More Changes

I haven't been able to calm down for two days. It's a restless sort of terrified feeling that is fueled by many different things. It's hard to even know where to begin, but I need to say something.

I spent a good deal of time thinking of a way to move by September, and my opportunity presented itself yesterday morning, when a sublet became available in my future city. The plan was to move on my own, start working, and wait it out until we could move to a larger place together. It wasn't a definite plan because, let's face it, nothing can be these days. But it was enough of a direction for me. I seized the opportunity. Once the guarantor paperwork is filled out and I pay the deposit next Friday, it's finalized. But I spent all day agonizing because it seems that we will be moving separately at first. I suppose it makes more sense to take it slow, and being in the same town will definitely make things easier, but it's still an impossible feeling to completely control. I want to jump back into things like before. I want everything to be right again so desperately. Except I want to do things better, which means that we can't just jump into things and expect everything to be okay. It's going to be slow at first. It's going to be a rebuilding of the trust that had been broken. It's going to be learning to love each other all over again and in new and different ways. And that is kind of exciting. But it's hard when you just want that comfortable life that you had before--the falling asleep together every night, the waking up with the one you love right beside you, the always being able to look forward to seeing his face at the end of the day. And the little things like watching TV together, reading side-by-side, talking about the future, cuddling, being cute in an almost disgusting way, having weekend adventures. I miss all of that as well.

I skipped over a lot of things, but you get the general idea. I'm moving. I'm moving to a brand new place, all on my own, and I've never done that before. At least in Annapolis, I knew my roommate. This time, I don't know the two people with whom I'll be sharing the apartment. I do have a private bathroom, and the place has amenities out the ass, but it's still terrifying. I know this is a step forward for me. But I'm so scared, and I feel like crying all the time lately. I am torn inside because I know what I want, and I can't have it, at least not yet, and I have to make this decision. I know it's the right thing to do to get ahead, and it's also the right thing to do to be able to work on our relationship, but it still feels overwhelming. I keep wondering if these feelings are normal. I'm excited, for sure. But today I've been a wreck. I couldn't sleep at all last night, and my nap earlier today didn't last nearly long enough. I want the pain in my stomach to finally go away. It started to feel like it would when I would be waiting for him. It's not like there is that much of a difference between my situation here and the one I will be moving to, with respect to the relationship. The distance will no longer be a factor. But not being able to see his face every night before bed, when he is right there in the same town--that's going to be brutal.

But ultimately, this move is about moving forward on more than one front. It may not be an ideal situation, but it is still a step in the right direction in terms of our relationship. But that's not the only important thing I'm taking care of by doing this. I'm taking the leap so I can find a job that has the potential for professional growth, which may take some time, but a humiliating/menial job in a city with people I know and closer to so many people I love is better than one in an area where I feel isolated almost all the time. Being able to control my own space, for the most part, will also be a huge relief. This is also an important step because I need to keep in the practice of taking care of my own affairs. I haven't been cooking as much here, which bothers me, because I'm usually so much better about what I put into my body, but I am trying not to be too critical of myself. It's a chance for me to start functioning in the real world again. It's terrifying. I'm afraid of failing, of course. I'm confident. I'm actually more confident than I have ever been about my own abilities. But I cannot shake the fear of the unknown and the anxiety that comes with knowing that there is still a chance that despite all my best efforts, I will fail again.

I feel like I need continual reassurance that I'm doing the right thing. I may be doing this on my own, but that doesn't mean I won't need some sort of support. I'm scared of being in a new place all on my own. I don't know who wouldn't be. I wish I weren't doing this alone. And I may not be for long. But that doesn't mean that I can't. So even when I have doubts, I have to trust that I am going to be okay, no matter what happens.

It's been over a month, and I've survived. I've overcome obstacles that used to seem insurmountable. Normally, when I don't sleep, I don't function well at all the next day. I started panicking when I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep. I had been awake for nearly 24 hours and still had an 8-hour shift plus the journey home to endure. I fought with myself quite a bit. I dreaded going to work. I feared I would not last without having a meltdown. I feared that it would all just be too much. I didn't want to continue feeling like I did. I just wanted to run away by sleeping in. But I went. I somehow forced myself to deal with the situation. I had to tell myself I was doing this for a reason, no matter how miserable the job is or how shitty I feel. I have a goal, and I need the money to achieve that goal. I have a responsibility to see this through. And I did it. I worked the whole day without having any trouble, other than feeling ridiculously tired. The nap this afternoon,though short, did feel pretty amazing after that.

