further…further…just a little further

the laptop has come back to life. 

i don’t know if the same can be said about me. 

everything has changed. i lost my job. lost the apartment. i feel like i’ve lost who i am. i am one step away from selling naked pictures of myself on the internet for money. because, you know, there’s always a market for that crap. 

i guess the good news for right now really is that my laptop has come back from the dead, after some good old fashioned keyboard smashing. at least now i can write again. 

i had nightmares last night. they were a mix of glee, vampires, and some other really random thing that i cant remember just now. i woke up with my jaw hurting from my teeth being clenched together so hard for so long. 

hubbs and i moved in with his parents..which isnt the biggest deal considering i love his parents and they dont treat me like a child, just another adult who lives there. plus its nice when he’s stuck at work late so im not home all alone. it’s just sad that i lost my first apartment. but..these things happen, or so im told. 

im just trying to regain my grip. i had such a firm grasp on life and on what i was doing, and then my fingers just slipped and i went insane and lost my mind. 

i will make my presentation as painless as possible…

if i have learned only one thing in my life it is that trust is for the foolish and for the weak. i barely even trust myself anymore. everything in life is fleeting.

today is one of those days where i dont know what to do anymore. my breath feels stuck in my chest and my head is spinning. i barely know what to think. or how to feel. good thing that i am really good at stopping it- the feelings. i can shut it all down. lock it away. i have become an expert at that over the years, whether it was initially forced upon me or not.

i dont want to hurt anymore. i cant stand the suffering. i cant stand crying. i have forever hated the feel of tears burning like fire behind my eyes, even worse when they are leaving trails of painful salt down my cheeks. they’re acid. they sting whether they are inside or outside.

this is why i envy death. why i reach my hand out toward it instead of shrinking away from it. i am not bold enough to say that i am not afraid of death. i fear it completely.  i have feared it ever since i was a small child and stopped believing in God, or anything. i lost that faith, and i lost the comfort of a belief in any sort of aftelife. so i completely fear death because it is frightening to think of anend of my existence, an end to my mind. but there is so much comfort in thinking that in death, there is no more pain.

i have made so many promises. but i want to break them all. break them as thoroughly as my heart has been continuously broken. because where is my gain in all of those promises? where do i benefit? i am always trying to avoid the pain and suffering. every fleeting reprieve is a curse. it only makes the subsequent heartache more brutal.

i dont know what the point of this is. just more ramblings and rants of a raving mad bitch who obviously can not be helped even by copious amounts of medication.

 

 

you’re going to be just fine…stay with me

things fall apart one by one. they fall apart slowly and it seems like it happens all at once. i’m in the exact same place that i was yesterday- figuratively and literally. my mind is in jumbles and i am stuck at home because my car isnt fixed, so i am sitting in the chair in my bedroom, trying to figure out what to do about all of these thoughts.

they aren’t as bad as they were yesterday. today my body was craving sleep and there was nothing i could do to stop it from happening. my eyes were so sore and so heavy that they absolutely refused to stay open.

i see my therapist tomorrow. what is it that i am supposed to say? that i’m feeling better? that i feel like i’m lying all of the time? that i don’t feel like there has been any change because i’ve forgotten how to feel and there are so many thoughts spinning around in my head that i couldnt feel if i wanted to?

no. none of that.

i will talk about other things. there are things that i know that he wants me to think about. they are relevant to the situation, but irrelevant to how im feeling now. night is the only time that i feel brought out of this numbness. the only time that i can laugh. it is what i look forward to all day long. my solace in a night of sleeplessness. i can laugh.

i had 9 pita chips today. some lemonade. because i felt like i was going to throw up. i feel better now. i’m still tired. i’m waiting for my daddy to come pick me up to take me to the store.

i want to get my tattoo finished. i want to start new ones. start my sleeve.

my mind is blank in the way that it is so full i can’t pick out a single thought among the jumble.

i’m watching law and order again. it makes me feel better. or worse. whichever is the proper one.

i’m working on a new project. i always feel like i am working on a new writing project. i feel like i never finish any of them anymore. not since i finished my books. even short stories go unfinished, they just…fade into nothingness.

i guess, since i have more time right now, i am putting more of an effort into it. i’m trying to get it out. there are things in my life that need to get out of my mind. that i need to spell out, because i need to. i can’t live with them inside of me anymore.

but i am terrified. it is so hard to think about. speaking about it has always been unthinkable. and yes, i did do that on purpose.

did you bring a shovel???

