Hey.

It's been a while. I would like to say it's because I've been super busy, but I haven't. Still no job. Lots of interviews. Everyone loves me. Tells me I was a top contender. Then offers job to other candidate. Very frustrating. Very wearing. Not feeling super good about myself currently. Also, you know how there's no extensions on unemployment? Yeah, that sucks too. Not sure what I'm going to do if someone doesn't hire me soon.

I've been noticing about myself lately that there is a serious edge of paranoia to my anxiety. I easily go from sending my friend a text to a minute later thinking that I probably offended them and they aren't answering me right away because I was so inconsiderate and that they are probably tired of me and my depressed ways and they've been distancing themselves from me anyways....

Yeah.  That's depressing. And exhausting. I'm exhausting to ME. But I seriously have been thinking that at least three or four of my friends didn't answer that ONE text message or like some joke I made on their Facebook page because they don't like me anymore. And I have two friends I can think of off the top of my head I'm scared to call because of that. Mind you, I'm not usually that girl. The one that people burn out on. I tend to isolate myself before anyone gets too burned out on my depression. But it could still happen right? That's probably what happened...


And this is how my brain occupies all this downtime.

Stupidity

I made a huge mistake. And continue to make it. It's interesting what loneliness and isolation can drive you to. Even in this anonymous space, I can't admit what I did. It's too big, and too ugly, and yet to most of you would not be as big and ugly as it is for me. But it is big and ugly to me. And I hate that even a few trusted friends even know. I feel like this road of depression has lead me to be a person that I never meant to be. I never wanted to be this. But I can't seem to be who I want to be, even when I try with all my might. Is it just me, or is the world getting uglier? I feel like the whole world is slowly going crazy. Or maybe that's just me.

Thievery

I am fully convinced now that Depression steals from people. I have had whole parts of my identity stolen from me. That's not to say I can't get them back. But it is trying to take things from me. It is greedy, and it grabs at things, and holds onto them tight, and hopes that I will forget I once owned those things.

Like what? For one, my interests. I like to cook. But it has been so long since I've truly been able to remember the pleasurable parts of cooking that I have lost a lot of my cooking skills. People who I would characterize as good friends, and people who hardly know me, all think that I don't know how to cook, and that I don't really enjoy it. It surprises me and irritates me when I discover this attitude and belief in people. It is frustrating when my friends give me the same look my mom used to give me when I said I wanted to sew a quilt (she's seen me with a sewing machine--straight lines are harder than you think!) when I say I like cooking. I do like to cook. But even now, as the meds are returning me to a place of balance where I have interest in DOING things again, I struggle to make that true again. Because I've forgotten how somehow. And I can't think what to do. I have vague intentions of doing it again, and more often. But I feel deeply rooted in the rut in which I have entrenched myself.

It also has stolen my happiness. And I don't just mean the ability to feel it from day to day. I mean, while I've been so deeply immersed in a dark and dreary existence, I missed LIFE. I didn't choose things that maybe would have put me in better places. I seem to have lost some of the bonds with friends and loved ones that kept us bound to each others' daily lives. I'm alone. Other people around me seem to have managed to end up happy and WITH people, and DOING things. I do things, but alone.

I can't quite fully articulate what depression has stolen. People who have never felt it will often say, or privately think, that we are responsible for the loss we experience when we allow things to happen TO us. I don't dispute that. I have let a lot of things happen to me. I have been in those deep dark places where I don't care, because of a crazy chemical imbalance. It is all my fault my life is not different. And at the same time, it is NOT my fault. I have control over where I am, but I don't have control. I feel both ways. In my healthy moments, I can see what I should have done. But in those unhealthy moments, I didn't see it. 

So many times, from so many people, I've heard the viewpoint expressed that the dark ugly points in our lives make our lives richer, and deeper, and more the person we are meant to be. And on my sunny days, I agree with this concept, and sometimes even embrace it. But on my dark, desperate, miserable days, I despise this theory. I find it deplorable. What doesn't kill us might make us stronger. Or it might debilitate us and suspend us in our anguish.

When the Loneliness Gets Real

When someone you love tells you that loving you isn't enough--that they need to move on--the pain is deafening. It's numbing. Life gets unreal. It all feels like a sick joke. And this is ON the meds. I am so, so alone. Friends can't fill his place. Nothing they, or you, or anyone says can make it better. And I don't want to hear anything anyone has to say on this. I don't want to tell my friends, because I don't want to hear them say he's not good enough, or that they knew it, or that there's someone better, or why they think we don't work. I don't want them to agree with me when I say that he's a jerk. I don't want to hear the cold hard facts. I'm not stupid. I know everything they could tell me. But this has thrown me back into a place where I feel so incredibly, horribly isolated in a final, permanent, desperate sort of way. No amount of pep talks will help. In fact, they would just fill me with rage. So I won't tell anyone right now. And I will vent here. And I will turn off the comments, because I don't want to be commiserated with, or talked to at all about this. Not even from you. And I don't want to do this ever, ever again. Unless I can have him back. And I don't think I need to worry about it because no one will be there for me to try with. And I don't want to see him, or talk to him, or smell him. And I want to see him, and talk to him, and smell him. And if I had the chance to see him, and talk to him, and smell him, I would sabatoge it and say something full of venom and push him far away, and be that icy woman he has accused me of. And it would all be because I opened my heart and trusted him and showed him really vulnerable parts of myself, because he said I could trust him, when he didn't really mean that I could trust him, unless things were easy and fun and he was satisfied. Those are the terms to his love. And maybe if I weren't me, I would be enough for him. And maybe if I weren't me, it would be worth it to him to work through the hard stuff, because maybe the thought of not having me in his life would mean something to him.

