Over a Month Down

I've been writing a lot on paper lately. Some of the things I have going on in my head aren't at the point where they can be shared with the world, and I'm starting to realize that some of them are just for me, no matter how much I feel like I need to share them with others. It's been a challenge trying to hold everything in. I don't know if I would say that things have gotten easier to handle emotionally, but I keep feeling more positive every day. I have my moments, but those are the times that my skills are really being tested. I think I've done a pretty good job so far. I had a major crisis on Tuesday night, and I was able to solve that problem with a little bit of guidance. That would have completely ruined me this time last year. So much of this situation would have. So even though it's Friday night and my weekend plans have been erased already, I'm feeling okay. I had a long day at work, took a nap, figured out a little more about what's happening in my near future, and am handling the pressure of being here pretty well. I have a long weekend--a really long weekend--ahead of me to decompress from the workweek, and I should be ready to go again by Wednesday. (I also have an interview on Monday for a much better, less bullshitty job, so I'm looking forward to that as well.)

We talked longer than we have in about a week last night. I could feel the pain and the anger and the frustration, and all I wanted to do was be there to take it away, but part of me knows that I am responsible for so much of it. I know he is trying hard not to resent me, and it's one of my greatest fears that he'll never be able to get past that. But I have to let time do its work and continue to be open, receptive, and supportive. I cannot blame him for any of his feelings. The situation is complicated, and our relationship is only one part of a much larger and more complex clusterfuck, for lack of a better word. I've never felt this way before. I don't have much, and while I want to hoard what I have away so I can remove myself from this area as quickly as possible, I have a much stronger urge to use what I do have to help him. I've never been able to sacrifice like this before. Have I really been such a selfish person my entire life? And the strange part is that it makes me feel good, all things considered, to be able to give and expect nothing in return. I feel like he deserves it after all the times he has done the same for me. I know this is what I am supposed to be doing. When I go to work at this nightmarish job every day, I'm not thinking about what I can buy or what adventures I might be able to take. I'm thinking of how every little bit I make is going to help both of us into a better life. I only wish I could offer more than what I am able to right now.

That's why I decided to sell my suit. I never thought I would be willing to part with it. It was my first really outstanding creation, and it's been with me through a lot. I feel like it's an important part of me. I love being able to look at it and feel all of the experiences and memories again. But I've ultimately decided that this is more important to me than drag. There will always be other suits. And maybe this is a good way to symbolize that it's time to move forward. The suit does say "Time 4 Change", after all. And I think it is. Whatever money I do get will get me that much closer to the life I want to lead. Again, it's hard to believe that I am the person making these choices. (I've even considered selling my iPad since it is the most valuable thing I own, but I use it way too much for that to be practical.)

I've learned that being able to leave this place on my own and get a job in my future city is an extremely important part of this process. I may not be able to go through all of the steps on my own, but financing such a venture is a majority of the battle, and I already know that I am capable of that. I just have to do the work and wait for my efforts to be rewarded. Having this goal in mind has helped me refocus quite a bit because, honestly, there was a point yesterday where things were a lot more uncertain. I'm not saying that everything is completely clear, but being able to set my sights on something is important for my motivation and ability to sustain whatever it is that I am doing.

I'm learning that that's another one of those Asperger's things that I just have to work around. For as intelligent as I am, I've got pretty shitty executive functioning skills, at least when it comes to managing my own life. I don't know why I can help other people prioritize but have such a hard time doing the same thing for myself. I'm still working on ways to trick myself and get myself past the hurdles. Here are some of my major problems. It's not an exhaustive list, but it's a start:

1. I have a hard time prioritizing tasks. Everything seems equally important.
2. Numbering tasks in order of priority is sometimes helpful, but then I run into trouble if I just can't accomplish one. Then I don't seem to be able to move past it to the next one.
3. I have trouble starting on a new task when another one is in progress.
4. Even when I know exactly what I need to do, I sometimes still freeze. It's like being stuck on the edge of a swimming pool indefinitely. You know you need to jump and are going to do it but you just can't figure out why you won't.
5. If I can't see the concrete steps involved, it's significantly harder for me to get anything done.
6. Similarly, if I can't see a concrete goal at the end or concrete reassurances or reminders throughout a particularly long process--especially if it's something I don't want to be doing in the first place--I lose drive and focus.
7. Stress, feeling out of control, not having a finite endpoint--all of these things make accomplishing anything much more difficult. I can't get organized in my head enough to even begin sometimes.