Also, it's been over a month, and I haven't had a meltdown. I haven't screamed. There's been a lot of crying and a lot of intense emotional pain that has caused physical pain. The anxiety is constant, unfortunately. Maybe it's more to do with the disconnect between where I want to be and where I am. I'm not sure.  But I'm coping. I'm learning to live with these feelings, which are pretty intense at times. I feel like that's an understatement. But you get the point. I've had so much shit happen to me emotionally over the past month and a half, and I haven't broken down. A few months ago, just being in the same room with other people would have sent me over the edge. Being late for an appointment would have completely destroyed my entire day, and I'd spend the whole rest of the night crying in bed, unable to move. I don't know how that person ever came to be. I knew the whole time that I wasn't myself. But I couldn't stop anything from happening.

Sometimes I still have some of those same feelings, but I'm in control this time. At some point, I will write in depth about how I felt during those months. I know there are a ton of posts from that time, but being able to analyze it from the other side might offer more insight into just how debilitating my condition had become. But I'm not up for that right now.

I guess I should finally get to what made me want to write in the first place. Walking over to my desk to take some medicine, I got hit with the realization of how different everything is right now. In my mind flashed images of our old bed, followed immediately by images of this one. Blue sheets versus red sheets. Alive versus eerily quiet. Even the lighting makes the place feel different. I just look at myself and all of my things and can't believe we aren't in the place where I felt like we belonged. It really was home. And for some reason, this doesn't have that feeling anymore. It's always going to be home. It's always going to be a loving, welcoming place. But it's a different kind of feeling. It's a home that I can still be a part of, but it's not the same as the home you have helped to create. And I really don't think my new apartment is going to totally feel like home either. I'm scared of that empty feeling following me, which has a lot more to do with being alone, but you never know what can happen. I will do my best to make the place my own. I had more to say but I got lost in thought and it disappeared.

I may consider anxiety medication again. But for now, I can handle this, as unpleasant as it feels most of the time. I struggle with this because part of me feels that I shouldn't have to feel like this all the time if there is a solution. But side effects are a real problem for me, as I have learned, and I just don't know if I am ready to take that risk again, especially because your typical anxiety meds don't do anything for me. Maybe the anxiety will resolve itself when my situation improves. It's wishful thinking more than anything, but hoping won't kill me.

I will be okay. I am doing the right thing. This is a step forward on all fronts. I won't give up.

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.

Ten Days

I've only been in Pittsburgh for ten days, but it feels like I have been back for several weeks already. Though the first few days were very difficult, it didn't take long for me to feel at home. I want to expound upon this at some point--why transitioning to a new location is such a mindfuck for me and how I have learned to cope--but I leave in a few hours to head to nationals for GUS, and though such a topic deserves more than a passing mention, my head isn't quite ready to commit to writing about it.

The day it sank in  for me was the day we played softball in the rain. I have and will always connect with people through shared experiences. It's not enough to just talk about common interests. I need to do things with you. Sports and their basic mechanics, like music, have a natural rhythm to them. 

Rhythm is a form of communication. It is a form of interaction all its own. 

Playing on that field in the rain made me feel things I had forgotten I could feel. Playing sports, dancing, and playing music all require you to somewhat share the same consciousness as others. I finally felt grounded in my city again. I finally felt able to call Pittsburgh my home again. It became real that afternoon, and despite the abysmal weather conditions and the possibility of getting struck by lightning, I can say without a doubt that I was just plain happy. 

It's so much easier for me to talk to people when I do things like this. 

I too am ready for whatever comes next. 

I have finally learned to say "no" to people. It's been the hardest lesson I've had to learn. I am naturally a much too giving person, and when I also care about the things with which people need assistance, I tend to feel guilty about refusing. I have something very big and very important coming up this weekend, and it has been a constant struggle to remain focused and to love myself enough to put myself first for the time being. I am excited to see old friends and begin working on these new projects, but now is happening now. I will treat my present with the same respect I treat my future. 

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)

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.