Motivation

So now that my meds have been at a fairly good level for a while, I'm feeling less apathy. I'm actually feeling a little bit of energy, and interest in doing stuff. The problem is, I've got some pretty good low-energy routines and habits. My laptop is my friend. I can talk to friends, read the news, watch tv, check my email, do work, read about things, buy things, listen to music... all from teh comfort of my bed. But I shouldn't just crawl into bed every night when I get home and stay there, right? It's occurring to me that perhaps this is not a good habit. I know, I should have thought about this a while ago, right? But my bed is so comfy and it's so nice to lay down when I get home. And then I never get up.

I am realizing I have this whole other part ot my living space, and it might be healthy to be out there sometimes. I could eat meals at a table instead of on my bed. I could watch movies on my tv. I could do projects... in all that space. don't ask me what kind of projects, but I'm sure I have some to do. Not crafts. I hate crafts. I could read books. I only read books when I'm outside or at restaurants alone now. As a result, I've been reading the same book since like December. It's a good book. But perhaps I should try finishing it sometime soon.

This might also help me with my goal of keeping my apartment cleaner. Right now, my bed is my island. All of my activity happens on my bed. Which can make my room get very messy very quickly when I don't want to get up and put things away or I don't look up from my computer enough to notice my surroundings. Bad. I used to clean and organize when I was stressed. Recently I've started doing this at work again. It's time to get my personal life clean and organized. I've been feeling icky for too long. It might be time to start taking care of myself again.

And then after all that energy comes into me and I feel actual interest and energy around those thoughts, I get up, and do something for 5 minutes, and I don't want to be. Because I like my routine and this living life thing takes energy.

Letting Myself Be Happy

My meds are much better. My friendships are all in good places. Conflicts with friends that were breaking my heart are resolved. I have a great guy I'm dating who just told me he loves me (although I feel a wee bit too fast... we've only been dating for about two months). I feel sad. I shouldn't feel sad. I shouldn't be feeling dissatisfied with the guy. I shouldn't be feeling that I want more from the friendships. I shouldn't be sad.

For crying out loud.

I need to get back to counseling. I don't want to. Also, I am broke. That is a legitmate source of stress this week. I am so stinking broke. Like, bursting at the seams, I am in debt, should pay attention to my budget because avoidance doesn't make it better broke. I think there is chicklit about this. And I am pretty sure reading about this girl did not so much amuse me as make me super anxious. But I digress. The point is, I need counseling, but I need to be able to pay for it...

At least, that was the point of that paragraph.

My real point is, I should be happy. This is the time when I should move forward. Embrace life. Be thankful that there are times when it gets better. When the meds work. When people love me back. When I get what I want and all that junk.

I really am an Eeyore. I don't want to be anymore. Why can't I be all Pollyanna and be Glad and stuff. I'm like Pollyanna after she broke her back or whatever.

So seriously, can't figure out why I can't let myself be happy. I mean, we could go with the answer about how I'm afraid to let myself be happy because I"ll end up getting hurt or something. And I'm sure that plays into it. But why can't I just enjoy the good feeling today. What is my deal?

ALONE

You know what's interesting is that I can go through an entire weekend and just fall of the map and not leave my apartment and no one misses me or wonders what's going on or worries about me. Except perhaps my parents. Bless their hearts. But as far as having like a grown up life with people in it... not so much.

What makes it even more... odd, is that I have a window into what people are doing on facebook. My friends spend a lot of time with their other friends. I'm just not one of those friends that people spend time with. I don't understand it. I really don't. I'm the friend that people love and check in on but don't embrace as part of their actual life. What is that? It's funny that I have always believed that I am a very good friend. I work very hard at being a very good friend. But I have the affect on friends of being the friend you don't quite ever make plans with. I think I've failed and I didn't even notice....

And don't tell me it's my friends, because it's not. They are great. And I don't need new ones. The ones I have are amazing. It's me. There's something really toxic about me.

Work Faster.

I took my new upped dosage of meds last night. I really wish immediate gratification were possible with meds. Waiting is dumb. Especially when you have this ugly dead inside feeling with you when you wake, when you work, when you try to relax, when you sleep... Or if not dead inside, a wishing you were dead inside. I'm tired of feeling like this. I don't want to be this person. Why can't I just be happy with what I have and all that junk?

How Can I Disappoint YOU Today?

So the theme of my life this week/month/year is disappointment. Not my own feelings of disappointment, although I seem to succeed in being disappointed in everything and everybody lately, what with my whole glass mostly empty view on life. No. The disappointment I speak of is the gazillion ways that I can disappoint the people I work with, the people I love, the people who love me, and the people I serve. I have blown it in some big ways lately with people.

I've stood friends up for dinner frequently (mostly unintentionally because I have turned into the biggest airhead in the world). They have been patient but I can feel them resigning themselves to my inconsiderateness, which means the socialness I have been working so hard to engage in will be that much more difficult to achieve, since no one will want to set dates with me.