I have nightmares. I have them almost every night. They vary. But sometimes, I have nightmares that are more like horrific flashbacks to the past, and I wake up crying and trying to forget. I buried it for so long, put it away in a box in the dark corners of my mind until, one day, it just came out. It was Halloween night when I was sixteen years old, and I was a crying mess sitting on the front lawn of my high school with one of my best friends. We were too old to have been out trick or treating, but we figured it was the last year that we could really get away with it, so why the hell not?

And she just hugged me and cried with me. Which, really, is the only appropriate response when you get right down to it. What words can you really put to good use in such a situation?

I have never really faced it beyond that. I start to talk about it and then I start crying, and I just shake my head and retreat into my mind, until it’s back in the box and I can function again. In high school I was in a dramatic arts program an toward the end of the year we had to write and prepare our own monologues. We were supposed to perform a monologue based on a life changing event. My monologue was about that horrible time in my life, but it tip toed around the edges, and only revealed the truth toward the end. I wish my nightmares could be so vague.

In all honesty, no one has really ever asked about the details. No one really wants to know the extent of what happened. Everyone would probably much rather forget that it happened at all. I would much rather forget. I was so innocent.

 It made me terrified to sleep. Petrified. I thought if I closed my eyes it would all happen again. I believed that if I closed my eyes there was a chance that I would never open them again. That is a life-changing fear for a six year old.

My boyfriend has never believed me when I tell him that only since being with him have I been able to get some sleep, or at least he didn’t believe me until my mother confirmed it for him. When people ask me how I function on so little sleep I always reply, “I’ve simply never been a sleeper.” I remember being six and seven and eight and nine and down the line and going days without sleeping. Watching sunrise after sunset after sunrise. My boyfriend is the first person that I know would never let anything happen to me, that I feel completely safe with. I don’t have to watch the door anymore.

When I told this to my mother she was offended. She asked me how come I never felt that way about her or daddy. Why didn’t I trust them to protect me, why did I think that they would let anyone hurt me. I said to her, “Because you didn’t know how afraid I was. You didn’t know that there was something that I desperately needed protection from.” My mother already feels that she failed to protect me. I feel that I failed in my efforts to protect her from the truth.

I still don’t really want to think about it, or talk about it. But, last night, my nightmare was so vivid…I feel like I’ve been spending the entire day trying to escape it. Sitting here, thinking about typing the words makes my heart beat so hard in my chest that it hurts when I breathe. I don’t think I can do it. It’ll just stick in my head as unsavory images.

i shouted and he ran off…

numbness can be blissful, but it horrifies me at the same time. i’ve been caged. the vibrancy inside of me has been euthanized.

twenty five is probably not the right age to start picking up on bad habits. i started smoking. in the hospital it was the only way that they would let you outside. and there were times when walking the halls was not enough…i needed that escape. i either bummed a cigarette off of one of the men that i became temporary friends with, or took one of the ‘house cigarettes’. not being a smoker it didn’t matter to me. i couldn’t tell a good cigarette from a bad cigarette if i tried.

when i smoke i feel it all over my body and i get so lightheaded that i need to sit down or i will fall over. this makes me think that smoking is probably not the best thing for me, but, i don’t know what else to do. feeling that sense of being faint reminds me that my body still exists.

i’ve been told previously by therapists and psychiatrists that i have control issues. that i tend to find things to control when things in my life are out of control. this is not abnormal. i recognize the behaviors in myself because i’m not ignorant or stupid. however, that does not enable me to stop them.

so, i stopped eating. for a few reasons. the medicine takes away my apetite. it also tends to make me sick when i do eat. it feels like rocks in my stomach until i throw up. i obsessively look at calories, track how many i ingest. get worried when i feel like there are too many calories in what i might be eating. i know it’s irrational. i know that i dont need to be obsessively counting calories, especially since when i do eat, it makes me sick.

i know that once my medications are more stable that things will get better with eating. i’ve been down this road before. i retrain myself to not be so afraid of food, and i make myself eat to remind myself that it wont always make me sick.

but, i feel stifled. maybe it’s just today. maybe its being trapped in my apartment with nowhere to go. feeling lonely. thinking too much about old pain that has never gone away.

this was pointless.

