A Different Response

Today happened, and sometimes, that's as much as I can say. I still feel empty a lot of the time, but that doesn't prevent me from doing what I need to do in order to better myself and my circumstances. I learned that today when I encountered a pretty frustrating situation at my intake appointment.

My appointment was scheduled for 1:00 PM, but I didn't speak with anyone until 2:00 PM. The PA in charge of my intake session was not exactly helpful, and by that, I mean that he explained nothing whatsoever of the services they offered, didn't ask questions about my situation, and seemed to stop listening the moment I mentioned I wasn't interested in pursuing medication options at this time. From my past experience, intake sessions generally last well over an hour, as the interviewers typically try to gauge your needs and match you with an appropriate provider or program. I wasn't even in that man's office ten minutes before he sent me down the hall to someone else to fill out a pile of forms. I was extremely uncomfortable, but halfway through signing things, I had had enough. I stopped the woman in charge of working on my file "update", which was actually not what was supposed to be happening at all since I had never been there before. I told her that I was feeling pretty uncomfortable with signing forms and being pushed through the process without being offered any explanations or options and without discussing a plan for care. She apologized, which is when she realized that I had been sent to the wrong place, and we eventually got together with the woman who was assigned to be my therapist. Because I had chosen this route, I was able to get an appointment much sooner. Had I not said anything, my first session would not have been until September. The plan is to meet that day and discuss further treatment options. In addition to all of this chaos, the delay caused me to be late to an interview I had scheduled for 2:45 PM. I simply called ahead, had my mom bring my suit, changed in the car, and went about the interview without a problem.

Two weeks ago, I never would have been able to do any of these things. My day would have been ruined, and I would have blindly followed the instructions of people I knew weren't doing their jobs appropriately. I wouldn't have been able to compose myself enough to tackle an interview. I wouldn't have even been able to summon up the courage to make the phone call saying I was going to be late. I'm nearly crying now realizing that things really are changing. I am myself again, and I am getting better at being that every day. Part of me is so happy about this. The other part is in so much pain because it realizes that, no matter how much progress I make in a short amount of time, I cannot simply return to the life I had before when I feel better. It will take time for the hurt and fear I have caused to be resolved. It will take time, and that is so hard to handle right now. I miss him all the time. I am happy with the person I am becoming. I am not depressed about my life. I feel confident and capable. But I can't shake that feeling of emptiness. Because I love him--because we really do love each other--this isn't the kind of thing that is going to stop hurting until we are finally both okay enough to reunite. Managing these feelings of pain and loneliness is the most difficult part of this by far. Everything else is coming back to me. Living with purpose is apparently a lot like riding a bike. You never really forget how to love yourself.

The only thing I can do is work on myself and allow time to heal these wounds. I know I am ready, but it will take time for others to believe in me as much as I do. It will take time for that trust to be rebuilt. And it will take time for him to get where he needs to be as well. And that's something I didn't think much about until we talked earlier tonight. I always thought he was doing alright, maybe because I was doing so poorly in comparison. But, in reality, we were both living co-dependently. We weren't functioning well as individuals. Hearing him admit that he was having some problems too helped me to realize that I am not to blame for everything that happens. I'm just so glad that he is going to be focusing on himself now too. And being able to be there for one another, even this far apart, is going to be so important.

It's getting to be that time of night where I feel the pain more intensely than at any other time. I've been trying to get in touch with some old friends from the area, but people are pretty busy these days, and others just haven't responded at all or will be partaking in activities that aren't in my best interests right now. I may be a little more on my own than I imagined, and that is hard too. But I have to stay focused even when loneliness tries to overwhelm me. I am here for a reason, and I won't let anything else get in the way anymore. This is so important to me. This is the most important time in my life and the most critical thing I have ever undertaken, for so many reasons. This is the start of something so much bigger and better, and once we are able to be confident in our own lives, the rest will fall into place. I'm pretty impatient, but I am learning to handle that too. I am learning to accept that this is the way that this must be done. I will keep believing, even when it feels impossible. I won't give up.

Between Then and Now

It hasn't even been a full two weeks, but I have like months have gone by given how much different everything seems, within my own mind and without. I left the hospital on Sunday wearing the same shorts I had been the night everything happened, though they did get washed once during that period of time, thank God. I remember being in such a daze walking outdoors for the first time in more than a week. I don't think I was really able to feel anything at that point. The car ride back to Lawrenceville was longer than I expected it to be. Whether that had more to do with our hitting every red light between McKeesport and the city or the time dilation caused by severe emotional experiences, I can't be certain.

