Take a sad song and make it better
Okay, so those of you who have been reading my journal since the beginning will probably remember the Year in Review Posts I used to do, which contained excerpts from the entries I'd written throughout the year. Well, here's where I show my over-ambitious side, because I'm doing a Decade in Review Post this time. Yeah, you heard me.
At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to, because I knew it meant going back through A LOT of writing to pick the quotes I wanted, and because I knew it meant reliving some really painful memories. It also meant I had to decide if I wanted to make it friends only or even custom-friends only, so that only the people on here who knew me back then would see it, since I wasn't quite sure how I felt about opening up my past in such a stark way to those of you who've only just "met" me over the last few months. It's scary to be vulnerable like that and I didn't know how/if it might change people's perceptions of me who didn't know me back then.
But when the clock struck midnight on Thursday night, I started crying. The decade that saw me graduate from high school, lose my grandfather, watch the twin towers fall, go through therapy, try to make it through college, move into my first apartment, become an aunt, start to finally come to terms with my sexuality--that decade was over. Now, you might think that those tears were from sadness, but they weren't. It was catharsis. Deep and right from the heart. My life and the world now is by no means perfect, but it's here. I'm here to see it. That 18/19 year old kid who thought she couldn't live another day made it 3,650 more days. One at a time.
So, thinking of that, along with all the good memories--night-long chats with lj friends, the metaboard & Television Without Pity drama (omg, remember those days guys?!), dorky X-Files & Buffy marathons with dosidella, being Jayden's "Super Nanny", how I felt everytime I made progress against the anxiety & depression, moving out and having my own place, the list goes on--and I realized that none of it was anything to hide or be ashamed of. I'm proud of it. And also, if there's even a small chance that someone going through a similar experience might feel less alone & more hopeful after reading what I wrote, then that right there makes it worth keeping public.
And now, with that being said, on to the boring details: I'm going to divide the post into two entries to cut the length. The first starts out with a few excerpts from my old private journal, which had conveniently already been typed up for my 2002 Year in Review post (but which unfortunately doesn't include much of anything from 2000/2001 as I have no idea where that old journal is anymore). It then moves quickly into my live journal posts--which began in September of 2002--and moves on through the years until now. I won't lie to you guys, it starts out dark. Really dark. But eventually things lighten up. I tried not to sugarcoat it by editing out the really painful stuff (except for the sake of length & repetitiveness of course), but I also made a point of including fun memories as well. Aside from the serious stuff, there were quite a few things here that made me laugh out loud to re-read. Everything from funny IM conversations to my sister's pregnancy to X-Files squeeing to my lovah obsession, it's all here to relive.
Those of you who knew me during the last seven years will hopefully get a nostalgic trip down memory lane from reading this, and those of you who just met me will hopefully at least get an interesting read if nothing else. And if no one has time to read it--which I'd understand frankly, because this bad boy is long & people have lives--then that's okay too. Hopefully the preceding paragraphs can stand for themselves in that case. And at the very least, it'll be here for me to look back upon should I ever forget just how far I've come.
P.S. Sometime either later tonight or tomorrow, I plan to also do a short "2010 resolutions" post & a much more lighthearted "TV Decade in Review" entry as well, which will include my top 10 (or 12, haven't decided yet) shows from the last ten years and which will also include a special Vid dedication to my top 3 pairings of the decade (Mulder/Scully, Booth/Brennan, & Roslin/Adama of course). Just giving the heads-up now so everyone can prepare for the inevitable capslock and flail. Heh.
But ANYWAY, enough introduction, and let's get to it!
2001/2002: 19-20 years old
Private Journal
Dec. 31, 2001: "I am definitely not sorry to see this year end. Maybe years from now I will be able to look at this year as one of pain, but learning or any of that, but it has been one of--if not the worst--years of my life.”
Jan. 28, 2002: "I've been trying to look forward to this psych. appointment, but part of me is so afraid it won't work.”
Jan. 30: "I am on academic alert, and if I don't get my act together this term I will go on probation and not be able to register next term. . .I've missed like five health classes in a row. This always happens when Mom loses it. I just stop functioning. She just got home after a week in the psych ward."
Feb. 19: "I've taken time off work for now, so that I can work on getting better and then go back little by little.”
Mar. 5: "I feel like I've had a nervous breakdown or something. I don't know or understand who I am now, or how to get better. I'm overwhelmed, and frightened by the possibility that I will never get better."
Mar. 8: "I miss feeling like I have a place in the world, that I belong. I don't even feel like I exist anymore. I could be gone, with no friends to miss me. . . I feel so awkward around people now. . .like I've been in a coma or something and woken up in a different era, so I've got to go around trying to act normal like everyone else so I don't make an ass out of myself, feeling out of place and not knowing what to say ever. I used to be so good at making conversation with others; now I feel so quiet always, cut off from the world, and tucked away all stiff somewhere inside myself. I try to act casual, make small talk, but it's forced, and I feel like my wrong-ness is written all over my face. They'll see it, and not want it. I wish I didn't feel this way."
