I hit a new low tonight

It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s supposed to be one of the best nights of the year. That’s the perceived notion anyways. Every year it leads up to basically nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good New Years. The only time I came close was 2 years ago when I was with my long term boyfriend. We couldn’t find any last minute plans because our original party was cancelled. So instead of getting all dressed up or getting drunk with our friends we stayed in and watched movies with his parents all night in our pajamas. We drank orange juice and vodka and ate a cheese spread. After the ball dropped, his parents went to bed and we thought it would be a fun idea to smoke weed in his garage. We got super high, made a bunch of food, went upstairs and had a bunch of yummy sex. I woke up the happiest person alive.

I’ve gone to a lot of NYE parties and such. But that moment of complete happiest is definitely one of my favorites. I miss him terribly. I wonder how he’s celebrating with his new, prettier, and skinnier girlfriend.

Fast forward two years and I’m sitting home in my room alone, with my grandparents loudly watching their tv programs. I’m sitting in my pjs, alright. I don’t know, I think it’s kind of sad how I don’t feel an urge to go out. But even if I did, I don’t have many options. It’s not like my friends need me to be wherever they are. I’m not that important to them.

I told my bestfriend last night that I genuinely think I’m bipolar. Things wouldn’t be so bad if my lowest lows weren’t always followed by my highest highs, and vice versa. I think tonight I’m definitely hitting a slump. It’s just another reminder that I don’t really have anyone here to make me happy. I hate being alone on days where it’s not socially acceptable to be alone. I think that makes it all much worse. This probably sounds stupid and whiny.

But I’m 18 years old. I shouldn’t be sitting in my pjs watching stupid movies while everyone’s out partying and celebrating this “fabulous” new year. You know what else? It’s scary to think about how many people commit suicide tonight because they just can’t take another year. I don’t know why I thought of that today, but it makes me really sad.

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Enabler Enabling Enabled

I can’t sleep, but that’s no huge secret. I think it’s because I’m returning to school tomorrow. I was originally planned to go back when everyone else did, but I had a court date with my mom. Oh by the way, she hired a lawyer and got the date pushed back a month. Like that’s going to do any good. I just want her to help me like any normal mother would do. I have to get a court order for that to happen. I stayed here even though my court date was moved in hopes of finding a cheap lawyer to help me out. Of course it didn’t go the way I wanted it to and I still have no lawyer, even though I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t even want to get one, but I guess it was recommended that I should since she lawyered up. My moms trying to claim that she has no idea where I am or where I’ve been since I moved out in June. My move was only supposed to be temporary, and I ASKED her if I could. I think right now she’s grasping at straws and stalking my Twitter and Facebook. I’ve missed class before, big deal. That doesn’t mean I’m not taking college seriously or something. Whatever defense she’s trying to put together is complete bullshit and even her lawyer probably knows that.

I’m really nervous about finals. It came up so quick I barely noticed. I’m scared because I haven’t been studying. I don’t pay attention. I barely show up anymore. But it’s not because I just don’t feel like it. I physically cannot get out of bed long enough to gain the motivation in order to go or pay attention. I was supposed to do so many productive things while I was on break. I don’t think I did anything other than check my email.

It sucks having no ambition or drive. It’s like I should be using every last bit of myself to gain independence and strength and finally move on into the world. I don’t know if I’m using what’s happened/happening to me as an excuse or if I’m actually being inhibited beyond my control. For the first time in my life I get and want to be selfish, but is that really doing me any favors? I’m enabling myself to become exactly who my mother wants me to be. The hard part is that I know this in its entirety, but can’t seem to make a change for the better. Every step forward takes almost every inch of my wellbeing. It’s quite literally crippling when I get knocked back and I can’t keep taking chances.

This whole thing has taken me through some huge whirlpool. In the past few months I moved out/got kicked out (that’s another story) of my parents house, I moved in with my grandparents, lost my mother completely, moved to a school 4 and a half hours away from stability (and hated it), got stuck with a God awful suite-mate, got kicked off my mothers phone plan and had to get a new one, took my dad to court to get the child support switched over from my mother to me, am in the process of suing my mother for child support, and now trying to figure out the transfer process before next falls due date, all while scrambling for money, support, and help from the people around. It’s been a tough year and it still keeps going.