I screwed up in a major way at work, and the effect of what I messed up on has caused ripples that keep rebounding off things and lapping back over me, extending the moments of disappointment and magnifying my feelings of ineffectiveness and perpetual failure. So, yeah. The career is looking great.

I'm failing at church. Failing to go, failing to follow through on service I have committed to. Failing to engage in the spiritual rites and practices I know would soothe me. Even now, writing about how I could be soothed, I feel so anxious and guilty that even though somewhere in my heart I feel my religion could help heal me, most of my heart seems to be saying that I am too far gone and that there is no point. In my heart of hearts I think I must be greatly disappointing God.

I've been working forever, it seems, to learn how to cope with my depression. i thought that I had grown in my depression and that the deep wounds have made me wise and that I had weathered hard times and it had smoothed some of my rough edges. And then this last year or so happened. I feel as though with all the tumult, my edges should be smooth like a rounded pebble on the beach. They should be. But when I examine myself, I feel like a jagged rock that has just been shattered and has more edges than the ocean could ever smooth. My flaws are more glaring and my barriers to being a whole person loom larger than ever before. People I trust and love tell me that I am so unhealthy,so odd, so not normal, that they must go over here and be happy together, away from my toxicity. They tell me the truth as they feel bound to say it, and move away before they are infected. And I don't blame them. I envy them. It must be nice to know how to Be. To give and receive love and feel the glow of being a light in the lives of the ones you love.

I used to feel like that. I used to be able to draw myself out of the space I'm in now and feel that there was hope. That I had friends I gave light to. That my soul was not as ugly and dark and decrepit as it felt in my low moments. I have fleeting moments of that feeling now, but I seem to stumble upon it. I can't intentionally elicit it, and I half hold my breath when I am feeling it, because at any moment an ugly thought or sudden realization of what feels like the horrible truth of my condition  could emerge and take my brain hostage again.

My therapist says I am doing better. She says I am dealing with ugly thought patterns better and that I should not be so hard on myself and celebrate my successes. My friends who have told me how hard it is to be around me have remarked that I have been doing better. But they are still over there. And I need them over here. All of this isolation might possibly drive me mad.

There is a woman who is mentally ill who uses services in the building I work at. Often, in the afternoon, things get to be too much for her. When the internal stimuli that is taunting her gets to be too much, she lets loose with blood curdling, heart rending screams. Over and over and over. For as long as 30-45 minutes. One day, after one of these episodes, she remarked to me, "I want to apologize. I don't know why it happens. It just gets to be too much." I wanted to tell her, I know how you feel. I want to join you. Those screams sound just like the ones in my head. My heart answers every scream torn from her lips. I want to join her. If I did, maybe I could just stop trying.Give into the crazy in my head. They would commit me somewhere, put me on nice soothing medication that soften all the hard feelings. And in the moments the medication was not working, I could purge my soul and get it all out. I could scream until it was drained out of me.

I think it might be time to talk to the doc about upping my meds....

Moving Towards Not Caring

I think the direction I am moving in is either healthy, or really not healthy. I really should figure out which one. I've  been having a really rough time with a friend, and wanting their attention, and stressing about the relationship, and not liking her interactions with other friends, and feeling left out. Fixating is one word that comes to mind. It's an ugly word, and I don't like it, but my mind was not letting go of my yucky feelings. So I've decided that I need to stop fixating. This was a great epiphany for me. And harder than it sounds, which you might understand if you have ever had a friend seemingly start growing away from you. Your urge (or at least mine) is to try to pull them nearer, and fix it. I've tried that. It wasn't working. she gets all independent and wants space and all that crap. I totally don't get that because I tend to let my friends draw me near when they need me. But for my own self-preservation I'm not engaging as much with her or the people around us socially. I can feel myself doing that whole guarding my heart thing a little. This is something I have not done in the past with this friend, because I am all about trust and openness with my friends. But that was not working. Continual pain tells me that something about the way that I am handling this friendship is not working. So, I do the whole putting up walls thing. I don't like to do this with friends. But it feels like the most healthy thing I can do right now.

She knows something is up. She knows I have things on my mind, and she knows I am all stressed out. She's the whole, whatever, you don't have to talk to me, I'll give you space, kind of friend. Which is nice of her. I wish it was a little more important to her to know what was going on with me and be all supportive, but that's not her style, and this is not about getting her attention. And she has asked me what's going on several times. She's shown genuine concern. I think she believes she knows a lot of what is going on in my head. She maybe knows 50%. It's more complicated than just being about this friendship. I really can't talk about it with her. I don't know what I would say. I don't think talking to her about it would help me. I still wish I could. I want to be able to tell her. I want someone close to me, supporting me. But this is one of those stupid, work through it yourself, kind of things. I'm tired of doing things on my own.

One odd side effect. Several times the last few weeks I've gotten so sick to my stomach over the stress of it all that I've wanted to puke. And so I have. I made myself puke tonight. My tummy feels so much better now. I think this is not healthy. I think I will not be telling anyone about this. I really should stop doing that.

It should bother her that I"m putting up walls. I don't think she's noticed yet. Ugh. It sounds like I'm doing this to get her attention. I'm not. But I'm not going to lie, I wish it would get her attention nonetheless. At least a little.