Mar. 9: "I try not to, but the thought of doing something drastic won't get out of my head. It tortures me. How much would I have to take to overdose? It's frightening, how I am. I don't want to be dead; I can't bear to live. I'm so lonely, but I don't want to go out anywhere. I know that even if an old friend showed up on my doorstep, wanting to go out, I wouldn't be able to be my old self and it would be awkward. . .
I feel like everything's ruined, and can never be better."
Mar. 11: "Corinne says that I'm too hard on myself. I don't think I've been hard enough. I deserve to be left behind, abandoned. I deserve to die alone, or live my miserable life in oblivion. . .why do I have to be how I am. . .How can I get out of me the wrongness that seems to infect every aspect of my life? It is me that is wrong. Disgusting. Useless. Needy. Always making mistakes. The anxiety and self-hate was so suffocating tonight, all I could do to ease it was scratch my nails into my arm until there were raw marks stinging in their wake.
I try to think a way out of this, and it seems the only solution is to take a gun and put it in my mouth.”
Mar. 13: "I'm so worried about myself. Now that I've talked to Corinne. . .and seen how upset it made her, I can't hurt myself. I have to resist it. It's so hard. I'm still surprised she cried. I just didn't think she'd be emotional about it. I never believe I'm that much to anyone. Don't ever think I'd be mourned if I were to die.
I'm worried about myself though, because I can't beat this on my own. I have no interest in anything. . .I am so dead inside. Except for those rare moments, I cannot smile and mean it. Being hugged feels empty to me. . .and Mom, one who could really help me now by supporting me, doesn't understand."
Apr. 27: "I've seen the doctor a couple times now, and it seems to be going well. I have made a couple of improvements with the Social Anxiety. . .I can't stop worrying over everything though, and that--plus the constant anxiety I feel--is a real problem. And the depression hasn't been responding really. I worry about that too. . .
My future stretches out before me so hopelessly. I try to paint a happy picture in it and it turns to gray. It causes such anxiety and depression within me, I feel like I vibrate with it. I want to scream or slap myself to stop. Cover my ears and hide. But you can't hide from yourself. How will I live my whole life like this? How can I bear it?”
May 5: “I walk around with a force field of worry surrounding me like an anxious aura, crushing me. I try to concentrate on just one worry, but they're all starved for attention and leap on me at once. Like a radio overwhelmed by too many frequencies. The roar becomes more deafening as time goes by. But I cannot turn to just one channel. So nothing is solved. . .
Even if I take care of some of my social phobias, what then? What could I make of myself? I never succeed at anything. Underneath it all, I am good for nothing. Not as good as others. I have always felt it, others have always known it. I am not as capable, not normal. Helpless. . .I try to picture what I would want if I could have anything, but even then, I feel empty at the thought. Will I ever be happy? Will my life just be a big, long waste? Another sad, tragic, nameless life to be forgotten? People say "It'll turn out all right", but that's not always the truth. For plenty of people, life is cruel and long. They die a horrible, sad death after horrible, sad lives. Will I be one of them? I don't know how to avoid it, I don't know what to do. . .
Every part of my soul is crying out, and there's no answer. It's growing tired, and parts have lost the voice to cry out at all. I don't cry anymore very often. I have no tears left it seems. How is it possible to be so sad, and yet so empty all at once?"
(Here's the end of my private journal, and the beginning of my livejournal)
Sept. 12: "I've never done this whole LJ thing before, but Dosidella signed me up for it tonight, so that I'd be able to read other people's journals, and respond to them. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing in it very frequently. . .”
Sept. 26: "Sometimes I just feel so tired of it all. I feel like my whole life--my past, my future--is weighing on my shoulders. . .me, my stupid problems, my crazy family, my mom, all of it. I think of these things, and I feel so alone. And I'm afraid to tell myself it'll all be okay in the end, because I don't really believe in fate, and I've been disappointed by life too many times. . .So all I can do is just take it day by day. And hope that I'll look back on this someday, from a happier place."
Oct. 29: "We decided to raise my dose of Effexor to 150 mgs., which is the next dose up."
Nov. 4: "You know, when dosidella told me she was going to buy me the season 6 DVD set for the X Files as an early Christmas gift, I appreciated the sentiment, but kind of thought "No way, man, those are crazy expensive. She'll probably not be able to. But it's awfully sweet to think of it." But, dude! I just got it in the mail! My Mom was up there laughing at me, because I was like "Jenna kicks ASSSSSSSSSSS!" and dancing around. Hee! I love you, Dosi!"
Nov. 14th: rachmarieg: your mailman probably wants the card for himself. selfish stalker
An underwater: hee, you are so cute
An underwater: which one?
