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A Product of My Generation

Once upon a time, there was a high school senior who, like most high school seniors, wanted to get the hell out of her hometown and away from her parents. She dreamed of a magical place she could go to where she could live and learn about wonderful things that would someday hopefully make her money: college. And then three years later, after many semesters of hard work and determination (while at the same time indulging her laziness), she dropped out so she could move back home with her parents and start intensive therapy (along with meds). And all of her dreams disappeared, POOF! And she didn’t live happily ever after, because she had no degree and would therefore probably die in poverty due to America’s capitalist, bullshit society. The End.

Despite the pessimism heavily influencing the end of that story, I feel surprisingly calm about my whole life going up in flames. Now before you start reasoning with me, and saying, “People take time off of school all the time, relax. You’ll go back and finish your degree. There’s plenty of time to figure out your life, but first you must let yourself heal, young grasshopper” just hear me out. No one wants to take time off, because then you failed. And even though all your friends and family are telling you this stuff about how school will always be there and everything is okay, you are sad because this was never part of the plan. No one is happy for you unless you are productive, and taking time off of school is not productive.

This is why millennials are so fucked up and why everyone complains about them. From the time we’re kids we’re spoon-fed this bullshit idea that everyone who is a good person has a college degree, a well-paying job, a picket fence with a husband/wife and 2.5 kids. And it’s a lie. Good people don’t always get to go to college, and good people don’t always get married or stay married or even have a house to live in. But everyone always dumps on those people because they didn’t live up to the “American dream”. So we panic when there’s a chance we won’t be a part of the normal, disappearing middle-class; we run ourselves into the ground with our high, over-acheiving standards. And then other generations get to point at us and wonder, “Why aren’t they succeeding? Why are they so freaked out all the time, so emotionally fucked?” This is the struggle of the millennial. This is the problem we are all trying so hard to hide.

But I can’t hide it anymore; if I stay in school I’ll continue to skip classes and fail because I don’t have the energy to get out of bed or leave the house. I can’t seem to bring myself to go socialize with people because it stresses me out so much that I’ll sit in my room crying. I’ve become so stressed and tired and worried about money that I hardly eat and have begun to pull out my hair again (a really weird habit I’ve developed in college). So Wednesday morning I was emailing my professor about an assignment I didn’t turn in by mistake (but spent hours working on) and I just started to cry because I knew I couldn’t keep doing this; it was over.

Monday I drove two hours from college town because I didn’t want to go home and spend another night alone. This week I’ve skipped all of my classes and even a shift at work. Yesterday I just slept all day, only leaving the house to go to work that night. It’s time to make a change, and try to put myself back together, rather than keep trying to pretend I haven’t fallen apart. And don’t get me wrong—this is going to be really hard, and it’s probably going to seem hopeless at times, but I have to do it.

My big mistake in all of this has been isolating myself all semester, and even last semester. Neglecting to tell people about your life only contributes to loneliness, and putting on a brave face doesn’t make you stronger. I’ve distanced myself from a lot of really great people because I thought that they would judge me, and I knew they couldn’t take away the sadness I felt. But it was wrong; people remind you of the good in life, of the strength in love and friendship. People are what make my life meaningful, and pushing them away has only given me less to live for.

So I’m starting over, I’m pressing the reset button on my life in the only way I really can. Maybe I failed, but I still want a shot at succeeding…and the only way I can do that is if I beat this depression. Again.



Empty Futures

Well, everyone, here I am starting my senior year of college. By December I’ll be done with this college town and undergrad, and ready to start a new adventure… But, like a decent portion of college seniors  I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING.

Never before have I had less of a clue about my future plans. In high school, I didn’t exactly plan for college extensively (actually, I just took one lousy tour and applied to the place I’m at now), but I did have an idea of what I wanted. I had this vision of my future college self in my head, and I knew that’s what I wanted to be. As for post-undergrad, my vision is…nothing. I’ve got a giant stack of nothing ready to be served up as soon as I graduate, and while I know I’ve got a year left to figure something out I’m not optimistic. I keep searching and searching for what I want, and I either find nothing or find it in the wrong places.

