Good God this entry's annoying
Two kinda-entries for today, one of them not what I'd really intended to type.
Firstly, I had two appointments...last week or so...I can't even remember things. I put off writing this a long time, mainly because I always feel bad that I never reply to the generous notes that I get. More on that later. Anyway one of them was on Sept. 11th, I remember that, so I guess the other one was on the 10th since it was Monday. The first appointment was with Psychiatrist. I'm afraid I can only vaguely summarize by now, apologies, but meetings with Psychiatrist are never terribly eventful anyway. I had to admit to her about going off the Lexapro and clonazepam, and I felt very meek and guilty doing so. I knew she wouldn't start spewing milk and spinning her head around or anything, but still, for all I know how bad and stupid it is to just go off one's meds, here I had done just that, and that tends to make one feel very lame. Plus I just hate being seen as "noncompliant." I've still never been able to clear up the misunderstanding about why exactly I went off my Prozac so long ago (because my insurance ran out), so it's still on my record as being "because I thought I was better," and I loathe that anybody would believe I did something so stupid! Yeah, I admit I did something as stupid as going off my meds. But no, I never, ever, EVER went off any meds because I thought I was "better." That's just...stupid. (Er...well, I guess my mental thesaurus isn't working today.) Meds do not cure one. They help smooth things along, make them more tolerable, and can make one FEEL better, but they don't MAKE ONE BETTER. I've always known that. Okay, I hate ending things abruptly but I didn't want to write an entry on this subject, so you get the picture.
Psychiatrist wasn't angry. I gave my reasons and such, bla bla, and she said that I seemed capable of being able to assess what works and what doesn't--"I just want to do what YOU think helps, so if this is what you want, that's fine." She did ask if I was against trying out a different med should being off them completely prove a bad move. I said it's possible. She mentioned Prozac, so I guess if I need to go on another one that's the next one up...ugh. It's not known to cause excessive weight gain, and I didn't have a problem with it when I took it before, but in retrospect I recall that I gained a lot of weight somewhere during late high school/early college, which is when I was on it. I have photos of me from early high school and I'm nice and thin (though I didn't know it back then!), then later on I'm just...UGH. A whale. Not as heavy as I am now, but I detest those pictures. -_- Then I lost weight again and again was thin in 2000 when I went to visit my brother for the second time as there's a picture of me and I'm again skinny. (Whereas in my photo from his 1997 wedding, I'm FAT FAT FAT BLAGH.) Then it started going up again in the past several years. What the hell is with my body chemistry?? Anyway. Again, not the entry I wanted. Long story short, I'm just getting sick of side effects, especially when I'm not even sure if they're side effects. For all I know I just eat too much--I DID gain a lot of weight BEFORE the Lexapro.
Psychiatrist started asking questions about my OCD symptoms, which evolved into asking if I consider some things I do a problem or if it's just the "right way" for me to do things. I don't think I made it clear enough that some of my OCD things ARE frustrating and irritating beyond reasoning, but admittedly, some of them are just things I'm used to. For example, proofreading. I told her I would never in a million years rely on someone else proofing my work! I don't mind others catching my mistakes, but it's MY responsibility to make sure those mistakes aren't there in the first place. The concept of the "beta reader," online, was mystifying to me when I first came across it. I couldn't understand how people could rely on others to catch all their own errors. How can you count on somebody else to do something right which you should do right in the first place? Made no sense to me. Now I understand better that some people simply NEED beta readers--heck, I find myself beta'ing all the time without meaning to, it's the main reason I don't read much online fiction!--but I view myself as one who shouldn't need them. Not because I'm so terrific a writer and all that, but because I should really make my work the best I possibly can, and not count on others to fix what's my responsibility. That's just the way I've always been. Nobody knows my mind and mode of writing as well as I do, so how can anyone besides me be expected to catch everything I'd want caught? Best to do it myself.
She asked several more questions along these lines--am I stubborn?--I nodded vigorously--do I feel my way of doing things is the only right way?--not really, just the right way for me--if somebody else has something that works better for me I'll accept it, but if my way is what works, then I'll stick to it. My routines etc. etc. I quickly realized what she was getting at, as her questions were quite formulaic and she was reading from something. She brought up obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and I said, "Ah," only half surprised. So she was assessing me. So, I think she might be considering revising my diagnosis, which is fine by me, though I do still believe that I have OCD itself, possibly in addition to OCPD, as there are still symptoms I have which are really irritating--like my hair obsessions, and my hoarding, etc.--in addition to the stuff which just feels normal for me--like washing my hands after touching other people's stuff, and sticking to my routines, etc. Me needing my hair to be absolutely perfect--frustrating and definitely OCD. Me wondering how the hell people can function without knowing in advance what they plan to do--normal for me and maybe OCPD, *shrug.* Seriously, I do not understand you people who don't plan everything out, you must be crazy.
Hold on, need aspirin.
Psychiatrist said to make sure that I let somebody know should I begin feeling depressed again. I asked who should I call if I start to feel lousy?--I hate bothering people or calling at a bad time. Every time seems like a bad time to me, which is one reason why I never call people. During the day, people are at work or busy. At night, people are sleeping. In the mornings and afternoons, people are with their families, and that's when I can't be alone with the phone so I can't call anyway. Thus I simply don't call. Psychiatrist stated flatly that there was no such thing as a bad time--I might not be able to talk to someone immediately, but there should always be somebody to talk to, even if it's the 24-hour emergency number. I nodded along to all of this though I still find it too uncomfortable to just call. So I guess that was basically that appointment.
