I wish I was asleep right now. In sleep, nothing matters. Nothing exists. There’s no pain, no happiness, no suffering, no joy, no nothing. Everything is nothing. And I like it that way. When I’m awake, which clearly I am, I have to feel everything. But it’s nothing at the same time. I know, I’m not making any sense but that’s exactly how I feel right now. I feel so many emotions right now that I don’t feel anything at all. It’s as if I’ve imploded. Rather than outwardly explode into a million pieces, I’ve become a black hole. My whole being has been sucked inside and I can’t seem to find a way out. There’s no light, it’s dark and it’s cold. I want it to be over. I want everything to stop, to cease and desist, to disappear and never come back. I’ve been listening to sad music. I’ve been lying in bed, watching Netflix all week. It’s reached the point of being unhealthy. I went out today to get my nails done and rather than actually go through with it, I freaked out and raced home to hop in my bed. I didn’t leave the rest of the day. I’m exhausted all day and then when it comes time to go to sleep (like right now), I can’t sleep. I thought, in the beginning, that it was my birth control. I got my period and around the same time, I started feeling like this. Well, that’s come and gone and I still feel like shit. I tried to write it off as boredom from having such a long break. Well, break’s over next week and I still feel like this. There’s no excuse for me feeling so bad. I have to come to grips and face facts. I’m depressed. I don’t know what that means for me. I see Allister tomorrow and I’m really struggling with it. I never have a problem with seeing Allister but going tomorrow means having to talk about what the hell I’m going through. I don’t know if I can do that. Even while typing this, I have to stop every few words and pull myself together. I’m not crying or anything but this is emotionally draining. I tried to blog the other day after I cut (twice!) but it ended up in the scrap pile. Halfway through, I caught myself staring at the screen for 20 minutes so I just closed the computer and went to bed. I’m actually really surprised I made it this far. Oh yea, I’m not trying to completely gloss over the fact that I cut twice on Friday and Saturday but I don’t feel like I had a choice. I tried every other DBT method my training has taught me but nothing worked. I needed to feel something. I told my mom that I wanted to cut earlier today and she asked me why. I told her I wanted to feel something and her reply was that I’d said in the past that cutting makes you feel nothing. It’s a complicated action. Sometimes, that’s true. When you’re feeling too much, cutting is like opening a drain in a pool and letting all of the emotions and pain slither down the tubes. But when you’re feeling nothing? When you’re so numb, it’s as if you’re a leper; you could take a meat cleaver and amputate your hand and you wouldn’t notice, cutting is the perfect release then. It’s the same drain opening up and letting all of the emotion and feeling back into your being. Even now, the urge is there. I’m listening to this song called “Cry” by Kelly Clarkson. “Is it over yet? Can I open my eyes? Is this as hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry?” I keep asking myself those questions. I feel like my road has come to an end. I don’t have a map or enough gas to get back home and there’s no one around for miles. How the hell am I supposed to get back to my life? How am I supposed to feel again? Because right now, it doesn’t look like I ever will.
I’ve been trying to write for a week. Every time I would sit down at the computer, open the web browser and find my way to this page, everything I was feeling would run and hide. My fingers would freeze over the keyboard and I would sit like that for an hour or two before giving up and clicking over to Pinterest. It’s not that I haven’t been feeling anything. No, on the contrary, I’ve been feeling so many contrasting emotions that I don’t know whether to scream and throw my hands up in the air, or grab the rails and hold on for dear life. It’s probably the second one, I don’t like roller coasters. But I can’t seem to get off this one. For this past week, between the times I’ve tried to write, I’ve done very little. I managed to go to the gym yesterday for a total of 15 minutes. I know, amazing right? And I saw Allister but that was practically a life-or-death situation so that doesn’t count. I’m on my last season of Law and Order: SVU. The last season that’s on Netflix anyway, so I’ll probably switch over to Star Trek until I can find the rest of the show. Nevermind, just checked the library’s website and they have the show up until Season 13! Yes! Okay, sidetracked but now we’re focused again. As of this past week, I’ve felt like shit mainly because last Thursday, Levi contacted me on Facebook and asked me for a ride somewhere. I told him the truth: that I was in Towson and wouldn’t be home for a while so I couldn’t give him one. Part of me believes that it was all a ruse anyway. It was just a plot orchestrated by either one of them to get me back into the loop. What bothers me the most about this situation is that I think if I were home, I