On Sacrifice

I want to hold you and kiss you and make everything better. Knowing that I can't fix things for you or help in any significant way--other than to offer my unconditional love and support--makes me feel like a terrible partner. But this isn't about me. I know this is my blog, and I can talk about my feelings all I want. I can say that I feel inadequate, that I wish I could give every penny I had just to make things right for you, that it hurts me so much to see you hurting that it's causing me just as much physical pain as missing you does. Maybe even more. Even if it seems selfish of me to talk about my own feelings in this situation, I know that the feelings themselves are the most unselfish kind I have ever experienced. I'm thinking so much less about myself these days, but not in a bad way. I'm making sure to have enough to cover my needs and plan a little ahead, but for the most part, all I want to do is help, comfort, soothe, and heal. This is the nature of the person that you thought had vanished a long time ago. But now that I've gotten that out of the way, for real, this isn't about me.

I promise that one day soon you will not have to worry about these things ever again. You will be able to relax--to not have to think about it every minute of every day. There are so many more things I want to promise you, if you will let me. I struggle with saying certain things here because I don't know what's appropriate and what's not, so I'm being intentionally vague.

So maybe it's better if I stick with my own situation in such a public domain. But your situation is my situation too.

The words are getting stuck. They want to force themselves out, but I am afraid. I'm not entirely sure why, but I am.

I'm afraid and nervous. I'm confused. I'm hopeful. I'm kind of excited. I don't really know how to handle all of these feelings at the same time. I am trying to focus on the positives in my life and look to the future, but the negatives still need to be addressed before that future can be fully realized.

I had a phone interview this evening that went very well, and I have an interview next Friday for a position that's actually in my field. Both opportunities are in Morgantown. I've looked into short-term/month-to-month rentals starting as early as the first week of September because I won't hesitate to move should I be offered either of these positions. Part of me wants to make the move anyway and do what I have been doing here should I fail to obtain either one: get anything in the meantime and just start saving for a better life, continuing to look for more relevant employment. I'm leaning more and more towards that. I'm feeling the urgency. I'll have enough to make the move and to be comfortable for about a month, and that should be more than enough time to get some sort of job, even if it is as miserable as the one I have now. I feel like this pain in my stomach would lessen a great deal if I could take that step towards independence. It'll be scary doing it alone, but I know that I have to, at first. I need to be the one that can provide that security of a place to stay and food to eat. It's my turn, and I don't want to fail.

I'm crying because I still want to give you everything and cannot. Sacrificing is hard, but not being able to sacrifice when you desperately want to is even harder. A lot harder.

I still have a lot to say, but I need a break. Otherwise, this is going to get even more repetitive.

Career

I've started to apply to various research jobs around the country. And it's kind of terrifying, but I feel that if I don't take this chance, I may never get the opportunity to move forward with my life. I don't know how I would make it work if I were hired in another state entirely. But I'm not there yet. The point is that I am trying--trying something different. Maybe Pittsburgh isn't the place where the rest of my life is going to happen. In fact, I'm pretty sure it isn't. But I needed to come back and live it in order to know for sure.

But at the moment, this is where I am. I'm here now. And I desperately want to start being here.

26

I haven't written anything on paper in a while, other than lists of things to do and places to be. I also haven't written anything here either, but that should have been obvious. I fought with myself about how I wanted to get these thoughts out. Usually, when there are too many things, I opt for my computer. I can write pretty quickly, but I'm a much faster typist, and sometimes the clicking of the keys seems a little more calming than the scratching of my pen. I've never been able to figure out why one is a more preferable sound at any given moment.

This weekend really showed me how important it is to maintain my routine, even when new people and things are introduced into my life. Maybe the last few weeks should have been a warning. I felt like something big was coming, and I don't think I've gone a single day in the last week without having major problems that have scared and aggravated everyone around me. In addition, I exhausted myself just trying to keep my head above water and spent most of my actual birthday in pain and fighting throwing up, failing about three times. Do you know how much fun it is to do an Eminem number when you are nauseous and wearing a plastic coat? You don't want to.

I feel bad for not having been in contact with so many of the important people in my life, but there hasn't been enough time to even keep in contact with myself. My sleep schedule has been drastically altered, and I find myself doing things that just aren't me, thinking thoughts that don't seem to be my own. I have been having anxiety attacks before bed every night for the past 6 days, and they keep me awake until some time after the sun has risen, and then I sleep until the late afternoon or evening.  I'm depressed, from what I can tell. Getting knocked out of my routine tends to do that, but there have been other things on my mind.

My job is great, but it doesn't pay nearly enough to move forward in ANY direction in my life, and applications to more lucrative positions have been entirely unsuccessful. Financial anxiety is something I'm learning how to handle, but what I don't think I will ever learn how to handle is the idea that I won't move forward. I need a way in to what I want to do, and I just don't know how to make that happen. With so many good things happening in my life, it upsets me that one or two things, big as they are, can bring me down to this level. I don't like when almost every minute of every day is a fight against myself, and I don't like how I can be to other people. I don't like the burden I place on people. I don't like people having to worry about me.

Right now I don't like how I am having to type this from the bathroom because my anxiety has taken its toll on my intestines. I've lost like 5 or 6 pounds this past week alone. That's another thing that's been contributing to my worries. I work hard at what I do, and I don't need this right now, and the worst of that is that the resultant anxiety only fuels the anxiety that caused it to happen in the first place. I need to get out of this cycle--and many others--but I do not know how.

These are the times when I feel like I haven't grown or learned anything at all from my past experiences. When I feel that the work that I have put in to make myself a better and stronger person has been for nothing, much like how I feel about the work I have put in academically. I don't want this to be my story.

I'm visiting my parents this weekend. I'm hoping to have a few days where I can relax and refocus after an absurd couple of days. There is more that I should be saying, but I can't get to it.

Maybe it'll be different in a few days.

Off the Bench

I want to write about drag for so many reasons now, but I need to wait until I have all the right words about all of the pieces. These pieces are all somehow connected, and I want to see those connections clearly. I want to write about how being a drag father is an amazingly rewarding experience--how I am somehow the person people turn to when they want "expert" advice. How people know who I am without ever having met me. To be that kind of influence and feel so removed from it at times. About how I am very proud that I still believe you can never take yourself too seriously.

I want to write about autism and my job. And I want to write about my past. I have this goal of revisiting every journal entry I have ever written, typing them all out in chronological order. I've kept pretty consistent records since the seventh grade, though there are a few scattered entries before that. But I want to write in a way that exposes some of the events that made me who I am today. It has recently occurred to me that most people I know have no idea about the life I had before. I always have to remind myself that the entirety of my story cannot be read in the lines on my face. Life would be all too convenient otherwise.

I want to write about the realization I had last night. It wasn't exactly an epiphany, but I understood something in an entirely new way. They weren't just words to me anymore. I had a face to go along with them. I made a connection that just didn't exist before. Having good intentions does not make you a good person. Good actions make you a good person.

I went through my phone the other day and wrote out the hundreds of names and numbers in my phone, just in case it decides to die one of these days. I'm aware that there are ways of recovering your contacts should such a thing happen, but I like my way better. I got to revisit my relationship with each person as I went down the list, and I went through quite a range of emotions, from anger to fear to elation to grief. I saw his name in the middle of the pack. I lost my breath. I stared at the phone, then at the page. And back again. I wrote it down anyway. It was somehow important. The right thing to do.

There were living people on that list that didn't make it onto that paper. That also seemed important and like the right thing to do.

I'm looking for better words to describe what it is like four years later. More than four if you count the pre-T days. I made two videos. Neither one is good enough right now. I might need to be in a different place to get it right.

I am revisiting the idea of pursuing physical therapy/physical therapy research. I have so many questions. I have so many things to say. But again, the words aren't ready yet.

My mind is getting ready for something big. Every day, I am growing more confident overall, even with the occasional flashes of panic. I am ready to rejoin the world.

Clarity

I don't have many nights like this, when all the parts of my brain figure out how to sync up with one another, slowing the passage of time enough for me to view my life with unparalleled clarity, as if it were spread out like a treasure map across my bedroom floor. I can see the routes that lead from one experience to another--the exits I have taken along the way. But there are things that I don't see.

Dead ends.

Because I am unable to focus on (or more accurately, obsess about) any one occurrence, I can literally FEEL the connections amongst them all, from the day I first visited the Warhol museum with the Rainbow Alliance my freshman year to the day I was "baptized" in the River Bradford to each and every sleepless night of writing until I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. I can see those stifling summer nights in the smallest bedroom of the Crew House, the hours I would spend as a child playing in my own intricate universe of meticulously developed characters, and the overarching theme of confusion that defined my social self for the majority of my life. From this distance, it has become obvious that there was always a next step. Not an escape or a way or even a destination. Just something else.