More About Home

Sometimes you want to ignore the little things in life that remind you of what you need to do, because what you want to do is putting so much pressure on you. There was the wedding and then TransPride and my wanting to be wrapped in the arms of the city that gave me life, but it was the smallest of things that brought me to tears. He noticed the city lights shining brightly through a gap in the trees and gasped, "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." And on my lips the words sat in silence, "I know." After getting lost and ending up in the exact opposite place we needed to be, I took him to the overlook on Mount Washington. He took a picture. I didn't need to. I could never forget that sight, or how it seemed so much bigger and scarier when I had first visited eight years ago. I took in the scene as slowly as I could and let it wash over my body like a warm bath, little memories rising up and popping like bubbles in the tub. And then I could hold back no longer. I cried as softly as I could and muttered so only my own ears could share the secret: "I am home."

Flash two weeks into the future. I am sitting in the still unoccupied massage room of the newly opened gym at which I had begun working, crouched over my dying cell phone as I attempt to charge and talk at the same time. She didn't answer. She didn't answer again. She was talking to her other son, which I had not known until she called me back a few seconds after receiving a simple text: "It's important." I unleashed tears. And fears. And everything that I had been fighting the last few days. It was settled in just a few minutes. And I had made the decision myself. She would not tell me what to do. She did not tell me what I should do. She waited for me to utter the words myself: "I want to come home." So I packed up my things and made my coworkers aware of the situation, and as I stooped and slung my bag over my shoulder to begin the longest ten-minute walk of my life, a key fell to the floor. The sticker from Lowe's hadn't even been removed. I hadn't seen this key in almost a year. It was the key to the front door of the very first place I called home.

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.

Being Okay

I came home seven months ago against my will, without knowing anyone here other than my parents. I suppose you could count the people I used to know in high school, but I'm sure none of them really exist anymore either. I even got to know a few of them all over again. In so many ways, this part of my life is the low-budget sequel to my high school experience. I make just about the same amount of money, spend a lot of time wondering about the future all by myself, and I live in the same room. Best Buy is like a giant high school (many, many of them actually went to my actual high school) as well, complete with relationship drama, cliques, and house parties. And because of those house parties, I actually have friends I trust enough to randomly text or maybe even call (gasp) whenever I need something.

I find it interesting that I make friends with military guys so easily. I'm sure that says something about my personality, perhaps about my general lack of concern for holding my tongue when it would otherwise be appropriate. Also pretty sure the obsession with physical fitness has something to do with it. But it's not just that I can chat with them or find common ground. There really is some sort of deeper connection I can't quite figure out, like they would be the kind of friend that I try to be, because when it comes to putting your ass on the line for your fellow man, they've pretty much done that for a living.

I read something that made me angry the other day, but it made me happy as well. And regardless of which emotion I ended up feeling throughout the night, I cried. I wanted to be angry at her, but I was really angry with myself for being so hurt by something that has nothing to do with me. That might actually be why it hurts. I am not ashamed to admit that I am envious of your life. But I am not upset. I am happy, and I am thankful that you understand how unique your position is and how many lives you have the ability to affect from it. And I hope those lives are affected in positive ways, and instead of harboring this negative energy and having it seep out into the real world, I have no choice but to let it go. I'm on my way to being happy. And you are already happy. And we had nothing to do with each other's happiness. And I am learning to be okay with that. I'm learning not to be sad. It's hard to forget about the moments of the two of us that I can still see in full color--about how you were part of what changed the course of my entire life. But I understand that I do not have to, and the beauty of my life is that I don't have to play by the rule that says I need to be the jealous ex-boyfriend. I can just be an old friend. And maybe a new one, one of these days, if our paths ever cross again. Awkwardness is just going to be part of this whole experience, but we don't have to try to force it out of the way. Let the awkwardness come and go as it pleases, and it'll probably depart sooner rather than later.

I was so worried about never finding another soul that fit quite as nicely as yours, but then I did, in the most unexpected of places. And now I feel the same way about him. I can only assume that the same thing may very well happen again. But I am still young, and patience is a thing that is relegated to certain scattered aspects of my life. The pressure is on to settle down and start having babies, as every day I see new notifications about who is engaged, married, or pregnant. I see their wedding pictures. They're looking into each other's eyes like the world could be burning down around them and they wouldn't care. The power of the camera to capture the aura of two souls wrapped around each other--two spirits blending together and radiating love--is something I have always respected. Their pictures more than anything make me feel exactly what it is that I do not have in my life. And then the pain becomes very real.

I do wonder if I will ever feel such an intense love again. I wonder if I will ever be able to look into another person's eyes and truly believe that I'll be doing the exact same thing thirty or forty or fifty years down the road. I wonder if someone will ever see past the broken parts of me or maybe even love them just as much. I wonder if the person I may find will be able to take me at my worst, which is something that no one else has been able to do. And I wonder if it will be my fault if they can't.