I've been doing so much better with these things, but I know there is still room for improvement. The fact that I have been able to make myself go to this job that I hate more than any other job I have ever worked (a lot of that may have to do with the circumstance, but I also feel like they are asking a hell of a lot of me for eight bucks an hour) is a testament to my ability to make sacrifices and stay focused in order to get something that I really want. But I need to constantly look at apartments and jobs in the place I really do want to be. I feel like I recalculate everything on a daily basis. I have to give myself visual reminders all the time. That's why it helps when we talk or FaceTime. Seeing him is a reminder for me in a lot of ways. It reminds me of what I have to look forward to. It reminds me also of what happened in the past and how I need to put in my work to make sure it never happens again. It reminds me of the person I want to be and the future I want to have, not just for us, but really for myself. For some reason, just talking about nothing for an hour or so makes me feel like I've got this, no matter what life throws at me.

I don't want people to get the wrong impression. It's not that I am solely focused on relationship things. I'm also doing all that I can to get my educational, financial, and personal goals off the ground. But it helps me to think about everything as part of the same package. After all, the relationship goals wouldn't matter much without taking care of the other ones. So I'm working my ass off, doing my research, preparing for different situations that might arise, and all that fun stuff. I've just been a lot more vocal about my relationship, and I don't think anyone can blame me for that. It's the most fulfilling part of my life. And I feel like I am the last person that would have come to that conclusion. I always envisioned myself as that sort of career-focused person. I realize now that it's not a bad thing. I'm not in a very fulfilling career right now, but I think I have learned over the years that you are not entirely defined by what you do. Your job doesn't determine your worth as a person or the happiness you can derive from everyday life. I don't know if I would have learned these lessons had I taken the traditional route through life. I feel like this post is headed in a very different direction now.

I never would have learned the value of money had I not experienced what it is like to be exceptionally poor. I never would have learned anything about how the real world works--how people are sometimes trapped in roles they don't want. I never would have learned that there is a hell of a lot more to being successful and mobile than just hard work. I never would have seen the corruption, the disparities, the injustices that so many people who grew up in upper middle-class households never have to think about. Along the way, I have lost so many different kinds of privilege, and I'm proud to have learned all the lessons I have. I've learned never to judge people based on one aspect of their lives. What would people say about me knowing that I essentially pack boxes for a living? That I have been in and out of work for the past several years? Would people expect to meet someone with my education, my experience, or my intelligence walking by me as I'm covered in dirt dragging around a pallet full of lawn chairs? Do you know how differently people treat me when I walk around in a suit as compared to when I walk around at work? As much as I can appreciate all that I have learned, it's still incredibly depressing to go from being a researcher with a promising career ahead of him to unloading trucks for next-to-nothing. How many other people have ended up just like this? I know I am not the only one. But I also know that this is not the end for me, so as depressing as it may seem now, I'm just working my way through Right Now, getting ready for What Comes Next. If I could be there tomorrow, I wouldn't hesitate for an instant. But time doesn't work that way, does it?

Another interesting thing happened tonight. My best friend from Kindergarten/early elementary school found me on Facebook. She still lives in the area and wants to do something one of these days. I have so many feelings that I don't even know how to deal with them all. I'm overwhelmingly happy that she did find me and took the time to tell me that she still thinks about those times and how great they were. How she will always be grateful for those years we shared. And that really means a lot to me. I feel the same way. And sometimes I wish I could go back to those days, as I'm sure we all do, because the worst thing that could happen on most days was that you ran out of graham crackers or it got too dark to keep playing outside.