Even now, the feeling is fading. This is the perspective I have always desired, and it seems to come at the strangest times. For a few moments, I was not miserable. I wasn't particularly happy. I was just...aware. Aware of the present. Mindful, if you will. I somehow understood exactly how all of my life experiences--from the most instantaneous to the ever-present--have come to make me the person I am today. I understood how they would continue to take me into my future. I understood and accepted that this--THIS right here, right now--is IT. No dress rehearsal. Not preparing for something else. I saw the world, my world, for what is was and still thought it was beautiful enough to keep going. My pain was just as beautiful as the sweetest triumph I have ever known. For a little while, I could not feel loss. I could not feel regret. No guilt or shame or longing for anything more.

The feeling has mostly subsided. The fears, lists of things to do and things forgotten, worries about what comes next and what could have gone better, feelings of loss and feelings of worrying about loss that has not yet occurred are all coming back to me. But somehow, having had that brief respite, I feel just a little bit better.

I feel that I am slowly growing less afraid of what is to come. I feel more secure in my ability to regulate my own life. It is frightening to know that I am 100 percent responsible for the decision on What Comes Next because I was equally responsible for the decision that took me on a six-week journey into Maryland, followed by a six-month journey into severe depression. At no other time in my life could I have claimed to be in complete control of my fate. I ended up going to the first and only college I ever visited, I halted my application process to medical school at the urging of my adviser (though financial circumstances also played a significant role in that decision), and I ended up having to leave Pittsburgh against my will entirely.

The fear is taking over again, it seems. Mingled with the childhood fears of never being anything worthwhile and failing at life in general are fears that this next step might not be quite right for me. However, a strong feeling seems to be developing within me: the feeling that, even if everything turns out to be horribly wrong--this move is necessary in order for me to discover the right thing to do. I know I will not be able to figure it out as long as I still feel stuck, and there seems to be only one way for me to shake that feeling.

Very soon, I'm about to give up everything I know. Again. It's fucking terrifying. But I feel that the time has come to stop living like I am an accessory to someone else's life and start figuring out what kind of person I really am when I am forced to stand on my own two feet. I got a glimpse of that last summer, and I started to really like the person I was becoming. I felt feelings that I hadn't felt in so long that I thought they had long since died. And that's exactly why it was so crushing to have to leave. Because I felt like I would never get the chance to feel them again. I really did think that was the end of everything good.

Then something even worse happened, which oddly enough made me realize that there was still a fuckload of good left to experience in this world, even if the price to pay had to be intermittent misery. One of the best friends I have ever known died a few months ago. He took his own life at a time so close to when I was considering doing the same. And I got to see all the people who knew the true value of his presence--all the people who would never be the same because of him. The people who were better because of having known him. I got to see 30-something people brave absurd winter weather conditions to squeeze in elbow to elbow around a table in a church basement following his funeral service...and LAUGH. Just be happy about all the wonderful things that we got to do with him while he was still here and marvel at how, even in his death, he was able to bring us all closer together. If happiness can be found in spite of death and even through it, then it can surely be found anywhere.

I know I will struggle. I will doubt myself and feel like a failure. I will feel scared and alone, even when nothing could be further from the truth. But I am finally getting ready to allow myself to take the risk to experience the good. I am learning that the fear and sadness do not have to be more important than the excitement. I am starting to really believe that I AM one of the strongest people I have ever known. It's almost like I feel like I've got this. And I have so many people to thank for allowing me to come to this realization, albeit very slowly.

"I'm so excited. I talked to the guys a lot about this last night. And I feel like people are genuinely excited for me. Things are going to be awesome. It might be really hard at first with my family, and I'm not saying that I have chosen a path that will be easy. But I know that I am making the right call. My life is just beginning. I'm excited, but I'm scared. The unknown. I have so many anxieties/questions that will soon be addressed. And I think I am ready for this. Almost born. Almost there." (March 7, 2010)

Ponderings from Facebook

From what I see, if you have EVER defaulted on student loans in the past, you are pretty much ineligible to receive loans for graduate school. So, unless I get into a PhD program that is funded, I will never be able to do what I want to do. I was considering applying to Master's programs as well, thinking that further training might make me a more competitive candidate for the programs of my choice in the future, but if I cannot pay for them, then there really isn't a point to it. I love that I'm basically fucked forever, and that there is absolutely no way back from this, unless I can somehow get a job in a research lab, which--given how that has gone over the last 3 years--also seems like it's never going to happen. 

I'm dealing with all of this surprisingly well, probably because I still have some hope that the next letter I receive will be a positive one. But I do worry about what happens if it is not. Because I was unable to immediately get a job out of college--because I decided not to jump into school without having experienced life outside of academia--I have been forced into a situation where I am living with my parents at age 25, am struggling to save every penny I can, am pretty much shunned by anyone hiring in my field due to the length of time I have not been working in said field, am constantly accruing more and more debt as many of my loans remain unpaid, and am now faced with the very likely possibility that there is no future for me in any scientific field. I feel that I have done everything that I possibly could have done, and the sad part about this whole thing is that, even if I were to receive a call asking me to start a position next week--a position which would not be local--I would never be able to afford to make the move to accept it. Is it really true that there is no way out?

I definitely sound a bit more dramatic than I intend at this moment, but I find it hard to believe that I will take it well if I find out that this is the end of this journey for me. Because this is what I want to do more than anything else, I do not see another path to happiness. I will always want this. How would I live with that? This is not the world in which I expected to find myself after years of dedication, hard work, and sacrifice. It is enough to make me wonder why I bothered with any of it at all, when I am no better off than those who work part-time at a fast-food chain. I don't want to resign myself to living like this forever--always looking back, always longing for that green light at the end of the dock, always feeling bitter, always feeling useless, purposeless, and wasted. Still, I remain calm--a testament to the personal work I have been putting in since graduating from a university that promised me so much more out of life--but the feelings are still there. I know I am not alone, but that just makes it all the more depressing.

I want to thank the friends who have been there for me and have given me the much needed time to myself as I have struggled with understanding the full impact of this the past couple of days. I keep telling myself that things will be okay, and they will. But I am not interested in "just okay". I never have been, and I never will be--because I really am one obsessive son of a bitch. It makes me good at what I do. I have never given up when it counted, but this time, I might have to, and since a good percentage of my definition of myself comes from the fact that I am doggedly persistent--sometimes to a fault--I feel like I would be living life as a different person, a person somehow less than the person I am now. 

And this is where I am stuck.

Turning Points

I'm at a turning point in my life. Actually, I most likely passed that point some time ago, but I hadn't realized it until just recently. I feel that I have fully transitioned from "growing up" to "grown up" because, for the first time in my life, I do not yearn to achieve a future state. I find myself clinging to the past more tightly than ever. Perhaps my being fearful of losing the people, places, and things that remind me of my youth is just another manifestation of a fear that I've known my entire life, which is the fear of losing my youth itself, of course.

It's a ridiculous fear. It happens to everyone. We get old. It terrifies me for two reasons now, instead of just the one that I remember being on my mind all the time. I never want to lose my ability to do anything. When I work towards a goal, I am fighting for my ability to preserve myself long into the future, though ultimately, I know this is a battle I must lose when the time comes. I don't think I have quite come to terms with that yet. But I guess that's just being 25. The other reason has only begun to haunt me more recently. I don't want to be old and alone, with no one to take care of me or even be my friend, should I ever need either one of those.

Side note: I'm ready to meet the love of my life, but I'm not ready to fall in the love of my life, if that makes any sense.

But there are other things to keep me occupied right now. And really, life isn't so bad. In the moments of pain, it really does feel like there is no way out. And I really do feel that miserable sometimes. But maybe everyone does, and even if not, a great deal of people I know and a great many more that I do not have been in my place. Much weaker people than I have made it through much harder times.

I am learning to accept the idea that I may not have all that I want, but I certainly have all that I need.
And I am working towards the things that I want, though the process is much slower than I would like it to be.

I just added therapist to the list of things I need when I get money from my new job. Shoes and driving lessons are also on that list. Not things that I want. Things that I need. Also, that therapist better be able to give me something to deal with these focus issues. I definitely just stared off into space to think about something else again. That's just not like me. And when I get so distracted that I don't even want to finish swallowing the gulp of water that is in my mouth, I know something is wrong. But then again, I blame my surroundings more than anything. We've already been through that experiment.

I don't know why it came into my head, but I'm going to write it down anyway: I need to escape. I assume that actually has more to do with this little rut I've gotten myself into than the actual place, but I have had problems separating the two.

Final thoughts. My mother always told me that I would know when I met the right person. And I did. It is hard to think that anything could ever be like that again.

Things That Are Making Me Happy

Today, my mother and I were talking about my job opportunity in Pittsburgh, and she told me that I might as well take classes while I am working as a CNA because they are always looking for male nurses. And she didn't think twice about saying that, with no tone of awkwardness in her voice.

Out of the many truly spectacular comments I got at nationals, one of my favorites was this: "You could enter a real boy pageant. And win. Everything about you just reads nothing but 'man.'"

Another was "I have NEVER seen anything like that before. Please keep doing what you are doing."