My parents got out of the car, and I expected to sit there while they gathered what they could of my belongings. I was about to start crying because I heard my puppy barking all the way inside the house, but before a single tear could fall, my mother told me to come outside. I didn't know what to do at first. I stepped out cautiously, terrified to move too suddenly. We were about ten feet from one another, but in those first few seconds, the distance seemed much greater. Then he spoke. He told me, "It's okay," but it took more than once for me to understand what was actually going on. We hugged for a long time, but not long enough for me. In that moment, I never wanted to let go. It took everything not to fall to the ground crying. I feel like that's the moment everything really changed inside me. I almost cried when not an hour later I was able to make him hunch over with laughter. It felt so good to hear that again.

Things were a lot clearer a few days ago than they are now. I'm struggling with putting all the events of the past few days together in a coherent, concise way. Even if things are a bit fragmented, it's important that I at least make this effort.

We tried to delay leaving as long as possibly, probably not consciously. It felt like there were so many things that simultaneously needed to be said and never had to . The dogs nearly all fell over when they finally saw me. Apparently, Bam-Bam had escaped three times trying to find me over that week.

The house seemed the same but somehow not at all. It felt further away from me too, as a physical place. But I could still sense the pain and fear that I caused. It was hard to look at the place I had learned to call home, knowing that it could never be that for me again. It was also very hard to look at a casserole dish full of rhinestones that had been mixed together. He stopped to pull out several pieces of broken glass before setting the tray back down. We hugged so many more times. And it was harder and harder to let go each time.

I didn't want to say this at all, but maybe it is important that I do. The thing that hurt most about the whole encounter was seeing him without his ring. I know he noticed that I was still wearing mine. I'm not sure what he thought about that, and perhaps I'll never know.

"I love you. And I am not angry. I don't blame you for anything that happened." Those were the words that started a conversation that has been going on for days, most of the time not needing any words at all to keep it going. Those words and countless instances of both of us repeating "it's okay" to one another. And I still have to tell myself that every day.

I had such a hard time sleeping Sunday night. I couldn't think about anything else, so I started typing up the letters I had been writing to him in the hospital, which were half letter and half journal entry, give or take a few percentage points. They were long, and in addition to helping me feel deeply connected, they reminded me of why I needed to be where I am now. They reminded me that I needed to view this as a positive step forward for both of us.

It was around four in the morning when I got out of bed, after lying there for several hours with Comedy Central on in the background. I grabbed my phone to listen to a song that hadn't left my mind all week, and I noticed I had gotten a response to my message about 25 minutes previous to that. I opened up the message and found screenshots of the lyrics to the song I was just about to listen to, and I collapsed into my bed again. There were a few more messages shared that night, but it still took me so long to fall asleep. It was well past light outside before my body finally gave in.

Yesterday was my first full day back here, and I spent most of it distracting myself with applying for jobs. I listened to music and continued to cry when I wasn't doing that. We FaceTimed for about half an hour, and the image was so clear that I felt like I was right there with him. I'm not sure whether that made it easier or harder to handle. Several times during the conversation, I broke down. I saw how tired he looked. I saw how much this has been hurting him too. I asked if he were going to talk to someone as well, and it made me happy to hear when he answered in the affirmative. We were able to laugh at times. But we both seemed to look at each other knowing that things were going to get a lot harder before getting easier. But I also saw in his face the willingness to believe in the power of love to survive anything. And I have never before found another person with that much faith or strength. I cried for a little while after we finally hung up, after we both realized that we needed to get out and do things before we got stuck in bed all night just thinking and crying. After I got up, I listened to music and continued to write.

My efforts yesterday seemed to pay off today when I woke up to four phone calls about job opportunities. I had to decline one of them because there is no way for me to make the hour commute each way on my own. I have another interview tomorrow, and I am waiting for the other two to continue playing phone tag with me. I also have my intake appointment at CCS tomorrow, the agency for which I used to work during the 2013/2014 school year. I had an easier time keeping myself busy today. I went to a tabata boot camp workout this evening, and though my back started to bother me because I haven't done anything with it in almost two weeks, I was able to push through about 75% of it. I know I will be fine in a few days. I'm planning on getting a chest/upper back workout in tonight as well. It actually felt good to be around the old studio again. I smiled and laughed with people for the first time in almost two weeks. They made me feel like everything was going to be okay--like I was in the right place for the time being. That feeling has been hard to maintain since leaving the studio a few hours ago, but I'll hopefully get a chance to renew it when I go back tomorrow night.