Worn Down with Worry and Yuckiness

You know that icky, anxious, worrying feeling you can have when something is really not going right in your life? I have that right now. It started with my PMS. I sunk down into an icky place, and I allowed myself to isolate and basically hide in my room the majority of the three day weekend. I did still go to church for a few minutes, and I had dinner with my parents one night, so I give myself points for that. 

The annoying thing is that this bout of anxiousness is not exactly about something specific in my life I feel like I can fix. It's not really about a situation, it's more just about who I am. It's accompanied by a large dose of self-loathing, too, which is fun. Maybe it kind of goes back to my feelings about the fallout from setting boundaries with Red. It was his birthday this week. I haven't talked to him since October last year, when he told me repeatedly via text to F off. That was the last I heard from him. That hostility was his reaction to a letter I wrote saying that I couldn't allow him to treat me the way he had been treating me anymore, and telling me what I needed. It was much more firm than I've ever been. But it was necessary. And he could not forgive me for it. 

So this week was his birthday. And if there is one thing I know about myself, it's that I define being a good friend by the things I do to show support and loyalty, and showing love in many ways, including on their birthday, because they are important and I remember those dates. And I did not text, call, email, or message him on his birthday. I don't know where he is, or what he is doing. I'm pretty sure he's still alive. Intellectually I know this is the healthier choice for me--to not reach out to him. If we were still in contact he would still guilt me, do things to offend and degrade me in passive aggressive ways, and make me cry. Also if I knew the things that he was allowing to go badly in his life I would want to fix it all for him. This is not healthy for me. Our relationship would not be healthy at all. I know this. But I feel, at a very deep place in my heart, like a horrible friend. And like I don't know the point of me. 

I've cut the friends out of my life who I really felt like needed me. The ones I have now don't really need me. Sometimes they are in need, and i can help fill a need. But they don't really need me. They can go weeks without really talking to me or seeing me and be fine. They have stuff going on in their lives. They have partners and kids and hobbies and social circles all outside of me. And I have nothing. 

I do have friends. And I have family. I have people I care about who care about me. I have opportunities for beautiful moments. When I feel like making effort, I have people to make plans with, and things to fill my time with. But I feel like I have no world. I come home to an apartment with no one waiting for me. I don't have a home base with people who love me where I can go whenever I need to just be in a happy little cocoon of love. I mean, I do have places I am welcome. But not all the time. Because they have their lives too, and their home bases are already filled with the people who belong there. 

So I feel like I have no place and no purpose. And I don't understand why I can't have that place and purpose with the people that I love. I feel like they are not allowing that place for me in their lives. 

And this is where the self loathing comes in. I don't feel like my insides are very pretty right now. I feel as awkward and skittish as certain people have observed I seem lately. I annoy myself as much with my anxiousness as I seem to be annoying those who have to be around me daily. I don't want to be around me either. Gifts and talents I thought I had I'm not so certain I have now. No one else seems to see them in me, so maybe if I ever had them I don't now. I have the revolving thought, "what is the point of me?"  Now, I am a religious woman. I have always believed that we are all God's children, that we are special, that we all have gifts and talents and special things about us, and that we have a purpose in life and things we are meant to do and all that stuff. I still do believe that about other people. I look at my friends and see them fulfilling their purpose in so many ways, and I see them flourishing and progressing and touching others for good. While in some ways I can still convince myself that I am touching others for good in at least some ways, I am feeling very much like the great impact I thought I could strive for in life is a joke. The people I thought I could touch for good seem to not need or want my touch. The things I am doing to try to make myself better just seem so pointless when, after all that effort, I spend a whole week in this horrible sucking void of happiness. If I can't even keep perspective and find my happy place in times of despair, how can I progress into a place where I'm a decent person. My friends look at me all sad and try to encourage me to seek relationships to fill my life, but they don't want to spend time with me. They say I am so nice and so sweet and if I just put myself out there I will find someone to love me. I'm at a loss as to why they think this is possible. 

See? Ugly thoughts. I have not really expressed too much of them to my usual confidantes. Coolgirl would tell me I need to get counseling or some other practical thing. Shorty would as well. BFF would just feel really bad and wish she knew how to help me, and then I would feel bad for bringing her down. She would also be mystified and not understand why or how I could be in that place, which would only remind me how much of a mutant I feel like. I know that talking to a counselor is the practical solution that many would suggest for this. Hey, if I were the sounding board to something like this, it would be my suggestion. But I don't feel like sharing these ugly thoughts is going to make them go away, and I don't feel like it's going to fix anything or help lead me out of this dark place. I do think that this is partially a chemical imbalance. It's worse around my menstrual cycle, and exercise helps lift my mood. 

What I think I need to do is exercise fairly religiously, possibly multiple times a day. Darn apathy is not helping me break into that habit. I also think I need to look at the things I'm doing medically. I have already contacted my doctor, and we've discussed some things that I can start doing right away. One of them is birth control, which is thought to help regulate things like cramps and mood if you have PMDD. (Awesome that I can start finding new disorders to label myself with, right?) So we will be trying that. In a very, very small place I feel a spark of hope that there may be a light at the end of this dark tunnel. But I don't want to get my hopes up, and I am also fairly fearful that I'm stuck with this crazy brain for the rest of my life and there's nothing I can do about it. 