Even though I feel like I am not ready at all to move and that I will miss everyone and won't be able to handle it, I may be going back to Pittsburgh very, very soon. An opportunity has come my way, and I am not afraid. I know I can handle this. I handled nationals when I thought I could not. And I know I can handle this. This thing called my life.

There are SO MANY things to do.

DC pride? Big drag king beach tour? Judging pageants now?
Grad school?

The best response ever to my request for a letter of recommendation: "Boom!! That's fucking awesome!"

I think things are starting to align. And the only thing that had to change was my confidence level. Everything may be exactly the same, but it all feels new and different.

I might actually be looking forward to some part of my life and not feeling overwhelmed.

This is going to be a great summer. FINALLY.

The End is Near

A friend of mine is having a slight mental breakdown because she is turning twenty soon, and her life doesn't resemble what she had planned for herself. She told me of how she wanted to be married and have children by 25. She thought she would be engaged by now. I remember when I first went away to college, thinking I'd come back home to marry the boy I dated in high school and immediately start having kids, though the last part always worried me a bit. I never thought about the details. I never thought about how I would get there. I just knew that's where I wanted to be without knowing why. She's looking around her, since all of her friends seem to be my age or even older, and we're both noticing the same thing. None of us are where we thought we would be, especially in terms of our romantic relationships. Most of my friends who are getting married are at least 26 or 27. The whole conversation doesn't even seem as important to me as it once did. I used to worry about the exact same thing. I wasn't where I wanted to be. I was alone. And I felt like my life was just passing me by.

And this wasn't even that long ago. I'm sure the drugs helped a bit, but something else has changed since my coming back here. I can't figure out exactly what yet. I feel more responsible for my own life. I feel more grounded. I feel less pressured to jump into something, even if I know I want to do it eventually. I'm taking my time getting to where I want to go because there are things that need to be done now. I want to take care of the present person that I am without completely throwing my future away. I now recognize that I don't have to sacrifice one for the other.

I'm going to be 25 soon. I feel a disconnect from the number just as I used to feel a disconnect from the gender I was assigned at birth. It doesn't seem to fit. But unlike my gender, my age doesn't affect very many things I do in my daily life. It just doesn't matter. I hear so many people my age complain that they can feel their bodies getting older, starting to break down. I don't feel that way at all. I feel like I'm always getting stronger. Maybe I'm losing more hair. But I can live with that. And then, when I have the money, I can change that too, if I decide. I somehow feel more grownup than when I left Pittsburgh, even though I live in my parents' house and frequently get mistaken for a high school student.

I'm starting to believe that I can make important decisions for myself. I'm taking the risks associated with making those decisions. I'm living with the consequences. I'm not asking for advice as often when I already know what I should do. I'm taking responsibility, it seems. But I still can't seem to keep my room clean. I have a few theories about why that is the case now. It's a different reason than before, and it involves not wanting to go upstairs at certain times. As a side note, Christmas by myself was interesting. And it really didn't bother me. Everyone expects me to be upset about it. You're supposed to spend Christmas with your family. But Christmas happened a day early for me, so I didn't really miss out on anything. I almost started to get upset just because people thought I was supposed to be.

Time to watch football again.

Welcome to Now

With all of the goals I've set for myself to accomplish before the start of 2013, and after just having completed an eLearning on time management, I find it funny that I would disregard certain things I have learned in order to do this--to write. Writing is clearly one of the highest priorities in my life, and it is a long term goal of mine to leave a piece of myself behind, virtually and otherwise. Words aren't meaningless to me. Even when I feel like I don't have any and even when they are lost inside my head, they mean everything. Even when they are not spoken, they mean everything.

Side note: A Deaf man came in, and they called me to the floor to help him. I felt useful once again, but I also noticed how much I had forgotten. I didn't remember the sign for Christmas until I got home. That's probably something I should have thought about as the holidays started to get closer, and I of course feel silly because it is rather easy. I also felt pretty bad because he asked if we had any Wii U systems, and I don't believe we are getting any until after Christmas, which is what Nintendo always does. Then he asked me about when the new X Box was coming out. We can only hope that it is next year. By the way, I still HATE those controllers. Side note to the side note: Working in the warehouse is actually kind of fun on days when there is a lot to be sorted. I am very efficient, and I now know how to delegate tasks when I have other things to do and no one else is busy. I think someone actually told me to slow down at one point. And for once, I was able to listen and just try to enjoy the side conversations while managing my work. And it wasn't that tough.

I don't even know how to get back on track from that. I'm not sure there ever is a track when I write these things, and that might be the nice part about them. I'm not writing about misery and wanting to kill myself either, which is also pretty nice. My feelings of sadness and regret are much less intense, and I'm not obsessing over them as before. These are good signs. The little things are good signs. Like being able to start conversations or smile at strangers. Like not having to worry about getting overstimulated at work with all of the TV's on and all the people rushing about (fingers crossed).

I like knowing that people trust me and take me seriously at work. They think what I have to say is important. I like knowing that I'm actually good at what I do, and I think that's because I have to really try to understand another person. I don't take it for granted. I'm a conscious observer of unconscious cues, and that really matters. When you have to spend your life playing catch up, sometimes you end up surpassing the people you're trying to catch up to. I love watching people interact. I love to observe and to analyze. I've always been a scientist.

A combination of things helped to increase our department's performance by quite a bit in just one week. I think one of the biggest things was resolving a conflict that involved some coworkers by pulling someone aside and having a chat. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing. It's amazing what getting along can do to boost your job performance. Since my supervisor has been out for over a week, the computer supervisor has been filling in somewhat, but it's also made me feel like it's time to take what charge I can. It may not seem important to some people, but I like being involved in what I do to the fullest extent. I can't help but care.

Alright. Now I'm going to go on a rant again, and it's something everyone has heard me say already, but seriously...What the hell is with people buying their kids 400 dollar iPods for Christmas IN ADDITION TO A SHITLOAD OF OTHER THINGS? This isn't always a bad thing. Maybe the kid has earned it. But so many of these are purchased for kids under the age of 8. Do you know what I had when I was 8? Fucking legos. And I loved it. Legos, crayons, and books. Lots of books. And when you tell me you won't buy the protection plan when you buy your six-your-old an iPod touch that's less than half an inch thick and has a glass screen, I will judge you. And when you tell me that you'll just buy another one if it breaks, it makes me want to scream. Appreciate what you have. Really stop and think about what saying that to someone like me means. I don't make that much money in a week, sometimes two depending on the schedule. And there are people who are far worse off than I am. A lesson in humility is something I believe many people these days need, and it's not just the kids. I am now reminded of the time when some guy reporting on alligator wranglers in Florida remarked that they ONLY make 25 dollars an hour. The report was on Fox News, if you hadn't already guessed. That's all that's ever on in here. It's why I don't often go upstairs at night. I think I'm done with the ranting paragraph now.

I don't think I've got anything else right now. I'm just excited that I can see a little bit further into the future, and I don't feel as pressured to make a decision. I know what I want out of life. Things might distract me from that from time to time, but I always come back to the same place.

It's about that time where so much stuff starts floating around that I can't come up with anything else, so bye for now.