It's dark now, and my head hurts from all the crying I've done today too. But I believe in myself. I believe in us. And my faith in so many things has been restored. I feel like the same person that moved out to Pittsburgh last spring. I feel like the fog has been lifted. I feel like I have a sense of purpose again. I feel ambitious and hopeful. I am determined. And I am able to control the negative thoughts that creep in on me throughout the day. I am able to take action when I need to in order to prevent myself from spiraling downward. I feel like I'm finally in the driver's seat again. I'm medication-free for the first time in nearly a year, and I feel more like myself than I have in nearly just as long.

I could tell things were finally going right again when I got out of bed, looked at my phone, took a few minutes to compose myself, and immediately called all four potential employers back. I didn't think about how scared I was. I didn't get overwhelmed. I just did what I needed to do. I fell back into bed to cry a few times today, but I didn't hang out there and dwell on my misery. I forced myself to keep moving. I reminded myself again of why I am here. I reminded myself why this is so important. And though it hasn't been easy, I have been surviving. I have been doing things for myself, and I even cleaned our whole kitchen because I just couldn't take shit being EVERYWHERE in a place that I would be calling my home for the next however-long. (This isn't a typical thing here, but we just got our hot water fixed today, and my mother has a thing about doing dishes if the water is not scalding hot.)

I'm not always okay. Being apart is painful, and it will keep being painful. But I have a responsibility to take care of myself. Part of being a functional adult is learning how to deal with pain and delay gratification, learning how to acknowledge and feel the pain without letting it break you or take control of your every behavior. And I think I've been doing pretty well with that. I'm excited to see just how much more I really am able to handle in the coming weeks. I am so ready to be myself again. I AM being myself again. I just wish more people were able to see that in action. They will, in time. Right now, I'm just really proud of myself.

I am proud of myself for being able to make the decision to go back to the hospital on my own. I am proud of myself for making the decision to come back to Larksville to deal with my mental health needs. I am proud of myself for making the commitment to see this through no matter what. I'm so proud that I can say I am the kind of person that will never give up. I am so proud to be able to say that I am who I am and that I have been through all that I have. I am proud of my own story, finally and forever. My life is a fucking miracle. I am so lucky to be right where I am, to have all that I do, and to be loved the way that I am. I will not take this opportunity for granted. I will not waste my time in making sure that I will be prepared to live the rest of my life the way I want to live it. And I will never be ashamed of having to step backwards in order to take care of myself.

Sometimes it takes hitting the absolute bottom for you to realize how insignificant your previous pain is in comparison. Sometimes it takes getting to that point in order for you to realize what others have been telling you all along. Everything seems to have clicked recently. And I am running with it. I'm not afraid. That's not always true, but the key is that I am able to act in spite of my fear. I am not an easy person to break. This much I have learned.

Self-Acceptance Exercise.

While in the hospital last week, I found a page in one of the workbooks that was an exercise in self-acceptance. You were required to finish the sentence as quickly as possible, even if it didn't always make sense or some of your answers seemed to be in conflict. Here's how that went:

It's not easy for me to be self-accepting when I: fail.

It's not easy for me to admit that: the past cannot be changed.

One of my emotions I have trouble accepting is: depression.

One of the thoughts I tend to push out of my mind is: the thought of hurting myself.

One of the things about my body I have trouble accepting is: that I am small.

If I were more accepting of my body: I would try harder.

If I were more accepting of the things I have done: I would not be as depressed.

If I were accepting of my feelings: I could move on.

If I were more honest about my wants and needs: I could have them met.

The scary thing about being self-accepting is: knowing your limitations.

If other people saw me being more self-accepting: they would like me more.

The good thing about being self-accepting might be: I could finally become independent.

I am becoming aware of: my own abilities and shortcomings.

I am beginning to feel: somewhat better and more hopeful.

As I learn to stop denying my experiences: I make room for new ones.

As I breathe deeply and allow myself to experience self-acceptance: I can let things be.

I decided to try the same exercise again tonight, a week removed from doing it while an inpatient at UPMC McKeesport. The results are interesting to me.

It's not easy for me to be self-accepting when I: am afraid.

It's not easy for me to admit that: things might need to be this way.

One of my emotions I have trouble accepting is: fear.

