Depression. Poster #3. This one didn’t turn out as well as I had hoped. :/ ah well.
I gotta finish that project… uggggggggggh so tired…
and I seriously just duck faced at my computer screen so that I could concentrate. I’ll go burn the computer now. I’m sorry.
Seriously? haha I didn’t take my medicine this morning which is why but yeah…
I have the outline done, it’s just doing the posters and bagging the MnMs.
Also, I have to remember my facts and figures. I don’t remember things very well and I just wish I could say “screw it” and not have to have these facts but that’s not the assignment. I have to do everything from memory this time. Ugggggggghhhh Somebody give me a kick in the butt so that I can focus! lol
And not just him. My whole family actually. They’ve told me that I spend too much time in books, with my art, writing, and online instead of socializing. It kind of sucks because they know me better than that. I’ve always preferred to write/read/draw than socialize. It’s just not my thing. And if you read my last post on my fear of people, they know this too and yet they still insist on forcing me to go out with people.
They have complained that I don’t socialize enough with people. No offense but what is so good about them? My whole life has been torturous because of people. My peers growing up were buttholes to me, my teachers loved me but they didn’t know what to do with me other than send me to the library everyday. I just don’t really like to be around them. I feel safer talking to people via text, fb, tumblr, letters, or email. It’s not that I don’t want to be personal with them, that’s just the best way for me to pull it off. I told you earlier that I don’t speak well, technology has made it a little easier on me.
But what irks me, is that they say, ‘oh! go socialize with people!’ Who? I’m living at home instead of on campus because of my health, so I don’t get to see my friends much. They were under my category of “weekend friends” but now that I only see them in class, they’re just “school friends”. My dad is either at work, doing a photo job, or studying to be a Realtor. My brother is in soccer, marching band, has a girl friend, is in the praise band at church and in school. My mom is in her last semester of nursing school. Who the heck am I supposed to visit? It’s too far for my friends and I to meet up to see a movie or eat dinner together. We’re college kids. We don’t have that kind of money. And my job as a Librarian doesn’t pay enough for a social life. Not my fault the school cut my hours.
I’m freaking lonely and the only social interaction I get anymore is on here. AS SAD AS THAT IS. It’s better than being totally alone. I’m too scared to go out places and do stuff on my own because I’m always alone and don’t really WANT to do something else alone.
I’m just frustrated because I can’t win with them. I do one thing and they want me to do something else. I do that and then they want me to go back to the way I was. I just get tired of trying to please them. I’m sorry that I’m not out partying, doing drugs, getting knocked up, and letting my grades fall like all of the other Good Christina Girls. I get so tired of them wanting me to go out, experience the fun of college, and enjoy what time I have left, and then when I do it, they’re unhappy and are saying that I play too much by indulging MAYBE once a week.
I’m sorry. Let me go and crawl under this rock. That way I can’t hear your complaints about me being lonely and doing quiet things all of the time. I’m sorry that I’m doing your laundry, your dishes, and picking up your messes when I have homework or am brain dead from school. I know you’re tired but come on. Let’s be real here.
If you want me to go have social interaction, fine. I will. But I’m doing it in a way that makes me feel comfortable. I’m not going to go join the local book club, because our county is too illiterate to have one. I’m not going to go out on a date. I just broke up with someone and am healing from it. I’m sorry that I’m picky and that my standards are too high. I’m sorry that I can’t party and have a well paying job. Not in this economy. I’m sorry that you’ve asked me to go get a high paying job, and when I’ve found one, you’re displeased about my choice. IT’S A CHRISTIAN CAMP FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I’M BEING PAID TO BE A MISSIONARY AND WORK ON A FARM ALL SUMMER WHILE GETTING SCHOOL CREDIT. It’s a dream of mine to work on a farm at least once in my life. Sorry that I’m living the dream and have a high paying job that’s actually enjoyable. Sorry it’s not good enough. I’m sorry that you raised me to be this way. It feels so messed up that you expect me to be Super Girl and balance both sides of the social spectrum.
Fine. I’ll go out and party and smoke and do drugs. I’ll be loud and obnoxious and hang out with people that you don’t like. I’ll dye my hair funky colours because that’s the “social” thing to do. Fine. I’ll do it. But you won’t like it. Then you’ll come complaining to me that I’m playing too much.