More of the same

I feel like I am ultimately fighting a losing battle. I keep struggling to regain control, but I'm in no better shape now than before. I honestly can't make myself see the purpose of my life. I can't even invent one. I feel like I had lived in a bubble throughout college, and though I am grateful for the things I have learned in the past two years, I long for that kind of safety and security again. I want to love the way I did before. I feel like I've turned completely cold. This isn't the person I know I can be. Maybe there's no way to ever be that person again. I used to be happy. I used to be excited about life, and though I was anxious, I never remember living in a constant state of terror and misery for such an extended period of time.
I wake up, and I immediately think about the day ahead of me. The only thing I can think about is crawling back into bed At the end of the day so I can stop experiencing reality. And I would rather die than exist like this forever, or until it is too late.
There are good things happening in my life. But I cannot appreciate them. I understand them and know how I should feel. How I would feel. But I don't actually feel any of it. I experience only transient pleasure. And even in these experiences, the pain is still there. I am always hurting. And it's been well over a year. I remember having trouble before that, but it's been about that long since it became inescapable.
I truly don't know if I have enough energy/strength to continue on this course. I keep thinking about ways to die, whether on purpose or by accident. I keep thinking about other ways to just destroy my life. I see myself committing terrible acts of violence and cannot help but visualize every gruesome detail.
I want to fight. I want to just push through and come out clean on the other side. But that attitude has only made me more miserable. I've said it before, mostly about life in general, but it applies to depression just as much: There is no other side.
I have only this existence to work with. And I am fucking it all up. I don't know how to navigate through all of this, which seems frighteningly new and endlessly the same. Everyone else seems to be doing at least okay. What makes me so unable to do it? And by it I mean life. What am I not doing that I could be? And why can't I do the things that I know I should be doing but am not?
My breath is forever stuck right above my sternum. The pressure. I just want to be rid of that feeling. To let my arms fall limp at my sides and melt into the world around me.
I caught myself daydreaming About what it was like to hold him. I saw and felt it all over again. And then the memories kept taking me further back in time, further into my mind than I ever want to be any more.
I feel like a black hole.
I don't know why I do anything anymore. I am only pretending to know what the more stable version of myself would want out of life. I don't want to make decisions in a state like this, but what if not making them is worsening this condition?
I feel like I am becoming so bitter and resentful. I cannot escape thoughts about all the people who used to be a part of this life of mine. And I know I mean nothing anymore. I want to feel like a ripple in the pond sometimes. Instead I feel like a drop of water taken captive in a syringe.
I want to be able to experience the world with other people at the same time. I want to feel like something matters. I don't want to fake it anymore. I want certain people to understand this pain. I want them to see what their actions continue to so to me, but maybe they'd be happy and think I deserve it. And I may. I may deserve all of this and not even know it.
But then my rational brain tries to sve the day, and it only succeeds in making things worse. We never get what we deserve; we only get what we get. And then we must decide what to do with it. I don't know if I'm doing anything with what I have been given.
I'm terrified. But I think the very best thing would be for me to go where I can truly start over. But I don't want to admit that the rest of my life is lost. I can't. Something will not let me leave certain parts of my past behind. I have chosen to follow my instincts. And I hope it works. I just want to be able to survive long enough. And I'm getting more and more convinced that I will not see this through.
I have thrown away or sold almost everything I brought back with me. I feel like I am already dead. I really don't feel like I exist any more than a piece of furniture.
And these thoughts are all I have. I am obsessed with my own misery. I cannot escape myself. It's probably why I've been drinking more. Never alone and never without occasion. But it's more often than I ever did in college.
I want to stop looking.
I want to feel.
I just want to be okay with myself and my life.
I want to stop writing about this. I need real fucking help and know I will not be able to get it. And I wish somebody actually cared to acknowledge that there is something wrong. I'm not sure if my family has given up on me. or maybe the same fantasy as always applies yet again. and maybe that's why I am so fucked up. I don't know how to be anything other than a robot. I don't know how to manage any of my emotions. I want to be able to experience emotions and function in my life at the same time. But that may be too much to ask.
I don't even know why I write anymore if this is all that I ever accomplish. Maybe one day ill be able to see the change in my words. Maybe I will one day see happiness on this screen.
God, I just want to die. Really. I'm just too afraid of living. I'm too afraid of an endless now. I don't want to be broken. I don't want to go through life like this, an maybe that is why I don't have any motivation. Maybe my brain is trying to make the wish a reality by refusing to let me participate in my life.

Hope has failed me.

Why I'm Probably Not Doing Medical School

I've recently started rethinking my decision to rethink my career plans, but the more thinking I do, the less feasible the idea seems. I spent nearly twenty years of my life in school, always preparing for something and always making sacrifices for the future. Well, the future that I planned for never really came. And there's no guarantee that it well next time either. Medical school, from what countless doctors and medical students have told me, requires even more such sacrifices. You leave school with more debt and the prospect of at least five to ten more years of little to no sleep or social life. And you have little time to pursue other interests until you are older. I don't want to wait twenty years to be able to do the things I like to do because I may never get there. Going back to school because I don't know what else to do is a stupid idea. Going to medical school because I'm a smart person and that's what everyone else thinks that smart people do is stupid. I don't want to grow to hate people or to live with the harsh reality that doctors just don't have time to treat their patients the way they really deserve to be treated. I'm interested in the biological sciences and am fascinated by how things work, particularly the human body. I'm also interested in helping people live healthier lives, etc. And helping people in general. But is it worth it? I keep asking my self if medical school and the chance to be a doctor are truly worth it. And my gut just tells me...no. And I feel like a part of me has known this my whole life. I don't want to live for someone else anymore, and the sad truth is that doctors spend so much of their lives going through the machine that they become a part of it. I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to lose my humanity. So many reasons not to do it, and not really that many to do it that can't be satisfied in some other way.

I've also decided that going back to school is really stupid if I am not entirely sure that I'm going to be pursuing a lifetime of research, etc. If I am to go back to school, I want it to have some relationship to what I will be doing. I've heard even more stories about people who go through graduate school and wind up in the same position that I am now, so what would be the point in driving myself further into debt?

So, I have no idea what to do yet again. I want to believe that this phase of not knowing will end at some point, but there's no way I can be sure, which is actually pretty funny now that I read back over it.

Going to DC made me realize that I do love seeing new places and meeting new people, especially in the queer community. Maybe it's time to reconsider where I'm truly needed and appreciated.

I keep crying over all of this. I am trying so hard to enjoy just being where I am and doing things that I'll never get to do again. But it's almost impossible when you want so much more from your life. I don't want to be waiting to die, and I have days where I feel like that is all I am doing. I come home and don't know what to do with myself and just wait to fall asleep, sometimes literally pacing. I can't concentrate on anything that I do need to do, and everything just makes me anxious or frustrated. All I want to do is following the schedule of make money and sleep.

Personal training is looking more and more likely because I enjoy working out like nothing else. It's one of the only things that has been constant in this entire psychological journey of mine, and I think it's one of the only reasons I'm still here. And I like being in charge of my own money. And I know that I take a different approach than most people to what is healthy.

And then I keep thinking about counseling again, after another conversation with a friend, after two more conversations of being able to take people from the pit of despair back into a state of comfort. I wish I had someone to walk me through this. I wish I could just know. I want to know when I will know. I want to know if any of these doubts are unfounded.

I don't want to feel like a failure. It's been drilled into my head that success means reaching the top. I know I'm smart. Really, really smart. And part of that sucks because people expect you to want to do what smart people always do, and they also expect that smart people just don't do anything else.

If I'm going to make a difference in this world, it isn't going to be through being a medical doctor. It's not going to be in some lab. It's going to be with real people, being a real person. I keep thinking back to what she said to me. And I just didn't understand it before. I took it as an insult, as a smart person might be expected to.

"You'll never be great. But you will excel at doing ordinary things."

And maybe that is some sort of greatness in itself.

Maybe going back to school isn't the answer. And if it is, there's always time for that. There isn't always time for a lot of the things I want to do in this world, however.

I don't need to be like everyone else. I thought that meant not being like every other doctor. Maybe it means that I don't need to be like every other smart person. I keep feeling like I'm wasting my intelligence by not going to medical school. Like I'm disrespecting the gifts that have been given to me. But there are other uses for intelligence. And I have much more to offer than my skills of logic and memorization. And maybe those aren't even the most important things that I can offer. But they will probably help me in offering what I can.

This is crazy. I never thought I would end up here. And I know I have said that before. But even if only slightly, the realization that I don't HAVE TO do anything has taken some weight off of my shoulders. What if there were no more schooling to be had? What if I just considered this to be living? What if I just started moving forward now, planning for the things I really what and consider important instead of planning for more sacrifices? It seems insane. It seems to go against everything I've been taught. But as I have learned so many times before, much of what I had been taught goes against the very nature of humanity itself.

I don't want to live without my dreams because those are the things that make life worth living. I honestly feel that my experiences in the queer community have helped me and those I've met more than any of my scientific or health-related endeavors. I know I have reached people, and I continue to get messages from people who want to thank me for just being me. And that feels amazing. I don't know if this is supposed to mean something yet, but it probably does.

So, if I am not going back to school...Well, start over. I'm not in any hurry to go back if there isn't something driving me (other than the pressure of time and not having money or not knowing what else to do). So now the planning for a real life can begin. I don't want to feel like I have to run back to school to escape my own life. Going back to school would be just like going back to Pittsburgh. It would be safe and familiar but it probably wouldn't help me at all. It might only put everything I'm dealing with right now on pause until I'm a little older. And that, as it turns out, isn't such a good thing. Because now I feel like a child in an adult body, and everyone else is leaving me behind. I've felt like that most of my life, and I know that's because I really am a little bit developmentally behind, at least in some areas. And that sucks to have to admit, and I'm embarrassed by it because it's just something that a lot of people will never understand. Mostly because I can pretend to be normal.

I knew there must have been some reason that damned Good Charlotte song kept coming up on shuffle. The universe does provide me with at least a few beautiful coincidences to keep me smiling.

Maybe my goal in life should be to keep doing things that make me smile.

I can't believe I am actually considering this, but teaching came up as a possibility. I think there are more than a few teachers in my family, and I absolutely love kids. And my presence would definitely mean something. I am just getting a lot of things flashing through my head right now. Maybe this is something, maybe nothing. But there is time. I need to calm down and keep reminding myself of this fact because not knowing it makes me feel like I need to do everything right now, and having that feeling shuts down my entire body.

I'm sure I will cry just as much when I finally figure all of this out.