The next day was my appointment with Psychologist. She'd been moved into Nurse's old office, so that was kind of jarring for me; I felt awkward sitting in a strange different spot. (OCPD...there are "right" and "wrong" places to sit in in every room, you realize, though I hadn't any idea which was which this time around, so it was quite awkward.) One of the first things out of her mouth was, "So...I heard about the medication!" *brings hands down upon legs* "Rachel is taking ACTION!" Well...I guess... o_o; Though not really because I planned to! We went over that a bit, and like Psychiatrist she said, "You seem to be aware enough of your feelings and such that I believe you'll be able to know if you start feeling depressed again." I feel they give me an awful lot of credit... -_-; I mean...obviously I DO keep careful track of my mental and emotional states, yeah...but as for accurately JUDGING them, that's another matter entirely. More later. I didn't argue anyway, just kind of sheepishly nodded, feeling quite embarrassed. She expressed concern that I'd be able to let others know should I start to feel lousy again and I said that I REALLY didn't want that to happen, so I hoped I could let others know too. Can't really recall what else we said about that.
The rest of the session seemed to consist mainly of us...talking about trees. O_o I mentioned that I'd gone to the island and that excited her so she wanted me to fill her in and of course, I couldn't remember most of the trip, except for taking lots of pictures of trees!! She did find out that I'm acrophobic though, when I related the incident on Morning Snack Trail. When I said I'd taken around 500 pictures she said, "I couldn't have heard you right." Me: "I didn't take as many as I did last year..." Ha ha. When she asked what the pictures were of all I could think of was trees!! My brain really wasn't functioning. Oh yes, I had a bad cold. Maybe that's why.
"I know it gets kind of sickening to other people," I said, "because with my pictures it's like, 'Here's some trees, and here's some trees, and here's some more trees, and here's some trees on a hill, and here's some trees along a road, and here's a tree by itself, and here are MORE trees...' But I just don't get tired of taking pictures of them. I'm always taking pictures of the woods beside our house, and to everyone else they probably all look alike, but I still don't get tired! I just really like looking at trees. I go online and look at more pictures of trees!"
"I'd feel like an idiot bringing this up with anyone else," Psychologist said, "but I feel you might understand. Sometimes when I go out walking with my family we might come across this really old tree--and I look at it and I just wonder..." I started nodding, knowing what she was going to say before she said it. "...If this tree could talk, what kind of things would it say? All the things this tree would know...you understand?"
I kept nodding. "There's this stand of virgin pines way up in the UP," I said, "the Estivant Pines--and they're about five hundred years old. These trees were there when the voyageurs were paddling their canoes and the missionaries were just coming into the area! Those trees lived through all of that. It's amazing."
She tried to think of what could have happened historically in the past 500 years and mentioned Michilimackinac, then asked again about the voyageurs and when they would have been around here, so I guess she didn't know. How did they know the trees were that old?--I said that they're so big it takes three men to place their arms around one. The trees started getting cut down in the Seventies for lumber, but the locals managed to protect the rest and now they're on a sort of preserve, one of the (if not the) last stands of virgin white pine left in Michigan. She was impressed by this and asked where they were; I said up in the Keweenaw. She said she used to visit there with her family but they'd finished with that--"I wish I'd known about these before!" I mentioned how I'd like to see them but won't be able to as they're too far away, and my family just aren't into going to look at trees--"That's kind of why I started going to the island on my own--I just hate the thought of dragging Ma along. I could look at things for hours, but my parents, it's not their idea of fun to spend all day looking at trees!" Which I understand, as I'd die of boredom looking at beads for hours on end!
"I hate how your parents limit you," Psychologist said, then tried to explain what she meant, apparently thinking the phrase had come out wrong, but I understood. It's not like they deliberately keep me from seeing things like the Estivant Pines; it's just not their kind of thing, and the only problem is I have no way to see such things without their assistance. It's disappointing, but understandable. The Estivant Pines and Pictured Rocks just seem like an unattainable dream to me...*sigh*
She asked how long I was on the island and I tried to figure it out in my head. "Well...I got there around nine or ten...and got back into town around five...I'd say I was probably walking around about seven or eight hours."
"You see, I just find this so amusing, that you can just walk around for SEVEN OR EIGHT HOURS as if it's nothing!" Psychologist exclaimed. "Like, 'I think I'll go for a walk today,' and then you can walk around for hours like it's the most regular thing in the world, and to you it's such an adventure!"
"I REALLY like that island," I admitted.
Well, there was some more chatter along those lines, bla bla, you get the picture. Like with Psychiatrist she decided to schedule for another month, because of the change in medication, and I guess that was it.
Now...as for since then?
I've been miserable. -_- For about a week or so. I decided to try to wait it out and see if it was just hormones...but that time has come and gone...maybe it was just temporary...still feeling miserable...maybe it's just circumstances. Granted, I've been having some lousy circumstances online lately. I've been falling prey, as usual, to my bad habit of becoming enamored of popular people who seem to have so much in common with me, that I want them to be my friends, but of course they don't care to reciprocate. I felt terribly hurt when I found an online writer at DA and saw that her story has 23 chapters and over 200 comments!!--whereas my stories have been online and widely available for years and have hundreds of chapters and I'm lucky if I can interest one person here and there, and REALLY lucky if I can keep somebody interested to the end, much less keep them interested in a sequel. I even told her I was so jealous of her success. I kind of--okay, let's be truthful. I REALLY hoped she'd take the hint and show interest in me. Not so. She said thanks, which is more than what most popular people do, but that was about it. -_- And I see that her contest for people to draw her characters has SO MANY entries. That might be because of the prizes offered, but it's obvious that she has lots of fans. This got me agonizing over why *I* don't have lots of fans? I work so hard, and for so long; I used to truly believe that if you just keep working, and working, and try to be patient, that good things will surely come to you. But it's been almost eight years now...I mean, come on...there has to be a limit. These popular people I see can write ten chapters, be at it for a couple of years, and achieve far more success than I ever have in my life. This has made me seriously wonder what the point of all my hard work and perseverance is? Because there isn't much payoff, and I just keep feeling like I'm always boring people when all I ever wanted to do was entertain. My stupid long long long dull stories...no wonder people don't like them. They must be terribly dull. It's the only reason I can think of why all my efforts have paid off so little while other people's efforts have worked so well. My writing must be quite dull, and far too long, and people must not be able to relate to it. This in turn has made me wonder why I'm even here if the one thing I thought I was good at isn't working. -_-
Then I got this mail at WDC which just pissed me off and made me feel far worse even though I expected it. Maybe that's why?--because I knew all along. A couple of months ago, I got a friendly mail from a stranger at WDC; they complimented me, and said that mine was one of the first ports they'd stumbled upon; a brief glance at my work had intrigued them and they couldn't wait to get started on reading.