I'm scared of losing things. I'm very scared about life right now because I may be at a point of no return, if such a thing exists. I'm still scared of making the wrong choice, even though I know that there isn't one. I may have made the wrong choice a few years ago when I decided to pass on medical school, but it was something that I had to do, and the only reason I would even argue that it could have been wrong is based on information I obtained after the fact. I was going to say something about having learned some very important things in the past two years, but that is actually just as meaningless. I am here now. It is so easy to forget that this is my present experience. That it matters too. That I need to make it matter by continuing to do things that matter. I may not be where I want to be, but I do have at least some ability to make this more like the place in my life I DO want to be.

Where am I? I am in my old bedroom, but it is not the same. I changed it shortly after moving back home. I repainted the walls, removed the old posters, eliminated boxes and boxes of useless junk and filed the rest of it away under "memories". It looks very modern, organized. Everything matches in here, as opposed to the chaotic assortment of patterns and colors I amassed between moving into this room for the first time and moving away for college. I still do not feel like there is enough of me in this room to make it more than a comfortably decorated room in which I am staying. I'm a guest in many ways. I'm trying to make this place feel like it belongs to me, but it does not. I am in my parent's house, not mine. Nothing can change this back to what it used to be. And I'm not just talking about the room.

My favorite holiday was his favorite holiday too. I watched him get excited about decorating the house and scaring away little children. It looked spectacular, and I remember getting off work and trudging through the cold and the light misty rain after getting off the bus just to make it back in time to see the last of the trick-or-treaters heading home. I remember playing with the puppy in the yard and watching her grow enough to be able to climb the stairs without being terrified. When I went back to get my things last month, she was even bigger and now more fearless. And when he hugged me goodbye, I didn't want to let go. I never want to let go, and that's my problem. I could keep going further and further back into the past, getting caught in memories of getting caught in moments with people who aren't just blips on the radar. I'm so scared that I have lost the ability to feel the extremes of felicity, perhaps because of my frequent mental excursions into the past.

It may not seem like I'm ready to deal with my life yet, but I feel that I am getting closer. And it all started by taking the risk of going over someone's house a few weeks ago. I get more confident each time, yet I am still fearful of making mistakes. I am probably going to be okay. I might even be more than okay, but right now, I've got a space heater, a brand new computer, fifteen pounds of muscle I didn't have 6 months ago, and football drinking buddies. I'd say that constitutes a little bit more than being okay.

Thought

I might actually have friends, and that is scary. Having friends makes it that much harder to leave. I know from experience.

Insight

I've recently decided that I might want to move back to Pittsburgh. I now know why. I spent a weekend with the right people and kept my attention focused on that, instead of worrying about how miserable I might be on the off chance the wrong people confronted me. Despite a few unhappy looking glances in my direction, they seemed to be relatively easy to ignore, almost like they weren't even there. I've already lost my home to ignorant fucks on more than one occasion, and I don't intend to make a habit of it. Perhaps I am so drawn back to the city, not only because it is home but because I also have a lot of unfinished business to tackle. If I am going to leave somewhere, I want to be the one to decide that. The way things went down, I feel as if something has been taken from me, and I don't think I'll be able to live with the feeling of letting go so easily--of abandoning something I wanted so much and was so close to achieving. I wanted to establish my home out there for a reason, and that reason has not changed, and many of the people that helped me make that decision are still out there. I feel bad for not making them a bigger part of my life when it turns out I could have used them a great deal. I think going back would be very different this time around because I know which people are worth the time.

My brain definitely has a funny way of doing things.

My Present

This January, I will leave this town. This will be my present to myself, whether I have a job in another place or not. This is my next step, and I know I won't be able to do or decide on anything else until I am in a better place.

I want a home. So I will make one for myself.

8/9/2012

I'm scared of leaving, and I'm scared of not leaving. I'm terrified that I'll leave and not know how to handle it. I won't know where to go, and I'm worried that I'll be too overwhelmed to even try to go anywhere, meet anyone, do anything, etc. I'm worried about moving in with people I've never met before. I'm worried that I'll be even more lonely than I already am. As far as staying here is concerned, I'm worried that I'll never leave. I'm worried that something terrible will happen in January. I'm worried that I'll snap before then. I don't know if I can do this, and I don't want to be dealing with it at all. I wish I had words to describe the combined physical and emotional feelings I'm fighting right now. I just don't want to do any of this anymore. I very rarely feel any sort of positive emotion. I keep asking for help. But it doesn't matter. I can't even keep my thoughts straight enough to finish a sentence here without pausing and having them wander all over the place.