When I was a teenager there was a lady at church who would sit out on the couch in the lobby during services and cry. I would walk by her sometimes when I was avoiding being in Sunday School. Often there would be another woman comforting her, listening to her, or just being there for her. I always felt bad for her. Somehow, someone told me or mentioned in front of me that she was depressed. I didn't really understand that then. I didn't get that it was a disorder. I wondered what in her life had happened that had made her so sad. I remember thinking that she looked like she was in a lot of pain. I've been thinking recently that I might have turned into that woman. Mind you, I'm much more solitary in my suffering, and I try not to be the woman making a spectacle in the lobby. This might not be the best thing, since she had women trying to help lift her up and I run home from church and hide so that they don't see what a mess I am before I start crying. I have let a few individuals in, and they have been a comfort to me. But I don't want to be the poor woman they feel they need to do their christian duty by. I know they say you need to allow people to serve you, so they can reap the blessings and be God's hands and all that. But I don't know how to do that. I suck at asking for it, and the friends that I want it from don't seem to have the time or capacity. But I need some love. Can't they just read my mind? 

I Would Like to Let Go Now.

I have a tendency to brood. Coolgirl has pointed it out to me. I have always done it, but had not identified that I do it to a larger extent than many people until she pointed it out. I knew that when I'm really anxious I would grab onto a thought and think it over to death. But I have come to realize that I often grab hold of a thought and obsess about it and don't let it go.

Example: tonight, I went to a friend's birthday celebration. It was a great time but at the end the birthday girl disappeared, and a few other small things happened that seem to indicated to me that she is annoyed with me. I have analyzed my conduct and I really haven't done anything wrong. At most, I failed to recognize the moment when she took something personally that was not directed at her and not intended to give offense. But of course, this is where my brain won't shut up. I keep thinking over and over and over again to think of everything I said, every look she had, how she might have taken things I said, and what she might say to other friends. Then I start to worry about how how she appears to feel about me at this moment might impact the way other friends feel about me. This might impact how other friends interact with me in the future, and I don't want to lose those good relationships. Then I try to talk myself down by reminding myself that if she is irrationally angry, said friends will call her on it and refuse to allow her to blame me. But the thoughts of "what if" go on. I foresee manipulation and half truths that might convince said friends to spend less time with me. Basically I start to see the demise of friendships, all over one woman's cranky moment. Described here, I sound a little nutty to myself. But I still fear the power of this one woman over one particular friendship that I hold dear. Also, I don't like having people upset with me, and I want to resolve it, and it's aggravating that I can't. But this is not a situation where I can, or should, do or say anything. And I truly honestly didn't do anything wrong. Her anger isn't even really about me. But it keeps happening. And my brain won't let go of it. Shoosh, brain.

Self-Loathing

This is a fun one. This is one that I have not talked about very much to... anyone. Not my counselor, not my friends, not my journal... not even you. But it's been on my mind a lot this week. In this whole process I've been going through in the last year, where I lost the Roomie and I lost Red, and then things got rocky with Coolgirl (something I have not alluded to on here, partly because I stopped writing), and I started to question my ability to have friends, who, you know, wanted to be around me. I'm still not feeling very confident about that one. Coolgirl and I are fine. I got my meds changed, and got less crazy, and stopped doing crazy things like bursting into tears in the middle of the work day. And I've had a lot of "ah ha" moments and insights into my own lovely craziness. I do take things really personally. I do get really emotional and irrational and worry that my friend hates me when they get a little irritated or distracted or busy with having their own life. Off meds, those crazy moments were amplified, which was fun for all involved. Now I'm regaining some sanity and perspective and seeing that I don't have to get emotional about someone else's bad day. Not that I can always convince my emotional self of that. Because regardless of how my reasonable side sees things, sometimes the urge to be sad and crawl under the table and curl into the fetal position is a wee bit stronger than it should be a healthy adult. And this is why I'm having a hard time not hating myself right now. I mean, I'm driving myself crazy. I'm always freaking out and getting mad and sad and anxious about EVERYTHING. I am TIRED of it. I try to find my happy place but sometimes i don't think I have one. Why WOULD anyone want to have a close friendship with THAT. I want to just isolate like crazy. I want to spare everyone of sharing in my crazy moments. And I can see why they are irritated with me. I'm empathizing with them. but I can't take breaks like they can. And if I isolate, it's ALL me, ALL the time. There are not distractions. That gets old quick.

So I really kind of hate myself a lot of the time now. And I want someone who has been dealing with my crap and losing patience with me to tell me I have redeeming qualities. But apparently that is a needy thing to request. Or I don't know how to ask it. Or I'm not supposed to care? Specifically, I would like for Coolgirl to tell me my redeeming qualities, since she has had such a hard time going through all my crazy with me, and has seen all the ugly and barely made it through. She's all "you shouldn't worry about what other people think about you, and it shouldn't matter what I think." But, um, I need to know that a non-crazy person sees redeeming things in me. Because I am not trusting my own judgement right now. And I feel really ugly on the inside. I feel crippled. And I am feeling like, what's the point?

Shhhhhhh...