The response I REALLY wanted to send them?--"Uh-huh, whatever. Thanks anyway." Sounds horribly rude, right? That's why I forced myself to instead respond cheerfully, feigning a smile and saying that I hoped they enjoyed whatever they might read. Swallowing the bitter comments that I KNEW they would not read a lick of my stuff.
Well, not long ago--after two months--came the response which I knew was coming all along. The only difference is that most people just don't respond ever, and I never hear from them again. This person bothered to respond to tell me...they were sorry, they hadn't any time, plus, they wanted to hang out on WDC to work on THEIR writing (understandable, but they sure spent a lot of words going on about their writing achievements, even mentioning their blog by name, like they expect me to go check out their stuff--whatever!), apologies that they wouldn't be able to read my work after all but they hoped that "good energy for writing" or some such nonsense would always be coming my way. BLAAAGGH. I sent them a short and snippy reply which I really shouldn't have but I'm just so SICK of this. Because this is by far NOT the first time someone has done this, and it won't be the last. For some reason people love to mail me saying that my writing looks interesting, they can't wait to get started on it!...then I never hear from them again. Why do these people mail me in the first place?? I myself am terribly unreliable, but still, I don't go around mailing total strangers and saying, "Wow, I can't wait to get started on your story!" and then never bother with them again. I even had somebody there who vowed to come back and start reading the VERY NEXT DAY...never did. I'm pretty sure I even edited my bio there long ago to ask people NOT to promise to read anything of mine just for this reason, but people still do it a lot. And while I understand that life gets in the way, things come up, etc., a LOT of these people are just off doing their own things and have lost interest in me (so much for my writing being so great), or else never even bothered coming back to the site, period. I can't stand people like that, who join a site in a flurry of activity, then vanish in a puff of smoke. At least settle in and be around for a while before you go promising somebody to read their WONDERFUL writing--otherwise you look like a fickle, attention-deficit idiot.
Sorry for the rantage, but I am just beyond fed up with people like this. I hate the reader silence that seems to be par for the course with my stupid writing...but even more I hate people who get your hopes up and then let you down in an instant. And it does seem like all the people who were the most uber-enthusiastic about my writing always lost interest in it quickest. Like a candle flame that flares up and then burns out. Going through this over and over and OVER just discourages me to no end. It makes me feel like my writing starts out terribly intriguing, but must get horribly dull somewhere along the way, pretty fast. I work so hard on it, too, so I don't get it. I've seen other people who can just toss off a few chapters, promise they'll write more, then never bother finishing, but they still rake in the fans. -_- What am I doing wrong? And how come I keep getting these people vowing to read more and then disappearing in a blink? I wish these people would leave me alone. When you get as little interest in your work as I do, you tend to cling to what little interest you get as if your life depends on it. When you find out that that interest is in fact insubstantial and no longer existent, it really, really hurts. Most people can look back on past comments they've gotten for inspiration and encouragement. All I ever see is past comments from people who quickly got bored and bailed out on me. Not very encouraging.
So that mail just made it worse and the past few days I've spent crying all the time when my parents aren't around to see. Just like before the meds. -_- I still hesitate to do anything about it, and I wasn't even going to write an entry. I detest feeling like I'm begging for sympathy. Sure I want attention, but I want people to give it willingly, on their terms. I want to be the kind of person that people care for so much, they offer attention ON THEIR OWN. Without me having to whine it out of them. Every time I write an entry about how lousy I feel, I feel so horribly manipulative, and always feel terrible afterwards, even if it results in attention that I wanted, because I feel I coerced that attention and that makes me feel lousier. In this entry, I'm trying hard to just type how things are going, and to not play a pity card, but I know I'll still feel lousy later on. I already do. I also hate typing about how bad I feel, wah wah wah, when I don't even bother to reply to the few people who DO show up to pay attention to me. Here I was just whining about the popular people who can't be bothered with me, and I can't even reply to some notes. Gratitude, huh? I'm such a mess. Long story short, I just can't seem to win no matter what I do. Seeing as lack of attention is the reason I've been feeling so depressed, I could hardly write an entry about it, as that would be begging for attention, which I hate! So I've just been sitting at home crying to myself and not knowing what to do. And seeing all these popular people who have always been there but just seem to be multiplying exponentially now that I feel lousy, making me feel so insignificant and talentless and useless. Seriously, I know popular people have always been online and always will be, but how come I'm noticing so many of them now, how come I feel like I could and should be friends with them yet they aren't interested, how come everyone else's success seems so easy and mine seems so unattainable? Am I really just a bad judge of such things and these people feel as lousy as I do? Does Girl-With-200-Comments secretly sit at home and cry just as much as me, and wonder why she's such a hack? I don't believe that for a minute, but I honestly don't understand why everybody else seems so much better off.