I'm incredibly impatient with my current situation, and that's really helping me work on my impulse control. The hardest part of impulse control for me is delaying gratification or enduring something undesirable to achieve a better outcome. So obviously you can see how this situation is a little torturous at times. But every day that I make it is another win for me. Every situation I endure--every time I stop myself from engaging in self-pity, bitching, obsessing, etc.--I get stronger. Everything I do and endure here has a purpose. If I didn't believe that, I probably wouldn't have even lasted this long.

So tonight, I'm a little sad and lost with what to do with myself, but I'm actually alright. I think I'll relax and watch some Family Guy. I will try not to think about tomorrow or the next day or the next month. I will just focus on what I can do right now to make myself a little happier than before.

Still not giving up.

Finding the Beginning

It's finally quiet in the house, and I have a good twenty minutes to myself before leg day, the first since the second time a parasite decided to inflict some moderate-to-sever damage on my body and mind. I remember the first time it happened quite vividly. Month after month, I continued to lose weight, sleep more, eat more, and become more depressed until I ended up in a psychiatric ward for the first time in my life. Weeks ago, perhaps even months, more of the same started to happen, but this time the neurological symptoms were the first to appear. I became dizzy and fatigued, with numbness and tingling sensations spreading through my hands and face. I couldn't keep anything down, no matter which way you're thinking. And then came the hospital visit where the doctors were convinced that there was nothing wrong with me at all. Everyone thought I was just being dramatic. A few more weeks went by. I slept for four days straight. A few days later, I found a piece of the little bastard, called my fiance, and made my way to the emergency room at the same hospital that refused to keep looking for an answer when I assured them that something was definitely not right with me. I was out in less than two hours--less than an hour and a half even--because I was the third case the doctor had seen in 35 years. So if you ever need to go to the ER, tell them you have something really bizarre, and they'll pick up the case right away.

Anyway, I'm still not entirely okay. I'm weak and miserable. I'm fighting the worst depression and anxiety I've faced in a long time. And giving up is the only thing that makes sense to me anymore. It hurts to even be conscious most of the time. Today isn't a particularly bad day, but it still took until it was almost dark outside for me to get myself moving and out of my bedroom. I do what little on which I can focus my mind, but I know that just isn't enough. At nearly 27, my life is still going nowhere, except maybe spiraling downward, while everyone else seems to be moving on and moving up in the world. I keep thinking that this isn't what was supposed to happen. What happened to the dreams I used to have? What happened to the ambition that couldn't be contained? Have I really been defeated that many times where I can no longer see the purpose in trying to attain that command over myself again? I know I need help with even the simplest parts of getting back to "normal". And it has to be in parts. Small parts. It's hard to make people understand that you really do need things broken down that way. It's hard to explain that someone's advice or instructions don't make sense when it comes to putting them in practice. It's even harder to say admit that sometimes I don't have control, even when it seems like I do or should. It's not logical, not on the outside. It's just the way my head works. The depression is only a part of it. There is no way for me to fight the limitations my autism places on me. I can only work around them. And that's the trouble with this place. No one seems to be able to help me figure out how, and that's not something you just pick up in your day-to-day life. The world isn't built for people like me. I've run out of creative ways to survive.

It feels like I'm drowning inside my own head. Screaming, crying, having a meltdown--all these things would help to alleviate some of the frustration that's been building for months, years even. But I can't get myself to the surface to be able to do that. I sit here, stuck under water, suffocating, while I put on the best face I can for the people around me. I'm tired of seeing them get hurt. I see the looks on their faces. I see the fear that anything they say will set me off, and I see the frustration. They're more over it than I am. They see my obsession with my own misery and less-than-desirable circumstances and cannot comprehend how I can't just shift my attention to something else or force different thoughts into existence.

I had planned on going to the gym tonight. But I haven't felt this able to express myself in months, and right now, that's more important. My body has been a source of extreme discomfort lately, as I have watched it change so rapidly into something I have worked years to overcome. But without my mind, I am nothing. Unfortunately, I still feel like nothing, so what am I to do?

Maybe a little more explanation about myself is in order. I owe it to those closest to me, even though it's difficult for me to discuss.

I've searched and searched for better ways to explain what I am about to attempt. No one else's version seems to work. So I will give you mine. It may not be complete, but it's a start.