An underwater: we seriously have three
rachmarieg: the one that makes the music from the stabbing shower scene in psycho, when he delivers the mail
rachmarieg: haha
rachmarieg: "whee, whee, whee, whee"
An underwater: one comes in the morning, one comes around one, and one comes around three
An underwater: oh, he's the morning guy
rachmarieg: the one with the twitching, lazy eye
rachmarieg: how much mail do you get? shit
rachmarieg: three?
rachmarieg: wow
rachmarieg: the second one whispers "stab, stab, stab, stab, kill, kill, kill, kill" you know, like in the jason movies
rachmarieg: i love that your mailmen are like freaks that have just seen too many horror movies
An underwater: no, they bring, like, one bill each. it's weird.
rachmarieg: and you just walk by them, like rolling your eyes. all "hi, bob"
An underwater: they are!
An underwater: they're crazy.
rachmarieg: and they're all sheepish for a sec
rachmarieg: like "hey"
rachmarieg: then they go back to looking crazy
An underwater: our old mailman went, um, postal, so now they're, like, having auditions for the job. i think the morning guy should win.
An underwater: hee!
rachmarieg: with the rest of the people, lurking behind your bushes. who all wave at you, and greet you every morning
rachmarieg: remember?
rachmarieg: hee
An underwater: those people are getting annoying
rachmarieg: jeennnnnnnnaaaaaa
An underwater: they're so LOUD
rachmarieg: with the moaning, and the desperate keening cries
An underwater: stupid bitches
rachmarieg: they take off their hats to your grandma though. like, they're all polite
rachmarieg: so she likes them. and invites them in for pie
rachmarieg: you come home one day, and they're all sitting in your kitchen
rachmarieg: one raises a butcher knife, and your grandma's all "now, now, steve. remember what we discussed?"
rachmarieg: steve: "sigh. no killing, i know"
rachmarieg: grandma: "that's right, steve. now, eat your pie"
An underwater: hee!
Dec. 14: "I might be an aunt!"
Dec. 29: "and Dad grabbed him [my then 12 yr old brother] and pulled him off the couch, and slapped him across the face."
---
2002/2003: 20-21 years old
January 1st: "I got home, and Mom was on the phone with her, making this "for the love of God" face. Hee. She was all "Corinne, you can drink Ensure while pregnant. No, it's not too much protein, or vitamins. Sigh." Heh! Yeah, Corinne, and if you drink three glasses of juice in a day? Your baby will explode. The best part is that I think if I actually said that to her, she'd be like "Shut up. . .wait, is it okay to drink juice? You're kidding, right? You sure?"
January 9th: (re: my Sears lovah) "Ugh, he is so cute. CUTE! Heeeee. Like I'm overwhelmed by the cuteness, and have to get up and yell it to the Heavens, at the top of my lungs. CUUUUUUUTE! Then I just sit back down, all nonchalantly, like nothing just happenned. Haha."
January 14th: “Have I told you all about that? No one can touch her stomach. Why? Because my sister is CRAZY. Heh. L to the O to the C to the A. Insane in the membrane, and all that. I was like "What, do you think we plan on slugging you in the gut?". . .
The other night, at my house, apparently she sniffed her glass of water and said to my Mom "this water doesn't smell right; I don't want it". . .Too bad we didn't have an expiration date on the water for her to check. Hee. "This water went bad two weeks ago!"
January 19th: "I don't know how long she'll be gone for [My Mom in the psych ward], I guess we'll find out. She says probably like five days. But who knows. My birthday is next Monday."
January 23rd: "But I have to admit there's this little part of me lurking in the background, which is like "Yeah, screw all that healthy mentality shit. How about you eat as little as possible? Look at that scale. You got down to 95, just so you could go back up to 102? And you were feeling good the other day? Are you blind?"
January 28th: “I should drink more often. And now I can! Because I'm 21! I mean, I could drink before, but it's much easier now. You know, with the whole minor "legality" issue coming into play. Heh. Life of alcoholism, here I come!”
January 31st: "rachmarieg: ha! i bet those smurfs were horny little bastards. i mean, with just one woman?
o TinkerI3ell o: I know! It's like they were all ready to just turn gay then Smurfette shows up prancing around in her little dress all "Oh Papa!"
rachmarieg: "will you smurf me?"
o TinkerI3ell o: Smurf my smurf
rachmarieg: hee. smurf kind of sounds like a word for cooter
o TinkerI3ell o: Dude! I am so calling it my smurf now
rachmarieg: ha!
rachmarieg: you should
rachmarieg: so wrong
o TinkerI3ell o: "my smurf is bleeding!" hee
rachmarieg: i just picture a smurf's head between your legs, when you say that, i hope you know
rachmarieg: you'd want that, though, wouldn't you?
rachmarieg: sick bastard
o TinkerI3ell o: HA! That is so quotable"
February 14th: "I don't know that I've ever actually had a day like today. Because it was like one long panic attack at the salon, and then another one at work that seemed to go on forever. So, really, although it didn't last all day, it sure felt like it. . .”
February 19th: “She spazzed a bit, before the wedding, about her dress fitting, and other things, but not too bad. Just lots of "It's not too tight around the boobs, is it? Is it on straight? Are you sure? Oh, look at the time! Oh my God!" She kept fighting off tears. Aww. . .