I know the nasty habits I have are only making my situation worse. I physically can’t make myself do any better. I don’t know what you would call that, but all I know is that it sucks.

I reserve the right to hate my life.

So much has happened in the past week and a half that I don’t know how to process. I need to go one at a time.

First things first, I hate my college. I hate the people and the atmosphere and how large it is. The only person I generally like is my roommate, and we already knew each other from high school. I literally don’t know anyone else, and it gets really lonely when I have so much going on. So I’ve decided that I want to transfer next year. I complain to all of my friends back home how awful it is. They all know what I’m going through right now and can understand that being mostly isolated is just adding to the mess. But most of my friends don’t really understand just how awful my depression is right now. Every time I talk about what’s happening I get tears in my eyes. Every time I mention how little sleep I get or that I can’t concentrate I’m trying to fight back the tears. I’m not one to cry to my friends about this stuff. I make jokes about how awful my life is and move on. That’s usually how I deal with things. People don’t want to talk about sad stuff. Most people don’t casually ask how you’re doing or “how are things with this?” It’s my way of bringing it up without making the topic of discussion too heavy. This time it’s just totally different. I can hardly hold myself together and it’s extremely embarrassing.

My best friend of 11 years finally noticed how hard this is. Let’s call her Anna. She knows me as this strong, independent, funny person that never takes life too seriously. The other night I told her that my grandparents are okay with me transferring and somehow we meandered onto that topic of discussion. I say that I wish my home felt like home. She immediately started attacking me saying that since my grandparents are doing so much for me I should be thankful that I have a bed. But that’s not the point. She called me weak. She has never said that to me before. Anna told me that she’s never seen me like this. I was crying so hard by this point, I couldn’t talk. I tried to explain to her that it’s because things have gotten so bad, I can’t keep up my normal charade.

To sum up my life, I always just say “My life fucking sucks.” I think that pretty much does it. Anna tried to tell me that I should just be thankful to have the help I’ve been receiving. Just because I’m thankful for getting help doesn’t mean I can’t be sad and disappointed still. I’m extremely grateful for everything I have. But that doesn’t mean I can’t want more. I want parents who love me unconditionally. I want a house that I can come back to anytime. I want a family to support my every move. I want a normal life. What I have now doesn’t cancel out all of my wants. I have earned the right to say my life sucks. I have earned the right to wallow in my own self pity. I have earned the right to be sad. I know that someday it’ll get better. But not right now. It’s all way too fresh to even begin to think about coping. Right now I’m just trying to survive.

I guess you could say that I’m just upset because the one person I thought who understood wasn’t on my side anymore. She’s pushing me way too soon. I want someone so stand behind me and say “yeah that really fucking sucks.” Sometimes that just helps. I don’t want advice on how to be happy. I don’t want suggestions to make my life better. I have done more than my fair share of trying to stay positive and change my life for the better. I GET to be sad. I GET to be depressed. I reserve the right to fucking hate my life before I try to stick a smile on my face. It’s my turn to be selfish and I’m taking it. I’m tired of telling everyone things are fine when they’re not.

Temporairè

Nothing feels like home. I’m happy to be back at “home,” but it just doesn’t give me a warm satisfied feeling like returning to your bed after a long day. It’s a guest bed. In a guest room. I borrow hangers and use spare toothbrushes because I forget mine. I get a space on the desk. My chair at the kitchen table gets cleaned off. I live out of suitcases and boxes.

I didn’t grow up here. I barely visited here to be honest. I never even saw this room until I was moving in. You would never even be able to tell I live here when I’m not at college.

As shitty as it was, sometimes I miss being at my mothers house. My bedroom was my solitude. It was MINE. There are pictures around the house of me, though little there might be. My dog was always happy to see me. I knew the rules and the do’s and the don’t’s. I knew where all the dishes went and which shelf in the fridge the eggs went on. I closed that bedroom door and I was in a world of my own. For the most part I was alone. My mother and stepfather worked 2nd shift and always gone by the time I got home, and never came back before I was asleep.