I'm one of the most socially awkward people you will ever meet. But I'm a fantastic actor, and I've learned to play my part well. I'm the one that's perfectly content to sit quietly and listen to your conversation, unless it's something I'm really interested in. Then I probably won't shut up. And I own't notice how annoyed you're getting. I won't get the hint, and I'll take everything you say at face value. If you look upset, which to me is looking anything other than happy, I just assume it's because of me. Because that's all that is there in front of me. Your past history is not concrete enough for me to see at first, so it doesn't enter my mind. I can seem cold or disinterested. I may brush you off. Most of the time when I say "I don't know", it means that I REALLY don't know. I don't know what emotions I am feeling at the time I am feeling them. They keep building up inside until something truly unbearable accumulates, and then I am even less likely to understand or know how to behave. Asking me to talk it out often makes it worse because it is an additional struggle/frustration just to try to get the words out. If I don't have it figured out in my head, how can I try to explain it to you out loud? Sometimes, my frustration builds to the point where I can no longer physically and mentally deal with it. I fail to process. It's a computer crash. There's nothing to do but restart the machine, and sometimes that isn't so pretty. As much as it sucks for everyone around me, sometimes I just need to go through it. A meltdown. Shut down. Whining about the same thing over and over again. And I applaud anyone who has the patience to deal with me. I know people want to show their concern with hugs and whatnot, but that just adds to the physical overstimulation. If you've ever felt like you just needed to scream and have everything in the room stop--put on pause like in the movies--you know what I feel like nearly all the time.

And I'm obsessive. I can't let things go. There are things from twenty years ago I can't let go. I still feel all of those emotions just as strongly as I did then. And thinking about the situation only takes me back to that exact time, and I relive the emotions, often repeatedly over days, weeks, months, and years. One little thing that means nothing to you can ruin an entire month for me.

That brings me to my most recent struggles. These are the most problematic for me. I can handle being socially awkward and isolated, as long as I have my fiance by my side. Very few people truly understand me, and I've never met someone who's wanted to try as hard as he does. But even he is wearing thin. He has a new job that's pretty demanding, and he is gone for days at a time. And I am left with myself and no one to help me with my release. I don't even trust my therapist that much yet.

Anyway, executive functioning. I say that I have problems with this, but many people probably don't know what I'm talking about, so they ignore it, like skipping the infamous whale anatomy chapter in Moby Dick. This time, I've found a pretty good summary thanks to the internet.

Executive function refers to a set of mental skills that are coordinated in the brain's frontal lobe. They work together to help a person achieve goals. The skills in question are the abilities to manage time and attention, switch focus, plan and organize, curb inappropriate speech or behavior, and integrate past experience with present action. When executive function breaks down, a person's ability to work or go to school, function independently, and maintain appropriate social relationships can be affected.

So when I tell you I really don't know how to get my shit together and move forward with something, even if it is specifically told to me what I need to do--which often is not specific enough--I really mean it. It's not that I don't try. Half or more of the trying comes in trying to mentally prepare for what needs to be done, sorting out the mess that's in my head. It's like having a bunch of papers and supplies scattered about my desk. I can't hope to do anything until all of that gets organized and put in the right place. But sometimes there just isn't anywhere to put anything, so I am stuck with all the anxiety of needing to do a task and a complete inability to get it done. Then I get stuck on not getting things done. And every time, it feels like something new. I can't use what I have learned from the times before to help me through a crisis situation. That information is just not accessible. So while you feel like you are repeating yourself, my brain acts as if it is the first time hearing any of it at all. Meanwhile, I'm still dealing with all the sensory issues and anxiety and depression. And all the friends that think I don't care at all because I can't figure out how to maintain my relationships and manage my priorities.