I missed Poppy, while I was there. I think he would've really enjoyed it, and would've made Corinne cry with his toast, and made us all laugh at dinner. He would've teased everyone, and called me Wachael Mawie. Things just aren't the same without him. But if there is an afterlife, then I know he was there in spirit.”
March 18th: “IT'S A BOY!”
April 28th: “But I thought about it, and realized that even if I do want to continue to live here, and things did get better? I still need to work on making it so I feel like I at least have the option of moving out. . .So, I called and left a message with my old doctor today."
May 2nd: “I know the goal is to learn to handle the anxiety, not to just get rid of it entirely. But I'd really like to lessen it, a lot. . .For fuck's sake, I can't even walk to the store, without the entire duration of the trip being shadowed by the constant cycle of anxious thoughts, and almost unwavering self-consciousness."
May 28th: "Dad got a job in Phoenix. . .It was wicked short-notice, and he's leaving on Friday. Mary and Kyle will stay up here until the house sells, and then they'll move down there too.”
July 7th: "My hands smell like baby. Probably because I was just holding one. One that happened to be MY NEPHEW.
Hahaha. Or, in other words, a freaking BABY just came out of my SISTER. I'm still a little in shock over it.”
September 10th: "I need to get out of here, y'all. Living here is killing my soul, little by little. And I don't mean that in one of those "his outfit killed my soul" sort of ways. I mean it for real. . .
It kind of reminds me of that scene in the Neverending Story, where the horse drowns in the swamp. I haven't seen that movie in forever, but the way I remember it, when someone (or something) went into the swamp, if it wasn't careful, the sadness would catch it. And it would take it under. And, eventually, the person or animal would just give in. It wouldn't even try to get out anymore. . .
Sometimes, it doesn't even feel like she's my Mom. She's just this fucking monster. . .or a hollow shell that encases what used to be a nice person, and in her place is some person who sneers at everything I say, flips me off, and yells at me for hours on end. Which she did tonight, I might add. All of that."
September 28th: “She's always saying things like that though, like how she doesn't want to see me, or hear my voice. . .
I hate her for making me doubt whether I'm the bad one all the time. I hate her for making me miserable, all the time. I hate her for all the years I've been there for her, and how rarely she's been there for me. I hate her for going off her medication, and I hate her for never keeping any of her promises, and I hate her, I hate her, I hateherhateherhateher. But hate isn't really even the right word, because it implies I don't care anymore. And fuck her and fuck me, because I still do. Really, it just hurts so goddamn far down deep inside, that I want to yell at her for about twenty one years on end for how much she's hurt me. Yell until I'm hoarse, and can hardly stand. Until every single thing that's hurt me in my life has been exorcised, and she feels all of it, and understands.”
November 6th: “I talked to dosi tonight. . . It's starting to seem not far away at all, her getting here. March, that's only four/five months away.”
November 15th: "Sometimes I feel like I have to be able to detach from people, because part of me expects to end up alone again. . .You're only really important to people until something better comes along. . .You can't get too comfortable, you have to be able to keep going on your own.”
November 19th: “There is always something that pulls me back. Some invisible cord, tying me to this life. Maybe it's the simple instinct to survive. . .The fact that I still WANT things to turn out okay in the end. . .There is the fact that, despite whatever doubts plague me, I basically believe in God. . .I don't want to give up on the hope that I can get through all of this. . .I don't want it to end like that, after all the years I've fought.”
November 21st: "I wish I could get through one single day without contemplating death. I wish my dream last night didn't involve an overflowing bathtub and a butcher knife.
I wish my head ever stopped hurting, for one fucking day. I wish I hadn't missed the last two days at work. I wish my Mom wasn't out there, telling me I'm going to get fired.
I wish I wasn't afraid of going downtown today, for my acupuncture. I wish I didn't dread walking down the streets.
I wish happy people didn't make me sad. I wish I wasn't so tired of myself, and my life. I wish I felt completely good about anything.
I wish everything was different.
If wishes were horses. . .how does that expression end? Well, I'd have a lot of horses.
I wish right now, I didn't want to get in bed, and simply sleep my pain away. I wish I was understood. I wish I didn't feel so alone, here. I wish I saw my future as bright. I wish I didn't feel so sad, all the time. I wish everything didn't seem so pointless. I wish every small moment of happiness didn't get stolen a second later, or disappear for one reason or another. I wish everything was different.
Lord, please help me."
December 11th: “It came out how I basically felt she hated me at this point. . .What else was I supposed to feel, after she'd say things like "What about you that's good is there to say?". . .I guess it shocked her that I felt that way. So, for a day, she kept telling me that she loved me, kept saying things that were good about me, kept asking me if I was okay, and if I forgave her. . .she was all "So, forget about all that, okay? You forgive me? Why did you hesitate?"
