10/21/10

I don't know if anyone reads my posts, or if anyone really cares, but I know that I care, and that I read them. And that the people who matter will find them, or I will show these posts to them.

To start off, I am not okay. I am suicidal. I am a danger to myself. 90% of my thoughts are about harming myself (through cutting, mostly, but I also have a tendency to pick at my skin until it bleeds, or tug on hairs), or worse, taking my own life. I can't honestly tell you why I feel this way, or why I can't fix it for myself. All I know is that I want to die every day, and I can't make it stop.

I think it's also important to note that I haven't been going to class. Well, I go to some classes, but even then I have a low level of interest and a tiny attention span, and I spend every moment that I'm not in my room wishing that I was in my room. I consistently wish to be asleep, or to be deep in my head where it's all about the creative aspect, and not that pain in my chest that I feel every day.

I also am slacking on every aspect of my duties. I'm not a good community leader because I don't want to be with people. I'm not a good co-president of Arts Advocates because I don't want to be in control of my own life, let alone an organization that is almost 20 years strong. I don't do well managing my time, so how can you expect me to have any role in anything else?

I'm sleeping more than I have in my life. I can't bring myself to wake up unless someone physically makes me get up (either by calling me or coming to get me). Or more often than not, I wake up, but I can't seem to find the ability - or desire - to make my muscles move. All I want to do is lay still and be alone, but what's terrifying is that the more I'm alone, the worse off I feel.

Tonight, I confessed to Becky exactly how bad off I am. In the morning, I'm going to talk to Scott, my hall coordinator about all of this. I'm going to tell him everything. I think I already know what I want to do, but I don't know if I can have the strength to do that to myself again.

But I think I might need to.

Renewal:

There is something completely revitalizing about coming off a depressive state. Now, I completely accept that I'm bipolar, and there will always be parts of my life in which I am extremely low, and parts that I am extremely high.

In the last few days, I've come out of that depressive state and I've began to see the world as beautiful and revitalizing once more. Honestly, I am absolutely manic. I am hyper and full of energy and running on not enough sleep and too much caffeine. And this would be a problem except...

I don't want to die anymore. And that is a gift all in itself.

On Friendship:

I've noticed that when it comes to friends, I tend to make bad choices. I cling to people that hurt me instead of the people that are good for me. I make myself depend on people that consistently put me down, instead of the people that build me up. And I'm trying to change that.

I've also noticed that when I think about why I'm friends with someone, I very rarely think of present events. I remember when times were the best, instead of what they're like now. With Alexa, I always thought of the summer before Junior year, when we'd spend every day just me, her, and Sara. With Ruth, I think about 7th grade and the summer before 8th grade. With Madi, I think about when we started to write Eternity Will Never Be Enough together.

The thing is, that while those times were good and they were a great basis of a friendship, that's not what I should be focused on. I should be focused on the now, why they're my friend now. And with certain friends, I've realized that what used to be isn't good enough anymore.

But I've also noticed that with Jessica, I don't think like that. Sure, last year and this summer were one of the best of my life, but she didn't just make me happy then. She continues to make me happy every day. Every day, she's there for me and builds me up. There are no expectations in this friendship. I don't have to write a certain way, or do drugs, or listen to a certain type of music to be her friend. I just am.

And that's what I like right now.

Again:

You've done this before.

You remind yourself this over and over as your hands grip at your sheets, as though those sheets are the only thing holding you down. And in a sense, they are. Because if it wasn't for those sheets and the way that your hands are intricately wrapped up in them, you're sure you'd be scrambling through your belongings, trying to find something else.

Blades are nothing new to you, in fact, they're anything but that. You remember the way they feel fondly, as though they're an old friend that you've simply lost touch with. But as those thoughts creep into your brain again - hurt yourself, hurt yourself, hurtyourself, hurtyour.. - you twist your hands further into the sheets, as though wrapping them into an invisible shield. In there, you can't reach for the blades. In there, you can forget about the precise way you can use something heavy to break open a razor, and how delicately, you can escape cuts on your fingertips - those always seemed to hurt more - and then you're presented with something wonderful, something harmful.

Later, of course, probably when you calm down, you'll feel okay. You'll realize exactly how irrational these thoughts are, but now, you can't. Now, all you want is pain. Physical pain, that is. You're in enough pain, the feeling in your chest that takes away your breath and the feeling in your head harmonizes to put you in the worst pain that you can imagine. But you want something different, something that actually exists. Something you can see.

But you won't. Maybe it's the knowledge of how you'll disappoint everyone that stops you. Or maybe it's that you know you're not good at keeping secrets anymore. Or maybe it's that you know that doing it - just once. You can escape the pain in your chest just this once... - will always lead to a downfall. Or maybe, it's that marking on your wrist, the tattoo you got for beating this that stops you. But whatever it is, you don't.

And you're right, you've done this before. You've fallen and picked yourself back up more times than you remember, and you'll do it again. And that's what's playing through your head as you lay your head in the tear-soaked pillow and let your brain capture you into a deep, deep sleep.

M-I-Z-Z-O-U:

There's something magical about a new school year, especially now that I'm in my sophomore year of college. Off topic, but isn't it weird to think that I'm a sophomore in college, especially since I started this blog in the summer before I was a junior in high school? But anyway, this year is so much different than last year, and maybe the sole difference is that there was no fear in coming back to school this year. It was just natural, as though I was stepping back into a life that I had just temporarily put on pause.

Immediately after being at school, I redefined my love of school. While I'm the first to answer the question of "Where do you go to school" with a huge smile and a reply of "Mizzou", I realized that my love of Mizzou is more limited to my love of McDavid. From the moment I moved in last year, I exhaled a long breath that had been held in for oh, all twelve years of my previous schooling. McDavid, and furthermore Mizzou, is different than anything I've ever experienced. I flourish here. I thrive here. I am more myself here than I have ever been. There's something about this place that screams acceptance.

And I don't think I fully realized that until I had to go away from it for a little while. But I love this place, I love the people. I must admit, I seem to love this batch of McDavid inhabitants a bit better than last years. I love the organizations. For those of you that don't know, I'm the co-president of Arts Advocates, and I'm in SCAM (Student Council at McDavid). I'm also a Community Leader, which puts me out there and pushes me to get to know everyone I can.

Last year, moving to Mizzou, I encountered a nearly crippling wave of homesickness. Which, luckily, is nowhere to be found this year. Sure, I'm eager to go home. I miss my mom, dad, and of course, my cat. But I'm in no hurry to stay home.

Long story short, I love this place. I thrive here. It's a very, very good place to be.

I was going to make an "end of summer" post

But getting up at 9am today kicked my ass a bit. So here's a picture of my face instead:

I tend to have this problem with words recently. They're worded so... elegantly in my head. But when it comes time to up them down on paper or type them up, I find myself staring at a blank piece of paper or an empty new post box. The words are forever lost in my mind, waiting for me to figure out how to say them.