It’s only the first week of school and I’m stressed. My latest dilemma is that the deadline to renew my lease is coming up, and I’m not sure I want to stay at my current place. It would be incredibly easy if I stayed, but I feel like I’d be less stressed if I went (at least once I found somewhere else to live). I don’t want to hurt my roommates’ feelings by leaving, though, and I wonder if it’s too short of notice to say something. But I bet they’d be better off without me, anyway. The thing is, I’m ready to live on my own. I know that’s a scary option, given my past with depression, but I know I’ll never feel comfortable living with anyone other than a romantic partner. I close myself off and I perpetually feel like a visitor; it’s time I make my own space where I can feel at ease. But it’s hard to make a decision that isn’t people-pleasing.

Speaking of, things with my ex-partner (who I’m just simply going to refer to as Jessie from now on) are interesting. She told me she wants to marry me someday, can you believe it? Actually, what she said was: “I’m going to marry you someday, ____. And goddamn it, you’re going to say yes.” What does a person say to that, especially when their whole life is a giant question mark? It made me very nervous and guilty, for reasons only some of which I understand. I don’t always know what to say to her, you know? The more time passes with her living in Central America, the more different our lives are becoming. She seems to be growing so determined and decisive about her life, while I only seem to be growing less.

I just want to find a dream to go for again. I used to have my whole post-undergrad plans figured out, and I wanted them so badly. I had a whole life I wanted to live, I dreamed of living…I know now that it wasn’t the right life for me. But what is? All I know are the things I don’t want, and the things I should want, but that isn’t the same as having a dream: knowing what you want and going after it with everything that you’ve got.

Hell, I don’t even know what plans to keep for this weekend…What is wrong with me?

Adulthood, And Other Scary Thoughts


The longer I’m in college, the more I realize what kind of adult I’m going to turn into, and what a scary thought that is. I have this picture of my adult self in my head, carrying around a real purse that wasn’t bought from Journey’s and showing up to work with her hair in a way that looks both faltering and serious. Adult me wears slacks and blazers and drives a practical car that’s not from the ’90s. She gets things done. And if I’m right in my predictions, she will border on “emotional mess” and “type A personality”. Scary, scary thoughts here.

I have this prediction because right now my life is one to-do list after another, one rant session to my roommate Caitlin after another, and it doesn’t really seem to be changing. In the back of my mind, I’m dreaming of things normal college students dream of, like backpacking through Europe and moving in with my boyfriend. But in the front of my mind I’m panicking about getting into graduate school two years from now and trying to plan out a time to get research experience next year and trying to stay on top of the reading for all of my classes and trying to find a place to live next year with my friends and TRYING. I’m trying so hard to get it all right, but I’m not perfect, I forget and fail and it freaks me out. And freaking out will make me wish I could talk to my long-distance boyfriend and then I will get all sad and miss him and find reasons to be angry that should never exist. If this is any indication of adulthood, I think I’ll go ahead and run away with the circus right about now.

But, even though I’m drowning in a sea of things I need to do and am not doing, there are always the good things. I feel pretty good about myself appearance-wise nowadays, and that makes me feel proud, especially because I haven’t done a thing to alter my body, just my attitude. And I’m still completely in love with my boyfriend, which makes the whole planning-our-lives-together thing a bit easier, haha. My friends are great too, both here and back home. I feel confident that if I ever become super super stressed I could rely on them for help. And my mom is great too, as always. And the Vagina Monologues is coming up again, which is such a wonderfully empowering experience. So my life isn’t really in the pits, just sort of teetering on the edge some days.

As I look around me at this world of college students I can’t help but feel as if everyone either has their shit together more than I do, or less than I do. Apart from my friends, I can’t seem to find anyone else on my level of freak out and maturity. Are they worried about not measuring up to the standards of grad school admissions offices too? Are they wishing they could just skip a few years so they can be with the person they love, have their future figured out, and be done with French classes?

The picture in my head of my adult self will probably just stay a picture forever…I’m probably going to end up a slightly wiser, and older version of myself without some dramatic change of character and calmness (but I’m still holding out hope for the calmness and maturity…). But maybe someday I will buy a pair of slacks. And maybe some sort of clown-college-graduate-school hybrid will take me into their program. And maybe I’ll end up with a hybrid as my car, too.

