Burning midnight oil... and feelings.

I have to remind myself constantly. Don’t think. Don’t stop even for a moment to realize where you are. Don’t think. Ever.

It seems ridiculous that as a writer, a student and a teacher I would even say those words, but I say them, and I live by them. Do not think. For thinking gets me in trouble. Thinking drops my mood. Thinking makes me angry and sad and on the verge of tears. It’s quite silly that my brain even allows these things to happen. Even though I know the countless arguments against what torments me, I can’t think.

Tonight I got caught in my own loneliness. I realize that it’s been a year since I’ve really fallen asleep with a guy and I realized that I’m tired of that. I can’t really change it, can’t force someone to want to be with me, but it doesn’t help that when I fall into my own traps, I start finding all of my flaws. I pick out these reasons that a guy wouldn’t want me, they’re all stupid of course. But they’re all real reasons. Arguments against my fat are usually at the top of the list. It’s hard to be comfortable with your own self, that being comfortable with those with you. People don’t need more reasons for people to stare do they?

It’s not just that, I find that my neediness and ability to go from high to low rather quickly is such a turn off for others. I realize this and instantly try to hide this from those I encounter. The longer I can ward it off, the more they can get to know the un-crazy side of me, then maybe when I do dip, they’ll already be drawn in.

Maybe it’s that I require so much attention? Who has that kind of time?

I don’t really know what it is that keeps me lonely, but here I am.

I just have to remember: Don’t think.

Mad World: Mother's Day Edition

If you ever hear me talking about my mother its usually in jest or reference to the childhood she provided me with. It’s never really to say, “Gosh, my mom is the great.” In fact, I haven’t talked to my mom in over a year. I don’t regret it. And frankly, my life is better for not having her in it. For a lot of people that’s a hard fact to swallow. They protest my ill feelings towards her. “But she gave you your life.” Yeah, she gave me life. Neat. That doesn’t make her a saint. She made a stupid decision and I was the result of that. It doesn’t make the accident a tragedy, but it doesn’t even give her points in my book. That being said, not all of my memories of her are horrific.

The women who gave birth to me was named Therese, her friends called her Theresa or T and I look a lot like her. I share many characteristics with her. We’re both smart but miss guided. We both use humor to hide our faults. And when I was younger after all my siblings had gone off to school she would make me “Pop-it” eggs and toast. And I loved those moments when we’d sit in the cabin kitchen, her nursing a hangover or coming down from some drug… And then there was me, lost in the world I lived in inside my head using toast to pop the yoke of the over medium eggs she made me. I cling to this memory the most because it’s one that makes me smile. It was one of the only times in my life I felt like I wasn’t lost in a sea of everyone else.

I know that Therese always talked so highly of me. She told people I was smart. She marveled in my ability to create and write. She loved me the best she could. Unfortunately that wasn’t enough. Ultimately, she chose herself over the lives of her children and we suffered for it. There are many times when I find myself caught in the emotions and I crave the relationship I see my friends have with their mothers. I’ve shed more tears than I can count mourning the loss of that relationship that never was and never will be. And it’s probably the hardest thing for me to let go of because even though my brain can acknowledge the poison that she brings, I desperately reach for her love. And each time I am met with a sting of rejection. But it’s Mother’s Day… so, thanks for giving me life, Therese.

However, the real hero’s in my life on Mother’s Day are the people who stepped in when she walked out. The real stars are my grandmother, Jean; my aunt, Kathleen; my godmother, Peggy; my brother Dan and Ashley’s mother, Michelle. They are the ones who deserve a medal for raising me in her absence.

Don't pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear

In an act of my teenage angst still boiling within my veins I dyed parts of my hair red and headed off to New York City/New Jersey for a bit of an escape from my real life. My real life which is boring and every day lends itself to the same thing. Wake up, class or work, eat, rinse repeat. I have to argue is this all there is to life? Is it just these mundane appointments to be kept? I can’t seem to fit into this life happily. I don’t like the continuous monotony of my life. I never have. I want adventure constantly, if I’m not going 180 mph I feel as though I am at a standstill.

My trip was amazing and full of old and new friends. It was relaxing but I also felt needed and wanted. New Jersey is a place where I feel home. Amongst millions of people (who are probably judging me,) I feel home. Maybe it’s because I have friends there or maybe it’s because I can find peace in the quite glowing lights of the New York City skyline. I feel the rush of endorphins pumping through me and everything goes at the pace I like to keep. So why did I leave it? I left it because I couldn’t afford the addiction, the rush. I couldn’t afford the lifestyle if I wanted the education, but I miss every moment away. And then I am home and I come to a standstill.