Why was I so much better at this before? There were a lot of clear rules for things in my past. School was pretty straightforward. I didn't have to think about coordinating so many different things at once or prioritizing. I did what needed to be done according to the deadlines set for me and stuck to the schedule laid out for me. But as things progressed, I started to lose control. Deadlines became flexible and I got left on my own, and in my entire life, I've never had any preparation for that. Being smart got me through most of my academic life, but I've learned the hard way that there is so much more to being a functioning member of society. And I'm not fully capable of doing everything yet. And people are really surprised when I say that. They think I should just be able to figure it out and get it done. But these are the people that don't see the world the way I do. I know the only way to come to a solution is to achieve mutual understanding.

I'm becoming a little more sure of what I want to do. But I truthfully don't know where to begin. I need it one step at a time. Painfully obvious steps to most people. And that doesn't exist. It's even more problematic that the simplest solutions just won't work for me. And I worry that all of this, in the end, will prevent me from being able to function in the life that I really do want. Once and if I get to where I want to be, how do I sustain that life? I haven't been able to sustain much of anything in my adult working life. How do I change that when embarking on an even more difficult path? I know this information needs to come from someone like me. A neurotypical answer won't be enough.

I want what I want, and I am finally feeling good enough to say that. I'm really over mediocrity and settling for less than what I know I can do. But the path isn't clear to me. It seems I'm not low enough functioning to not understand but I'm not high enough functioning to actually get shit done. Where do I fit? Where do I begin?

Quiet Time

Today I've oscillated between being full of energy and drive and being so completely engulfed in my own anxiety/misery that my brain decided being asleep for 17+ hours was a more appealing option than staying awake and resolving whatever issues it's been having. In the last several months, I've noticed that I have been falling more quickly from a generally positive state to a rather miserable one, and the fall has been getting harder and harder to resist. I'm running out of energy to deal with this, all the while still fighting increasingly debilitating anxiety and the prospect of maybe getting one meal a day for an indefinite period of time.

My brain is all over the place anymore. I can't finish anything I start, and sometimes the anxiety I feel about having to do something completely overwhelms me to the point where I don't even begin whatever it was I had planned to do. Big or small, it seems that any task is enough to roll this snowball downhill, and it starts the instant I open my eyes every morning and doesn't stop until I pass out from exhaustion, long after lying down to attempt sleep.

Mere annoyances have become triggers, and triggers have become automatic switches that send me from zero to meltdown in about as much time as it took you to read this sentence.

I've more or less lost whatever it was in college that kept me so focused and able to be so productive and functional. Granted, I wasn't the best at coping then either, but I thought I had gotten past all of this. I only know part of the problem, and I know nothing of the solution. My brain is already several steps ahead, and I really can't trick it into doing anything once it gets going in a certain direction. I don't know how to bring myself back. Most of the time, it seems completely illogical that any of these skills will work for me--since I know how they work or what the ultimate aim is--so I get more upset when someone tells me what to do to calm myself down, refocus, etc. I just don't work that way, and I need to find things that really DO help. Maybe some of the issue is that things that help other people actually make it worse for me, or they make it more likely that I will exhibit some sort of behavior or have an outburst in the future. I've never really had a good chance to analyze myself because once I am removed from the situation, the feelings get locked away.
Every now and then, I am able to access that information and translate into words, often poetically, and I gain a little more insight into the puzzle of how this lump of cells in my head works. Unfortunately, that little bit just isn't enough most of the time.

I was able to get a decent workout tonight, take a nice long walk home, and sit here for a little bit before the noise came back into the picture. I feel close to the words I'm writing, and the silence I've had has been helpful. My head feels a little less like a whirlwind, and I don't feel like I have eight TV sets to watch at once in my head while trying to navigate my way through the day. (Maybe just two right now.)

So it's clear that I'm depressed and that I have been for some time. It's also becoming more clear that it may not be depression alone, which would explain why medication hasn't ever helped that much. Severe anxiety, ADHD, bipolar depression, and the big one, of course. It's not surprising, but I always thought they were all part of the same thing. But now I realize that the reason I have never really been completely okay is that, at any given time, I am dealing with one or more of these things. Sometimes, I'm just fucking anxious. And sometimes, I just can't focus. And I'm talking can't focus long enough to finish brushing my teeth or get something out of the fridge, in addition to the more important tasks of everyday life.