Pouring Out My Brain

Today is a heavy sigh kind of day. It's Friday night, and I'm a little worn out from a double session at the gym today, preceded immediately by 6 hours of torturous work in a retail environment. I'm not in the mood to go out, but I wouldn't really be opposed if I were to get invited tonight. But that call will never come. I have a few things that need to be done, but it seems so late already that I'm afraid to actually start anything. And maybe I'd just like to relax and enjoy some time to myself, though not really to myself since my parents are upstairs, and I don't have a door, meaning I can hear everything that's going on up there anyway. I don't think I get a chance to really be alone very often, and maybe that would help me to feel less lonely. It sounds strange, but being by myself gives me time to recharge and to process what has happened. I feel like I can't keep up with my life when I don't have this opportunity. There are other things that interfere as well, but this might be the most troubling one. I seemed to be doing a lot better when I had my own place and could make my own rules about my living situation. And I didn't have to worry about someone being there when I didn't want them to be. I could know what to expect when I got home, recharge for even a few minutes or an hour, and be ready to go about my evening. Public transportation here is almost non-existent, so I literally always have to get a ride to go anywhere other than the shopping plaza near my house, which is still probably a little over a mile away.

There is no sense of community here either, not in the way that I need it. It's weird not having any trans or queer friends. I have what I would consider gay friends and acquaintances, but they don't quite get the concept of queer. As far as I can tell, I might be one of the only people in the county who does. Probably multiple counties. I miss being able to talk about queer things and am just bored by conversations and jokes that rely on stereotypes about men and women. And yet I am sometimes forced to use this same stereotypes to make connections with customers when I could honestly care less.

I think I lied. I forgot to mention something, so I didn't do it on purpose. The other day, a transwoman came into the store. I needed to use her ID to look up her credit card and complete the purchase. The ID was still in her birth name, and I treated her just like I would have any other woman coming through the line. I know she may not have noticed. She might have prayed for things to go smoothly, to not get any weird looks, to just be able to get in and get out without having someone questioning her identity or mocking her as she walked away. I know the look that someone gets in these situations. I wish I could have told her that I understand. I wanted to have some way of sharing with her that I got it and that there was someone else in this fucking shithole town who deals with the same thing on an almost daily basis. But I didn't want to draw attention to her. And I don't think she would have wanted me to do that either, but it still might have been nice for both of us. This is what I meant about losing my queer visibility. Not being able to make that instant connection. Not being able to look at another short-haired, obviously female-bodied person and exchange stories without saying a word. Just blending in and exchanging glances with people whose eyes have no stories to tell, who don't want their eyes to have a story to tell.

Without a whole community of transmen and people who get them, I find myself very lost up here. I'm all about education, but I don't want every interaction I have to be a lecture on gender theory. Sometimes I just want to be in a room full of people who get it. It's like trying to play a game of basketball but stopping all the time because your teammates don't really know the rules. There's no flow. No rhythm. And it's awkward.

It's not even ten o'clock. If I were in Pittsburgh, I'd be with my trans friends, most likely, or sitting next to the boy who wouldn't have broken up with me because I moved away. Because I wouldn't have moved away. I hate doing this to myself. If. It doesn't exist, so there isn't much point indulging in fantasies about a life that doesn't exist, at least not anymore. I would probably be having an easier time if I had been ready to leave. But there was so much that I didn't get to do. I was in the middle of so many important things. And I got blindsided. I had to leave against my will and with virtually no time to get my shit together. Maybe leaving home for college was so easy because I had all that time to get ready. Maybe planning to leave was easy because I would have been ready. I would have found a way to become ready. That never happened, and I still don't know how to handle it. I don't know how to get past what I assume is the feeling of regret/loss. I have a hard time letting things go. And an even harder time letting people go. I don't want this to be the end of things. But it just has to be. And it hurts every single day. I keep seeing and thinking about things that remind me of my friends and my old life. And I don't even feel like I could possibly be the same person, with the life that I am living now. I get tastes every now and then when I visit. It feels like the city is calling me back and telling me that everything is waiting for me to pick up right where I left off. It feels like everything will be the same. The comfort of a warm blanket and the arms of people who know you intimately, who can know you when you are unable to know yourself. I wonder if I will ever have that again, but more importantly, I mourn over the fact that I will never have anything like it ever again. Because each hug is different and each person radiates something different into my life. I can still feel the ripples, but they are fading, and I fear that I won't remember how beautiful it is to be loved.

I am losing my understanding of the experiences of love/intimacy because I live without them. I'm afraid that I will be so damaged by the experiences of the last few months (and years) that I'll never be able to fix myself, meaning that moving to a new city will leave me feeling exactly the same.

I'm still toying with the idea of going out tonight. But I'm leaning towards no because if I were to go, I'd really like to be able to do it myself. Maybe this thought kept coming back to me because my brain is trying to tell me what I need to do. But not all of my brain is telling me this. Other parts are afraid of going out. Am I afraid of going out because I have no connection or because I don't want to have a connection to this place? Will not having one make it easier to leave? It's ironic that misery can be comfortable. Or at least more comfortable than some things, like the unknown.

I just want to have a real conversation with someone again. To feel like we are really communicating something to one another instead of exchanging pleasantries and talking about things because we are afraid to be silent around one another. I won't go out tonight. Maybe I will next time, but I think I always say that. I don't want to have to pretend when I go out. Maybe I don't have to. But I'm always worried that a problem will arise, and I won't be able to get out of it, and no one else will know what to do. Or maybe I'm just fishing for excuses now. That last part sounds like something my brother would say.

I'm worried about stopping the writing again. Silence. Nothingness. Moving on to doing nothing. At least this might serve some purpose. I can't even tell if I am more or less agitated by doing this, writing when I can't stop thinking and/or when there is nothing else to do.

"do" is a word that made the list of jobs/career paths I've considered in the past year and a half flash in front of my eyes. PA, teacher, pharmacist, doctor, researcher (in different fields), personal trainer, businessman, entertainer. over and over again. i'm pretty sure art school was in there somewhere too. Social work. You name it. I have probably considered it. I don't know what the fuck to do. I wonder if I am any closer. I need to do something soon. If I don't, I may never do anything, and I would like to believe that doing something is better than doing nothing. Something queer. That always comes up as well. I wish I knew what made the most sense. I wish this were a decision based on logic or some magical equation. But life just doesn't work that way, or maybe it does and I don't know the equation. I suppose most people factor in money. And maybe time. But then everything kind of ends up the same when I think about it. I need to stop thinking about everything, all the time. There's no time to live with all of this thinking.

There's no time to live with all of this thinking. Interesting.

I'm terrified about having to take the bus tomorrow because I think I will miss it. And I don't know which route it takes or how early I need to be there. What will most likely happen is that I will leave ridiculously early and still be paranoid. And then I'll be too stressed out from the ride to handle a 5-hour shift on a Saturday night. I wish I weren't able to predict this. At least buses here are cheap, even if they only run until 4 PM tomorrow. I don't exactly hate this place. I just hate the way it works. And how people are morons. There seem to be way more of them here than anywhere else I've ever been. I'm honestly not surprised, but I wish I didn't have to deal with them every day. Morons with a lot of money, talking down to me. At least I treat them with respect. Even in real life, I treat idiots with respect. Idiots can still be nice people. (Please see the sarcasm here. I'm not really this much of a jerk.) I think I only use these terms when the combination is mean AND stupid. I suppose I get upset when people yell at me because of THEIR OWN dumb mistakes. It's fine if you yell about mine. Well, no it isn't, but at least I can understand that.

I have that feeling in my chest again. I think it has been there all day. But it's like something is sitting on my chest or compressing my insides. All the fucking time. And I know this isn't normal because I have a fading memory of the few weeks where I didn't feel like this. There were probably other times years ago, but those are difficult to recall.

I don't understand my own feelings all the time. I spend a lot of time trying to figure them out, and I get worried that this means I don't really know who I am. Then I think to myself, who does? This is really all over the place, isn't it? Makes sense to me.

I might not even be done tonight, but I think I am for now. Maybe I'll find something else to write about when I can't fall asleep later. When. Not if.