When I’m at a standstill I seem to sink. I start this process in which I regret everything and anything. Then I start to feel like I’m getting nowhere. I feel like all my efforts are for nothing and I find myself wanting to give up.

And then the sleep comes. It pains me to get out of bed and I’ll spend days wrapped in the silence of my room. It is better to feel the warmth of the covers encasing me and protecting me from the realities of life. Realities that say I’m not progressing but regressing. It’s a terrible place to be when you know that this moment will pass but you can’t do anything to will it forward. Depression is an ugly thing that only sucks me down.

I’m working hard to be happier and I am arguably happier. There are a lot of positives in my life and I keep pressing forward, but sometimes, the monsters inside your head seep in and you don’t get a choice. There isn’t anything anyone can do to help push me through these phases either, they just hit me and I sink. I forget my responsibilities, I hide. Life doesn’t allow these moments. You can’t break down and avoid life. You can’t forgo those responsibilities. The classes, the homework and midterms, they’re still there. Your responsibilities knock impatiently at your door demanding to be complete.

Nevertheless it’s so easy to turn the lights off and shut the door. The anxiety leaves me as I drift off into dreamless sleep. And the monsters are at bay if only for an instant.

“Settle down, it'll all be clear don't pay no mind to the demons they fill you with fear. The trouble it might drag you down if you get lost, you can always be found…”

Chasing Pavements

I’m feeling the urge to run again. And maybe I’m being a bit melodramatic when I say that life seems to hit me hard when it hits me.

Arizona this summer was a bust. There were good parts to it, but mostly it was a bust. And everyone knew it would be the collapse of my relationship except m. Because being away from Daniel made me realize the things I missed about him. It renewed my sense of need for him in my life and the things we did together.

My grandma’s house being sold was a major blow for me. Watching pieces of her stuff be carted off to different people’s homes or even walking through the hallowed existence of a place I called home for so many years broke me. It hurts me now. It feels like closing her estate meant the closing of my family, everyone can say that I haven’t lost them, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel like they’re gone from me too. My family is broken, and while it always has been I feel like even more so now. I feel detached from my siblings and worlds away because I chose to leave Arizona.

So, this whole “Jenn having a nervous breakdown.” is not because Daniel left me, but it is part of my fear of abandonment.

I fucking hate my mom. It’s easy for me to say that, but it hurts just the same. I know that she gave me life and I should appreciate it, but she only gave birth to me, she did not provide me with a life any one should have to endure. So, yeah, I have a chip on my shoulder. And my fear of abandonment is her fault. My need to run every few months because she wouldn't let us go to people who could actually care for us and provide us with stability. But no, instead kept us so she could maintain a government check... but provided the most unstable living, constantly moving.

The first time I actually completed one whole grade in the same school was in 4th grade, between Kindergarten and 3rd grade I don’t know how many schools I attended, but I know it was a lot.

And then she has the nerve to ask me to go out to lunch or dinner with her while I was in Arizona. Why would I want anything to do with her? But still it hurt for me to tell her I couldn’t have a relationship with her, because my heart so desperately wants a mother...but I know it’s just always going to be about her, and she'll break my heart again, just like she did every weekend when I was a child. She broke my heart every time she did drugs and every time she picked alcohol over us. The time she just moved to Las Vegas while we stayed at our grandma's for the weekend.
So my ability to cope with a relationship break up has seemingly been escalated because my heart just feels abandoned and all of these painful memories and hurts seem to come into the light. Memories I thought I’d extinguished. Things I thought I had overcame.

I came home to emptiness and particularly a couple losses, friendships and otherwise and I tried like hell to find something to refocus my attention. So I picked school, and I found out I’m about 3 semesters behind in school, which in the long run doesn’t seem like much, but when you’re in the position I am, it’s a lot.
I have very few friends here and when I attempt to make friends I just end up feeling like a fucking third wheel or desperate case. I fear talking because I’m just another basket case with issues. I feel like I’m placing the burden of my sadness on other people.

It takes away my breath and leaves pieces of me fragmented and lost.

And I'm in love with a guy that logically my brain says "Let it go" but my heart can't. My heart hurts, every fucking love song makes me cry, every break up song makes my heart ache, and everyone around me seems to be so happy in love and I'm here like... "I’m sorry that I'm sad, I just hurt” or I fake happiness so I don't make them feel bad because I feel bad.