One of the thoughts I tend to push out of my mind is: that I can't do this.

One of the things about my body I have trouble accepting is: my hair loss.

If I were more accepting of my body: I would appear more confident.

If I were more accepting of the things I have done: I could move on.

If I were accepting of my feelings: I would believe in myself.

If I were more honest about my wants and needs: People would be able to help me get them fulfilled.

The scary thing about being self-accepting is: being alone with your flaws.

If other people saw me being more self-accepting: they would give me a chance.

The good thing about being self-accepting might be: that I can finally grow from my mistakes.

I am becoming aware of: how possible this is.

I am beginning to feel: alive.

As I learn to stop denying my experiences: I see reality more clearly.

As I breathe deeply and allow myself to experience self-acceptance: I feel ready to keep going.

Moving Forward on this Holiday

I suppose the best time for me to try to write about this is when I am slightly intoxicated since I can't seem to get any words out when I am completely sober. Tonight has been interesting to say the least.

I went to the gym, as is the usual case for me on any given day, though I have had a few rough patches the last few weeks where I have failed to move from bed for several days at a time. Anyway, today was the fourth of July, which was fine when I was in the gym imagining the visual displays that corresponded with the multitude of sounds I heard throughout the evening while working out. But as the night wore on, I couldn't ignore the history the day and I had shared. Instead of waiting downtown with thousands of drunk and disorderly citizens, I opted not to catch my bus home and walk down to Cruze to see my fiance and my friends, hoping to have a long night of fun with them before turning in and trying to resume normal life. But he brought it up before I got the chance to. He wanted to go have fun without me, which normally is not a problem,  but today, in addition to being one of the worst personal days I experience as a general rule, is also a day where I had struggled to even get out of bed in the morning. I know I don't have very many friends. The last thing I want to hear is that you want to go out with all of our mutual friends to have fun while I sit at home and do nothing but contemplate my own misery. I would have been perfectly fine with going out separate ways to have fun tonight, but even that was a problem for some reason. Every decision I made seemed to be inadequate and childish to you. You say that you don't want to take care of me, and when I tell you that you don't have to, you refuse to listen to me and insist that what I am saying is crazy and out of line. I feel like I can never win. I feel like you think I am stupid. Or at least you treat me that way a lot of the time. If you treat me like I am incapable of making my own choices, how will I ever know which choices result in the best outcomes? I love you more than anything. I want you to know how much I really do love you and want you to experience all the pleasure you can in this world. But I also want you to know that I need to experience that too, and it isn't always convenient for me. Sometimes I feel connected to people, and sometimes I do not. Sometimes I understand the social implications of a situation, and sometimes I do not. But the point is that I try. And that there are real people involved in my trying. And I really do need help in figuring out what the fuck is going on. No matter how smart I am, no matter how clever or creative I am, no matter how charismatic I may seem to the untrained ear or eye, I am still at an extreme disadvantage. I am AUTISTIC. I do not understand many of the things that you take for granted about human relationships. And you may think I am stupid for this, but I assure you I am not. My brain is actually pretty amazing. I can read four times faster than the average person. I have an impeccable short term memory. I have a natural gift for writing, even though I am a terrible public speaker. I feel emotions far more intensely than most people do. My brain is constantly working overtime, trying to process every little detail about every little thing that crosses the path of my consciousness. It's fucking exhausting. I want to turn it off sometimes, but I just can't. I barely have time to breathe. But still I am viewed as selfish because tonight, it just so happened that I was able to be okay at the same time that my partner wanted to do something in public with friends, and he wanted nothing to do with me. I understand needing alone time. That is why I suggested going to a different after-hours bar than the one you had planned on, but still, you thought that was a bad idea for me. You screamed at me for that too. I have the ability to make my own decisions. I am not a child, and if I want to drunk by myself in an after-hours club, I have every right to do so without judgment from anyone else. If you get to do it, than I do too. It does not matter what medication I am on. What matters is the choice I myself have made. I am not a child, I repeat. I understand the consequences of my actions. If you want to go drink by yourself for a night, I should have the same right to do so.

I am not mad. I love you. I just wish you could actually see things from my perspective. I am not trying to deprive you of your alone time. I merely wanted you to see what that looks like to someone who is always alone and who very rarely gets to experience what it is like to be amongst a group of people who believe the same things and are in the same mindset to celebrate. You deserve your own time just as much as anyone. But I still deserve the chance to explain to you how that can sometimes conflict with my needs. Even so, this conflict is perfectly okay. That's bound to happen in relationships. What is not okay is trying to control another person because you think that his or her cognitive disability makes him or her incapable of making adult choices. As for me--and me alone--I will tell you firsthand if I can or can't make a decision. This is just how I am.