I am unable to do this on my own, and I don't know where to start. And even if you told me, I probably wouldn't get to doing it anyway, which has become quite a problem for me.

The noise is coming back, and my heart is starting to race again. No reason, really. But I guess that means I'm done for now.

Not Braining Well

I am tired. I am in pain, which is my own fault because I thought I could definitely get that 5th rep on the highest weight I've ever incline benched. Well, I did. But in the process, I twinged something, and now it's difficult to rise from a supine position and turn my head. (Don't worry. This has happened before and has never really lasted more than a day and a half. It just sucks for right now.) But I am also stressed, and that doesn't make the pain easier to deal with, and that in turn makes me even more stressed.

I don't know why I thought it would be a brilliant idea to have two jobs. Though I am supposed to be working about 45 hours a week, it has turned into more like 60 since not every hour I spend at the gym is paid. Only if I do some tidying up on the floor or perform assessments/free workouts for the people that happen to show up that day do I get paid when I am not actively training someone. Since I am relatively new, my client list is kind of small, so you can imagine how most of my day goes. My exhaustion is making me less effective at both jobs, which is also making me miserable because I am the product of an old-fashioned Eastern European upbringing (think of something similar to Jewish moms if you don't understand the cultural reference).

I'm depressed about not getting anywhere with my life, and it is even more depressing to know that my boyfriend is fighting the same thing that I am, though he is a few years older. I wonder if we will ever be able to crawl out of this hole. Neither one of us wants to believe that this is as good as it gets. I am starting to discover that I may not be able to stay in Pittsburgh if I want to keep moving forward in my life. I came here because the opportunity was better. I am getting a lot of the things I need out of life, but I am also fucking up a lot. I don't like always having to worry about money. I don't like not being able to buy the kind of food I want or not being able to get the new shoes that I desperately need.

There are so many things that still make me happy, but I am constantly fighting off crippling anxiety, and my inability to process emotions, situations, and make decisions in a typical timeframe is causing me to shut down more often. I have near-meltdown experiences almost every day. I'm much better at fighting them off than I used to be, but that is both a blessing and a curse. It just means that there is more stored up for next time.

I feel like I am having a hot flash.

I want to know what it feels like to breathe without feeling like there is a rock in my chest. It's constant. It's been nearly constant my whole life, and it's not okay. But I do hate being on medication because it fucks with my body in so many other ways.

I can't figure shit out when all this is happening around me.
Even though I love what I do and it has saved my ass financially more than a few times already, I am looking forward to having the next few weekends off.

Time to cry. For no reason really.

Catching Up

I miss when things used to be simple--when I would come home from school as a little kid, knowing that there would always be a bowl of chicken noodle soup waiting for me (yes, EVERY day). I miss knowing where I was headed in life, and I miss that feeling of invincibility. I miss believing that nothing could stand in my way.

Tonight, I feel a kind of miserable I don't quite understand. I know I am not reacting like I am used to when I am devastated. I'm being calm, and I am able to do other things, and I am not an emotional wreck. Somehow, I am in control, and it doesn't feel normal for me. I'm not complaining. This is just new territory for me. 

The final rejection letter came from Pitt's School of Education. So now I feel like I have to start all over. I feel lost, hopeless, useless, aimless, etc. And I'm tired of it, really. I do not want to be an endless wanderer. I want a home. I want a life. And I want a purpose. Or some idea of what mine should be. I know what I want to do, but what if I never get the chance now? What else can I do? I don't know any of the answers yet. And while that is tearing me apart inside, I am somehow still okay. Still doing what needs to be done, helping where I am needed, and trying to better myself and my circumstances regardless of the pain. 

But if Friday hadn't happened, I probably would have had a much worse time with that news. Last week was beyond stressful. Illness, not sleeping two nights of the week, having to spend the majority of one in a parking lot with my mother, routine changes, overwhelming days at work, late night pageant preparation, phone calls, late paperwork and write-ups, worries about moving and school and jobs, a shutdown situation,and the thought of seeing my brother for the first time in four and a half years...plus the usual things. A seven day battle to keep my head above water. 