December 14th: “Holidays are supposed to be for family, and everywhere I look, Christmas is following me around, with pictures of happy families, and joy to the world, and I don't get to see any of them, because my Dad is PSYCHO.”
continued in Part II: There's a light at the end of the tunnel
At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to, because I knew it meant going back through A LOT of writing to pick the quotes I wanted, and because I knew it meant reliving some really painful memories. It also meant I had to decide if I wanted to make it friends only or even custom-friends only, so that only the people on here who knew me back then would see it, since I wasn't quite sure how I felt about opening up my past in such a stark way to those of you who've only just "met" me over the last few months. It's scary to be vulnerable like that and I didn't know how/if it might change people's perceptions of me who didn't know me back then.
But when the clock struck midnight on Thursday night, I started crying. The decade that saw me graduate from high school, lose my grandfather, watch the twin towers fall, go through therapy, try to make it through college, move into my first apartment, become an aunt, start to finally come to terms with my sexuality--that decade was over. Now, you might think that those tears were from sadness, but they weren't. It was catharsis. Deep and right from the heart. My life and the world now is by no means perfect, but it's here. I'm here to see it. That 18/19 year old kid who thought she couldn't live another day made it 3,650 more days. One at a time.
So, thinking of that, along with all the good memories--night-long chats with lj friends, the metaboard & Television Without Pity drama (omg, remember those days guys?!), dorky X-Files & Buffy marathons with dosidella, being Jayden's "Super Nanny", how I felt everytime I made progress against the anxiety & depression, moving out and having my own place, the list goes on--and I realized that none of it was anything to hide or be ashamed of. I'm proud of it. And also, if there's even a small chance that someone going through a similar experience might feel less alone & more hopeful after reading what I wrote, then that right there makes it worth keeping public.
And now, with that being said, on to the boring details: I'm going to divide the post into two entries to cut the length. The first starts out with a few excerpts from my old private journal, which had conveniently already been typed up for my 2002 Year in Review post (but which unfortunately doesn't include much of anything from 2000/2001 as I have no idea where that old journal is anymore). It then moves quickly into my live journal posts--which began in September of 2002--and moves on through the years until now. I won't lie to you guys, it starts out dark. Really dark. But eventually things lighten up. I tried not to sugarcoat it by editing out the really painful stuff (except for the sake of length & repetitiveness of course), but I also made a point of including fun memories as well. Aside from the serious stuff, there were quite a few things here that made me laugh out loud to re-read. Everything from funny IM conversations to my sister's pregnancy to X-Files squeeing to my lovah obsession, it's all here to relive.
Those of you who knew me during the last seven years will hopefully get a nostalgic trip down memory lane from reading this, and those of you who just met me will hopefully at least get an interesting read if nothing else. And if no one has time to read it--which I'd understand frankly, because this bad boy is long & people have lives--then that's okay too. Hopefully the preceding paragraphs can stand for themselves in that case. And at the very least, it'll be here for me to look back upon should I ever forget just how far I've come.
P.S. Sometime either later tonight or tomorrow, I plan to also do a short "2010 resolutions" post & a much more lighthearted "TV Decade in Review" entry as well, which will include my top 10 (or 12, haven't decided yet) shows from the last ten years and which will also include a special Vid dedication to my top 3 pairings of the decade (Mulder/Scully, Booth/Brennan, & Roslin/Adama of course). Just giving the heads-up now so everyone can prepare for the inevitable capslock and flail. Heh.
But ANYWAY, enough introduction, and let's get to it!
2001/2002: 19-20 years old
Private Journal
Dec. 31, 2001: "I am definitely not sorry to see this year end. Maybe years from now I will be able to look at this year as one of pain, but learning or any of that, but it has been one of--if not the worst--years of my life.”
Jan. 28, 2002: "I've been trying to look forward to this psych. appointment, but part of me is so afraid it won't work.”
Jan. 30: "I am on academic alert, and if I don't get my act together this term I will go on probation and not be able to register next term. . .I've missed like five health classes in a row. This always happens when Mom loses it. I just stop functioning. She just got home after a week in the psych ward."
Feb. 19: "I've taken time off work for now, so that I can work on getting better and then go back little by little.”
Mar. 5: "I feel like I've had a nervous breakdown or something. I don't know or understand who I am now, or how to get better. I'm overwhelmed, and frightened by the possibility that I will never get better."
Mar. 8: "I miss feeling like I have a place in the world, that I belong. I don't even feel like I exist anymore. I could be gone, with no friends to miss me. . . I feel so awkward around people now. . .like I've been in a coma or something and woken up in a different era, so I've got to go around trying to act normal like everyone else so I don't make an ass out of myself, feeling out of place and not knowing what to say ever. I used to be so good at making conversation with others; now I feel so quiet always, cut off from the world, and tucked away all stiff somewhere inside myself. I try to act casual, make small talk, but it's forced, and I feel like my wrong-ness is written all over my face. They'll see it, and not want it. I wish I didn't feel this way."