I was going to try to mollify all my crying and self-berating a bit by replying to a long-overdue e-mail, of which I have at least several. -_- I opened one up, braced myself, and read it. Yeah, you heard me, read it. I've only had it sitting in my inbox for over a month now, and only just NOW do I actually read the entire thing. -_- I figured that it'd take me a while to reply so got ready to spend the rest of the morning doing that. You see, after I read a friendly mail, there comes this "giddy" period in which I think over all that I've read, and wander around agonizing over how to reply, and just trying to sort through all my thoughts. It's like a mental flood and I can't handle it all at once. Maybe a reason why I'm so bad with e-mails. And snail mail, for that matter. Once I finally get myself to read the entire thing, it takes me ten times as long just to sort through my thoughts! And God knows how long just to type them up. >_<
Well...I had so many thoughts that I realized that replying today would be futile. So I opened up another mail that's been sitting in my inbox for TWO months...ugh...and read that straight through. While I'm overwhelmed sorting thoughts for one, I may as well add the thoughts from the other. Read that through, then closed it and Wordpad (where I type everything)...and decided to write this instead. To get my therapy entries out of the way since they're overdue, to explain how I've been doing and feeling lately and why, and to say a few other things that I should say more often but don't because they're so difficult.
You see, after I read the mails I felt a lot better. At least for today. I was flooded with ideas for replies, and just for blathering about writing, something I feel comfortable blathering about. I'm a geek, and have a woefully one-track mind, and chatter of things most people consider easy to chatter about has just never come easily to me. Writing about writing, though...I could go on for ages. Just look at all the crap above. And that's the whiny stuff. Good stuff, maybe I could blather even longer. MAYBE. I guess it depends on my mood. *shrug* Writing about writing just lifts my spirits a bit, I guess. It's something I can relate to, something I know. Something I actually don't write about much because I'm afraid of boring people off. Even now, I have to watch what I say, how I reply, as, even though I love blathering about my OWN writing, I feel that to do so is a death-knell for any conversation, so I can't do so unless asked. (And even then I have to make sure not to go on forever.)
I'm a terribly ungrateful person. I don't respond to others nearly as much as I should. I complain about how lonely and unappreciated I am, but at the same time, I don't appreciate others that much. I feel angry and upset when my own overtures toward others are ignored, but is my behavior that much better? While I sit here and feel lousy over Girl-With-200-Comments not caring about my hints about my writing, there are people out there wondering why the hell I'm not replying to THEM. What are they--chopped liver? I write entries like this, and must make them feel like dirt. Why are their efforts never enough? Why do I spend my time chasing after mega-popular people who I even KNOW won't care that I exist, when there are other people who have even SHOWN that they're interested, waiting months on end for me to just reply? They've already sent me friendly e-mails inviting me to blather back. Yet I spend my days not reading those, chasing after yet more people who I wish would pay attention to me. And sitting and crying to myself about how lonely I am. It's not fair, and I don't mean to me. I imagine how shitty I feel when I go out of my way to express interest in someone, only to see them ignoring me and spending their time on someone else. The popular people do this all the time--they stick together, to what they already know. I've seen it happen firsthand so I know. Somebody like me never catches their attention. And that always upsets me so much and makes me wonder what I'm doing wrong. Well, imagine the people waiting for ME to respond. Seeing me chasing after other people instead. I feel like dirt when that happens, so I can imagine how I make other people feel.
These paragraphs have been terribly hard for me to write, and even now my eyes are watering, and not for a good reason. I USED to be more grateful to others, and express my thanks that they were there, and to be more effusive in my gratitude...USED to. Before one person after another after another ended up leaving me hanging. People I never in a million years thought would do such a thing. The last person I was effusively grateful toward was P. I was POSITIVE he would never do what every single other person had done...and then he did. Just left me hanging. Ignored me, even. That was a couple of years or so ago now, but I don't think I'll ever get over it. I don't blame P. alone for how I feel--it's been the actions of a lot of people, as well as my inability to deal with them. Most people can take the actions of one person for what they are--the actions of one person--and move on. But all I can see is the actions of one person added to those of another, and another, and see the pattern emerging, and apply that pattern to how EVERYONE will interact with me. As such...I'm terrified of showing any gratitude toward anyone now, lest they be yet another person who leaves me hanging, and then I'm left feeling stupid over my naivete in trusting them. Because yes, I sting terribly from all the thanks I gave all those people who left me hanging, angry with myself for being so gullible. It's like the mere act of just saying thanks dooms any friendships I might make. Thunk a friendly dog on the nose enough times, and it'll come to believe it's doing something wrong. Well, that's how I feel now. That any expression of thanks on my part will lead to nothing but grief for me, because that's all it's ever done in the past.
As a result, I come across as terribly ungrateful and unappreciative, even while I go on and on about how others don't appreciate me. I hate that I do that, and it's another reason why I don't speak up much even when I'm feeling lousy. What right do I have to say how bad I feel when I make others feel so crappy? Maybe I just deserve to feel this way?
I have to finish up this entry, so long it is! Anyone who's read this far gets the point anyway. By now, as my reaction to the WDC mail two months ago shows, I rather expect to be left hanging by everyone I come into contact with.
I wrote that all up this morning, and cut myself off at that point as I had no idea how to end the entry. Ever spend so long going on about something that the way to summarize it is just lost to you? That's why my journal entries often end so stupidly. I guess I'll just try to be upfront. I've wondered all day whether I should even post this at all--that's how used I am to my attempts at thanking people backfiring in my face. But I'll post it, if only because 1. I always expect that to happen anyway and 2. I spent that damn long typing the damn thing up!!
So...I do hope I got some sort of point across, because I spent so many words on so much stuff up there that I think I'm hopelessly lost by now. o_o Just like my fiction. Hopefully I'll be able to get started on an e-mail in the morning, since actions speak louder than words.
Tar. (Oh yeah...that means "Bye" or "Later" in...um...Tehutinese. Okay, I'm shutting up. Not proofed or spellchecked because I'm not in the mood for excessive humiliation right now.)