would have done it. There wouldn’t have been anyone to stop me. That scares the shit out of me. I can sit here and pretend that I’m better off without them and that everything has been strawberries and pound cake without them in my life but it’s not the case. This week was proof of that. I miss them. I don’t want to. I don’t want to go back to them but this week has been spent (between watching Netflix and browsing Pinterest) wondering if I made the right decision. And what is there to stop me from going back to them? The hesitation of my fingers to dial their phone number? Not wanting to undo the past few months? That’s not much! So this week has been spent in a dialogue with myself, swinging between believing I made the right decision, wishing I didn’t miss them and was already over it, and hating myself for admitting that we did have good times together. Like, shouldn’t I hate them for stealing so much of my life? And part of me does. Part of me is still really pissed off that I fell for her stupid tricks. But the other part of me is starved for friendship and will risk degrading myself again if it means I have some company once in a while. I mean, I have friends but like T isn’t here. She lives farther away when we’re on break so I haven’t seen her in a month. And I haven’t spoken to Amanda or Casey since before Christmas. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I have to keep myself company for the rest of my life. I don’t think I could handle that. The other reason I was upset this week was because Friday, the day after Levi contacted me, was Mara’s birthday. We used to have some kick ass times on birthdays. See?! That’s what I mean! Why should I acknowledge that anything she did for me, no with me because she never did anything for me, was fun? Why should I admit that? Everything she put me through outweighs the very little we did enjoy together so why should I acknowledge it? This is what my inner monologue has been like for the past week. And Allister asked me a very good question. Is my depression simply related to this incident? Or am I taking this incident and using it as an excuse to slip into a greater depression? And I told him the truth, I really don’t know the answer to that question. My parents think it’s the latter of the two. My mom has been bugging me everyday to make sure I get up and go somewhere or do something other than sit around with my boyfriend named Netflix all day. If this is going to turn into a greater depression, I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. Dr. Ordella has been refusing these last couple visits to switch my medication. If she won’t switch, my mom suggested getting a new doctor. I just don’t know if I want to change. My mom brought up ECT again. Not one of my favorite subjects but if I can’t get out of this rut, I don’t know how much choice I have. I mean, even for me to write this, I had to come to the library and click back and forth between this and Pinterest. That’s ridiculous. But I’m notorious for avoiding my problems.
Something’s wrong. I feel like I’m walking down a long, dark tunnel with a stubby little candle as the only source of light. I’m wearing a long nightgown, with bare feet and no glasses on. How the hell am I supposed to see when the boogyman jumps out at me? That’s exactly how I feel. Shortly after coming back from Virginia, my mom shared the fabulous news that Uncle Fish was in the hospital with pneumonia. Normally, that wouldn’t be as much of a concern because Uncle Fish has always been a healthy person. But now? Now, it’s like a 5-alarm fire because he’s sick with lung cancer and what does pneumonia affect? Your lungs. What does chemotherapy and radiation do to a person’s immune system when they have lung cancer? They napalm it. So class, what’s the lesson that we’ve learned today? Lung cancer + pneumonia + a weakened immune system= serious problems for Uncle Fish. I am not handling the stress very effectively. I joined Planet Fitness after my little trip to see him so I’ve been going there for the past 2 days to sort of physically exert my stress onto something else. That’s helped a little bit. And of course, I saw Allister 2 days ago. I go to group today. I’m doing all these things to try and cope with the fact that my uncle is on his exit from this Earth. Dealing with it now is like dealing with the sunset. You know it’s inevitable but for now, it’s a long way off. Except this sunset is getting closer and closer. I’m not ready to go inside and eat dinner. That’s what my cue used to be. When it was dark enough for the street lights to come on, I had to stop playing with my friends and go inside to eat. Except this time, I don’t want to. Normally, I would’ve been happy to call it quits from kickball or hide and seek because going inside meant food, it meant warmth (or AC if it was the summer), it meant my favorite TV show (The Rugrats) and it meant hanging out with Bryan and baby Thomas. Well, one of those people has prematurely departed, the Rugrats was canceled a long time ago and I have a license, a car so the street light philosophy ended a while ago. What am I supposed to do with it is suddenly being enforced again? And I don’t mean to confuse anyone. No one is literally