i would never put something my mouth just because dougie told me to…

so…it seems that just as one cloud of dust begins to settle, there is always something stampeding down that proverbial horizon to make the dirt fly into the air.

that something this time is my sister. isn’t it always?

my sister…which i have previously talked about is a drug addict (breaking into the past isn’t always easy) and…things haver gone awry.

i dont stay in contact with her. i love her with all of my heart, i love the person that she used to be. but, the people that she takes advantage of tend to reach out to me. i got a message at nine thirty tonight from one of these people, the person that she has been staying with, asking me for help.

she was asking for help because my sister has been high on crack and heroin for days and was walking around her house topless ranting and cleaning. this bleeding heart also has three small children, by the way. i told her to call the cops. she has a warrant out for her arrest, and if she calls the cops she will be arrested. simple, right?

well, apparently this girl is being threatened by my sister that she will call chil protective services on her for various unfounded reasons, which this struggling, single mother doesnt want to chance. because she doesnt know if my sister would stash drugs somewhere in the house, and even if there is nothing in the system, having them around kids will endanger them.

so..what to do?

call the fricking cops. except, i dont know where she lives, and she wouldnt tell me because she doesnt want the cops picking my sister up at her house. she wants to set up some sort of sting where she arranges for the cops to meet her somewhere when she knows that my sister is carrying, so that she is sure to get locked up.

i just want to scream. i want to bang my head against the wall. i told my boyfriend that i want to throw my cell phone through my face. because, i just dont know what else to do. my sister is a plague on my life which i will truly never be cured of because even if she dies, even if she recovers, the pain that she has inflicted will never be forgotten. i want to say that i am not one to hold a grudge, but i am cursed with a mind that remembers everything. there is nothing that escapes this vortex.

i want to forget that she exists. i want to forget what she has done to my family. what she has done to her family. i want to take my medication and get better. i dont want to be bothered by it all. she brings back all of the hurt. i want to forget. i want to crawl into a bottle. i want to press curling irons against my skin and feel the burn and hear the sizzle. i want to not feel.

oh the bliss of ignorance is something i have never been blessed to feel.

where were you last night, we were looking for you..

i have to get over the fact that i am batshit insane. that there are these little blobs of thought cancer throughout my mind that can only be obliterated by the right medications and some active therapy. but i hate that. i hate that there is nothing else that i can do and that i can’t just get ‘better’.

most recently i lost my shit and had a psychotic break and went on a wonderful streak of insanity where i tried to kill myself by crashing my car into a cement divider. it didn’t work. one of my friends asked me about it the other day and she asked, “well, were you wearing your seatbelt?” and i laughed, because that is something that never occurred to me. it is such an automatic reaction for me to put my seatbelt on when i get in my car, that i didn’t stop to think that it would probably hinder my ability to effectively end my life.

some people would say that it was a subconscious effort by my mind because i didn’t ‘really’ want to kill myself. believe me, if i didn’t actually want to kill myself, i probably wouldn’t haver crashed my car into a cement divider, because then i would be alive, and i would have to pay to have my car fixed.

so i got locked up in the section of the hospital where they put people who are a danger to themselves and others and i went into a catatonic state for, what i was told, was about 12 hours. once i snapped out of it i proceeded to sit in the same exact chair until it was time for me to be transferred to a more long term facility. the two days i was there, i ate an apple.

so i spent some time being locked up and talking to nurses and doctors and various therapists, taking my meds, talking in group, all of the things that get you out of there. because, i may be insane, but i am not insane enough to want to be locked up with a bunch of other crazy people (most of whom were just drug addicts that had overdosed) and a too legit to quit pedophile, and walk the halls about two hundred laps a day for lack of anything else to do.

plus…you should try and watch the super bowl in a mental hospital some time. i dare you.

and now i’m out. i’m out of work on short term disability because the psychiatrist that i am seeing thinks i need time to destress and to get stabilized on my meds before i can go back. it is really boring not being able to work. my apartment is the cleanest that it has ever been. i was sewing the other day, for the love of whatever. also, i have no transportation because, as said before, now i don’t have my car because it is ccurrently being fixed.

also, i got released from the mental hospital right into a fricking blizzard that dumped three feet of snow all over the place, and i had to shovel snow for two days. and they wonder why i am insane.

this was mostly a rambling piece of crap.

Wow, that was quite a performance..