I guess as long as there’s still time to speculate about the future, than I haven’t really screwed up yet.

Lessons From My Pathetic Life

Oh college life… Where you can see red solo cups on the sidewalks of frat houses on campus, where eating cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is acceptable, and you constantly hear horror stories about homework assignments, sex, and what-i-do-meme-collegedrunken weekends. It’s a good life and a strange one. Everyone is either super busy or super lazy, and no one wants to grow up after they turn 21. It’s a culture in its own, one where it is okay to be young and reckless as long as you show up to class and don’t do it in the dorms. I love college. I don’t want to leave college. But at the same time, things get old.

Dining hall food can get a little gross after a while (as with all food), 90% frat guys are pigs (as much as I am against stereotyping, this one is mostly true), classes are stressful, dorm life can be noisy and annoying, you miss your dogs/cats/whatever pets you had at home, and you’ve got 4+ years of it to look forward to.

Take my whole napping problem. Everyday I take a nap. Sometimes two. Sometimes three. For hours I will nap and nap, because now that I am in college and have breaks in between classes I can nap away the emotional toll of 8am classes everyday. In high school, I could only take one nap after school, and sometimes if I had to work that night I couldn’t even get my nap in. So college is great. Welllllll…… See, my friend Caitlin knows about my chronic napping. And while she always shook her head, she never actually suggested it was a problem until now. Everyday I wake up looking forward to my naps. After every class, I nap. Sometimes I nap after I nap, back-to-back napping. It is what I do, it is how I survive. Naturally, I have trouble getting to sleep at night since I’m getting so much during the day, but if I stay up late then I have to fight the urge in nap during class, which I do not want to do. (That was what senior year in high school was for) Finally it hit me: napping makes the time pass. I nap away the days when I can, because being awake and actually doing things each day is so much harder. I’m beginning to wonder if it is a side-affect of my depression, or my depression medication. Either way, it’s not exactly a healthy life decision. After all, the I’m-in-college excuse can only last so long.


I should make a nappers anonymous club.

Anyway, I’ll keep you updated on the napping problem. I’m going to get my mom’s advice about it before I resort to the “I nap because of an underlining unhappiness I have in my life and immediately need to seek therapy” explanation. I’m pretty sure I need to get a new hobby, though.

Now that the Vagina Monologues are over I’m going to have to do something else to fill up more of my time. How did it go? Well the performance was great. I had a lot of fun, I got to scream the word “vagina” with about a thousand people, my boyfriend really enjoyed it…it was great. I’ll definitely want to do it again next year. The day of the performance was sort of a day from hell, though. First of all, my boyfriend came into town the night before. We went out and got ice cream, I gave him his Valentine’s Day presents, we fell asleep and cuddled. My roommate kept getting in the way, though. Like when he showed up she had just decided to take a shower, after bitching to me about lost her student I.D. and her boyfriend’s inability to make decent plans. So there she was in a towel when I opened the door to my room. “You can wait out here,” I told my boyfriend as I went inside to grab my purse and coat. “Oh he can come in the room, I don’t mind,” she said. “Um, no, that’s ok.” You’re in a towel! I’m pretty sure your boyfriend would mind if another guy saw you in just a towel, not to mention the fact that I mind if my boyfriend sees you in just a towel! Later, during the cuddling/sleeping portion of the night, there was a knock on the door. It was her,  wanting to get her stuff. That was totally fine, except suddenly she switched roles and acted all modest: “Are you naked? I’ll be quick, I swear! I don’t wanna see you guys naked!” I had opened the door fully clothed, and while my boyfriend had his shirt off, he had shorts on and was under the covers. “We have clothes on,” I told her, but she still walked around shielding her eyes dramatically. Anyway, we went back to bed after she left. Then the next morning there was another wake-up knock on the door. “I have to go to work,” she said. Why didn’t you bring your work clothes with you last night?! Like usual when I was trying to sleep (or go back to sleep in this case) she made no effort to be quiet while racing around the room. My boyfriend shrugged it off, but I was pissed. All week she had been getting on my nerves. Anyway, moving on, we woke up later and had breakfast. Then, when trying to get back up to my room, my I.D. stopped working. Guess what? I had to move dorms, right then and there! Sure, I had planned to move on Sunday afternoon after my boyfriend left, but this was Saturday and my boyfriend was still there and I had rehearsal for the Vagina Monologues at 2pm sharp until 9pm when the show ended. So what did we do? We packed. I walked to the parking garage, got my car, loaded my car, checked into the new dorm, and hauled ass to rehearsal, leaving my boyfriend to move me into my new dorm alone. I was stress crying and hadn’t done my hair or makeup for the show, let alone had time to even think about the show.