I don't want to be here in January because I don't want to have to be afraid of two people I'm living with. I can barely handle the one. I ended up breaking the bathroom mirror yesterday, and the only reason I can come up with is that I was going to end up doing something much worse. I don't want to be in a place where I have this little control of my circumstances, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to get to a new place and have it either. Control needs to be gained in every situation. It's not something that's just there. And if I'm not in the position to gain control, I'm screwed.

I just keep getting the feeling that this isn't going to end well. I'm not even sure what I mean by the word "this". It could be a number of things, but I don't have very many good feelings about anything. I keep coming back to the realization that there is something wrong with me that cannot be fixed and that I'm never going to be okay. And I wonder if I will be able to live the rest of my life knowing that about myself.

Every time I even try to pursue a line of thinking to get me out of this mess, I end up stopping myself because I feel that it just doesn't matter. There are so few things I care about right now. But I want to care. I know that some part of me does, but there is a part of me that's making me not care or that feels like it useless to care. There's the part of me that keeps saying I'll get over it and tomorrow will be better, but it never really is. Maybe I'm fine for an hour or two or when I can find a way to completely forget about my life, but I cannot honestly think about my life in any way without feeling terrible. And I go through my day feeling terrible and questioning every good thing that happens to me.

I'm trying to remember if I really did feel better on medication. But I don't know. Maybe I was feeling better because I was in a better place or because I had something to consume me, but I don't know. I was still on medication the first two months or so I was here, and I really felt like I was making progress. And then I stopped. And then I just started to feel worse. I don't know if those two are related since a few more shitty things happened to me around the same time I stopped.

And now I am worried because I don't have a doctor for my T, and I don't have one for my fucked up head, and I can't find either or afford either.

I don't want to be this. This isn't right. It isn't fair that the only thing I seem to be able to think about is my misery. And it pushes everything else out of the way.
I feel like I'm always struggling to breathe, like there is always a tremendous weight pressing down on my chest.

I get the feeling that I won't be able to leave here until I have this under control. But I don't know if that's possible.

No matter how much I want certain things, I can't have them. I can't even try to have them. I've given up on so many things because it's better than just wishing and hoping. I've trusted too many people to help me that promised they would, and I just don't believe it anymore. I don't want to care about these things because I just keep feeling disappointed. And I end up feeling more trapped.

Trapped. Anxious. Terrified. Restless. Angry. Frustrated. Miserable. Lonely. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I want to stop pretending to be okay and actually be okay. But if I stop pretending to be okay, even more people will hate me, and I've already found this out through experience and am still fucking dealing with the consequences of allowing myself the one fucking time to completely break down and try to put my life back together.

I really just can't do this myself, and no one here seems to be able to care about that. No one seems to want to see what's really happening to me.

Like the time my brother told me, drunk and sitting down in the bathroom, that he was going to do something and he wasn't going to be able to stop himself. I told my mother. She refused to make anything of it. And now here we are.

I looked her in the eye the other night and told her I was serious over and over again. I know I was begging for her to just get me some help already. But it's never going to happen. I guess I understand not wanting to believe your son is fucked up, crazy, and will never amount to anything because of it.

I wonder whatever happened to all of that potential.
What the fuck is happening and why?
I keep thinking that this isn't normal, but maybe it is for me, in which case there is really nothing anyone can do.

I really wish I could focus on something else. I want to write about something else and really feel it. I don't want to be teased by one or two good days just to be taken down even further than before.

I want to throw up all of my insides.
I want all of this to fucking end already.

No matter how much I know that people care, I don't feel a god damned thing. I can't feel anything but pain. I'm just fucking numb to happiness and love. I keep doing the things that make me happy and trying to be around the people that care, hoping I'll be able to fake it till I make it or something like that, but I end up feeling so much worse because NOTHING IS WORKING.

And I am writing this because I need to show somebody. And there is only one person I can think to show this to, other than the people already reading it, and I know she's going to feel like shit reading it and blame herself. I want more than anything in the world to be okay for her and for everyone that cares about me, more than I want to be okay for myself. I'm not sure I care about myself at all. I don't hate myself. I just hate my life. And I don't know if that makes sense. Or maybe I do hate myself and don't know it. I used to be able to name things about myself that I liked and be able to smile and understand why they were true. But I name the same things and only become miserable because all of these things have gotten me absolutely nowhere. I might as well never have tried. I might as well never have been any sort of special.