Not really. I’m too shy for that and it would only make me sick. So instead. I will sit here in front of my computer, notepad, drawing pad, book, or journal and enjoy the time God has given me. Because honestly, this is a heck of a lot more fun than anything you crazy people have planned for me. Go to a dinner party? Me? Really? No thank you. If I have to go, I’m taking my notebook and I will sit in my corner of the room and not talk to anyone. Thanks. *sarcastic thumbs up*
But my brain is dead and out of ideas. Some of the stuff that I want to happen, I’m afraid of putting on paper. That’s one of the hard things about writing. You have to decide whether or not you want to pour out your deepest secrets and dreams to the reader. Most of my stuff, I never show to anyone. Even still, I find it hard to put my most secretive desires on paper.
Think about it. Something that you might be embarrassed to tell others, then you pen it for everyone to see. For me, writing and music are my only ways of opening up to people and the best way for me to communicate. It’s the only way for me to express myself. I can’t voice my thoughts and feelings and dreams and hopes very well. I think that might be one reason I have such a hard time keeping friends. It’s so difficult for me to open up to people that they never see the me that hides from people. Deep down, I think I’m scared. A little bit anyways. The rest of me is just that way naturally.
When I was younger, from what I can still remember, and even now, my vocalized thoughts come out in jumbled, incoherent fragments. Most of the time. I’m starting to learn how to peace them together in less offensive, more easily understood sentences. But there’s something about paper. That one thing about it that opens the flood gates to all of my thoughts. My dreams and hopes come to life on paper and everything is clear once more. It’s what I’ve always had a small talent for; along with music. It’s also one of the few times that I can control my ADHD. Even for me, my thoughts can be confusing and jumbled.
In the relationship that I just left, that was one of the things I struggled with. Opening up. He was always an open book to me while I struggled to just get myself to say, ‘I love you’ or ‘I don’t feel the greatest today’ or even, ‘Can you hug me?’. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him that I loved him. I did and part of me still does. It was just that I wasn’t really sure how. I didn’t want it to sound forced or fake. And something about saying the three words, ‘I love you.’, didn’t seem to ever be enough to me (I have a love/hate relationship with words…just in case you haven’t realized this yet). I have the same problem with saying ‘thank you’ and a few other phrases that are easy for everyone else to get out. I have this internal battle with myself every time. ‘Is is enough?’, ‘Should I say more?’, ‘That’s too much and I need to reword it’, ‘That sounded fake’, ‘Just don’t say anything’, and then I end up with a very quiet, ‘thank you.’ I mumble it or something which then comes across that I’m not sincere. It’s not that I’m not, I just become so flustered and confused with vocalized words that I always sound like this stuck up, ungrateful jerk. I hate it. So in conclusion to that problem in the relationship, I had to show it to him. A lot. I would encourage him every chance I got, whether in person or through a text/letter. I would also try to help him focus on his homework, his ADHD is worse than mine, or help him pack up for the weekend.
But one thing I’ve learned over the past few months, is that writing is the best way for me to communicate. I never have to worry about not being clear with my words because if I see a sentence that would be considered fragmented to anyone but me, I can follow it up with a long description to elaborate on what I just said. That was something else that came up in my last relationship. It wasn’t a bad thing, but when I found that I couldn’t say what needed to be said without confusion, I’d type or write it out for him to read. It was so much easier for me to communicate with him and I’m finding that it might be useful in my other relationships with friends and family.
I know that this post has been a bit winded and you’re probably thinking, ‘for someone who is so quiet and is bad with words or opening up,she’s done a lot of it’. I know. XD Sorry for that too.
All of this to say, while it’s easier for me to open up when I write it out, that doesn’t make it any easier to let people in. I’m a very walled off kind of person. I have a lot of walls. Think of my being like an ice cream cake. I have this thick shell to protect what’s inside or because I don’t want to share. That’s me. I have a thick wall around me and my thoughts. Part of it has always been there because again, it’s not in my nature to open up. I’m naturally a very closed off,inward person. I get it from my mom and my grandpa.
So what does this have to do with writing? Well, to sum up what I’ve just said, That’s the only way for me to open up. It’s through writing and music. And when I write or perform or compose, I’m letting it all out. It’s like those middle-aged guys with beer bellies at the beach. They just let it all hang out there in order to get a tan. XDDD That’s what I’m doing. Opening up is like standing on stage wearing only a bathrobe in front of an audience. Then you take the robe off. It’s so hard to do and I find that opening up is exactly like that. When you’re naked in front of an audience, there are no secrets about the way you look. They can see all because you’ve bared all (this is the best way for me to explain it because I’m very self-conscious and reserved about the way I dress. That’s one reason why I dress as a tomboy. I hate showing off my body).