But, it happened. And it turned out ok. My boyfriend was being an absolute saint the entire time, and after the show we drove through Taco Bell and quickly passed out from a combination of exhaustion and non-authetic mexican food.

So here I am, almost a week later. The only slightly significant things that have happened are: another close call with stress-crying, getting caught in pouring down rain, lots of naps, and finishing the second season of House of Cards. Tomorrow afternoon Caitlin and I are going home for the weekend, though, so that’s nice. I’m super excited to see my boyfriend and friends, and hope that it won’t go by too fast.

So this is my college life, huh? Something better change fast.


The Chaos of College

Today I take my first final, and Green Day’s song “Brain Stew” reaches a whole new level of understanding for me. It’s not that I’ve even been studying that hard, to be honest. It’s the mixture  of anticipation (for going home and being DONE!!), desperation (to make the grade!), stress (finals, packing up everything in my room for my new dorm next semester, packing for Christmas break), and lack of sleep (for the past four days I’ve been waking up at 11 am. Today I had work at 8am. I want a nap like a lion wants a zebra for lunch.). And even as frustrating and distressing as that mixture is, I know there are lots of students who have it worse. However, because I am a college student I still feel like I have complaining rights.

Anyway, the final I’ll be taking is French. Je ne parle pas frances. My translation of that is, “I’m only taking this class because it is required and nothing about it makes sense to me”. It’s not that I hate my actual class–my instructor is an actual native and tells us lots about actual French culture (for instance, if I look deep into the recesses of my French notebook I could tell you how to say, “I’m hungover” in French. Oh college…). And the people in that class are funny; most of them struggle at French just like I do. It’s just the actual French that makes me gag. The sentence structure, the pronunciation,  past tense, future tense, present tense, the conjugation…. All of it is a big pile of poop inside my head. But I’m determined to get through this final, to pass and go on with studying for my philosophy final on Thursday. And after that unpleasantness is over, I’ll be home free.

So let’s talk about home. I am fully aware that after the first week of being there I will want to cry with boredom and fight the urge to get in a cursing match with my dad on a daily basis. But, then again, you don’t realize how much you miss the little things until you’re procrastinating studying for French. Little things like brushing my dogs, not having to put on flip flops to shower, driving your car almost everyday, having your room to yourself. I also plan on reading an absurd amount of books over the break and try out “Supernatural” because a lot of my friends have started watching it. I’m more excited about the big things though, like seeing my friends, going to a Christmas party on Friday, and…well, I’m just going to put it out there: my new boyfriend.

At this point, I’ve realized that rationality and non chaotic decisions are not a usual occurrence in my life. In a lot of ways, this was a really stupid decision. But, in a lot of ways, I’m happy I said yes to it. Here are a few of said reasons:

  1. I need romantic stability. I’m tired of feeling awful for needing people, so I am switching to needing person. I am not a slut. (Shut up, I’m not!)
  2. I’ve doubled up on my Prozac. This is sort of a shitty reason, but being more at-risk for falling into a deep depression makes the idea of being by yourself more less appealing.
  3. I never thought it would happen. Not ever. This guy and I have been friends for about a year or so and even though we would flirt constantly, it was highly unlikely that either of us would let the other have an opportunity to hurt our pride.
  4. I like this guy! He’s fun, it’s new. I know it’s sort of a dead end relationship because he’s at home and I’m at school and next year he’s going to be even farther away at a different college, but there isn’t a lot of pressure because we just started dating. And it’s been nice getting to know him, so why not just go for it in the meantime?