I've been trying the whole talking about my feelings and talking through them and all that crap. Now I'm thinking I would like for them to hush for a while. I've been trapped in a thought pattern over and over and over and over again about things about certain friendships I would like differently. I've talked to my friends about those things. They are aware of how I would like things to be. We have talked about the crazy parts of me and what they are willing to give me. I'm not pleased with certain parts. But I can't change them. And they are not being cruel. And I am tired of feeling yucky. Now I am thinking I would like to stop talking about it. Maybe if I stop venting to other people nearby about it, and stop thinking I need to talk to my friends about it, I will be able to get myself to stop thinking it. I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm thinking over and over and over again about things that I wish that were different and about how I can't change them and then getting really irritated with myself for thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking about things that just make me feel horrible. I'm hoping I can find a way to make my brain shut up. I'm really tired of being so unhappy with friendships that are actually great, and I'm tired of struggling to get past my yucky feelings and just live in the moment and appreciate the great friends I am blessed with. I need to find a way to make my brain be still.

My Brain Never Shuts Up.

It's been a while. I have been avoiding thinking about my feelings or expressing them. Always a good healthy thing. More accurately, I have been avoiding thinking about my feelings in a healthy way. They have sucked me under and kept me in bed for almost whole weekends. They have diminished my appetite, which at least has had the nice benefit of helping me have some portion control and drop some unnecessary weight. Usually I eat my feelings, so this whole lack of appetite thing is foreign to me, or was before this last year.

I still don't really want to talk about my feelings. They are painful and they will be real and ugly here on my blog. And I feel like I'll never be able to fix anything anyways... I don't seem to be getting any better and the same annoying things that drag me down into horrible abysses of anxiety just keep rearing their ugly heads. I have the same anxieties I was having at 12, and I'm thirty something now. Awesome.

I keep thinking about my alcoholic friend, Red. I haven't heard from him since last fall. Coolgirl came over a few weeks ago and helped me go through the things of his I was holding that I should have gotten rid of long ago, since they were a huge blaring monument to my codependency. I felt guilt, but I also felt a huge weight lifted. I now have a very small box of things I will mail to his dad. If I ever figure out his address, because I am not texting, emailing, or facebooking Red. He will answer, and he will make me cry. Whether he is mean or manipulative or something in between, I know it will rip my heart.

Having made it past that step, I'm now onto facing the reality that he is out of my life. I miss him when I think waaaay back, but I also have embraced the reality that he is not that person now. And that makes me sad. But I also still feel a sense of failure. I failed him as a friend. I failed to keep a friend. I have lost another friend. I lost Roomie, and then Red, all in a matter of months. And now other friends don't seem to be totally loving me (read, they don't have the time for me I want them to have), and I am having this insane, panicky, horrible, irrational feeling that soon I will be so, so truly alone. No one wants to love me. But see, there, those feelings I said I didn't want to talk about have slipped out.

So I now find myself wondering when I will hear that Red is dead. Will he live for years? Is he already dead? Is his liver about to go? Will he overdoes? Will he do something stupid when he is drunk and hi? Will he just get tied up with other equally stupid people at a stupid time and have something horrible happen to him? and if he does, will I get a phone call from his brother or his dad? It's a real fear. He kept saying the last few years we were in contact that he wants to live hard and die young. I think that was his way of pretending he chooses to have his addiction and sink into it. But I think he has embraced his mortality in a scary, scary way. We're still friends on facebook. I see him post every few months. A while back he was online every once in a while, and I totally could have tried to chat. The way I know my heart has changed is that I didn't want to. It would only have ended in tears. But I do want to know if he's doing okay. I hope he's doing better. I want to believe he is, and that somehow I've overestimated his addiction and the direction he is heading because of it. But I'm pretty sure I haven't.

Is it Just Me?

I've realized recently a few things about me and compliments.

1. If I receive a compliment, I assume they are saying it to be nice, because they feel obligated. I think this partially stems from having a few friends who have to be very deliberate in complimenting me, because they don't naturally praise people a lot for one reason or another.

2. I do not find it to be a compliment when people tell me that I have improved, or that I have grown. At least not professionally. Because, um, excuse me, just because you are just now realizing that I rock at my job doesn't mean that I wasn't rocking before. Also, what big flaw did I have that was so terrible at the beginning.

It's funny that my brain works that way, because when I tell other people they have grown, and how proud I am, I do consider it a compliment. I think the reason I don't consider it a compliment for myself is that I have kind of these crazy perfectionist standards for myself, and if you noticed the flaw, and then I improved, I'm focused on how mortified I am that I had such a blatant flaw. Where did that come from? I never thought of myself as a perfectionist. I know that this urge is especially strong where friends are in the picture. Because I have to be perfect so my friends will love me. Because if I irritate and upset them they will go away. Since I seem to keep losing long time friends, I'm having a hard time dissuading myself of this theory now that I've identified that it is an underlying motive for me. Life-long friendships seem to be a figment of my imagination. Everyone that I think i have a lifelong bond with either grows out of me, or I have to distance myself from them for the sake of emotional health--mine and theirs. My hope is that they will come back. But current friends tell me I should move on and not hope that. Because apparently that hope is not healthy?