Firstly, I had two appointments...last week or so...I can't even remember things. I put off writing this a long time, mainly because I always feel bad that I never reply to the generous notes that I get. More on that later. Anyway one of them was on Sept. 11th, I remember that, so I guess the other one was on the 10th since it was Monday. The first appointment was with Psychiatrist. I'm afraid I can only vaguely summarize by now, apologies, but meetings with Psychiatrist are never terribly eventful anyway. I had to admit to her about going off the Lexapro and clonazepam, and I felt very meek and guilty doing so. I knew she wouldn't start spewing milk and spinning her head around or anything, but still, for all I know how bad and stupid it is to just go off one's meds, here I had done just that, and that tends to make one feel very lame. Plus I just hate being seen as "noncompliant." I've still never been able to clear up the misunderstanding about why exactly I went off my Prozac so long ago (because my insurance ran out), so it's still on my record as being "because I thought I was better," and I loathe that anybody would believe I did something so stupid! Yeah, I admit I did something as stupid as going off my meds. But no, I never, ever, EVER went off any meds because I thought I was "better." That's just...stupid. (Er...well, I guess my mental thesaurus isn't working today.) Meds do not cure one. They help smooth things along, make them more tolerable, and can make one FEEL better, but they don't MAKE ONE BETTER. I've always known that. Okay, I hate ending things abruptly but I didn't want to write an entry on this subject, so you get the picture.
Psychiatrist wasn't angry. I gave my reasons and such, bla bla, and she said that I seemed capable of being able to assess what works and what doesn't--"I just want to do what YOU think helps, so if this is what you want, that's fine." She did ask if I was against trying out a different med should being off them completely prove a bad move. I said it's possible. She mentioned Prozac, so I guess if I need to go on another one that's the next one up...ugh. It's not known to cause excessive weight gain, and I didn't have a problem with it when I took it before, but in retrospect I recall that I gained a lot of weight somewhere during late high school/early college, which is when I was on it. I have photos of me from early high school and I'm nice and thin (though I didn't know it back then!), then later on I'm just...UGH. A whale. Not as heavy as I am now, but I detest those pictures. -_- Then I lost weight again and again was thin in 2000 when I went to visit my brother for the second time as there's a picture of me and I'm again skinny. (Whereas in my photo from his 1997 wedding, I'm FAT FAT FAT BLAGH.) Then it started going up again in the past several years. What the hell is with my body chemistry?? Anyway. Again, not the entry I wanted. Long story short, I'm just getting sick of side effects, especially when I'm not even sure if they're side effects. For all I know I just eat too much--I DID gain a lot of weight BEFORE the Lexapro.
Psychiatrist started asking questions about my OCD symptoms, which evolved into asking if I consider some things I do a problem or if it's just the "right way" for me to do things. I don't think I made it clear enough that some of my OCD things ARE frustrating and irritating beyond reasoning, but admittedly, some of them are just things I'm used to. For example, proofreading. I told her I would never in a million years rely on someone else proofing my work! I don't mind others catching my mistakes, but it's MY responsibility to make sure those mistakes aren't there in the first place. The concept of the "beta reader," online, was mystifying to me when I first came across it. I couldn't understand how people could rely on others to catch all their own errors. How can you count on somebody else to do something right which you should do right in the first place? Made no sense to me. Now I understand better that some people simply NEED beta readers--heck, I find myself beta'ing all the time without meaning to, it's the main reason I don't read much online fiction!--but I view myself as one who shouldn't need them. Not because I'm so terrific a writer and all that, but because I should really make my work the best I possibly can, and not count on others to fix what's my responsibility. That's just the way I've always been. Nobody knows my mind and mode of writing as well as I do, so how can anyone besides me be expected to catch everything I'd want caught? Best to do it myself.
She asked several more questions along these lines--am I stubborn?--I nodded vigorously--do I feel my way of doing things is the only right way?--not really, just the right way for me--if somebody else has something that works better for me I'll accept it, but if my way is what works, then I'll stick to it. My routines etc. etc. I quickly realized what she was getting at, as her questions were quite formulaic and she was reading from something. She brought up obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and I said, "Ah," only half surprised. So she was assessing me. So, I think she might be considering revising my diagnosis, which is fine by me, though I do still believe that I have OCD itself, possibly in addition to OCPD, as there are still symptoms I have which are really irritating--like my hair obsessions, and my hoarding, etc.--in addition to the stuff which just feels normal for me--like washing my hands after touching other people's stuff, and sticking to my routines, etc. Me needing my hair to be absolutely perfect--frustrating and definitely OCD. Me wondering how the hell people can function without knowing in advance what they plan to do--normal for me and maybe OCPD, *shrug.* Seriously, I do not understand you people who don't plan everything out, you must be crazy.
Hold on, need aspirin.
Psychiatrist said to make sure that I let somebody know should I begin feeling depressed again. I asked who should I call if I start to feel lousy?--I hate bothering people or calling at a bad time. Every time seems like a bad time to me, which is one reason why I never call people. During the day, people are at work or busy. At night, people are sleeping. In the mornings and afternoons, people are with their families, and that's when I can't be alone with the phone so I can't call anyway. Thus I simply don't call. Psychiatrist stated flatly that there was no such thing as a bad time--I might not be able to talk to someone immediately, but there should always be somebody to talk to, even if it's the 24-hour emergency number. I nodded along to all of this though I still find it too uncomfortable to just call. So I guess that was basically that appointment.