As I said in my last post, I will always love my ex-boyfriend. And it sucks to know that when you want to be loyal to someone else. But if I don’t move on and be happy, this break up could send me to the hospital again, which I’m trying to avoid. So yes, I realize I’m now officially a world-class asshole. I sort of knew that title was coming since day one, anyway.

So this has been the report from the battle front of college finals week, I’m signing off for now and will probably return later when I’m in the safety zone of home. Good luck on finals to all fellow students and have a wonderful final-free day to everyone else!


Some College Perspective

Here it is, the last two weeks of the semester. I have two exams this week, three finals next week. This is what I’ve been dreading and hoping for since August–to be finished! I thought that as soon as I would get back from Thanksgiving break I would snap into action… Wrong! I feel lazier than ever, and spent my first school day back taking four different naps. I know it’s almost over and that I just need to keep the hope alive, but all of those days of doing nothing during break let me brain slide back into its normal, vegetative state.

However, there are a lot of reasons I’m glad to be back at school. I forgot how luxurious it is to just be able to walk out the door and go where I want to go, do what I need to do without any explanation. Having my parents ask about my plans every single day and ask where I’m going, who I’ll be with, when I’m coming home is a royal pain in the ass. First of all, I’m not in high school. Second of all, if I wanted to, I could cut all my classes every single day, drink and party every night, and bring all sorts of guys back to my place at school. But I don’t. So they should trust my judgment by now.

And as much as I love my family I hate feeling trapped in my room in our house. In my dorm room I always have my roommate or Caitlin over, and at home it’s easier to feel lonely. I know I could spend time with them, but home doesn’t really feel like it’s mine anymore. I feel like I’m borrowing everything off of someone else’s charity and that I should have a space of my own.

Oh? and did I mention my parents constantly bickering? I never noticed how unsettling it was to be around unhappy people, to be home, until now. I get so sick of the constant waves of guilt, annoyance, frustration, and responsibility that overwhelm everyone, and spread like an infectious disease. I want my home to be happy, not full of pretense and stuffy silence (when there isn’t yelling).

But, I do miss my friends, the company of my dogs, the conversations between my mom and I, and driving around my old hometown. There’s both a freedom and a suppression of being there.

It’s funny how when you get older things change. The wonderful people your parents were and the happy home you lived in begin to fade, to be replaced with something more honest, more real, and therefore sadder. But I guess it’s those realizations that push you to become different from your parents and the life you’ve known. More than anything, I want to push myself outside the box and the world I have built for myself.

But, in the meantime, I’ve got those exams to study for. It’s funny how school, which is supposed to make your future life better, can get in the way of actually living life right now.

College Worries

So I’m back from my summer registration for college–how was it? OVERWHELMING. Sure, I went with my boyfriend instead of my parents, so I didn’t have to hear, “Where are you at? What do you think? Remember this! Oh, you don’t want that… Why don’t you want this? [insert more annoying crap here]”, but even so it was stressful. Suddenly I was sucked into a world where if I didn’t manage my time, I would be forever doomed. Lecture after lecture talked about Professor’s expectations, not getting fat and eating right so you don’t become depressed, roommate horror stories, getting involved in a thousand clubs, studying for three or five hours each night, finding a part-time job that will work with your class schedule, and how to report if you see someone about to get date-raped or whatever. As if I already don’t have to struggle not to worry so much.

It just hit me…this will be my home. These buildings, this road… And at the end of each day, it’s not like high school where I get to see my parents and my dogs and the same rooms in the same house I’ve lived in for the past 18 years…I’ll still be in this new place, out of my element. And holy crap, I don’t know anyone—ANYONE. I’ll be here, and everyone else in my life will be back home. For the first time, I was scared to go to college.

It also didn’t help that on the way back home yesterday my boyfriend and I parted on an uncertain note. The whole trip we had fun with each other like always, and then I asked about how it would be when I left for school (something we’ve discussed numerous times) and BAM! suddenly we both had no idea how much longer there would be an “us”. All because of the distance. Those stupid miles, I hate every one of them because they are the only reason my boyfriend and I would separate. We still laugh all the time, we still hang out all the time, we still love each other; we’re happy. If it wasn’t for the two and a half hour drive the thought of breaking up would be ludicrous.