I also realized the other night that I feel like my friends schedule time with me now out of pity or obligation. They are all so busy. They have other friends who are their best friends. They have significant others. It is an effort for them to schedule me in. Why am I not naturally just a part of any one's life? It didn't used to feel this hard. And I feel so unwanted. The thing is, I have plenty of friends who want to spend time with me, who text me and message me and check in with me and try to slow their frantic pace to connect with me. I know this. But I feel so alone. I've lost the people who would term me Best. That's not totally true. I do still have my BFF. But she lives 4 or 5 hours away. And she has a life. And I can hardly get hold of her on the phone, let alone see her. And I"m not a part of her everyday life anymore. I don't know if any of her friends have ever even heard my name.

Back to the compliment thing: I was compliment several times tonight. But the compliments were so conditional. I was better than I had been. I was frustrating but we had learned together. I must be really difficult. Others got glowing compliments from the same lips. I don't merit that, and I don't know if it's because sometimes it's harder to expose deeper appreciation of those we are closer to, or if it is because I have not grown to their satisfaction, and do not merit glowing praise because, despite how I bust my butt, I'm not quite at that level. And yet the compliment given was given with a mindfulness that I was not feeling validated and longed to hear that I was appreciated in a meaningful way. Why, when people know you really need to hear, is it harder for said people to give meaningful praise? What is that stubbornness? Is there something so wrong with me wanting to know that those I most respect and love respect and love me as much in return. Apparently the feeling isn't mutual?

Shame on ME

I guess the fact that I haven't blogged in here for over 20 days is a good sign, since I'm generally drawn to blog on here when I've having a tough time and am trying to process feelings. Trying to do the whole self care thing. Feel like doody tonight.

One thing I have realized about myself is that although I've been really good about talking about my feelings and looking for honest feedback about how I'm dealing with said feelings, there is a little hiccup. Once I've discovered that something I am feeling is a little wack-a-doodle, meaning that it's not the healthy response and not "normal," after a while I try to hide the fact that I am having said feeling from those same close trusted friends who helped me determine I'm over-reacting. Because I know how sad and insecure I really do look, and that the fact that I am insecure is evident to people. For example, Coolgirl got a new employee that will meet some needs I've been helping meet in the workplace. I helped hire her. I loved her in the interview, and I still do. But now that she's started, I'm having a knee-jerk panic-y reaction, because she is (and will continue to be) taking up her time, and therefore I am feeling like I have been replaced because I don't serve a function for her, and if she doesn't need me she's going to leave. As much as I can now identify that this is a central issue for me, I still continue to panic. I can't seem to help myself. I do calm myself down in what I suppose is a relatively short amount of time, since I can identify what the feeling is. But meanwhile I get all cranky and spastic and throw up walls and alienate Coolgirl, who has no idea what my damage is.

Normally Coolgirl would get out of me what I am freaking out about, but this week she's been so busy that it's been pretty easy to a) hide some of my freaking outedness, and b) avoid getting called on it, because we have not spent time alone, and she doesn't make time for me outside of work anymore, so calling me after work to check in doesn't even occur to her. She puts me out of her head as part of work when she leaves the office now. Which is the other part of my freak-out. That I don't factor into her personal life. That's not to say that we don't have a personal relationship, or that I don't believe and trust that she loves me like a close friend. It's just I'm in the work compartment of her life. She's too enamored with her not-so-new love interest to consider making me part of her outside of work life, because said Love Interest calls the shots on the agenda.

So I'm hiding these five-year-old gut reaction feelings; squirreling them away from view with an underlying feeling of shame. Shame for being so insecure. Insecure is not attractive. People don't like an insecure friend. That leads to clingy. Which leads to people running far, far away. And in this state of shame and insecurity, I don't see any way out. Talking about it would be stupid. She's not doing anything wrong, and she can't say anything she hasn't said the last 20 times we've had this conversation about my abandonment issues. And telling other people just makes me look stupid in their eyes, and they don't know what to tell me either, except that my expectations are too high, and my feelings shouldn't be hurt given the amount of time we spend together. These things I know. My rational part totally gets it. So I just want to keep hiding it and hoping nobody notices. It feels like the dream I have about showing up to High School naked. Except worse. Because it's like showing up to work naked. For reals. And not knowing how to fix it, and so hiding under my desk all day. That's how it feels.

Worrying Some More

Today I did something to annoy Coolgirl and she called me on it. I was teasing her about something that she didn't find funny. It was one of those healthy normal moments in friendships where you tell your friend when something they are doing bothers you, instead of letting it fester or become a larger thing than it should be.

This is where my brain takes off with the situation and I go a little crazy. That was one small moment in an interaction this afternoon where I walked with her to her coffee shop. We had positive and fun conversation before and after. We parted on good terms when I left work for the day. And the second she told me the thing that was irritating her I had a little nagging part of my brain that popped into it's anxiety mode. While part of my brain responded maturely, and I said I was sorry and was glad that she had said something, the other part, which I didn't show, was freaking out. Because no matter how hard I try, I can't be the perfect friend. I can't be the one that doesn't irritate the people I love. And if I can't avoid irritating her, how long can this friendship possibly last? Because we have clearly gotten to the point where I am annoying. And that, in my distorted little mind, is the kiss of death to a relationship. Because once they realize all of my irritating qualities, it's only a matter of time until they see that those qualities outweigh the positive. She keeps telling me those qualities are adorable, and part of what make me who I am. Um, MORTIFYING. If my flaws make me who I am, I am doomed, right?

See, crazy brain.