I only wanted to go out tonight because I wanted to be with friends and enjoy the holiday like others before me have enjoyed it. I wanted to create new memories of the fourth of July because for the past ten years, I have had to deal with nothing but pain and heartbreak. I wanted to move forward and for once enjoy the occasion. I thought waiting until my boyfriend and I were alone at the bar would be a good time, but he thought it would be a good time to tell me that he needed space from me. I don't blame him for this. Everyone deserves his or her own personal space, especially when one works in a bar. But I thought he would be more understanding of my needs in the same situation. I guess I never explained how I felt in the first place. That may have something to do with it.

The truth is that I do not get subtleties. I am frequently the last person to get a joke, I may not understand exactly when you want me to hold you or tell you everything is going to be okay. I often don't get subtle sarcasm, though I can dish it better than most. You may think that I am brilliant or incredibly creative, but there are things that I will never understand. Basic conversation is one of them. I don't know what to say to people. I don't know how to maintain relationships or be close with others. I just know how to exchange information factually and sometimes ironically, I have the same emotions as neurotypical people, but I feel them far more intensely. I'm always at a level 10. I know I am not making much sense right now, but I do hope that someone eventually learns that this thought process is unique. That I am not like others. And that that is okay. We all arrive at our respective destinations at the appropriate times. Please understand this as you go about your day.

I am autistic. I may not have common sense, but I can work with any functional MRI machine and tell you which parts of the brain are more or less active in a given scenario. I can also tell you thousands of bits of seemingly useless information, but none of that seems to matter because I am ultimately a writer. I can't speak for shit. I stutter and mumble and cry into corners when I have to make a vocal statement. But I can write. I can make you feel with a few keystrokes here or there. And this is how I plan to make my truer scientific presence felt. I have not given up on myself. I have not given up on the true medium of science. I haven't even given up on humanity. Please try to understand me as we move forward in our journey. There is so much more we need to learn. I am ready and willing to progress. Are you?

June 2, 2015

Today was another mostly useless day for me. I couldn't bring myself to function in any way until almost 5:30, and even after that, I wasn't much better. I'm upset because I am tired of feeling this way, but it's made worse by the fact that I've known this medication hasn't been working for months, and my psychiatrist decided it made sense to only see me once every four months when I expressed concerns to him at our very first meeting. I missed my therapy appointment today as well, but I don't really get anything out of those sessions. Maybe I just haven't been seeing her long enough. I'm not sure what I'm really supposed to take away or when I am supposed to start feeling something--something other than misery or terror.

I'm overwhelmed all the time, and increasingly so. A few years ago, I wouldn't have had a care in the world with the amount of responsibilities I have now, but I can barely function from day to day. I'm upset that this is where I am at nearly 27.

My priorities are changing. I'm taking a step back from drag, with a few shows here and there just to keep some money in my personal account, and I'm trying to move forward with my real life. I've been hiding behind this pretend person for way too long. The immediate satisfaction may be greater, but I know there are things more important to me that I've neglected.

I saw my brother for the first time since he was released in February. I really enjoyed myself this weekend, though there were a few awkward moments. I miss him--and my parents--already. They seem to be functioning just fine, which is great. The problem is that I am starting to feel like I used to. I feel like I just don't fit in, like there's no place for me anymore.

I still feel useless. But I am hopeful. I got two calls today about personal training jobs, but I missed them because I couldn't talk or get out of bed. They both said they would call back tomorrow.

The rest of my thoughts don't seem to want to surface right now.

Missing Happy

It's hard to keep a positive spirit when, on your average day, it feels like you are being incrementally and slowly suffocated by a viscous black ooze--like melted asphalt stuck to the bottom of your shoe on a scorching summer day. On the worst days, you can feel it filling your lungs, hardening in your stomach. Trapping you inside. But you still have to keep going. You never know why. Maybe it's like drowning: We struggle to breathe not by choice but by instinct.

On better days, like today, I sit somewhere between misery and anhedonia. 

I'm going through the motions, but I don't feel like I'm really here. Everything, my whole being included, has lost its purpose. My life in is present state has no meaning, and trying to create meaning has been the biggest challenge of the last several months. I feel more trapped than ever. I feel more hopeless than I ever imagined I would. Failure, missed opportunities, stories about what might have been, wasted potential--these are the words whose images torment me all day and night. My heart never stops racing. I never get a break. And it feels like I never will. 