So I was relieved that I had group therapy that night to go to. A couple of my friends in there gave me a bit of advice that was reassuring, and even though I’ll be leaving them too, which will be really really sad, we’ve exchanged phone numbers and promised to call and stay in touch. So those first few weeks of school I know I can go to them if I’m in a tight spot. My college also offers counseling services, so that might be useful, too.

I just feel sort of numb and anxious at the same time about it all. My world is slowly slipping away from me, and while it might be waiting for me when I come back on breaks or next summer, it feels scary not to know what will take its place.

Things Are Happening…

It’s July! June has officially passed and the days leading up to my college education are getting shorter. Responsibilities are calling, and I’m doing a mixture of avoiding it and embracing it. So much to do… get my transcripts sent from my dual enrollment high school courses to the admissions office, take off work for summer registration, move my psychiatrist appointment around, finish the book I started weeks ago, buy things for my dorm, set up a savings account so I’ll quit blowing graduation money on gas and food… But then there are other things, like my boyfriend’s 21st birthday, and my first day at my new job (which is today!) that are coming up, which are exciting. I just have to keep myself balanced in order to not become super stressed. I have to relax, but not too much, or else I will get mad at myself for being lazy. I have to keep busy, but not so busy that I neglect myself. What a pain in the rear life can be…

But yes! My first day at my new crew job eat McDonald’s is today! Finally I will be making a bit of money again! I’m planning on keeping my skating rink job as well, but I may have to cut that out if McDonald’s needs me to. I’m looking forward to this…I remember my very first day at work ever, the spring of my sophomore year. I ended up crying, so frustrated at myself for not knowing the register’s buttons quick enough. This time, though, I have experience behind me. On the first day of my rink job I learned how to come out of my shell and be easy around coworkers without weeks passing. I’m confident that my first day at McDonald’s will be nothing to worry about. Sure, I know I’ll be a little frustrated again, but I’ll give myself a break, because I know now that no one gets everything perfect on the first day. Besides, it’ll be something to do, rather than just sitting around the house, earning zip. As long as you’re friendly to people, they’ll usually cut you some slack.

My boyfriend’s birthday is Friday, and one thing I have not slacked off about is his birthday present (which is usually the sort of thing I’d forget about until the last minute, I’ll admit). I won’t reveal what it is because I know he sometimes reads this, but I am very very excited to give it to him! You know, since I mention him fairly often on this I probably should give him a name, but for some reason I’ve hesitated, even right at the beginning when I wasn’t sure if what the heck would ever come of us. For everyone else I have given some sort of pseudonym, but I feel like I should consult him before I decide such a thing. After all, he is the only boyfriend I have had that has read this, besides one time when I showed Landon a few posts. I wouldn’t even tell my first boyfriend the name of this for fear that he should look it up. So why this guy? I don’t know…I guess I just feel like he believes in me, you know? Like he thinks I could actually be someone worth reading, or maybe that I already am… There are ramifications to his reading this, though. From the beginning, when he first told me he was reading, I immediately went to the what-if-I-get-mad-at-him-and-want-to-write-about-what-a-poohead-I-think-he-is place. And then there is also, what-if-we-break-up-and-he-reads-about-how-sad-or-mad-or-regretful-or-even-happy-I-am? He did tell me that he would stop reading if I didn’t want him to.  But quickly I told him I didn’t mind because I knew that if I was ever feeling depressed and too ashamed to say something, I would write and he would know. And he could come and sit with me, or bring me doughnuts, or call. And luckily that has never happened because a) my depression has not acted up  in quite a while (knock on wood!) and, b) I have never been afraid to tell him how I’m feeling.

And besides, he does have stuff to do. I know he doesn’t spend every night pouring over this stuff. Life is keeping both of us busy, which is good…I hope.


 Last night I had a complete mental breakdown.

Saying it like that, so matter-of-fact, makes it sound normal. And I suppose some types of mental breakdowns are normal, I mean everyone loses it from time to time, but this was not one of my semi-regular bouts of “What am I doing with my life?!”. This was straight-up bat-shit crazy.

I was driving in my car for 25 minutes, sobbing, cursing, talking to myself in nonsense….