So even though it was a little moment in an otherwise great day, I'm left with a slightly uncomfortable feeling of fear or anxiety. I'm worried she is realizing slowly that she doesn't want to let me in too much further. And that is why she doesn't have time for me outside of work, not the new love interest. And she probably vents about me at night. And I could hear her saying "and I finally had to tell her straight out, that's annoying, because she just wasn't taking the hint..." And all kinds of paranoid thoughts were going through my head.

Such a little thing and I can't let go of it. For her it's forgotten by now, I'm sure. I've already sent one text saying I am sorry I was so slow. And she will know it's because I tend to do what I have just described above. But because she has not answered me, I really want to send another text. And I don't know what I want to say. I just want to say something that will prompt her to answer me back because I am stressing about this, and hearing SOMETHING from her will help me feel better. But I'm not sure why this thing is what I am choosing to fixate on. I've been worried on and off the last few weeks, with all the emotion and drama (coming from me, because I've been crying over different things and stuff), and her impatience and frustration with me, that I really have been wearing out my welcome. And ultimately, she seems to be treating me the same. She still looks at me sometimes like I am pretty cool. And I still seem to entertain her. But I've gone through that with other friends. Where we still have moments of normalcy that reassure me, and then they seek distance from me. She and I have had conversations about this very thing. And she has talked to me about how i need to trust her when she says that she's not going anywhere, and that she will tell me when she has issues. And I do trust her. But (and I think I've said this before on here), what if it just hits her suddenly? It could sneak up on her too.

This is why it scares me when I have friends I love so much.

Why I Think My Insides Are Ugly

I've been pondering my insides a lot lately. Not so much things like my intestines and kidneys and such, but my soul. I don't believe I'm a bad person. In that sense it's not like I believe I have some kind of black soul. But I do seem to feel pretty deeply that I have a malformed, disfigured, hideous kind of soul. On many levels I don't believe this, but there seems to be a few deep down parts of me where this rings true.

This belief seems to rear its ugly head when I panic about my friendships. How can they keep wanting to be friends with me when I show them the ugly parts? Coolgirl has pointed out to me that she has shown me some of her flaws and that doesn't make me want to not be her friend, or view her as less. And it's true. With my very dear friends, I know about their flaws, and I know at least some of their deep dark secrets, and I've seen them when they are not at their best, and it only makes me love them more. But those things don't make them ugly. I try to take that experience (loving friends more deeply because of that deeper knowledge of them) and use it to gain perspective on how I can be lovable. But my brain pauses. Because that is different. They are beautiful inside. And I have no idea what good they see when they look at me, or what they might find to love. That's not to say I don't find things to love about myself. It's more that there seems to be a shadow over it all when I think about what they might see. I know my friends think I'm loyal, and Coolgirl has told me in the past that I'm one of the kindest people she knows. But then she also has pointed out that I am a caretaker and that isn't healthy... so that isn't good?

If all of my "good" traits are tied into unhealthy behaviors connected to my issues, then do I have any good traits? I wish I could work up the courage to ask Coolgirl what she loves about me, because I'm not really sure at this point what there is to love, since I've shown her so much of my ugly insides. How does that look to her? And why can't I put myself in her shoes? I'm usually good about seeing other perspectives. Apparently when that perspective is regarding me, I am blind.

The one place I have made some progress is figuring out what the point of friendship is when I can't keep them bound to me by their need. If they don't need me, they can still be committed to the friendship because of the love. Because that's the point of friendship, and what keeps those bonds strong. It takes work to keep love strong, but that's a healthy thing to focus on, instead of trying desperately to find a need to fill. That has been my epiphany this week.

Now my new question is this: what do they see in me to love? And why is that so hard for me to answer right now?

Won't Somebody Love Me?

I'm feeling very isolated today. Everyone is either out of state, so wrapped up in their own problems I have long since come to terms with the fact that they can't/don't want to be a meaningful part of my support system (after lots of tears and trying), or... too busy, even though they have assured me they love me. But the evil devil on my shoulder, who seems to be a lot bigger and louder than the angel, keeps telling me that they've tired of me and/or don't want to/can't be my friend in a meaningful way, because I'm all toxic. I'm trying not to be all toxic. And the reality is people have lives. This is what some of them would say.

Also I haven't heard back from my alcoholic friend, to whom I wrote a letter. Not a deep profound letter or anything. Just a letter to him where he currently has a job, since internet access is not always an option right now. And so I'm wondering if he's gotten my letter, and it's bugging me, and this is the part where normally I would check with him, or send another letter, or something. But I'm not. And for the most part I'm okay with that. But on another level, I want some love right now, because I am feeling isolated. So I reeeeally want to recreate that intimacy that I feel from time to time with him, so he will come back all lovey, and I will feel, if only for a short time, like I'm not a loser with no friends, like I've been feeling. I've been really, really considering it. Which would horrify Coolgirl and my other pro-healthy behaviors friend who lent me the codependency book. But they're not giving me love. So what's the point. Yes, I have more rational moments, where I know that there is a point and it would be silly to go back now. But right now I just want a good hug. And he gives good hugs, in between insulting me and disrespecting me in every way imaginable. And I can't find anyone who has time for me, let alone who is in close enough proximity to give me a hug. Also, I don't like to ask. Why do I have to ask. I feel so lame. I really want a hug. Lots of hugs.