Day Three: 11/14

Today was a good day; I was happy for the first time in a long time, but I know that happiness is fleeting. Tomorrow, I may feel worse or nothing at all. I don't know which I dislike more: the feeling of self-loathe or the complete absence of emotion altogether. For today, though, I felt joy and a little bit of confidence, and that's enough to convince me that I can truly be the person I want to be. I just have to work harder at making everyday a good one.

I've been thinking about self-destruction, which is not a pleasant topic to think about, especially after one has had a good day. Surprisingly, it only made me sober.

My sister - whether she realizes it or not - has self-destruction down perfectly. She drinks, and she drinks hard. When she drinks hard, she becomes less pleasant, less aware of herself, and more hurtful. She drinks more and more, until she's hugging the toilet, throwing it all back up, as she slings insults and hurts the people who care, who try to help her.

Or, she did, when she was living here in Indiana. I hope she's better.

My own self-destruction is less drastic, but still devastating: I work. I'll throw myself into my jobs and work and work and work until I'm exhausted and frazzled, at the end of my rope. Working allows me to distance myself from everybody, and gives me an excuse not to socialize. If I don't socialize, I don't run the risk of opening myself to other people. In the case of distancing myself from people I'm close to, it allows me to keep them at arms length. I'm afraid of their affection and love, because I don't believe I deserve it. My entire childhood was spent listening to how I was an inadequate child, how I was ugly or stupid or too weird to be friends with. There were moments of love from my mother, when she wasn't stressed, but that love was uncertain to me. Sometimes, it's uncertain to me even now.

I'm not entirely sure how love works, to be honest. But does anybody really know? Affection is involved, but I was never sure how much was too much or too little. It was easier for me to find an excuse - work - and cling to it; friends understood that if I was busy with a job, I had a legitimate reason not to hang around them. I could keep them at a comfortable distance.

If you knew the entire me, I'm not certain you would want to stay. It's better that you see what I show you at the distance that I allow you to stand from me.

Except, it's not. I end up alienating myself and other people. When I want company or to talk or hang out, I feel that the person I want to do these things with is ignoring me, when - in reality - I've alienated myself from their lives so much that I don't really know them or what's going on in their lives. I'm more selfish than I thought I was.

It's not a good sign of friendship or romance.

...

Aside from the thoughts on self-destruction, I've decided to stay away from social media - Facebook and AIM. I'm taking a hiatus, not because I'm "busy" and want further separate myself from the rest of humanity (or at least the small circle I run with). I really do need to think and reflect. Facebook and AIM just distract me. I find solace in neither, to be honest. It's the irony of social media websites and applications; the more "friends" we make, the more we "know" about those "friends," the less we interact with them in an actual, real social setting. We only remove ourselves from real life with Facebook, and there is no comfort in the text and .jpgs that replace real people.

The only reason I'm keeping a presence on livejournal and Dreamwidth is because both offer an outlet that neither Facebook nor AIM can give me. I'm expressing myself for the what feels like the first time in a long time; these sites are my outlet. Granted, my family and most of my friends don't know about these journals. If I'm going to find myself and my voice again or discover a new person entirely, my spaces on these sites are going to chronicle that process and help facilitate my own self-discovery. I need a place to write, a place to express the unexpressed.

For the readers on Dreamwidth, I really need to get an angst or contemplative icon. Sam Winchester's acknowledgment of another's pain with a sympathetic bear hug makes me feel like I'm not taking this entry seriously. It's the best I have, though.

Day Four: 11/15: Part One: Safe Places

I feel like I'm pissing more people off than pleasing them or gaining their understanding by doing the things I'm doing. I'm sorry that I seem to be withdrawing, but Facebook and AIM are no longer safe places for me. I can't express myself on Facebook, because my mom and my sister occupy that space. I'm afraid that Mom will yell at me for being depressed, and I can't turn to my sister, because she's so self-involved that it makes it difficult to open up to her.

AIM isn't "unsafe" in the sense that Facebook is; it's more uncomfortable. Beate's on there, and maybe I'm being a coward (maybe all of what I'm doing is cowardly), but I'm not ready to face her. I don't really know how she feels about any of this. We've only communicated through a message or two, and I can't read her emotions when her style is unbiased and her tone neutral. The formality of it makes me think that she really is angry or annoyed with me, but that's because I know that when I feel those emotions, that's how I communicate.

Anyhow, I don't see any of this as withdraw. I may be retreating from certain online spaces, but I'm increasing my presence in others, because those places feel safe enough for me to express myself and work things out. I can try to figure out who I am. I can't do that if I feel nervous or pathetic all the time, or like I'm running in circles instead of going forward.

So, please, let me be selfish. Let me take my time. Don't make me feel bad for not feeling like I'm obliged to occupy a place where I don't feel comfortable. Also, I don't expect people to feel obliged to follow me to these new places. I understand that some places might be unsafe for other people, and I won't press anybody to visit those places. I'll eventually return to AIM and Facebook when I'm ready.

Day Four: 11/15: Part Two: Creativity and Strength

"Your creativity is your strength."

Those are the words that I wrote on my goal board - a small dry erase board that I found in a box full of old crap from college. Last week, I brought it out and wrote down two goals that I wanted to try to fulfill within the space of a week: 1) write one monologue, and 2) write one short scene.

I only accomplished the monologue, which is crap, but it was something that helped lift my spirits a bit last week.

This week, the goals are:

1) Write two chapters of a story. (No revisions - yet)

2) Exercise three days, one hour per.

3) Draw & color one illustration

4) Try to eat at least two full meals (breakfast is a must!)

At the bottom I wrote the words that I've chosen to open this entry with, because this week, I'm going to focus on my creativity and strength, which in some cases coincide.

I enjoy being a mad artist. My best friend, Tuesday, can easily attest to the manic glee I operate under when I'm drawing. My roommates and other con attendees at Vividcon may remember the crack I churned out so quickly, like I was on a roll and nothing could stop me. When I was in college, I wrote a lot out of necessity (being a Creative Writing major and all), and there were a few stories where I wrote them with the same self-possession as when I draw something absolutely fabulous (sans the complete manic glee). Art and writing gave me focus, even when I was only doing either as an idle experiment never meant to be posted or read anywhere. It was so easy to lose myself in creative endeavors.

I haven't done much lately of either. I get so caught up in details and how to proceed, so anchored in my head, that the story or the illustration never gets created. When I do this, I think I'm doubting myself. I hold my art back because it's not perfect when I put it down on the page. I should just draw or just write and worry about the finer things later.

Today, I pleased myself by writing three pages, front and back, long-hand. The story flows. It goes somewhere, and while I don't have all the details worked out, I'm not bothered. Where will my writing take me? For the first time since I graduated, I'm excited to find out.

...

Along with my creativity, my appetite seems to be returning, though at a slower pace. There are certain foods that still repulse me, but I have managed to eat more than a few bites of something, and it had nutritional value.

I dropped eight pounds since last Tuesday - the first and only time I exercised this month. If I had done it in the gym, I would be thrilled, but I've done it by barely eating anything, which only worries me. In order to eat, though, I have to have the desire to eat. I can force myself to eat something for the sake of sustenance, but that's completely different from wanting to eat. I need to get to the point again where I can enjoy food, where eating doesn't feel like a joyless chore.

Day Four: 11/15: Part Three

I'm afraid some people won't accept me back even after I'm better.

I wonder if there's any truth in this apprehension I feel.

If it is, what's the point of me getting better? Especially if those who I want to accept me, won't accept me? I get better, I change, but I still have to endure the pain of rejection? Is that how it's going to work?