Starting to Do Things

I don't know how to write a statement of research interests and goals. I should probably contact people from the specific schools to which I am applying because I have no idea if I am doing this the right way. I just needed to do something, and I think writing this has allowed me to step back and figure out why I want to do what I want to do and why it makes sense for me to go for this degree. Technically, it would be in Kinesiology, but some schools don't have programs in that, and everything would fall under the Neuroscience heading. Anyway, I started writing the story of how I got to this point and how my interest in research has been somewhat rekindled. I'm not sure if there needs to be more or less of anything, but I like it. I'm sure it will change, but I don't know where I need to go from here with it.
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I began my journey into the healthcare field without much of a thought. Everyone always assumed that I would become a doctor, and I did too. I was smart, and I had a passion for science and helping people, and that was enough for me at the time. Everything was going fine. But then the questions came. But these weren’t questions about the career I wanted to pursue. They were questions about my core identity as a person. Suddenly, all of my plans for the perfect future began to unravel.
In my medical school personal statement, I made a remark that sent up a red flag to my advisor: I said I didn’t want to fix people. I want to be able to give people the tools to claim agency in their own lives—to take control of their health with their own hands as I had done. A few more conversations and dozens of pages of introspective journaling helped me discover that medical school wasn’t going to be right for me, at least at that point in my life.
My original goal was to take a year off from school, save some money, evaluate what I wanted to do, and then go on my way about being an adult with a fancy degree, etc. But the job never came, and the more options I discovered for my future, the more paralyzed I became. I was frozen. My circumstances, combined with constant worries about my dwindling finances and personal relationships, eventually disrupted my ability to function entirely. I spent four days in a psychiatric ward under constant supervision, and there was no great epiphany when I left. I felt better, but things were terrible, and they continued to be terrible. A month or so after losing my job, I lost my home. After six years of independence and building a life and a community for myself, I left Pittsburgh with nothing but a few garbage bags worth of clothes and the random trinkets I had amassed from college. I moved back home with my parents, into the same bedroom I swore I would never inhabit again six years earlier. I took a look at the college degrees that had come in the mail. I had never seen them in person until that point. I wanted to burn them.
Every week or so, I would have a new idea about what I wanted to do with my life. But each time, I would find dozens of reasons that I would fail, whether it be my Asperger’s or this or that limitation I have in my background. But my not-so-glorious revelation came to me in little spurts, over the course of the months I spent getting to know my family and my hometown all over again.
I realized that through all the turmoil, two things had remained constant, though the depression played a significant role in delaying this realization: my passion for the science of the human brain and my obsession with physical activity and movement. When nothing else mattered or made sense, science was still beautiful. When I could not force myself to speak to another soul or look my own boyfriend in the eye, I could take my body to the gym and lose myself in the rhythm of my workout. I did not see it at the time, but these are the things that have given my life meaning ever since I can remember. I defined my college days by my involvement in drumline—the study of music through moving and feeling in perfect synchrony with my peers. And my fondest and most vivid memories from childhood are of playing sports, climbing walls, and just moving my body—pushing it—as far as I could.
In January, I met a man who helped me discover the impact that my experiences have had on my own thinking. I began writing articles on mind-body fitness, among other things, for Moodtraining.com immediately after returning from my stay at Resolve Crisis Center. My own writing about the brain’s ability to influence the body, positive psychology, meditation, and even my pieces on the basic biology of exercise and the human brain acted as the first bit of therapy. The words I found to relate these ideas to others helped me to see how much I believed in them myself—how much I needed to believe in them in order to keep living.
When I lost my home, I felt like I had lost everything. And it took until what most would consider a short time ago for me to pick up where I had left off. My mother, down nearly 150 pounds from her heaviest weight only two years ago, has learned to embrace the challenge of exercise in precisely the same way as I have, and it moved me to tears when I started joining her in her own exercise routine. We work together, challenge each other, and my experiences with my first individual trainer have been absolutely inspiring. And when I am inspired, the nerd in me rejoices and cannot be tamed.
I began to think further about the ideas I had been developing with Moodtraining.com. What if we were able to design a personalized exercise program that used data from the client’s own functioning brain? Obviously, this would be an expensive approach, but more realistic research questions and practical applications can definitely be drawn from the initial question. If we knew more about how the human brain responds to exercise in the long term and the short term, we could develop more effective training programs that not only target the muscles of the body but help to enhance the function of the brain as well, creating a positive-feedback loop. The impact of exercise on mood, longevity, and life satisfaction is well-known, but unlocking the minute details of how we attain these results will be the key to unlocking many more mysteries of brain function, perhaps the most promising of which are adult neurogenesis and neuroplasticity. My specific interest is in learning about how the various mental, physical, and social components of human physical activity influence brain function over time in normal versus diseased populations, emphasizing the role of exercise in inducing neurogenesis. I am also interested in the neurological basis of health behaviors, and whether certain neural profiles are more likely to result in a physically active lifestyle. Exercise has been a release for me for as long as I can remember, and I have long believed that the symptoms of my Asperger’s syndrome are much more manageable because of my active lifestyle. Exercise is about coordination, concentration, completing specific tasks, and in many cases, becoming a part of a group and learning the social rules that go along with membership in that group. It would be fascinating to take a look at how the brain of an AS person responds to physical activity in comparison to that of a neurotypical individual. Research into this area might unlock more about the mystery of autism as well as provide valuable data to inform future treatment plans that include exercise therapy as a physical and social aid.
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My Face is Itchy.

I have no reason to feel as good as I do right now, and maybe it's sad that I am suspicious of that. There are things I don't feel so great about, but I'm not as concerned about the things that normally drive me crazy. And I can't tell if that's good or bad. I can't tell if that means I'm losing motivation even more or if I'll finally be able to move in some sort of direction.

I have no idea where my glasses are, and this upsets me. I think that and the bloated feeling in my stomach are the only things that really concern me right now.

I have so much to say about the Olympics, but I don't know if I can get it all out the right way tonight. Still, it's worth the effort. I'm a ridiculous fan of any sort of activity that involves physical skill. There's something unequivocally captivating about the flexibility of the human mind and body--its ability to become able at so many things. I appreciate that in myself and in others, and I now understand that I can sometimes see it in others when they cannot. Sometimes I am better at seeing that ability in others than I am in myself. I've always been my own worst enemy...well, until I met a certain person. Anyway, to avoid falling down that rabbit hole, let's get back to sports and stuff.

The Olympics is both beautiful and terrible. It's terrible in the ways that most things in modern times are--over-commercialized, wasteful, etc. But that waste and ceremony and pretense make it extraordinary, and I imagine there is nothing like the experience of standing in front of the whole world and being able to show them you are the best there is. People also seem to forget everything else that's going on in the world. Again, that's both a plus and a minus. Honestly, it makes more sense to me to decide major international conflicts with sport than it does with senseless mass murder, though I will acknowledge that former iterations of society had a definition of sport that very frequently included death and serious physical injury. If people have compared global warfare with a grandiose chess match, well, why not just have a chess match? I know it's not that simple, but it has been. And could have been.

But we are animals, and we assert our dominance by killing. By subjugating. By wiping out those who stand in our way, even if that doesn't involve killing them. And these are things that will never stop. All things that are possible will occur, given enough time.

I've been struggling with something lately. I've been having a very difficult time distinguishing my dreams from reality. I was in a panic for about an hour the other day because I had not shown up for my second job in a week or two. However, I don't have a second job. But I did in the dream, at a gym. This happens with conversations as well. I will have such vivid, realistic dreams about conversations with people I know, and then I find out a week later that my memory is based on something that never happened. I'm not going to lie, this worries me. It's maybe been happening for 6 months or so.

In other news, my computer has a fingerprint reader. Unnecessary but awesome.

Best advice this week: "Go PhD! A master's will never be funded, and once you have a doctorate, who's gonna tell you shit?"

Seriously.

Discovery

I discovered that Health Neuroscience is an option for a PhD program jointly offered by Pitt's department of psychology and the CNUP. It's like they had me in mind. I discovered this by searching for clinical neuropsychology because that seemed to come close to a way to classify the areas that interest me. I might actually have to talk to a real person to help me sort out the best way to tackle this application process.

What Comes Next

In an effort to bring myself out of the slump I've been in for almost a year, I wanted to write about things that make me excited. It seemed easy at first because I know what I like, but when I really thought about how much joy those things have brought to my life in the past year or maybe even longer, I started to question whether they really meant what they had originally. Then I realized something crucial: That's kind of what depression does. Things just aren't as much fun, and even the things that you know you love and have a real passion for--they start to matter less and less. They stop being able to fill that emptiness, and then you eventually stop trying to use them for that purpose, which only makes things worse. I think my situation has gotten worse in the last two weeks because I'm out of medication. There is no Asperger's specialist in this area, according to my doctor from Pittsburgh, and I don't exactly have a primary care doctor anymore. I've been trying to push through without it, but I could tell that even with the medication, this shift to living back east for the first time in 6 years has been difficult. It's making that disconnected feeling a lot worse. That's how this all started, but let me see if I can focus on the things that have had some meaning in my life. Maybe I can reassure myself of some things.

Let's start with a simple list, without going into any explanation. They are in no particular order because I don't think of things in order. They happen all at once, which is why I feel the need to put everything in order outside of myself:

Language/Communication
Working Out
Neuroscience/Brains
Music/Rhythm/Synchronization

I think that everything that I do/like in this world can be traced back to one of those four things.


This started out as a love of words, especially strange and/or archaic terms that my English teachers frowned upon throughout the early years of my schooling. I was told that no one could understand what I was trying to say, and my response was something like this: "I don't write for stupid people." I got a little better about using my vocabulary of peculiar words more sparingly, and once I understood how to manipulate my style for a particular audience, I started to realize how childish that statement of mine had been. For me, words have something that can be described as a kind of flavor. It's not just a connotation. It's something more visceral. Even words that mean the same thing can feel different. And some flavors don't mix very well, even if the definitions indicate that they make perfect sense when placed together. I'm sure you've read something before that has caused you to make the same face you would when smelling something unpleasant. (I just smiled at that, and I am all alone, with no one else to influence that. It came from within. Therefore, I know this is real. And that fact also makes me smile.)