The next day was my appointment with Psychologist. She'd been moved into Nurse's old office, so that was kind of jarring for me; I felt awkward sitting in a strange different spot. (OCPD...there are "right" and "wrong" places to sit in in every room, you realize, though I hadn't any idea which was which this time around, so it was quite awkward.) One of the first things out of her mouth was, "So...I heard about the medication!" *brings hands down upon legs* "Rachel is taking ACTION!" Well...I guess... o_o; Though not really because I planned to! We went over that a bit, and like Psychiatrist she said, "You seem to be aware enough of your feelings and such that I believe you'll be able to know if you start feeling depressed again." I feel they give me an awful lot of credit... -_-; I mean...obviously I DO keep careful track of my mental and emotional states, yeah...but as for accurately JUDGING them, that's another matter entirely. More later. I didn't argue anyway, just kind of sheepishly nodded, feeling quite embarrassed. She expressed concern that I'd be able to let others know should I start to feel lousy again and I said that I REALLY didn't want that to happen, so I hoped I could let others know too. Can't really recall what else we said about that.
The rest of the session seemed to consist mainly of us...talking about trees. O_o I mentioned that I'd gone to the island and that excited her so she wanted me to fill her in and of course, I couldn't remember most of the trip, except for taking lots of pictures of trees!! She did find out that I'm acrophobic though, when I related the incident on Morning Snack Trail. When I said I'd taken around 500 pictures she said, "I couldn't have heard you right." Me: "I didn't take as many as I did last year..." Ha ha. When she asked what the pictures were of all I could think of was trees!! My brain really wasn't functioning. Oh yes, I had a bad cold. Maybe that's why.
"I know it gets kind of sickening to other people," I said, "because with my pictures it's like, 'Here's some trees, and here's some trees, and here's some more trees, and here's some trees on a hill, and here's some trees along a road, and here's a tree by itself, and here are MORE trees...' But I just don't get tired of taking pictures of them. I'm always taking pictures of the woods beside our house, and to everyone else they probably all look alike, but I still don't get tired! I just really like looking at trees. I go online and look at more pictures of trees!"
"I'd feel like an idiot bringing this up with anyone else," Psychologist said, "but I feel you might understand. Sometimes when I go out walking with my family we might come across this really old tree--and I look at it and I just wonder..." I started nodding, knowing what she was going to say before she said it. "...If this tree could talk, what kind of things would it say? All the things this tree would know...you understand?"
I kept nodding. "There's this stand of virgin pines way up in the UP," I said, "the Estivant Pines--and they're about five hundred years old. These trees were there when the voyageurs were paddling their canoes and the missionaries were just coming into the area! Those trees lived through all of that. It's amazing."
She tried to think of what could have happened historically in the past 500 years and mentioned Michilimackinac, then asked again about the voyageurs and when they would have been around here, so I guess she didn't know. How did they know the trees were that old?--I said that they're so big it takes three men to place their arms around one. The trees started getting cut down in the Seventies for lumber, but the locals managed to protect the rest and now they're on a sort of preserve, one of the (if not the) last stands of virgin white pine left in Michigan. She was impressed by this and asked where they were; I said up in the Keweenaw. She said she used to visit there with her family but they'd finished with that--"I wish I'd known about these before!" I mentioned how I'd like to see them but won't be able to as they're too far away, and my family just aren't into going to look at trees--"That's kind of why I started going to the island on my own--I just hate the thought of dragging Ma along. I could look at things for hours, but my parents, it's not their idea of fun to spend all day looking at trees!" Which I understand, as I'd die of boredom looking at beads for hours on end!
"I hate how your parents limit you," Psychologist said, then tried to explain what she meant, apparently thinking the phrase had come out wrong, but I understood. It's not like they deliberately keep me from seeing things like the Estivant Pines; it's just not their kind of thing, and the only problem is I have no way to see such things without their assistance. It's disappointing, but understandable. The Estivant Pines and Pictured Rocks just seem like an unattainable dream to me...*sigh*
She asked how long I was on the island and I tried to figure it out in my head. "Well...I got there around nine or ten...and got back into town around five...I'd say I was probably walking around about seven or eight hours."
"You see, I just find this so amusing, that you can just walk around for SEVEN OR EIGHT HOURS as if it's nothing!" Psychologist exclaimed. "Like, 'I think I'll go for a walk today,' and then you can walk around for hours like it's the most regular thing in the world, and to you it's such an adventure!"
"I REALLY like that island," I admitted.
Well, there was some more chatter along those lines, bla bla, you get the picture. Like with Psychiatrist she decided to schedule for another month, because of the change in medication, and I guess that was it.
Now...as for since then?
I've been miserable. -_- For about a week or so. I decided to try to wait it out and see if it was just hormones...but that time has come and gone...maybe it was just temporary...still feeling miserable...maybe it's just circumstances. Granted, I've been having some lousy circumstances online lately. I've been falling prey, as usual, to my bad habit of becoming enamored of popular people who seem to have so much in common with me, that I want them to be my friends, but of course they don't care to reciprocate. I felt terribly hurt when I found an online writer at DA and saw that her story has 23 chapters and over 200 comments!!--whereas my stories have been online and widely available for years and have hundreds of chapters and I'm lucky if I can interest one person here and there, and REALLY lucky if I can keep somebody interested to the end, much less keep them interested in a sequel. I even told her I was so jealous of her success. I kind of--okay, let's be truthful. I REALLY hoped she'd take the hint and show interest in me. Not so. She said thanks, which is more than what most popular people do, but that was about it. -_- And I see that her contest for people to draw her characters has SO MANY entries. That might be because of the prizes offered, but it's obvious that she has lots of fans. This got me agonizing over why *I* don't have lots of fans? I work so hard, and for so long; I used to truly believe that if you just keep working, and working, and try to be patient, that good things will surely come to you. But it's been almost eight years now...I mean, come on...there has to be a limit. These popular people I see can write ten chapters, be at it for a couple of years, and achieve far more success than I ever have in my life. This has made me seriously wonder what the point of all my hard work and perseverance is? Because there isn't much payoff, and I just keep feeling like I'm always boring people when all I ever wanted to do was entertain. My stupid long long long dull stories...no wonder people don't like them. They must be terribly dull. It's the only reason I can think of why all my efforts have paid off so little while other people's efforts have worked so well. My writing must be quite dull, and far too long, and people must not be able to relate to it. This in turn has made me wonder why I'm even here if the one thing I thought I was good at isn't working. -_-
Then I got this mail at WDC which just pissed me off and made me feel far worse even though I expected it. Maybe that's why?--because I knew all along. A couple of months ago, I got a friendly mail from a stranger at WDC; they complimented me, and said that mine was one of the first ports they'd stumbled upon; a brief glance at my work had intrigued them and they couldn't wait to get started on reading.