I came back here to try to start over but I ended up back in the past and more miserable than ever, and things looked so promising a few months ago. Now I'm questioning whether I want to even mention this to anyone else at all. I don't want to worry someone over something that probably won't improve anyway. You kind of have to be in an environment that's conducive to improvement. And while there are a few wonderful things about being here, there are a few terrible things too, and I can't fix any of them. And I feel worse and worse every time and more desperate every time.

I keep writing, hoping I'll feel better, but it never works.

How much more of me is there really left to destroy?

Now

I've come to the conclusion that I've lost my home and most of my friends. Every few days, something happens to make me feel that I shouldn't go back to Pittsburgh. I feel like people are forcing me out--being cruel to me on purpose just to make sure I don't come back. If that's not what I'm supposed to do, then I'm completely lost again. I have nothing, not even something to work towards. It seems so ironic since I just had an amazing conversation with a group of old friends that really made me feel like going back was the right choice. Now I feel as if I've taken a giant leap backwards. I wasn't going to mention it, but if I don't end up going back, it won't matter very much. A friend of mine told me that more people than I assume/know think that I am manipulative and self-serving, and that because she believes where there is smoke, there is fire, this is true. I could list a hundred things that could disprove that, but I know that all it takes is one or two for anyone to believe otherwise. I'm trying to convince myself that the people who matter the most know the real me and actually care to be around me. That's not very many people these days, apparently. If my former friends are trying to make me hate myself as much as possible and send me back to the hospital, they're certainly doing a good job. I'm going to lose Pittsburgh to this--to people who only call when they want something from me or to yell at me. To people who just want to see me fail miserably. To people who are going to push me to my limit until I break down completely (again), and then belittle me for being weak or selfish for not just sucking it up. I don't want to end up going back to Pittsburgh to be just as lonely or even more lonely than I am now. I'd love to know where I went wrong and why apologizing for the things I have done wrong is not good enough for some people. And if it's not good enough, just tell me that, and leave me alone. I don't like being strung along. I don't care for people pretending to care about me. I'd rather just know you don't. But then maybe you wouldn't be able to get what you wanted out of me. How am I supposed to believe anything else if your actions don't say anything else, and you refuse to talk to me? I'm really struggling to figure people out here.

Do people think I am manipulative because of the way I think? I'm not trying to guilt anyone into feeling a particular way about something simply because I mention that I don't give a fuck what happened yesterday and that I'm always willing to start anew with someone. My life circumstances have brought me to the conclusion that everyone is deserving of another chance if that is what they truly desire. God gives you infinite chances, or so I was taught in grade school...as long as you are sorry. So as long as someone's willing to try, I don't care what you've done to me. I won't forget it, and it make take time to rebuild things, but I'll never hold it against you. Maybe it's that I try to talk to my friends for advice about the matter and they end up telling the whole world somehow. Not that this makes it right, but I know the "other side" or whatever does the same thing. For me, I just need to know the right thing to do. I'm never very sure about how to deal with relationship/social problems that arise. I keep fucking them up somehow, and I do wish I knew how to fix it.

Maybe some of it has to do with money? I don't know. I can't tell you how many times I've given all I had to other people, just in this year alone. It may not have been much in the eyes of others, but it's happened, and I've had to start all over again with trying to save. Maybe the fact that I can't drive? I just don't know. How am I manipulating people? About what is it that I am being so selfish?

I'll admit that I was being a bit selfish at the end of last year. I couldn't afford not to be. I chose to do what was best for me, even though it was going to hurt other people. But I couldn't survive any longer by pleasing other people, and I mean that literally. I was on the verge of heading right back into the psych ward, and you know what, I still am thanks to all that's transpired since the last time. But I did what I needed to do, and I don't regret it. If I have anything going for me at all, it's that I have the balls to say that. I have the balls to put this out there for everyone to see, half crying over here hoping that at least one person who used to care about me understands that I am a real human being. And what's happening to me is real.