I have watched law and order since I was 3 years old. No joke. The people in my life who know me intimately joke about the fact that watching law and order from such a young age warped my mind. I don’t think that it warped my mind. It probably didn’t help the warping situation, but I don’t think any blame can actually be assigned to the show itself.

I was watching SVU last night before I went to bed. I remember before I fell asleep I turned to my fiancé and told him, I’m going to have nightmares. He told me to change the channel, i gave him the remote and fell asleep.

I had nightmares.

I don’t really blame law and order for giving me nightmares.

In all honesty, it’s been a rough couple of weeks relative to the general roughness that seems to constantly plague my existence. My sister popping up always dredges up so many emotions and memories that I put series time, effort, and psycho self torture into detaching from and compartmentalizing. I think its because I get so angry. I get angry and the walls in those neat little compartments just come crashing down and then dissolve away and then there is just a big mishmosh of jennimazky emotional baggage goo. Boo.

I basically had a shit childhood. Whatevs. I’m basically over it now. Or at least…I have effectively detached and compartmentalized from that whole situation. But, intellectually, I know that I had a shit childhood. And, yeah, it has effected me. It has ‘warped’ me. Law and order has always been a solace. It’s a place where people always had it just as bad as me.

I had nightmares and my mother was the villain. She was the antagonist. She was the absolute worst version of herself that she could ever be. All Id all the time. And it was her in that role in scenes replayed from my childhood, except I was who I am now (which is an adult, I guess). I was still completely powerless to change anything (which is probably a reflection of the fact that I quit on therapy because that shit is for real expensive and I refuse to deal with anything from back then; hence the detachment and compartmentalization and the ‘depersonalization disorder’ that’s written at the bottom of a long list of things that are ‘wrong’ with me). But I woke up hating my mother. Seething hot hatred flowing through my veins for the woman that gave me life.

Now, to put it straight, my mother is not the sole reason that my childhood was about as light as a sack of hammers. She wasn’t a bad mother. As much of what happened to me was completely out of her control and logically…I don’t hold her responsible. But, when I’m honest with myself, I know I harbor incredible levels of resentment toward her. I wish I didn’t. But I don’t know if that’s something that can go away. It’s so deep down in there…it’s something that I’ve felt for…ever. I wish I didn’t feel this way.

I get depressed. Life is…insanity. Constantly. And when I’m not depressed..I’m…not any better. It’s just a funner version of worse. I specialize in detachment. Compartmentalizing. I’m really good at becoming numb to a situation. Or forgetting it completely. Which is funny. Me, eidetic memory, there are things that I had previously forced myself to forget. I still like to leave those things in boxes, filed away, to never be looked at. Usually someone just knocks them off the shelf and I catch glimpses as I try to shove the contents back inside before putting it back in its place.

But…my sister brings me back. Even though she was barely involved. It’s just a reminder. She reminds me of where I came from, and, what’s happened. It makes my head spin.

I’m rambling at this point.

a side note…

there is something that you might notice (if in fact you do exist out there nameless faceless reader personality person) when you read my blog. i don’t really use capital letters. if they are there, it’s because i’m posting either from my ipad or iphone and the autocaps thing is on and i don’t have the time to sit there and try and keep it from capitalizing everything. i tried it once before and it takes forever and i don’t have the patience and i really don’t even care that much. 

anyway. 

i don’t like using capital letters. for anything. when i sign my name, my signature contains no capitals. i’m even a notary public…and my official ‘too cool for school notary public’ signature is all lower case also. i don’t understand them. obviously, i actually understand them, i just don’t really see the need for them anymore. 

capital letters were forced upon us by the man, man. 

no, i don’t believe that. 

for me, it’s mostly aesthetic. i am very big on handwriting, and when i was younger i obsessively practiced my handwriting. there are also times where i put planning and effort into changing my handwriting. my handwriting has made quite a few changes over the years. and, in every instance, i hated capital letters. i hate how they look in comparison to their lower case counterparts. i want all equal letters. just like the way that some people write in all capitals. my daddy is an engineer. when he writes he writes in all capital letters. he told me when i was younger that it was because if you are writing on plans or a schematic you need to have clear handwriting so anyone else can read it, and the easiest way for him was for it to be all capital. all the letters are distinct. 

but yeah. now i’m rambling. i’m not too lazy to capitalize. i just don’t believe in it.