Mar. 9: "I try not to, but the thought of doing something drastic won't get out of my head. It tortures me. How much would I have to take to overdose? It's frightening, how I am. I don't want to be dead; I can't bear to live. I'm so lonely, but I don't want to go out anywhere. I know that even if an old friend showed up on my doorstep, wanting to go out, I wouldn't be able to be my old self and it would be awkward. . .
I feel like everything's ruined, and can never be better."
Mar. 11: "Corinne says that I'm too hard on myself. I don't think I've been hard enough. I deserve to be left behind, abandoned. I deserve to die alone, or live my miserable life in oblivion. . .why do I have to be how I am. . .How can I get out of me the wrongness that seems to infect every aspect of my life? It is me that is wrong. Disgusting. Useless. Needy. Always making mistakes. The anxiety and self-hate was so suffocating tonight, all I could do to ease it was scratch my nails into my arm until there were raw marks stinging in their wake.
I try to think a way out of this, and it seems the only solution is to take a gun and put it in my mouth.”
Mar. 13: "I'm so worried about myself. Now that I've talked to Corinne. . .and seen how upset it made her, I can't hurt myself. I have to resist it. It's so hard. I'm still surprised she cried. I just didn't think she'd be emotional about it. I never believe I'm that much to anyone. Don't ever think I'd be mourned if I were to die.
I'm worried about myself though, because I can't beat this on my own. I have no interest in anything. . .I am so dead inside. Except for those rare moments, I cannot smile and mean it. Being hugged feels empty to me. . .and Mom, one who could really help me now by supporting me, doesn't understand."
Apr. 27: "I've seen the doctor a couple times now, and it seems to be going well. I have made a couple of improvements with the Social Anxiety. . .I can't stop worrying over everything though, and that--plus the constant anxiety I feel--is a real problem. And the depression hasn't been responding really. I worry about that too. . .
My future stretches out before me so hopelessly. I try to paint a happy picture in it and it turns to gray. It causes such anxiety and depression within me, I feel like I vibrate with it. I want to scream or slap myself to stop. Cover my ears and hide. But you can't hide from yourself. How will I live my whole life like this? How can I bear it?”
May 5: “I walk around with a force field of worry surrounding me like an anxious aura, crushing me. I try to concentrate on just one worry, but they're all starved for attention and leap on me at once. Like a radio overwhelmed by too many frequencies. The roar becomes more deafening as time goes by. But I cannot turn to just one channel. So nothing is solved. . .
Even if I take care of some of my social phobias, what then? What could I make of myself? I never succeed at anything. Underneath it all, I am good for nothing. Not as good as others. I have always felt it, others have always known it. I am not as capable, not normal. Helpless. . .I try to picture what I would want if I could have anything, but even then, I feel empty at the thought. Will I ever be happy? Will my life just be a big, long waste? Another sad, tragic, nameless life to be forgotten? People say "It'll turn out all right", but that's not always the truth. For plenty of people, life is cruel and long. They die a horrible, sad death after horrible, sad lives. Will I be one of them? I don't know how to avoid it, I don't know what to do. . .
Every part of my soul is crying out, and there's no answer. It's growing tired, and parts have lost the voice to cry out at all. I don't cry anymore very often. I have no tears left it seems. How is it possible to be so sad, and yet so empty all at once?"
(Here's the end of my private journal, and the beginning of my livejournal)
Sept. 12: "I've never done this whole LJ thing before, but Dosidella signed me up for it tonight, so that I'd be able to read other people's journals, and respond to them. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing in it very frequently. . .”
Sept. 26: "Sometimes I just feel so tired of it all. I feel like my whole life--my past, my future--is weighing on my shoulders. . .me, my stupid problems, my crazy family, my mom, all of it. I think of these things, and I feel so alone. And I'm afraid to tell myself it'll all be okay in the end, because I don't really believe in fate, and I've been disappointed by life too many times. . .So all I can do is just take it day by day. And hope that I'll look back on this someday, from a happier place."
Oct. 29: "We decided to raise my dose of Effexor to 150 mgs., which is the next dose up."
Nov. 4: "You know, when dosidella told me she was going to buy me the season 6 DVD set for the X Files as an early Christmas gift, I appreciated the sentiment, but kind of thought "No way, man, those are crazy expensive. She'll probably not be able to. But it's awfully sweet to think of it." But, dude! I just got it in the mail! My Mom was up there laughing at me, because I was like "Jenna kicks ASSSSSSSSSSS!" and dancing around. Hee! I love you, Dosi!"
Nov. 14th: rachmarieg: your mailman probably wants the card for himself. selfish stalker
An underwater: hee, you are so cute
An underwater: which one?