And I feel like everyone is just waiting for me to fail. Like I have to keep treading this water because everyone expects me to be strong and push forward because I always have. Like a cat, I always seem to land on my feet.
I’m too sad to land on my feet. I’m too heartbroken to stay afloat. I’m too tired of fighting and I can’t figure out how move forward.

I’m stuck and I want to run from safety.

"Should I give up, Or should I just keep chasin' pavements even if it leads nowhere..."

Unpretty

I’m extremely upset by the prospect of spending my birthday in class and then alone. I want to do something, to forget about how I feel. But I can’t even to begin to think of what to do. I try to do things with co-workers but then I just feel like I’m this desperate girl.

I am desperate. I’m desperate for friends, for human interaction. I’m desperate to escape this feeling of utter and complete loneliness. I’m desperate to get away from this loss and these tears. I feel like I’m losing touch and falling apart. I’m trying so hard to appear to be adjusted, but I’m so incredibly misplaced and hopeless right now. I do not know how to get past this feeling.

I don’t know how to stop thinking about the “what ifs” What if I was beautiful, what if I was thin. What if I wasn’t me? Maybe then I wouldn’t be so easy to dismiss. Today is a sad night for me, despite having dinner with family and friends of the family, I feel so detached from everyone. A broken soggy puzzle piece with nowhere to fit.

Dreaming with a broken heart

"When you're dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part. You roll outta bed and down on your knees, And for the moment you can hardly breathe..."

I don’t want to feel emotions about this break up anymore. It was different when I was in Arizona… It was easier to ignore and think… He’ll be there when I get home. This is not real, just another fight. I tried to justify it to my logical side. “We’re both two different people on two different paths.”

When I got home, I immediately slumped into a depression, a deep one. I tried to justify the reasons it was good that we broke up. But I couldn’t justify them completely to avoid the depression. To avoid the pain I felt. I couldn’t find it inside of me to hate him, but instead wanted him back. I saw him doing everything I wanted him to do while we were together. We talked, he seemed finally like he had a grip of things and I argued that there were many factors against us, why shouldn’t we have another chance, a good chance where we can actually date and not be attached at each others' hips instantly.

But he wasn’t sure. And eventually it just all exploded and I was left in carnage of my own stupidity. But anger had swelled and I was able to get past the sad. And then I got to the part where I feel numb, or as numb as I can be while realizing that I can’t just lie in bed and sleep all day. The show must go on.

So now my emotions are manifesting themselves in my dreams. I spend the entire day free from though only to be confronted in my dreams. It’s exhausting to wake up in tears or as if I have been crying for hours. My body aches. My heart aches. I’m tired of waking up this way. I’m pissed off that I normally don’t remember dreams and if I do they are violent. And now, I’m dreaming and I’m sad. I am so sad that I cry in my sleep. I’m so sad that I’m waking up with swollen eye sockets and a headache. I’m tired of it. I don’t really know how to process any of these emotions and I feel like if I still love him, I must be crazy or ridiculous. So I try to pretend I don’t.

But in the end, I still do.

I know with time, it will be better; in the meantime I am having trouble confronting my emotions and even sorting through them. I feel like I should be angry and hate him, but I can’t. Even lame attempts at talking poorly about him don’t seem to help.

Why do I have to go through this?

I need a doctor, doctor, to bring me back to life

My Grandmothers brother passed away from the same disease that killed her. When I got the news I was actually surprised at how hard it affected me. I was at work, and I burst into tears. I wasn’t even able to stop them as my boss looked on with this look that said, “oh shit, what do I do,” which is strange given the fact that I am indeed a crier.

Oh yes, I cry for a lot of things and quite often against my own will. I’m of the emotional variety that when faced with even the slightest pressure the tears will fall. When I feel I am in a confrontational situation, I cry. My emotions are overly sensitive and it truly is the one thing I hate the most about myself, because it shows my inability to hide my emotions.

Jim was one of the Uncles that was introduced later in my life where as my other uncles I often knew better because I saw them a few times a year, but Uncle Jim and Aunt Carol didn’t show up in my life until I was around 19-years-old when they purchased a home in Arizona and retired there. So when I burst into tears it took me back. But really, I was mourning the death of him, but also re-mourning the death of my grandmother.

I came back from Arizona somewhat different – I can’t truly say what exactly it was that made me different, but my views are slightly changed and I feel a little less hopeful. It’s sad to even say that, but I noticed it instantly at work, and then filtered into my daily life. Even more so than ever, I am beginning to loose the compassion I once had. I feel colder, harder and less forgiving of faults.