
I'm so ashamed of all of me.
My mom hates me... it's my fault, I think. I'm being a brat. But I can't take this right now. I can't take this anymore.
I don't want to be me. I DON'T WANT TO BE BIPOLAR!! It is always one step forward, two steps back. I think I'm progressing just because I'm hypomanic. Then I don't take my meds for a day and I remember. There's never any progress for me.
I want to find the zipper on everything that's me and unzip it and take it off. I'm not sure what I'd be then, but it'd have to be better than this flawed trash I am now.
I have an A- in English on my progress report. I've never had an A- before. I know that's a little thing, a stupid thing. But it feels like the hugest failure in the world.
I'm so ashamed of all of me.
My mom hates me... it's my fault, I think. I'm being a brat. But I can't take this right now. I can't take this anymore.
I don't want to be me. I DON'T WANT TO BE BIPOLAR!! It is always one step forward, two steps back. I think I'm progressing just because I'm hypomanic. Then I don't take my meds for a day and I remember. There's never any progress for me.
I want to find the zipper on everything that's me and unzip it and take it off. I'm not sure what I'd be then, but it'd have to be better than this flawed trash I am now.
I have an A- in English on my progress report. I've never had an A- before. I know that's a little thing, a stupid thing. But it feels like the hugest failure in the world.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Lots of interesting things have been happening, some of which I will deliberately never post about. But anyway, I went to the cross-town game Friday night. It was fun. Emma, Siobhan, Erin, Jo Anna, and I made shirts that said something like "Bengal: natural predator of the Bruins; winner of crosstown football" on the front and "Bruin: see Bengal meat" on the back. I painted a white pawprint on one cheek and "HHS" on the other. I had to do the HHS twice because the first time I was looking in the mirror and it ended up backwards, which made everyone laugh at me and me laugh at myself.
I was at first really depressed at the game and I was getting squashed between these obnoxious junior girls and my friends and everything seemed really loud and close and far away. The hatred for Capital was palapable and horrible; it reminded me of racism or expanded patriotism. A fear of anything or anyone different. Then Josh called though, and I became much happier. I couldn't really hear him with all the shouting, but suddenly my mood bounced instantly to hyper and happy. I started cheering really loudly with everyone else; I payed attention to the football game (which I understand now); I didn't mind getting squashed. In fact, when the junior girls next to me told my friends and I to get our freshman a**es to the back of the bleachers I really enjoyed their faces when Jo Anna told them we were seniors and shoved one of them off of the bench.
The game was very exciting; it went into an extended overtime. We don't win cross-town very often (I think Friday was the second win in eighteen years or so) so everyone was pretty keyed up.
At one point someone poured beer on my hair so I smelled like a brewery; then a Capital girl came and sprayed Mountain Dew all over the HHS student section and the obnoxious junior girls next to me rallied a crowd to go beat her up. I hope she's alright.
When we won everyone went pouring onto the field, even Erin and I (we'd lost Siobhan, Emma, and Jo Anna at that point), although with not quite as much vigor as everyone else. All in all, I really had a fun time after Josh called and my mood changed. It makes me realize I would enjoy life a lot better if I could just keep my mood up.
Yesterday I had my MIT interview. It didn't go very well. He didn't really ask me questions or look at my portfolio; he just told me about MIT, which wasn't helpful since that's why I drove to Salt Lake on Tuesday and he didn't tell me anything new.
I'm not going to go into this now or ever, but I found out I am decidedly not asexual, which makes me happy. That doesn't mean, however, that I will ever feel anything when with guys. I guess I'll just stop worrying and wait several years and then find out.
I decided that guilt is something that you feel because of some sense of external obligation; you feel like your actions were wrong, and the reason they were wrong is that they didn't conform with what society expects of you and what you believe you should expect of yourself. Shame, however, isn't the feeling that your actions are wrong, but rather that you are fundamentally wrong, that you are at the core somehow centrally inadequate, and not just because society says so, but becuase you know so with a very deep conviction. Somehow you are flawed; your nature is wrong. I think that's how I feel. I feel shame.
I know all these people love me, but it feels like I'm deceiving them becuase the don't understand that at my very center there is something very wrong. I want them to understand that so they'll hate me like they should, but I also need their love. It gets very mixed up.
I was at first really depressed at the game and I was getting squashed between these obnoxious junior girls and my friends and everything seemed really loud and close and far away. The hatred for Capital was palapable and horrible; it reminded me of racism or expanded patriotism. A fear of anything or anyone different. Then Josh called though, and I became much happier. I couldn't really hear him with all the shouting, but suddenly my mood bounced instantly to hyper and happy. I started cheering really loudly with everyone else; I payed attention to the football game (which I understand now); I didn't mind getting squashed. In fact, when the junior girls next to me told my friends and I to get our freshman a**es to the back of the bleachers I really enjoyed their faces when Jo Anna told them we were seniors and shoved one of them off of the bench.
The game was very exciting; it went into an extended overtime. We don't win cross-town very often (I think Friday was the second win in eighteen years or so) so everyone was pretty keyed up.
At one point someone poured beer on my hair so I smelled like a brewery; then a Capital girl came and sprayed Mountain Dew all over the HHS student section and the obnoxious junior girls next to me rallied a crowd to go beat her up. I hope she's alright.
When we won everyone went pouring onto the field, even Erin and I (we'd lost Siobhan, Emma, and Jo Anna at that point), although with not quite as much vigor as everyone else. All in all, I really had a fun time after Josh called and my mood changed. It makes me realize I would enjoy life a lot better if I could just keep my mood up.
Yesterday I had my MIT interview. It didn't go very well. He didn't really ask me questions or look at my portfolio; he just told me about MIT, which wasn't helpful since that's why I drove to Salt Lake on Tuesday and he didn't tell me anything new.
I'm not going to go into this now or ever, but I found out I am decidedly not asexual, which makes me happy. That doesn't mean, however, that I will ever feel anything when with guys. I guess I'll just stop worrying and wait several years and then find out.
I decided that guilt is something that you feel because of some sense of external obligation; you feel like your actions were wrong, and the reason they were wrong is that they didn't conform with what society expects of you and what you believe you should expect of yourself. Shame, however, isn't the feeling that your actions are wrong, but rather that you are fundamentally wrong, that you are at the core somehow centrally inadequate, and not just because society says so, but becuase you know so with a very deep conviction. Somehow you are flawed; your nature is wrong. I think that's how I feel. I feel shame.
I know all these people love me, but it feels like I'm deceiving them becuase the don't understand that at my very center there is something very wrong. I want them to understand that so they'll hate me like they should, but I also need their love. It gets very mixed up.
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