making me play outside until the street lights come on. I’m just saying if Uncle Fish is like the sunset, our time together is growing short because the street lights are starting to flicker on and I can hear my mom calling for me to come inside. I don’t want to say goodbye to him. Last night, when I got home from NAMI (National Alliance for the Mentally Ill), I went straight upstairs and started cleaning myself. I took almost a 45 minute shower because I couldn’t get the dirt off myself. It wasn’t physical dirt. I hadn’t been rolling around with pigs or anything. No, it was psychological dirt that I felt like I could feel on my skin. I’d been thinking impure thoughts and I had to scrub the sin away. I was thinking that maybe Uncle Fish should stop fighting. Maybe he should just give in to the illness and die in peace. Him dying now or 20 years from now wouldn’t make his death and easier on anyone but at least he wouldn’t be so tired. As soon as I thought that though (and even know, rethinking it), I had to get home and wash the impurity away. I’m human so sinning is my nature and I believe in an all-forgiving, merciful God but Catholics do penance for their sins, right? Why shouldn’t I? I’m not Catholic but apologizing to God by scrubbing the human filth that is my thought off my skin seems appropriate. I owe God. I don’t know the exact number of my debt but I know it’s huge and it’s going to take a lot of pay him off. And I don’t think I can do it before Uncle Joe passes away. Oh my God. This is all my fault. I’ve been wanting to cut for the past few days but I haven’t done it. Not yet, anyway. I’m not sure how to get out of this little spiral I’m in. Hopefully, someone will reach down and pull me back to the surface before too long.
It’s been a little while since I’ve blogged last. I need to catch up and blather on about the holidays before I burst. Okay, Christmas Eve was fun. We had decorated the tree a few days before and even hung lights outside on the porch. We went to church as usual and had a beautiful service. I watched White Christmas and stayed up until like 1 AM, finishing wrapping and labels and such. On Christmas day, I was up first at like 5:30 AM. I tried to be patient and managed to stay in bed until Daddy went downstairs about 6:15. Thomas was up by 6:30 and it was only a matter of time before Mom was up too. We unwrapped presents and for some reason, I had more things than Thomas. Normally, the packages are pretty even, except when I get clothes. Thomas doesn’t like getting clothes for Christmas because he’s so picky about the way things fit him. I got some clothes this year but not as many as other years. Anyway, I got the iPod I’ve wanted, a few movies, clothes and an emergency car kit. I was so excited for that one! I wasn’t expecting it because I’d only mentioned it once to Mom. It has a window masher, seatbelt cutter, flashlight and beacon on it. You know I’m paranoid about going over bridges and such so having this thing is perfect! After Christmas, we came down to Virginia to visit Uncle Fish. Of course, I was really apprehensive about going but we went anyway. It wasn’t so bad. Uncle Fish isn’t better but he isn’t worse. He’s talking and watching TV rather than sleeping all the time. It’s refreshing to see him doing a little better. I resolved that I would stay when my parents left because I don’t have to go back to school until the 28th so that’s where I am right now. I’m sitting in Uncle Fish’s dining room, writing to you fabulous people and wondering what the hell I’m doing here. Being with Uncle Fish has been a little easier since I’ve been down here but it seems like everywhere I go, there’s a constant reminder that this could kill him. And I don’t know what it will do if it does. I can’t handle death, I just can’t. Hell, I can’t even handle leaving the house anymore. My compulsions are getting worse, especially now that I’m down here. But I feel like I’ll regret it if I go home. And I’m so effing sick of living in regret. I’m so sick of it. It’s not good karma to live in regret. I’ve been praying as I should be and protecting my family by doing what I’m driven to do. I know that the treatment to OCD is to fight the compulsions and deal with the anxiety that comes with that but I just can’t do it. I just can’t. If I do and something bad happens, I would never forgive myself. Ever. And there’s already so much that I don’t forgive myself for. Bryan’s death, Grandma’s death, Bruce’s death, the estrangement of Kim and my dad, my mom’s miscarriage. I never knew that I was supposed to be doing the compulsions but if I had been then none of that stuff would’ve happened. And now I feel like I’m going to cry because it’s so true! I don’t understand why I’m being punished. But I feel like I need to right the wrong. Even saying that I don’t understand feels so horrible because a criminal should know exactly what their crime is without the judge telling them. I mean, you should know what you’re accused of before the trial right? My keys are all greasy and I don’t know why. I always get stuck at this part of the entry. Well, sometimes I get stuck. My head is so heavy and full of ideas that I can’t get them out on the screen anymore. It’s hard. It really is.