I love my grandparents with my whole heart. I truly believe they are some of the greatest people on earth. They are the toughest sons of bitches with the warmest hearts. They took me in when I had no where else to turn.

I just wish they didn’t remind me that this is all temporary. I know I’m not living here forever. I know I can’t stay. It would just be nice to pretend I can.

Therapy is just weird.

Today was my second session of therapy. I still can’t fall asleep before 4am. Dr. O gave me some home remedies that might help. If that doesn’t work I’ll have to take drugs.

I had to take a trip somewhere by myself after the session. All the feelings were just too raw and intense. I couldn’t just go back to my room.

We talked about what’s keeping me up at night. I’m a little worry wart. I have a whole layer of anxiety that comes alive at night.

I have no one to talk to about my anxiety. I don’t have someone to express all of my fears to. I explained to him my friends and their natural tendencies. He thinks I don’t have anyone I can count on, but that’s not entirely true. If you put together all of my friends, you get one whole, solid person. Each friend is good for a different kind of thing. I would go to my friend; let’s call her Stacy, for a good night out or a lot of laughs. She’s not the kind of person who wants to know the personal and horrible details of my life. There are really only a few people I can turn to when the depression starts to take over my life. Dr. O thinks I should start opening up to my other friends and family and tell them what’s really going on. I’m not sure that’s a good idea, though. He tells me that if they really cared about me, they would listen and endure it. I’m torn between thinking, “If they were really my friend they would want to listen,” and, “It’s not everyone’s job to care about me.”

There’s another topic of discussion. I worry I am a burden. I fear being an inconvenience. It’s in my nature and something I can’t change. I feel like a burden because my mother made me believe I was. It’s not someone else’s job to take care of me, yet I am completely incapable of being the sole caretaker. It’s a catch-22. If you grow up trying to be completely self-reliant, you end up missing out on a lot of opportunities. Dr. O told me that in order to gain a level of intimacy, I need to allow myself to be vulnerable. Otherwise I will never find someone to be there and care for me 100% of the time.

I miss my ex-boyfriend. Let’s call him Zach. I don’t miss him in the way that most people miss their exes. I miss him because he was my caretaker at an extremely vulnerable time in my life. I took it for granted. In some ways, I used him. Zach stood by my side for 2 long years. When my mother tried to kill me, he drove outside my house for an hour hoping I could sneak outside. He opened his home to me, gave me his family, and loved me unconditionally…until the very end at least. I miss his companionship. I never had a person like that in my life. His warmness literally started to chip away at my solid effort of keeping a stone wall. Zach knew I was depressed, but he made me live. It sounds really gushy and honestly it’s starting to even make me sick, but he was a strong constant in my life and I miss him. I don’t know if I’m still in love with him anymore. It’s been a year since we broke up. It’s been a very hard year. I think I broke up with him because I thought I didn’t deserve him. I was punishing myself. I think about him almost every day. He really held me together. But it’s not his job to do that anymore.

The lead jacket

I feel like after a certain time of night, it all starts to hit me again.

Today I was with people I barely know. They know me as the “Happy, Outgoing, Never-Shutting-Up” type of person. They have no idea about the other side of me. I can feel it coming to claim me, like it does every night. If I let my mind falter for even a second, I turn into a girl who can’t be bothered to speak.

“Are you okay?” is such a hard question to answer. I can’t say yes, I can’t say no. I just smile and nod.

I’m sorry I didn’t laugh at your joke like I usually do.

Expect the worst, want the best

How could I find the world so beautiful, yet be filled with such hatred?
Some days I think I’m bipolar. Sometimes I’ll go to get my favorite cup of coffee on a beautiful day, and I’ll sit outside for awhile and think about how the little things can make life so beautiful. Then there’s the days where it comes all crashing down on me, and even my 6 cups of my favorite coffee won’t do any good.
I anticipate the bad days and pray for the good ones.