And I lost on Friday morning, during a supervision meeting. Everyone knew something was up. I could tell by the way that everything began to get louder and more intense--by the way I just kept focused on the pattern in the carpet and by how I twitched and had to fight not to scream and fall out of my chair--that it was coming, and there was no turning back.

So I wrote a note to my BSC, who was sitting right next to me once I realized this: "I am very, very close to having a meltdown, and I don't know what to do." 

I was able to at least sit through the rest of the relatively short meeting, and I suppose it was convenient that I work in an office full of therapists. The main boss came to help. It took about 45 minutes after he came in for me to fully calm down, but I talked a lot after the first 20 minutes. Needless to say, I didn't make it to work that day. But no one seemed to mind. Now I am waiting on a call for actual therapy sessions paid for by work, which I think have been long overdue. 

I don't think I would have been able to handle the news had I not come that close to exploding. I needed a fresh start, and as shitty as it was to experience and have others witness, I needed it. I knew it was coming, just not when. 

So I made it a point to arrive to work early, and I came out to the teacher. Not as gay. Not as trans. As an autistic person working with autistic children. And the twenty minute conversation that ensued was also something that I needed. I wonder why it is so much harder for me to come out about this than anything else. And, yes, it really is a coming out process. It changes how people perceive and treat you. 

I still don't have too many words about my visit with my brother. I am not sure what to say yet because I am not sure of those emotions yet.

Jumping back to today, I've been fighting the feeling I always get when big things are coming up: I always want to quit everything and drop off the face of the earth. I end up asking myself why I am doing any of it at all. But I usually get my answer after it's all over. 

I still have so many fears. But I have a different answer to how I think things will play out. I may not always believe it, but it wasn't an idea I was willing to entertain this time last year: that I'm going to be okay, even if bad things continue to happen. 

Also, yesterday was my four-year T anniversary. Two people remembered without my saying, and I am okay with how quiet I was about it this time around. Maybe next time I will celebrate in some way, but for some reason, I feel that this was the way things needed to be done this year. 

I can survive this week because I've already made it this far . 

Cell phone post

This probably isn't the best idea. I just got finished writing a few pages by hand, and of course, it made things worse. I only ever write about the same things when I feel this way, which also makes me feel like my writing is suffering.

I really do feel like I am losing it. I'm a capacitor. And I can't hold any more energy. I'm overloading, and I need an outlet. But I need enough structure to stabilize myself before I can release this energy in any way that would be productive. 

For the last several weeks, I have been holding it all in. I snapped once or twice, but I haven't been able to really get anything out otherwise. I hold myself together because I fear the response I will get, I fear upsetting others, and I fear that, one of these times, I just won't come back. 

I just want someone to hold me in a way that makes me feel better. But anyone touching me at this point is jarring. Things are getting worse. And I need to stop lying to myself about it. 

I'm making myself sick with all of this. 

I need things to stop. Or slow down. I can't keep up.

I felt like I was really getting somewhere at the start of Christmas break or maybe halfway through. I am going out of town to visit a friend this weekend, and I don't know if I have the energy for that. Almost nothing in my life is restorative. Time alone doesn't exist. Control doesn't exist. I am trapped just as much as my brother. 

I cannot leave when I want. I have almost nothing to my name. I feel isolated. And right about now, I feel hopeless. But I'm here. And I guess that's what matters to everyone. Not how I feel or that I am losing my ability to function independently. Just that I am here. 

I love my family more than anyone will ever know. It will make it that much harder to leave. I would love to be able to spend time with them, but it's not even quality time at this point because I spend so much of my free time running away, hiding in my room, hoping to recharge at least a little. But I only get enough to just keep the power on. 

I love my family. But this is going to kill me. And I don't know what to do. Or maybe I'm just making excuses because I don't have a good reason for this behavior. Or these feelings. 

I really, really, REALLY don't want to have to have these fights with myself every minute of every day. The last two days of work have been seven hour battles with myself, on top of having to deal with a room full of severely autistic children. 