It's hard to know whether or not I'm doing the right thing these days. So many people are so upset with me. So many people want me to believe that I am wrong. The trouble is that I'm sure this happens to people who actually are doing the wrong thing, but they react in the same way as someone who knows he is doing the right thing. So I want to know which it is. And if I am not, what am I doing wrong? I certainly can't fix it if I don't know what it is. (My friend didn't mention what about me was so bad either, so maybe she didn't know why the others were saying this anyway. Or maybe she didn't have the heart to tell me when I was already so upset, and failing at hiding it.)

I told my mother earlier tonight that it's hard to keep caring about anything when things like this keep happening. She mentioned that maybe I needed to come back here because she needed a friend. I agreed with her that it was the right decision to leave Pittsburgh when I did, but I also believed that it would be the right decision to return as soon as I could. Not knowing if that's the case is killing me. Thinking that it may not be is killing me. It felt so good to walk around Oakland that day. It felt right. I hadn't felt like a place belonged to me in a long time. But without the people that matter the most to me, it's just a place. And I'd be alone. In that case, I might as well just stick with the memories. What's a home without a future? A graveyard.

She said it was lonely at the top. Well, it's also lonely at the bottom. I don't know where I am anymore. I don't know where I am supposed to be. Some people will give me the obvious answer that I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now, but it all feels so wrong. I feel so out of place. I feel like a drifter in my own life--like I have no control. And it makes it that much harder to keep doing the things I enjoy when I have this overwhelming feeling that absolutely nothing I do matters or will make any difference for me or anyone else in the long run.

I've cried more in the last year or so than I had in all of college. How am I supposed to know if I am getting any better? I don't want to be miserable and lonely for the rest of my life. And I don't want to believe that it's my fault, which is what so many people seem to be telling me--or rather, everyone except me, and I'm finding out about it later.

I can't please anyone it seems. I can't even make myself happy. And now I know that I'm going to have a horrible day at work tomorrow and be intensely awkward, and there's nothing I can do about it. Why? Partly because this will be on my mind and partly because I will be up all night thinking about it. I seem to be worse at functioning in the real world when I am tired.

My mom ended up asking me if I had thought of any other places I'd like to go. She said that I might figure something out when I visit Boston. And DC. I guess I could go anywhere, but I'm terrified, and she knows all too well how a change like that would affect me.

I've been trying to fight being where I am, looking up new apartment listings in Pittsburgh every single night since I've been home. I was putting everything into Pittsburgh. Every ounce of energy I had. And now, my motivation may be gone. It may not have been real. I don't even know what I meant by that, which leads me to believe that I'm getting into one of those states again, where continuing to type is better than facing the alternative of sitting here in silence and letting my thoughts wander into even worse places. Getting the words out seems to take away some of their potency. They can't hurt me when they are this far away, perhaps.

I know just living shouldn't be this painful. I know it.

If I am supposed to be here, I want to know why. And I want to know what I'm supposed to be doing.

If I stop looking towards moving back and start focusing on my life as it is here and now, in this shithole town with no one around, will things get better? Or will they get worse?

I really do wonder what it's like not to worry about everything.

I'm fighting the urge to go for a walk at this hour since I know I have to be up for work, but I need something to distract me.

Why can't I just move forward from all of this? Man, I really hope all of this bitchy writing pays off someday.

Location, Location

It's weird. The thought has crossed my mind more than a few times about moving to a city other than Pittsburgh. But I just don't know if I am ready for something like that, especially when Pittsburgh (or part of it, at least) feels like home. But do I wait until there's nothing left--until my perception is completely destroyed--or do I find a new place to call home? I know I shouldn't be thinking about this when I have so many other things to do first, but all of those things have been in preparation to go back to Pittsburgh. But what if that weren't my only option? What if going back is not right? Though there are some nice things about being back here, I know this place isn't right, and Pittsburgh definitely wasn't right at the time. There were places I visited that made me feel like that's where I needed to be when I was out that way a few weeks ago, but then there were people and places that made me feel like I didn't really belong. There were people that wanted me out of the picture for good, and maybe there were more than a few who thought of me as a nuisance. I'm trying to decide if I want to go back because it's a safe choice or because I know where everything is and wouldn't have to relearn how to function in society. Sadly, I'm not being dramatic about what moving to a new city all alone would do to me. Maybe I just want to be stable in a place that has already been stable for me before tackling something foreign. For some reason, I feel such a strong pull to the DC-area. Maybe it was that every time I meet someone from DC, I get a good vibe. This is not a decision I want to be making, and I really wish it hadn't crossed my mind. How do you know?

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. :)