The piece I’m working on right now, shows my deepest desire for a career. It’s something that I’ve wanted to do since I was about 6. Whether or not God takes me in that direction is up to Him. While I would love to, I don’t think it’s in his plan for me right now. But this piece, it shows everything that I want in a career, what I want out of love, where I want to be in a few years and what happens along the way to get me there. It’s very personal but it’s something that I already promised someone that they could read. It’s terrifying because how will they see me after reading it? Will they still think that I’m worthy of being their friend? Or even being someone of my age?
Letting them see this will open up the flood gates for me. This is how I will open up to these people. To let them see in and know what I’m really like, what I think about, what I want to do with my life. I know I’ve said this about five times already but I’m scared. I really am. But when you find something that you have to do, you eventually find the courage to do it; in my case, share it.
There’s something exhilarating about getting the praise for your work, but the anticipation of it is killer. It’s hard to sit still. You fidget. Your hands grow sweaty as you try to dry them off on your pants. There’s a chance that they might not accept it. That they might not accept you. It’s humbling. It’s a new lesson every time.
I’m sorry for my ramblings. This took me forever to write out because I wasn’t sure how to vent it. Doing this helps me think and it helps me gain momentum, confidence. Also, it was a stall tactic while I tried to plan out what I should write next for this blasted story. XDD
Happy day! :0)
I’m having one of those nights again. You know what I’m talking about. A night where I can’t sleep. I’m plagued by my emotions and thoughts and all of my senses are being overwhelmed by memories. It’s hard to get them to back off long enough to hear You sometimes. They’re SO LOUD! They’re like…
The only thing that can distract me from hunger… However, now the pangs of hunger are overwhelming me and I must go find some munchies. If only we had ramen. Sadly, we ran out months ago and no one has bought any… stupid cravings…
How do you people without ADHD stand it? It’s so quiet in here… I never imagined what it must be like in those funny little heads of yours. It’s quiet. So quiet. While I like the fact that I can concentrate on my writings this morning, I don’t like the loneliness of it. I’m probably being a bit repetitive after last night but it just amazes me…and freaks me out. I feel like someone has stuffed earplugs into my mind. It’s silent and a bit stifling. Almost like being claustrophobic… Yikes. I’m glad this only lasts a few hours. I should be done with this by dinner time and will be able to enjoy my insomnia a bit more tonight. The bad thing about insomnia is when you can’t think of anything to think of. So you lay there, bored, for hours. At least when my mind is buzzing, I can entertain myself. XD
So my doctor put me back on Aderoll because I have issues with anxiety. However, their not sure if my anxiety is being fueled by the ADHD or if I really do have a freak chemical imbalance going on. So to eliminate the AD, I’m being put back on the most successful, hardest to swallow AD drug that I’ve ever been on. Oh yeah, btw, it cause me to lose my appetite and turns me into an insomniac, not that I’m not one already… It’s just funny, 8 years ago, I thought I was done with this horrid drug for good. I had learned how my brain was supposed to function and it taught me how to cope; my parents helped a lot with that too.
What I don’t like about it:
>I can’t swallow pills. I choke on Claratin with is the size of a small bread crumb. To make matters worse, it’s a capsule…so it floats… and dissolves in my mouth after 30 seconds of me trying to buck up the courage to swallow the blasted thing.
>Second thing I hate about it, which is by far the worst to me, it kills my imagination. Imagine, chaining up a small child and hiding them in a sound proof room. All of the noise that I’m use to hearing in the back of my head, all of the buzzing, disappears. That buzzing is what keeps me from going crazy half of the time because I’m so lonely that I have to create imaginary friends at the ripe old age of 20. No, this is not to gain pity but to help you understand me better. I hate pity with a passion. It’s like stabbing me in the lungs. I kind of miss the buzzing. The quiet, idealistic bees that keep me company throughout the day when people just aren’t helping me. I can remember in 9th grade, I used to imagine a dragon would visit me during marching band practice.
All this to say, I’m glad that I can focus a bit better and that I’m a little less jittery, however, I regret losing that comforting buzzing in the back of my head that has become my best friend.