I just want to be calm. Anxiety isn't quite the word anymore. I feel like it is just pain. Anxiety, depression, fear, anger, etc. It's all the same at this point. And it's always there. I wake up to it, shower with it, get dressed with it, work with it, and fall asleep with it, when I can. Pass out with it might be more accurate. 

I am shaking trying to hold in all of this nonsense. My head is pounding. My stomach hates me. I feel so much trying to escape. I feel weak. Off-balance. Dizzy. 

And I feel like this is all I do anymore. 

July 8

Why can't I just do the things I need to do?

Still November, Right?

It's not depression unless you've got no reason to be upset. Over and over again, I am forced to face the fact that my life is and will probably never be what it was supposed to be. I'm already a failure. And now that this is where I am, it seems impossible to get out. My life isn't what I want it to be. No matter how happy I can be with the person I have become, the rest of my life has fallen to shit, and I'm going nowhere. And I'm not any closer to saving up enough money to change that. I'm banking on getting into graduate school because I know I won't have to worry about money during that time. I'm praying that I get that position because I'll make more money working 20 hours a week for four months than I will in an entire year at GNC. But if that doesn't work out, well, I don't know where I will be.

The credit card payment is supposed to come out of my account tomorrow, and I'm not going to have enough money to pay it. If it takes the money anyway and overdraws my account, that's the best thing that can happen right now. And I'll be slammed with fees until I can deposit my paycheck after work on Wednesday. If the money doesn't clear...I'm back up to paying 400 dollars a month with nearly 30 percent interest. If the latter situation plays out, I'll have to leave. I don't even know how I feel about it. There are things I don't want to deal with if I go home, but there is a part of me that misses being able to be closer to my family. I would miss everyone here, and Jon would break up with me, but I don't really feel like I have a lot of friends here. I don't even think I have a few, really. Knowing that living expenses would be taken care of at home is a plus, but should that be enough? Should I risk everything now in order to prevent having to risk it for the next ten years of my life?

You have no idea how many times I've considered selling drugs or sex for money. I have people telling me stories about how they used to have five cars and had so much money coming in that they could just give one away. Then I always have to stop and think about how ridiculous it is that I'm even at this point. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, and this isn't what they told me would happen. It almost makes me regret going to college at all...almost.

I could have been in medical school right now. Instead, I've been living on a little less than 2 dollars for about five days now, and I still have to wait until Wednesday night. I haven't actually gone grocery shopping in months. My bed is still just an old mattress on the floor. I'm still in the same place, barely scraping by, and I can't live like this any more. I've been trying to make the best of it, but the effort is just one more thing that takes its toll on me.

"Just get another job."
I already want to cry every single morning I have to wake up and go do this. I'd probably--definitely--want to put a bullet in my brain if I had to do it twice as much.

Yes, a lot of people have it a hell of a lot worse than I do, and maybe they are better people than I am for being able to handle more than I can. I won't argue with it. I just don't want to get to the point where I feel like it's not worth trying anymore, and I'm so close already. I can feel it creeping up on me, almost breathing on me. What is there to keep that feeling at bay? I have nothing tangible to help me through this, and every time I rely on hopes and dreams, I end up in a far worse position.

Moving home would be giving up. But I might have no other choice. I'm just another one of those people who got lost in everything I guess. And I have this terrible feeling that I'm never going to get out of this and that this really is as good as it gets. But maybe I do deserve it, with all that I could have and probably should have done. I'm afraid that it's already too late.

I'm just afraid.
And I'm worried that there's no point in even wanting anything now. I don't want to shut down again. I feel like things haven't been right in such a long time. It's hard to imagine that I could have felt fine a few days ago. Maybe I don't know how to live in what everyone calls the real world, but that's really funny to me.

I may not understand a lot of things about how this society works, but if it ever ceased to work, I'd be able to survive just fine. Most of the real world is absolutely fake, and I'm tired of dealing with it. I hate knowing that that's probably how I'm going to feel for the rest of my life. I just lost my train of thought completely.

I need a plan. I feel like I need help making one. But I don't know if I actually trust that many people for that kind of help. As usual, I'm my own worst enemy. Bleh. This ship is sinking for sure.