I suppose I also think of words strung together in terms of rhythm. I think I have the rhythm of what I am writing set before I have the actual words. Then it becomes a matter of simply finding the most aesthetically pleasing combination of language elements. For example, in that last sentence, I felt it necessary to add "of language elements" because I felt like stopping at the word "combination" disrupted the natural flow of the sentence. It seemed to just stop. In order for the rhythm to be complete, it needed more, but it couldn't be just anything. I know this seems like a complicated explanation, but this usually happens instantaneously, and I think I have written this way for the majority of my life. I only started thinking about it when I needed to figure out ways to modify my writing.

I used to be able to diagram any sentence you could give me, and I'm sure I could still do that, but I'd probably have to look up a few rules for more obscure things. I was fascinated by the idea that language was so structured, and that every little piece had its place. I would just do this for fun back in grade school. Seeing a sentence like that really helped me to understand the subtle relationships between the various parts of a sentence. It was like math with words, and that is incredibly cool when you think about it.

I don't think I understood how vast the realm of nonverbal communication is until I was in my late teens, which is probably why I felt clueless in a lot of social interactions prior to that. Studying linguistics in college and learning to pay attention to things definitely helped. It's pretty beautiful how languages/systems of communication just seem to develop effortlessly. And no matter what restrictions we come up with, exerting pressure on the system to conform has little to no effect. These systems develop almost like living organisms, and this again is another analogy that makes me smile. Perhaps I'm smiling because of how easy it becomes to understand that everything in this universe is interconnected. I'm also sure that part of that is because everything in this universe is experienced through the same filter, but this doesn't make it any less interesting or awe-inspiring.

I'm particularly interested in how the human brain processes meaning. What are the neurological correlates of our understanding of the world? That's an incredibly broad field of research, and I think it would be amazing if you could figure out the exact signals and pathways necessary to produce a meaningful element. I want to know how people understand things in a biological sense. This isn't just fun-fact stuff either. Knowing these pathways can help us create better computer models, in addition to helping us develop better ways to teach the brain new associations. On a somewhat related note, I recently devoured a book called The Symbolic Species. The author's name escapes me right now, but it's a very detailed overview of the theory that what makes human beings unique in their ability to learn language is not a matter of basic intelligence but a matter of the evolution of a brain with an extraordinary capacity to learn symbolic rather than purely referential relationships. Once a basic set of symbolic relationships has been established, it then becomes possible to define symbols in terms of other symbols, and you can extrapolate from there. Again, I'm going to highlight the interconnectedness of everything by pointing out how amazing it would be to know the precise pathways involved in creating this initial symbolic framework. Wow. It really feels good to get to be a nerd again.

I started out with a particular topic in mind for this section, but everything got jumbled up anyway. It's hard to separate everything completely, so I'm just going to leave it how it is.

Random fact: There are sets of neurons in your body that are synchronized. They have a natural rhythm. Rhythm is visceral to the extent that it occurs at a CELLULAR level. I mean, there's also the set in your heart that keeps it beating...

Working out sort of fits into this picture I'm building too. When you're playing a sport, or lifting weights, you need to find the rhythm. Contemporary psychologists will often describe this in terms of "flow" or being in the moment, in the zone, etc. Also, I love being in control of that rhythm and the results my actions will bring. Not much works that way in life. I love being in control of my body, and I love watching other people who have control of their bodies in ways that are different from mine. I love knowing that particular changes will occur with particular types of exercises, and I love learning about the different ways exercise can affect the nervous system in general, not just the brain. The science of sport is something that brings everything together. Nerdy biology things, a passion for fitness, and in writing about it, I get to bring that passion into the mix as well. I don't think I need to say how important music is when it comes to any sort of physical activity, but I suppose it does make sense to mention that people have a hard time NOT moving when there is music playing. People like to be in sync with one another--emotionally, physically, spiritually...you name it. And I really do think this all goes back to the fact that our bodies have a natural rhythm, and it makes sense to want to extend this to other aspects of our lives.

For me, being synchronized with others makes me feel connected to them. I've had a lot of trouble building connections with other human beings, but drumming, dancing, even playing a sport with others and knowing how your teammates work have helped me to make up for what I haven't been able to do through ordinary means. If I can do something like this with someone, I will automatically feel closer to them, and I really do think I understand them better. One of the greatest feelings in the world is playing in a line and really being in the same mental space as everyone around you. It's like you really have created an open pathway that connects your brain to the brains of those around you. I also find it interesting that this is kind of how the brain learns new things. LTP requires synchronization. It's how you build connections inside. Why not again extend this into the physical world?

I could go on about each of these things for hours, but I've been able to remind myself of the things that get me excited. I didn't mention drag here because it is something different. I love my creative side, but that stems from the thinking side as well. You can't be creative if you don't understand relationships between things, and I think I needed to get back in touch with how I understand the world. This is probably why I haven't felt so creative lately. I love performing because it gives me a chance to express to others how I understand the world, and I can do this with music--with rhythm and synchronization. But again, I really need to get back to thinking about how I understand things and what makes me unique. Then I'll really be able to offer something people have never seen or felt before. It's another way of building a connection with people without saying a word. And it's beautiful. I've been able to understand a lot more about some people by watching their performances than by having conversations with them, and sometimes this is the only learning opportunity I have. But I like when people can do that. It takes balls and a lot of thought to show your true colors on stage without making completely obvious. The spice of life is in the subtleties.

I think a lot of this has helped me to decide that I really do belong back in academia. I'm a thinker by nature. Sometimes I can't turn it off. Actually, that's most of the time, unfortunately. This is what I do best, and it would be amazing to be able to do it for a living. But I don't want to just write research articles. I have a real desire to write informative pieces for the public because what good is the research if no one knows about it?! I like making science accessible to people. I like making overly complicated things a little simpler.

If I apply to grad school, I'm going to have to do this anyway, so I might as well give it a shot here. What would I study? What seems most applicable and still gets me nerdhigh? I want to know how the brain responds to physical exercise. I want to know how thinking changes during exercise, in the short term and in the long term. I want to understand the cognitive benefits as well as the physical ones. I want to work with people who are developing programs that utilize physical activity to treat mental issues. And I want to teach people about how their brains and bodies have to work in conjunction with one another in order to maximize one's potential and happiness. I learned a lot about this through transition--how important it was for the mind and body to work in harmony. A lot of things today interfere with that. I want to get my certification so I can train young people and perhaps whole families. There's a lot more to exercise than physical exertion. It's a social activity, and this is something that needs to be explored too. How cool would it be to base a social skills program around an exercise program? The brain will change its structure in response to physical activity, and I want to know more about this. I want to know how to utilize this in what I do. I know this sounds like a lot, but I think it all fits together. And it makes me happy thinking about all the good things that can come from it. I'm crying right now because I think I have it figured out, but I've said that before. But I've never written this extensively about any of the other things. I've never taken the time to put it all out there, so I must have thought it was important enough to devote all of this time to it. I'll never be 100 percent certain, and maybe I already had this in my head, but I think I need to go for this. I can never be sure it will lead to ultimate happiness for the rest of my life, but I will be happy on the journey. I will be doing things I love. And that is better than doing nothing at all, which is what I feel I am doing right now. I've been afraid of moving because I don't want to go in the wrong direction. But there may not be a wrong direction. I see a lot of GOOD things in front of me, and I can pick from any one of them, and I will probably be happy with any choice that I make. And perhaps I will think a little about what it would have been like to make a different choice, but I'm also doing that right now. I don't have to do anything. I don't need to do anything. But I think this is what I want to do. And maybe I want to do more than one thing, and that is probably normal. But I can't avoid making a choice because I like too many things. I would've starved by now if everything worked that way.

I think the hardest part about this is going to be getting the process started, and I'm going to worry if I'm good enough. I hope this is one of those decisions that becomes life-changing. I hope it's something I remember as one of the greatest decisions I have ever made. But for right now, it's just what comes next.

Exhaling

Due to the nature of my job, I've been working towards understanding and really experiencing all that the practice of mindfulness-based stillness meditation has to offer. I'm at a stage where contemplation overtakes me, so it's a little difficult to reach the point of stillness right now. But instead of burying my thoughts and fears inside of me, I've accepted the challenge of experiencing them to their fullest, merely observing, being aware of them. I wouldn't have let myself think these thoughts before. I would have been too ashamed of them. I'm not a bad person for having these thoughts and concerns, and I know that no matter how difficult it might be, I'm going to have to face the issue. I know it's okay that I feel this way. Maybe there is something standing in the way, or maybe this is just how things were meant to be. I'll never know unless I talk about it. But I am prepared to do that now, or at least I'm working towards it. I believe that things will happen when they need to happen, to an extent. This is not something about which I can go into too much detail, but the reason for that has to do with the fact that I want to be the person to make the first move in this situation. I don't want someone else to take that away from me.