“This is all a dream just a dream and tomorrow I’ll wake up and try to think of how the car ride home really was and I won’t remember so I’ll picture me just listening to the radio and smiling like I usually do when I’m thinking about [insert boyfriend’s name here] and that will become the reality yes that will be reality and this will be the dream and tomorrow I’ll think of how stupid this is and god how could I be like that, after all that was just some dream and I’ll try  to think of how the car ride home really was and I won’t remember so I’ll picture me just listening to the radio and smiling like I usually do when I’m thinking about [insert boyfriend’s name here] and that will become the reality yes that will be reality…”


“I want mommy….I want my mom!….Mommy…I want to go home….I want [insert boyfriend’s name here]! I want [brother’s name]! I want [dog]!….Momma…”

“This isn’t real…this is just a dream…..”

And silence where I would consider doing crazy things like driving my car off the road, and death.

Needless to say again, I was beyond “losing it” and headed straight into “bat-shit crazy”. It is very embarrassing to write about…but a scary enough experience where holding it in would not help at all. Why was I flying off the handle? I had no idea. Lately my emotions have been very extreme. I had only a number of guesses to why this was….1.I was seriously crazy  2.I was pregnant  3.adverse effects from stopping my meds, even though I had been off them weeks. None of these things were especially comforting, as you can imagine.

About the pregnant thing…I wasn’t being totally crazy here, I mean, the possibility was very remote, but there….however, I tend to use pregnancy as the lead source of my anxiety. I convince myself that I could definitely be pregnant, I freak out even more, I add it to my stress, and it becomes one more thing I use to push other people away in my life, because after all, if I was pregnant it would only “become real” once I told people, and who wants that… Basically, it is the crazy part of me trying to gain even more control over my actions, if that makes sense.

About stopping my meds…About two weeks ago I ran out of pills and simply decided to not schedule a doctor’s appointment. See, somehow I’ve convinced myself that my parents hate me because I am on antidepressants and go to therapy. So I quit therapy, quit the pills. Now my parents would like me again, and not be so mad at me all the time, right? And for a week or more it was working…I was happy, and I was happy without being drugged up. And then this week began, where somehow my emotions have completely consumed me, and all of my thoughts. Even my dreams were becoming terrifying…dreams where I would become schizophrenic, dreams where I became a monstrous serial-killer-cannibal….

Maybe it sounds stupid, maybe it sounds fake….but it felt like a looming disaster coming.

Anyway, after that interesting car ride I mentioned above, I arrived home and cried to my mother for over an hour. And I stayed home from school today. And I snuck off when my mother went to run errands and took a pregnancy test, which was negative. And I also took some leftover pills I had of Prozac.

And I slept the entire day. I didn’t remember having any dreams.

Weekend Update: The Happiness Plan

In the world of craziness, here is your Weekend Update:

So my whole plan to become less stressed and more happy has been topsy-turvy. I had a giant test requiring me to know over 300 Greek and Latin root words for English on Thursday, and the whole past week I had been freaking out because I hadn’t exactly studied until Monday. However, the test came and went, and I think I did really well! On the downside, last Saturday when I was at work I became majorly stressed. So stressed that I cut myself. It was a dumb way to relieve tension, but unfortunately it works. So since then I’ve been trying to find different outlets for my stress, and preventing stress altogether. Another test of my happiness plan was when my ex suddenly made a move on me Sunday night. Um, whoa whoa whoa! Turns out he still loves me and wants to be with me. I had to remind him that I am still wonderfully wonderfully happy with my existing boyfriend. All of that gave me greater appreciation for him (my boyfriend), and so I’ve spent the last couple of nights with him, which were wonderfully wonderful as well. I even accomplished a few things off my bucket list in the process! Friday was just an amazing day… So as for now, I am determined to keep on top of my school work, keep applying for a new job, selling my car (which is both sad and happy), and remember that it is MARCH and fourth quarter of my senior year has officially arrived!! My whole life is about to turn upside down, with all the preparation for leaving high school and starting college, but I’ve never been so excited… I have the school play, prom, graduation and graduation parties, and the whole summer to look forward to!

Knowing that, I’m keeping all my craziness (and happiness!) in perspective.

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