The response I REALLY wanted to send them?--"Uh-huh, whatever. Thanks anyway." Sounds horribly rude, right? That's why I forced myself to instead respond cheerfully, feigning a smile and saying that I hoped they enjoyed whatever they might read. Swallowing the bitter comments that I KNEW they would not read a lick of my stuff.
Well, not long ago--after two months--came the response which I knew was coming all along. The only difference is that most people just don't respond ever, and I never hear from them again. This person bothered to respond to tell me...they were sorry, they hadn't any time, plus, they wanted to hang out on WDC to work on THEIR writing (understandable, but they sure spent a lot of words going on about their writing achievements, even mentioning their blog by name, like they expect me to go check out their stuff--whatever!), apologies that they wouldn't be able to read my work after all but they hoped that "good energy for writing" or some such nonsense would always be coming my way. BLAAAGGH. I sent them a short and snippy reply which I really shouldn't have but I'm just so SICK of this. Because this is by far NOT the first time someone has done this, and it won't be the last. For some reason people love to mail me saying that my writing looks interesting, they can't wait to get started on it!...then I never hear from them again. Why do these people mail me in the first place?? I myself am terribly unreliable, but still, I don't go around mailing total strangers and saying, "Wow, I can't wait to get started on your story!" and then never bother with them again. I even had somebody there who vowed to come back and start reading the VERY NEXT DAY...never did. I'm pretty sure I even edited my bio there long ago to ask people NOT to promise to read anything of mine just for this reason, but people still do it a lot. And while I understand that life gets in the way, things come up, etc., a LOT of these people are just off doing their own things and have lost interest in me (so much for my writing being so great), or else never even bothered coming back to the site, period. I can't stand people like that, who join a site in a flurry of activity, then vanish in a puff of smoke. At least settle in and be around for a while before you go promising somebody to read their WONDERFUL writing--otherwise you look like a fickle, attention-deficit idiot.
Sorry for the rantage, but I am just beyond fed up with people like this. I hate the reader silence that seems to be par for the course with my stupid writing...but even more I hate people who get your hopes up and then let you down in an instant. And it does seem like all the people who were the most uber-enthusiastic about my writing always lost interest in it quickest. Like a candle flame that flares up and then burns out. Going through this over and over and OVER just discourages me to no end. It makes me feel like my writing starts out terribly intriguing, but must get horribly dull somewhere along the way, pretty fast. I work so hard on it, too, so I don't get it. I've seen other people who can just toss off a few chapters, promise they'll write more, then never bother finishing, but they still rake in the fans. -_- What am I doing wrong? And how come I keep getting these people vowing to read more and then disappearing in a blink? I wish these people would leave me alone. When you get as little interest in your work as I do, you tend to cling to what little interest you get as if your life depends on it. When you find out that that interest is in fact insubstantial and no longer existent, it really, really hurts. Most people can look back on past comments they've gotten for inspiration and encouragement. All I ever see is past comments from people who quickly got bored and bailed out on me. Not very encouraging.
So that mail just made it worse and the past few days I've spent crying all the time when my parents aren't around to see. Just like before the meds. -_- I still hesitate to do anything about it, and I wasn't even going to write an entry. I detest feeling like I'm begging for sympathy. Sure I want attention, but I want people to give it willingly, on their terms. I want to be the kind of person that people care for so much, they offer attention ON THEIR OWN. Without me having to whine it out of them. Every time I write an entry about how lousy I feel, I feel so horribly manipulative, and always feel terrible afterwards, even if it results in attention that I wanted, because I feel I coerced that attention and that makes me feel lousier. In this entry, I'm trying hard to just type how things are going, and to not play a pity card, but I know I'll still feel lousy later on. I already do. I also hate typing about how bad I feel, wah wah wah, when I don't even bother to reply to the few people who DO show up to pay attention to me. Here I was just whining about the popular people who can't be bothered with me, and I can't even reply to some notes. Gratitude, huh? I'm such a mess. Long story short, I just can't seem to win no matter what I do. Seeing as lack of attention is the reason I've been feeling so depressed, I could hardly write an entry about it, as that would be begging for attention, which I hate! So I've just been sitting at home crying to myself and not knowing what to do. And seeing all these popular people who have always been there but just seem to be multiplying exponentially now that I feel lousy, making me feel so insignificant and talentless and useless. Seriously, I know popular people have always been online and always will be, but how come I'm noticing so many of them now, how come I feel like I could and should be friends with them yet they aren't interested, how come everyone else's success seems so easy and mine seems so unattainable? Am I really just a bad judge of such things and these people feel as lousy as I do? Does Girl-With-200-Comments secretly sit at home and cry just as much as me, and wonder why she's such a hack? I don't believe that for a minute, but I honestly don't understand why everybody else seems so much better off.