People keep telling me the same things. They say that I need a better attitude, which is probably true, but I've grown too cynical for that to come comfortably or easily. I'm suspicious of every near-good feeling I have, for an actual good feeling is hard to come by these days. I'm not sure I remember what that's like, though less than a year ago, I certainly knew. People also say that things will get better, that something has to work out eventually, and on and on. But I also know from experience that things don't change unless you make them change, and not every story has a happy ending. If life were fair, and we were compensated adequately for the trials we have endured, my suffering would have ended a long time ago. I'm not naive enough to believe that luck will be on my side. I seem to be the only one who understands that the longer this goes on, the harder it's going to be to get out of the situation(s), 

I've been floundering for years, and each day wasted adds to the misery of the next. I have started to fear that this is the new me. I feel like I have lost the person I used to be entirely. I'm losing the fight. I really am trying. But I am not succeeding. 

I've been to the hospital four times since September for psychiatric issues that progressed beyond my or my fiance's ability to handle them. And I really only left the last time because, upon admission, I was essentially assaulted by several staff members. (That's a story for another time and place. I'm not quite ready to reveal those details yet, as they still make me extremely uncomfortable.) It's hard to trust anyone. But I still keep trying. 

Even though I know that we don't necessarily get what we deserve, I still can't stop asking myself what I did to deserve this. Why can't I just be happy? Why does every inhalation feel like a stab to the stomach? And how in the world does anyone else live like this? And will this be forever?

And it might be. That's what terrifies me the most. I've tried almost everything, aside from ECT, which scares me. (Headaches and memory loss? No thanks.) If nothing works, the best I can hope for in life is damage control. What kind of life would that be? What kind of life is the one I am living now? 

I am almost never okay. Even less often am I happy. I don't know how to keep doing this. And the burden I place on those around me is getting to be too much for them to bear. I can't stand being around me. I can't stand how pathetic and whiny I have become. I can't imagine how my fiance feels, especially since he has his own problems to worry about. Real problems. 

I've shut myself away from most of my closest friends because socialization scares me more and more. I'm afraid to leave the house most of the time. I'm afraid of doing things by myself. I couldn't even walk to the hair salon at the bottom of the hill alone today. Things are starting to get much worse, even though they may appear to be getting better on the outside. I'm an expert at pretending to be okay. Since I can't actually be okay, I suppose it's the next best thing. I try to smile for him and show him that I love him every day. But I wonder if it will be enough. Some days, the other emotions overwhelm that expression. 

I am continuing to lose myself. I am again faced with the prospect of several days without him around, and I have no idea what to do with myself for 20 hours out of the day. And sometimes, I am paralyzed by my emotions. I am restless and apathetic at the same time. It's when I scream on the inside without being able to move all day. It's where I am headed at this very moment. 

I feel so left out. So left behind. This isn't me. This isn't my life. 

Yet, somehow, it ended up that way. I want to escape all of this more than anything. 

The other day, I felt like I had received a sign that I was on the right track as far as my plans were concerned. But those plans are ridiculous to me now. Medical school after all this time? How will I pay for it? How will I even be able to take the test and do well? How will someone like me who has nothing to show for the last four years of his life ever get accepted anywhere worthwhile? It probably isn't even possible. I'm drowning in debt as it is, so no one would give me money. It hurts to even think about this because that's pretty much what's preventing me from moving in any academic direction with my life. Am I going to be stuck getting 400 dollars a month from disability and wasting most of my life being in and out of hospitals? Who wouldn't be miserable in my position? All I want is something that gives my life meaning and purpose. And I know what that is. I know what's missing. I just can't get there. And nothing else is going to make me happy. That's the price I have to be for being as ambitious and stubborn as I have been. 

My life certainly didn't prepare me for this. I want out of this game. 

I can't remember the last time I had a decent day. It feels like all I know is pain. But I keep struggling. I keep going. And I am not proud of myself for that. I can't be. 

I'm losing my grip on everything. And I am terrified of the next time I can't handle something. Things seem to escalate each time. There is nothing more that I want right now than to run away. 

Things can't continue this way. I just don't have the strength for it anymore. My life has broken me. I really am just a shell anymore. A warm body. 

Today, I just really miss being happy. 

Career

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

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