However, there are other things that I need to put down. And I'm not afraid to put them here. I think that fear has been a large part of my problem. I had a fear of articulating anything because doing so would have made it more real. The flaw in that argument is that feelings are always real, regardless of whether there are words attached to them. Letting myself experience these feelings has helped a great deal, and now I am ready to say some of the things that a lot of people probably assumed anyway. But the particulars are going to be a little different, as you'll soon see.

I feel the emotions most strongly at the base of my sternum, but there is a slight feeling of heaviness behind my eyes, as well as a tingling sensation starting from my shoulders, but that happens with almost any really intense emotion I feel. It's a heavy, sinking feeling all around, like the life is quite slowly being sucked out of you. Hopelessness and regret, maybe. Perhaps a little bit of anger. Grief. Everything is rolled into one, and I wish I could throw it all up and be done with it.

The above starts out one of the contemplation exercises I have been learning. I needed to locate the emotion first, then describe it and try to give it a name. There are a lot more questions in the exercise, but not all of them are relevant to this point. Basically, having gone through all of this, I can say what it is that had been bothering me and a little bit about why.

I saw that my ex-girlfriend was getting married, to someone she has known for a shorter period of time than we were together. I think I cried because reality finally caught up with me. I'm not saying that I had secretly hoped that she would come back to me or anything like that. It's more like I never allowed myself to think about a future for either one of us, at least in terms of relationships. When people leave our lives, we tend to think that no other life exists beyond that. We may know otherwise, but it doesn't feel real, experientially. I began to FEEL reality. That and reopening the line of communication sparked a few memories. I thought of all the good things and feelings I never thought I would have with anyone else. And that was very painful. Part of the pain also came from my belief that her partner and I are actually quite similar people, though he was obviously more mature and more in control of his own life than I was. I miss her, for sure, and the love I have for her will probably last forever, though it is not romantic love, and of that I can be sure. It is a protective, familial sort of love--the love of a friend with whom you have shared so much, a friend whose every vice and virtue is intimately known to you. In response to another of the questions in the exercise (What am I afraid of?), well, I was afraid of never being able to share in the joy of my friend's life anymore. I miss having those experiences. It is that connection that I miss more than anything. I remember how good it felt to hang out together and just be stupid, and then I also remember enjoying being smart together, and that's something I don't get much of anymore, sadly.

So, I'm not a creepy stalker ex-boyfriend. The announcement of her engagement just made me think about what love really means to me and all of that good stuff. I've always known that there are different types of love, but I never quite understood that love is different from relationship to relationship. It sounds dumb, but I always expected that you were supposed to feel the same way in each one. And I suppose that thought comes from having expectations that carry through from one relationship to the next, both good and bad.

But I do have needs in a relationship, even after letting go of expectations. And this is why I worry, and I know it's something I need to talk about. I don't think I'm finished pondering everything, but too much of that at once can really screw you up. Not like I know from personal experience or anything...

I don't what I am going to be when I grow up. But I know I can't just sit in one place waiting for something to happen. Since I started writing for Moodtraining in January, I've experienced something completely different--actually enjoying my job. Right now, I don't get paid for enough hours to sustain myself, but I can get lost in what I'm doing. I enjoy the research, and I enjoy writing about it. I like writing about science. I like writing about things that can potentially help people. Now I do feel like everything is coming together. I love science. I love health and fitness. I love writing. I'm never going to be 100 percent sure about a career path, probably because I love doing so many different things. But I at least need to get on with something. After being kicked out of Pittsburgh, I had to move back with my parents for a little while. I made the promise to myself that I would do a few things with my time here: (1) take the GRE, (2) get my name changed, (3) learn to drive, (4) and save enough money to go back to the city that has become my home.

About that whole not-Pittsburgh thing...I don't hate it here back in Larksville. Not at all. I actually really enjoy the time I'm getting to spend with my parents, and I know that I am going to miss it whenever I leave. Things seem much different now than when I was younger. They actually seem much different than just a few years ago. Some things are still the same, but we've all grown quite a bit. I feel loved and accepted. Things aren't perfect, but they are damn near close enough for me, and I know I have a lot more than many other people in my situation.
I suppose I'm just a little lonely. I miss everyone in Pittsburgh. I miss all the other people who have spread out to different places around the country and around the world. And I'm not the best at making new friends or even figuring out how to go about it. If I'm put in the right situations, it's easy. But getting into those situations or making them happen is what I just can't figure out. I desperately want to hang on to the connections that I have, but I've been sucking at that lately too. Part of that probably had to do with the severe depression. And things aren't perfect with that either, but they're getting better. I can't ask for much more.
I want to be able to reach out to new people and let them into my ridiculous life. But maybe I am still a bit afraid of getting hurt because I haven't always handled it well.
I don't know how long I'm going to be here. My original plan was just a few weeks, but those weeks have already passed. It looks more like it's going to be a few months, and that is if I get this wonderful job at Hollister. I wait for that call every day because it would be unlike anything I've ever seen before in terms of money. And I wouldn't have an issue with being out to the people I work with. I did have a job with Bed, Bath, and Beyond for about two days, but there was the situation of expired identification...so they fired me. I ended up getting a new ID that same day, but it was too late. That's when I ran over to the mall and applied to about 10 different stores. Hollister called me back the next day and interviewed me for the Manger-in-Training position. It was one of the best interviews I've ever done, and I was actually able to ask decent questions at the end. I'm seriously praying to get this call because it would pay twice as much as any other job I'd be able to find right now, and that isn't an exaggeration.

My thoughts are starting to blend together again, so I know that means I'm done for now. And sleeping before the sun comes up is always a good idea. :)

First Moodtraining.com Article (unedited)

You can’t help but notice them from across the gym, gazing fondly and smiling at their own massive and well-developed musculature. Perhaps you’ve even been annoyed by their seemingly apparent egotism as you quietly go about your daily routine, hoping no one catches you yourself making furtive glances toward the gym’s wall of mirrors. But current research regarding body image and self-monitoring suggests that these meatheads might be on to something.

One area of the brain highly involved in coordinating information related to one’s body image and perception of physical self is known as the parietal cortex, an area that is well known for its role in utilizing visual and somatosensory information to plan and execute movements. Essentially, this area of the brain can help us to determine where an object is in space and how to go about manipulating it. Current research indicates that the parietal cortex also integrates visual cues and somatic input from the skin, muscles, and joints via a distributed network of neurons in order to compute body image.1 Some common disorders of body image such as anorexia nervosa and body dysmorphic disorder may be associated with dysfunction in this region of the brain.1,2

Given this knowledge, it is not hard to see that Mr. Meathead across the gym may actually be utilizing a self-monitoring technique that may aid in his quest to be the next Mr. Olympia. While this may not be your ultimate goal, don’t be afraid to pause to witness the remarkable physical transformations that can occur within a single workout. You’ll notice your veins and muscles have visibly expanded due to the effects of the strenuous exercise, and if getting big is a high priority for you, allowing your parietal cortex to indulge can help to positively alter your own perception of your physical self. So go ahead and stare!

Other types of self-monitoring have been utilized in helping individuals maintain their fitness goals, particularly those who have suffered from obesity. Consistent self-monitoring techniques, as shown in a study by Butryn et al., were associated with lower BMI scores and a higher ability to practice self-restraint.3 Whether the monitoring technique used is weighing yourself daily, maintaining a written and/or visual diary, or simply taking a moment in the mirror to reflect on how jacked you’re becoming, it is an important component of self-initiated mood optimization (Principle 1). And according to a recent study by Ryckman et al., those who harbor more positive perceptions of their own physical capacity outperform those with less positive views on tasks involving the use of physical skills.4 So ,simply by believing in your own strength and abilities, you put yourself at a tremendous advantage!

Optimizing your mood through visual and other types of feedback will have you feeling stronger, happier, and more satisfied with your choice to stay fit and healthy, and you’ll be more likely to stick with your regimen, regardless if your goal is weight-loss, muscle building, or something else entirely. A more positive perception of oneself permeates all aspects of thinking and being, influencing everything from our success at work to our personal relationships with others. By taking time to visually and verbally appreciate our daily fitness victories (and non-fitness victories), we can begin to harness that positive energy and use it as a force for good in the world around us.


1. Ehrsson HH, Kito T, Sadato N, Passingham RE, Naito E (2005) Neural Substrate of Body Size: Illusory Feeling of Shrinking of the Waist. PLoS Biol 3(12): e412. doi:10.1371/journal.pbio.0030412.
2. Wagner, Angela; Ruf, Matthias; Braus, Dieter F.; Schmidt, Martin H. (2003) Neuronal activity changes and body image distortion in anorexia nervosa. NeuroReport 14(17): 2193-2197.
3. Butryn, Meghan L.; Phelan, Suzanne; Hill, James O.; Wing, Rena R. (2007) Consistent Self-monitoring of Weight: A Key Component of Successful Weight Loss Maintenance. Obesity (15): 3091-3096.
4. Ryckman, Richard M.; Robbins, Michael A.; Thornton, Billy; Cantrell, Peggy (1982). Development and validation of a physical self-efficacy scale. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 42(5): 891-900.