Cleaning and Talking and Dying and Cleaning

Saturday.
I laid on the couch and dreamed away to the thought, "I am so proud to be a member of this family." Turned to the small copy of the recently gifted family photo on the coffee table. It was straight out of a movie and my foolish joy was okay with that.

In less than 24 hours, I was packing my bag trying to be ignorant of the whispering insults just in the other room. What did I do now? History rhymes in a continuously. I do not remember if I hugged her. If I had, I could never remember the feeling. I was numb.

My anger fueled a righteous spiral of self-betterment. I planned out how I will be better. Lose weight. Better at my career. Smarter. Prettier. I am going to save money to spend $1,000+ to landscape her yard. I will buy a chainsaw and do it myself. I will take classes and study up on chainsaws. She needs curtains, I will buy curtains. She has four rooms without curtains for a total of 20 windows needing curtains. They will need a rod. I can sew the curtains myself. I stayed up until 4:30am because who can sleep when I have so much to do.

I arrived home swelled with ambition and rolled into my hammock to lie in fantasies and YouTube. I look up between clicks on the sidebar to see misplaced items in every room on every surface. My will and my reality are misaligned.

Tuesday night.
I have consumed more sugar in the last 48 hours than in the last 48 days. I have been arriving to work by 7:30am but not even laying in bed until 1:00am. I was as equally excited to be at work this morning as I was to get rid of all my possessions. Enthusiastically I chatted with anyone that would listen. One stopped wanting to listen, and at that moment my mind split in two: half smiled and poured every passion and joy I have for my job into every interaction while the other half planned my suicide tonight. When I stood awkwardly aloud in a crowded room, it was firmly decided that I was to die with a clean and empty house. Work until 6:00pm tonight and immediately clean upon coming home.

At 5:00pm I asked someone for help on a work-related task. Turns out the answer was right in front of me the whole time. Not only that, but it was a function I had used before. And yet, he stayed. He doesn't normally stayed. And he listened. When we ended our conversation at 6:00pm, I didn't want to clean anymore. I'll have to clean sometime though.

Old Friends

Recently a friend of mine posted a new profile picture. We were really good friends back in the day. We would eat lunch daily and talk and everything. I even visited him on my last trip to California and had a good chat.

I clicked his Facebook page to see more of what he is up to, and I found that I couldn't see a whole lot. I only really only see the public posts, which were few and far between. I know he is a major user of Twitter and Google+, and so I assume he is the same with Facebook. Well, at least a little more than a post every two years. I remember when we were friends in real life, his fun and witty posts nearly every few days. When did it change?

I am going on my ninth year with Facebook. I have in the last month passed 800 friends. But when reflecting through the list, how many am I really "friends" with? While yes, I bet many many people have expressed similar thoughts, I am most hurt by this recent discovery that I am not "fully friends" with someone who I shared so many memories with. I could lose 200 people off my friends list and I would care more about this friend who has put up a virtual social wall.

I post religious things. To anyone that knows me in person, this is not a online persona that I portray. I feel it accurately reflects the frequency to which I talk about religion in real life. I have created a list to curate my more religious posts to just my practicing friends as to keep a balance with my nonpracticing friends. And yet still, I am reduced to a follower with limited access to someone who I considered an old friend.

I think the pain here is realizing that somewhere along the way, your perception was incorrect. That the mutual level of being both liked and respected was not so mutual. This is like in a break up, when one person expresses that they didn't love the other person enough to cause change. Only in this instance, he probably broke up our virtual friendship a long time ago. Maybe immediately after my in person visit. Maybe just last month. I will never know when it happened or what caused it to happen, which sends my anxiety whirling.

And yet, at the same time, I reject being strung out about his opinion and this silly virtual friendship. I care about the moment I call him next time I am in California, if he makes the time to see me. If he makes the time to chat like old times. If someone asks about me, does he speak of my character fondly?

I don't know. But he follows and likes someone's posts who I cannot stand. I am impressed how differently we think and how we were (are) friends.

Update: Not Getting Better

For those that are following, I am not dead, but I am not really getting better. When I become depressed, I am just too sad to write. Or move. Or get out of bed. "Slept" for 20 hours yesterday. Record in the last month was three days straight. I missed work and class and everything. Boss is just waiting for my employment to terminate this May. Too much paperwork to do otherwise.