I was going to try to mollify all my crying and self-berating a bit by replying to a long-overdue e-mail, of which I have at least several. -_- I opened one up, braced myself, and read it. Yeah, you heard me, read it. I've only had it sitting in my inbox for over a month now, and only just NOW do I actually read the entire thing. -_- I figured that it'd take me a while to reply so got ready to spend the rest of the morning doing that. You see, after I read a friendly mail, there comes this "giddy" period in which I think over all that I've read, and wander around agonizing over how to reply, and just trying to sort through all my thoughts. It's like a mental flood and I can't handle it all at once. Maybe a reason why I'm so bad with e-mails. And snail mail, for that matter. Once I finally get myself to read the entire thing, it takes me ten times as long just to sort through my thoughts! And God knows how long just to type them up. >_<
Well...I had so many thoughts that I realized that replying today would be futile. So I opened up another mail that's been sitting in my inbox for TWO months...ugh...and read that straight through. While I'm overwhelmed sorting thoughts for one, I may as well add the thoughts from the other. Read that through, then closed it and Wordpad (where I type everything)...and decided to write this instead. To get my therapy entries out of the way since they're overdue, to explain how I've been doing and feeling lately and why, and to say a few other things that I should say more often but don't because they're so difficult.
You see, after I read the mails I felt a lot better. At least for today. I was flooded with ideas for replies, and just for blathering about writing, something I feel comfortable blathering about. I'm a geek, and have a woefully one-track mind, and chatter of things most people consider easy to chatter about has just never come easily to me. Writing about writing, though...I could go on for ages. Just look at all the crap above. And that's the whiny stuff. Good stuff, maybe I could blather even longer. MAYBE. I guess it depends on my mood. *shrug* Writing about writing just lifts my spirits a bit, I guess. It's something I can relate to, something I know. Something I actually don't write about much because I'm afraid of boring people off. Even now, I have to watch what I say, how I reply, as, even though I love blathering about my OWN writing, I feel that to do so is a death-knell for any conversation, so I can't do so unless asked. (And even then I have to make sure not to go on forever.)
I'm a terribly ungrateful person. I don't respond to others nearly as much as I should. I complain about how lonely and unappreciated I am, but at the same time, I don't appreciate others that much. I feel angry and upset when my own overtures toward others are ignored, but is my behavior that much better? While I sit here and feel lousy over Girl-With-200-Comments not caring about my hints about my writing, there are people out there wondering why the hell I'm not replying to THEM. What are they--chopped liver? I write entries like this, and must make them feel like dirt. Why are their efforts never enough? Why do I spend my time chasing after mega-popular people who I even KNOW won't care that I exist, when there are other people who have even SHOWN that they're interested, waiting months on end for me to just reply? They've already sent me friendly e-mails inviting me to blather back. Yet I spend my days not reading those, chasing after yet more people who I wish would pay attention to me. And sitting and crying to myself about how lonely I am. It's not fair, and I don't mean to me. I imagine how shitty I feel when I go out of my way to express interest in someone, only to see them ignoring me and spending their time on someone else. The popular people do this all the time--they stick together, to what they already know. I've seen it happen firsthand so I know. Somebody like me never catches their attention. And that always upsets me so much and makes me wonder what I'm doing wrong. Well, imagine the people waiting for ME to respond. Seeing me chasing after other people instead. I feel like dirt when that happens, so I can imagine how I make other people feel.
These paragraphs have been terribly hard for me to write, and even now my eyes are watering, and not for a good reason. I USED to be more grateful to others, and express my thanks that they were there, and to be more effusive in my gratitude...USED to. Before one person after another after another ended up leaving me hanging. People I never in a million years thought would do such a thing. The last person I was effusively grateful toward was P. I was POSITIVE he would never do what every single other person had done...and then he did. Just left me hanging. Ignored me, even. That was a couple of years or so ago now, but I don't think I'll ever get over it. I don't blame P. alone for how I feel--it's been the actions of a lot of people, as well as my inability to deal with them. Most people can take the actions of one person for what they are--the actions of one person--and move on. But all I can see is the actions of one person added to those of another, and another, and see the pattern emerging, and apply that pattern to how EVERYONE will interact with me. As such...I'm terrified of showing any gratitude toward anyone now, lest they be yet another person who leaves me hanging, and then I'm left feeling stupid over my naivete in trusting them. Because yes, I sting terribly from all the thanks I gave all those people who left me hanging, angry with myself for being so gullible. It's like the mere act of just saying thanks dooms any friendships I might make. Thunk a friendly dog on the nose enough times, and it'll come to believe it's doing something wrong. Well, that's how I feel now. That any expression of thanks on my part will lead to nothing but grief for me, because that's all it's ever done in the past.
As a result, I come across as terribly ungrateful and unappreciative, even while I go on and on about how others don't appreciate me. I hate that I do that, and it's another reason why I don't speak up much even when I'm feeling lousy. What right do I have to say how bad I feel when I make others feel so crappy? Maybe I just deserve to feel this way?
I have to finish up this entry, so long it is! Anyone who's read this far gets the point anyway. By now, as my reaction to the WDC mail two months ago shows, I rather expect to be left hanging by everyone I come into contact with.
I wrote that all up this morning, and cut myself off at that point as I had no idea how to end the entry. Ever spend so long going on about something that the way to summarize it is just lost to you? That's why my journal entries often end so stupidly. I guess I'll just try to be upfront. I've wondered all day whether I should even post this at all--that's how used I am to my attempts at thanking people backfiring in my face. But I'll post it, if only because 1. I always expect that to happen anyway and 2. I spent that damn long typing the damn thing up!!
So...I do hope I got some sort of point across, because I spent so many words on so much stuff up there that I think I'm hopelessly lost by now. o_o Just like my fiction. Hopefully I'll be able to get started on an e-mail in the morning, since actions speak louder than words.
Tar. (Oh yeah...that means "Bye" or "Later" in...um...Tehutinese. Okay, I'm shutting up. Not proofed or spellchecked because I'm not in the mood for excessive humiliation right now.)