An underwater: we seriously have three
rachmarieg: the one that makes the music from the stabbing shower scene in psycho, when he delivers the mail
rachmarieg: haha
rachmarieg: "whee, whee, whee, whee"
An underwater: one comes in the morning, one comes around one, and one comes around three
An underwater: oh, he's the morning guy
rachmarieg: the one with the twitching, lazy eye
rachmarieg: how much mail do you get? shit
rachmarieg: three?
rachmarieg: wow
rachmarieg: the second one whispers "stab, stab, stab, stab, kill, kill, kill, kill" you know, like in the jason movies
rachmarieg: i love that your mailmen are like freaks that have just seen too many horror movies
An underwater: no, they bring, like, one bill each. it's weird.
rachmarieg: and you just walk by them, like rolling your eyes. all "hi, bob"
An underwater: they are!
An underwater: they're crazy.
rachmarieg: and they're all sheepish for a sec
rachmarieg: like "hey"
rachmarieg: then they go back to looking crazy
An underwater: our old mailman went, um, postal, so now they're, like, having auditions for the job. i think the morning guy should win.
An underwater: hee!
rachmarieg: with the rest of the people, lurking behind your bushes. who all wave at you, and greet you every morning
rachmarieg: remember?
rachmarieg: hee
An underwater: those people are getting annoying
rachmarieg: jeennnnnnnnaaaaaa
An underwater: they're so LOUD
rachmarieg: with the moaning, and the desperate keening cries
An underwater: stupid bitches
rachmarieg: they take off their hats to your grandma though. like, they're all polite
rachmarieg: so she likes them. and invites them in for pie
rachmarieg: you come home one day, and they're all sitting in your kitchen
rachmarieg: one raises a butcher knife, and your grandma's all "now, now, steve. remember what we discussed?"
rachmarieg: steve: "sigh. no killing, i know"
rachmarieg: grandma: "that's right, steve. now, eat your pie"
An underwater: hee!
Dec. 14: "I might be an aunt!"
Dec. 29: "and Dad grabbed him [my then 12 yr old brother] and pulled him off the couch, and slapped him across the face."
---
2002/2003: 20-21 years old
January 1st: "I got home, and Mom was on the phone with her, making this "for the love of God" face. Hee. She was all "Corinne, you can drink Ensure while pregnant. No, it's not too much protein, or vitamins. Sigh." Heh! Yeah, Corinne, and if you drink three glasses of juice in a day? Your baby will explode. The best part is that I think if I actually said that to her, she'd be like "Shut up. . .wait, is it okay to drink juice? You're kidding, right? You sure?"
January 9th: (re: my Sears lovah) "Ugh, he is so cute. CUTE! Heeeee. Like I'm overwhelmed by the cuteness, and have to get up and yell it to the Heavens, at the top of my lungs. CUUUUUUUTE! Then I just sit back down, all nonchalantly, like nothing just happenned. Haha."
January 14th: “Have I told you all about that? No one can touch her stomach. Why? Because my sister is CRAZY. Heh. L to the O to the C to the A. Insane in the membrane, and all that. I was like "What, do you think we plan on slugging you in the gut?". . .
The other night, at my house, apparently she sniffed her glass of water and said to my Mom "this water doesn't smell right; I don't want it". . .Too bad we didn't have an expiration date on the water for her to check. Hee. "This water went bad two weeks ago!"
January 19th: "I don't know how long she'll be gone for [My Mom in the psych ward], I guess we'll find out. She says probably like five days. But who knows. My birthday is next Monday."
January 23rd: "But I have to admit there's this little part of me lurking in the background, which is like "Yeah, screw all that healthy mentality shit. How about you eat as little as possible? Look at that scale. You got down to 95, just so you could go back up to 102? And you were feeling good the other day? Are you blind?"
January 28th: “I should drink more often. And now I can! Because I'm 21! I mean, I could drink before, but it's much easier now. You know, with the whole minor "legality" issue coming into play. Heh. Life of alcoholism, here I come!”
January 31st: "rachmarieg: ha! i bet those smurfs were horny little bastards. i mean, with just one woman?
o TinkerI3ell o: I know! It's like they were all ready to just turn gay then Smurfette shows up prancing around in her little dress all "Oh Papa!"
rachmarieg: "will you smurf me?"
o TinkerI3ell o: Smurf my smurf
rachmarieg: hee. smurf kind of sounds like a word for cooter
o TinkerI3ell o: Dude! I am so calling it my smurf now
rachmarieg: ha!
rachmarieg: you should
rachmarieg: so wrong
o TinkerI3ell o: "my smurf is bleeding!" hee
rachmarieg: i just picture a smurf's head between your legs, when you say that, i hope you know
rachmarieg: you'd want that, though, wouldn't you?
rachmarieg: sick bastard
o TinkerI3ell o: HA! That is so quotable"
February 14th: "I don't know that I've ever actually had a day like today. Because it was like one long panic attack at the salon, and then another one at work that seemed to go on forever. So, really, although it didn't last all day, it sure felt like it. . .”
February 19th: “She spazzed a bit, before the wedding, about her dress fitting, and other things, but not too bad. Just lots of "It's not too tight around the boobs, is it? Is it on straight? Are you sure? Oh, look at the time! Oh my God!" She kept fighting off tears. Aww. . .
