Everyone I know has got a reason to say “Put the past away.”
This sounds far fetched, and sort of pathetic, but I never really realized how crazy I am. A harm to myself, sure, but capable of such reckless acts of idiocy? This is news…
I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to be this unstable. I hate to be a breakup cliche, but I just scheduled a counseling appointment. I honestly think it’s the best thing to do, not that that means much at this point. I’m a little scared, to be honest.
Billy quoted some Matlock episode a few days ago, told me that when times get tough you go to a friend, not a stranger. I have friends here for me, and they can give my sympathy, and they keep me calm and happy but it doesn’t change the underlying problem that my chemicals are just off. That it’s getting worse, and i’ve felt it doing this for months. And it needs to stop before I alienate my friends any more than I have… if that means medication, then that’s what will happen.
When I was younger, and they put me on antidepressants and mood regulators, I believed sincerely that being medicated was the worst thing in the world. It made it impossible for me to write, I started slacking in school, I felt sort of numb to everything.
That is not the worst feeling in the world. Not being able to control your actions, not thinking well and fully, knowing that you’re making a bad choice and doing it anyway, those are the worst things I’ve felt, so far as I’m concerned. This sinking feeling in the pit of my stomaches, the anxiety attacks I get late at night. The nightmares, the neuroses, feeling like I am a child when I think like an adult.
When I was young, I had obsessive compulsive disorder. My whole life centered around control, controlling food, controlling feelings, controlling how many times I washed my hands, the texture of my ceiling, trying to establish patterns and order when before there were none. I could handle it if I had grown into a restrained and order person by means of my disorder concerning control. That is not what happened.
"Played with Kaylee, the sun came out, and I walked on my feet, heard with my ears… I hate the bits, the bits that stay down and I work, I function like I’m a girl. I hate it because I know it’ll go away, the sun goes dark and chaos is come again. Bits. Fluids. What am I?" –River in Firefly, "War Stories"
One moment I feel like I real girl, I hear with my ears and walk with my feet, and the next I’m having an emotional breakdown and incapable of controlling my actions.
I wrote once, a long time ago, that the worst thing would be for him to call my by a month and a psychotic disorder. "Borderline June girl" for instance… What he calls me, how he feels for me, is not so much the point anymore. The point is more who I am and how I can fix it to be who I want to be.
It seems poignant that all I’m trying to do right now is get far, far away from the worst thing. I don’t even know what the best thing is anymore, but I’m certain what’s going on is the worst.
June 14th, 2006 at 11:28 pm
The world is full of well rounded people. Yet all great things in life are done by those with jagged edges. You cannot cut a path through life, nor leave your mark with people, if all you are is well rounded.
June 15th, 2006 at 12:20 am
Darling, Foucault says that what is defined as crazy is that which does not meet social norms and conventions, and is thus illegitimated and discarded as logically inviable. Although I would love to overcome social norms in order to move above and beyond the logically viable, I can’t do that when I’m unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to concentrate. I can’t do that when my body image is more important to me than my studies.
Some kinds of jagged cut a path through life that leads you to happiness, and some tear away what otherwise would have been paradise.
We can’t all be different and happy.
I’m doing what I think is best for now, there’s always time to change my mind in the future.
Thanks for watching out for me.