That's all.

Lesser of Two Evils

Okay, I had a plan of what I was going to write before I logged in, but upon the page loading, I looked at my page views and saw that all 47 of them from the last month was from porn crawlers. I suppose I need to avoid terms like "hands on throat". How sickening.

I had a dream last night that I-- a heroine-- married a man I knew was evil and wanted to destroy me. He was better than my other option though. Almost after the ceremony, I regretted what I had done. Everyone around me gave no sympathy. They all agreed that I made a terrible choice, but that I had chosen, and gave no sympathy. I began to fight. To run. To hide. But the disapproval and the strings of commitment pulled me back in, wrapping my arms and slamming me down. While being buried, I cried of regret.

I think this is a pretty good manifestation of how I feel right now. I am regretting all my decisions, and at the time they seemed pretty good, but now I am just lost and I feel like everyone's input is making the struggle harder.  I am just trying to find people/things to blame though, since I am just unhappy. I am just so unhappy. It's affecting every aspect of my life and I am trying to find solutions, make changes, and then those changes I fear will only be reasons to remain in my unhappiness. I want all decisions to be held up right now. Just give me some time. It's hard.

Hands on Throat

Today I went to change something in life causing my stress at least in part, but was met with opposition, more than I was prepared for. I felt dragged down by the neck. Like hands will pulling me back and down. My neck tightened and swallow breathes of the fear and terror around me were all I could take in.

I fear tomorrow. I can't stop crying. I don't know to ask for help or just die. Dying seems much better.

Also, I ate like a whole bag of candy last night and I only realized it now. I don't remember it when it happened. I have not done that in a while.

You know, I thought I was doing so well. What happened and make it stop.

Reporting in

Nothing can describe the energy drain I experienced when I opened my computer to get work done. I went from 67% charged to 7%.

On Thursday, I left. I cancelled my singing lessons, skipped my class (at which I was to present), and hopped in my car to see a concert. I skipped my two meetings on Friday. I did not accomplish anything. On Saturday, I did my community service activity, helped a friend, then slept. And slept. And slept. I woke up, did a community service project, sang for 4 hours, then had a complete and utter break down. I need to quit my job. I need this to stop. I am running away always and it is stressing me out and the stress is paralyzing and I am drowning.

My panic attacks result in me being highly functional or I go to sleep. Since I already slept for 16+ hours, time to be functional. I cleaned my room and called my father how to quit my job. I tried to keep calm, but I left a tearful voicemail on my adviser's phone. I will regret that. I was hot. I stripped down and opened windows.

I look at the clock like it lies. My eyes beg for it to tell a different story. I blame myself. I am unprepared for tomorrow. I cannot bear the thought of tomorrow. And yet there is something inside of me that tells me everything will be okay this week and all my problems will be resolved somehow, but another part knows that's all a lie. I want me to stop. I need another vacation. Mental sick days are a thing yeah? Please.

Going Down the Rollercoaster

Life is experiencing the consequences of your decisions. I am tired and I want to sleep.

This time, it was the weekend before classes.

I felt like waves were crashing all around me of just horror. Anxiety. The doubt. The pins and needles of my awkwardness in the present and of the past and a future I do not want.

On Sunday, I lay in my bed exhausted from the yes's I had yet to commit myself to, from the homework I have yet to be assigned in classes I have yet to take, from the failed lesson plan I have yet to start.

On MondayTuesdayWednesday blurred together in a line of unfinished tasks and mortification of seeing people I remember enjoying.

Wednesday morning, I met with this guy who is selling me shakes to lose weight. I am losing muscle because I am not working out because I am exhausted because I am drinking 90 calories of powder for two of my meals and filling my body with so much water I am too busy urinating to snack.  He yelled at me. "Come on! You could be making so much more progress. Chocolates? Really?" I felt like an empty shell of a human ready to break, but I could go further. I have no self-discipline, that's it. The only feel like I am progressing to is hating myself more. I'll lose weight decaying in the grave.


Left Step. I want to die.
Right Step. I want to die.

Left Step. I want to die.

Right Step. I want to die. 

Left Step. I want to die. 

Right Step. Please kill me.

I march on.