I missed Poppy, while I was there. I think he would've really enjoyed it, and would've made Corinne cry with his toast, and made us all laugh at dinner. He would've teased everyone, and called me Wachael Mawie. Things just aren't the same without him. But if there is an afterlife, then I know he was there in spirit.”
March 18th: “IT'S A BOY!”
April 28th: “But I thought about it, and realized that even if I do want to continue to live here, and things did get better? I still need to work on making it so I feel like I at least have the option of moving out. . .So, I called and left a message with my old doctor today."
May 2nd: “I know the goal is to learn to handle the anxiety, not to just get rid of it entirely. But I'd really like to lessen it, a lot. . .For fuck's sake, I can't even walk to the store, without the entire duration of the trip being shadowed by the constant cycle of anxious thoughts, and almost unwavering self-consciousness."
May 28th: "Dad got a job in Phoenix. . .It was wicked short-notice, and he's leaving on Friday. Mary and Kyle will stay up here until the house sells, and then they'll move down there too.”
July 7th: "My hands smell like baby. Probably because I was just holding one. One that happened to be MY NEPHEW.
Hahaha. Or, in other words, a freaking BABY just came out of my SISTER. I'm still a little in shock over it.”
September 10th: "I need to get out of here, y'all. Living here is killing my soul, little by little. And I don't mean that in one of those "his outfit killed my soul" sort of ways. I mean it for real. . .
It kind of reminds me of that scene in the Neverending Story, where the horse drowns in the swamp. I haven't seen that movie in forever, but the way I remember it, when someone (or something) went into the swamp, if it wasn't careful, the sadness would catch it. And it would take it under. And, eventually, the person or animal would just give in. It wouldn't even try to get out anymore. . .
Sometimes, it doesn't even feel like she's my Mom. She's just this fucking monster. . .or a hollow shell that encases what used to be a nice person, and in her place is some person who sneers at everything I say, flips me off, and yells at me for hours on end. Which she did tonight, I might add. All of that."
September 28th: “She's always saying things like that though, like how she doesn't want to see me, or hear my voice. . .
I hate her for making me doubt whether I'm the bad one all the time. I hate her for making me miserable, all the time. I hate her for all the years I've been there for her, and how rarely she's been there for me. I hate her for going off her medication, and I hate her for never keeping any of her promises, and I hate her, I hate her, I hateherhateherhateher. But hate isn't really even the right word, because it implies I don't care anymore. And fuck her and fuck me, because I still do. Really, it just hurts so goddamn far down deep inside, that I want to yell at her for about twenty one years on end for how much she's hurt me. Yell until I'm hoarse, and can hardly stand. Until every single thing that's hurt me in my life has been exorcised, and she feels all of it, and understands.”
November 6th: “I talked to dosi tonight. . . It's starting to seem not far away at all, her getting here. March, that's only four/five months away.”
November 15th: "Sometimes I feel like I have to be able to detach from people, because part of me expects to end up alone again. . .You're only really important to people until something better comes along. . .You can't get too comfortable, you have to be able to keep going on your own.”
November 19th: “There is always something that pulls me back. Some invisible cord, tying me to this life. Maybe it's the simple instinct to survive. . .The fact that I still WANT things to turn out okay in the end. . .There is the fact that, despite whatever doubts plague me, I basically believe in God. . .I don't want to give up on the hope that I can get through all of this. . .I don't want it to end like that, after all the years I've fought.”
November 21st: "I wish I could get through one single day without contemplating death. I wish my dream last night didn't involve an overflowing bathtub and a butcher knife.
I wish my head ever stopped hurting, for one fucking day. I wish I hadn't missed the last two days at work. I wish my Mom wasn't out there, telling me I'm going to get fired.
I wish I wasn't afraid of going downtown today, for my acupuncture. I wish I didn't dread walking down the streets.
I wish happy people didn't make me sad. I wish I wasn't so tired of myself, and my life. I wish I felt completely good about anything.
I wish everything was different.
If wishes were horses. . .how does that expression end? Well, I'd have a lot of horses.
I wish right now, I didn't want to get in bed, and simply sleep my pain away. I wish I was understood. I wish I didn't feel so alone, here. I wish I saw my future as bright. I wish I didn't feel so sad, all the time. I wish everything didn't seem so pointless. I wish every small moment of happiness didn't get stolen a second later, or disappear for one reason or another. I wish everything was different.
Lord, please help me."
December 11th: “It came out how I basically felt she hated me at this point. . .What else was I supposed to feel, after she'd say things like "What about you that's good is there to say?". . .I guess it shocked her that I felt that way. So, for a day, she kept telling me that she loved me, kept saying things that were good about me, kept asking me if I was okay, and if I forgave her. . .she was all "So, forget about all that, okay? You forgive me? Why did you hesitate?"
December 14th: “Holidays are supposed to be for family, and everywhere I look, Christmas is following me around, with pictures of happy families, and joy to the world, and I don't get to see any of them, because my Dad is PSYCHO.”
continued in Part II: There's a light at the end of the tunnel