I feel so sad. What is up with that? Shake it off, shake it off. 'T'aint happening...
I'm sad that really fantastic people don't realize they're worth it, and I don't have any magic ability to make them see why they are. I'm sad that someone I really got along with and hit it off fairly well with, is too conservative to accept the gay thing.
I think I'm going to try Sara. Phoning her, I mean...
...Bad idea. She couldn't talk, which is fine, but she's not ok, which is - obviously not fine. Damnit, damnit, damnit. What happened? Why is she telling me she's not ok but "not in the hospital, which is good, for now." Not like that isn't good for now, but... Why, Sara, why? What happened? I wish I'd called her sooner. I wish she'd called me. I feel guilty, even though - duh - I'm not responsible. And I feel mad even though it's so not her fault if things are bad again. I would never say this to her, but in my journal, ok. What the hell? Why didn't you just keep it together? As if it's that easy. I know it's not that easy, but we've been over this. I can't lose her. And I'm jumping ahead now, but she was doing so well for so long. I'm dumb to think we're ever out of the woods. That thought is not going to help me. ...She sounded really alive... and I don't know any details yet, so I shouldn't panic. I'm not really panicking; I was just tiptoing around this emotional landmine, and this pushed me over, onto it. No, it's ok. It's not ok, but we've been here before, and I know now, and I'll do everything I can for her, while taking care of myself... the way that she'll do everything she can for herself (and because I need her to.)
So, fuck. I guess now we go to figuring out what the hell I need. Right, then. Who's up for some pseudo-schizophrenia?
I feel so shitty.
You've had a rough few days. Yesterday was no small feat.
I know. I don't particularly care. I feel shitty, and I would like that feeling to go away.
Better than the numbness, though. Better than the frustration of not knowing what was wrong.
That's a very small better.
I know. I'm not saying to be happy with how things are. Just... feeling this is part of what freed you from that frustration.
Yeah. So, how about instead of the feeling go away, you get 'this' to go away? Whatever 'this' is. Does that sound good? Because it sounds good to me. For Godd's sake, I don't want to feel this. All sad and hurt and helpless. And fucking furious; (shh, don't tell.) Do you know I'm still more mad about the fact that I'm mad because the doctor knew it? We were talking about the nightmares, and how angry the people in them are with me, and I was saying how it didn't make sense because no one in my life responds that way to me, and he mentioned that I've felt that way toward myself. And I was like, "Yeah, but, I don't *now*." I don't feel that now. Except the whole time I'm annoyed with myself and irritated and just angry in general. And the more he talks with me about being angry, the more furiously I'm telling him I'm not. And I am. Whatthefuckever. It's such bullshit, to be mad at myself. What is that?
Screw this; I'm going to try the doctor.
*
So that didn't work either. I mean, not yet. I just left him a message; I don't feel desperate enough to page him at this point. Here's what I know. I know that yesterday we had this talk about nightmares, and I came out of it really, really pissed off (partly because he'd caught onto the fact that I was pissed off and made me see it)... I walked back to campus (rather than taking the bus; the cold and the movement were helpful in blowing off steam), and when I got back to the apartment, I started crying and realized that... for the past five years (at least), December has always sucked. Holidays aside, even; after all, I did once love this holiday, and there are parts of it I still really enjoy. But yes. Freshman year, December, I nearly died, tried to get help, and didn't break through anyone's denial enough to actually manage it. Sophomore year, December, my anxiety had me out of school (and out of society) almost entirely, my eating disorder completely exploded, and the bulimia aspect of it began. What would have been junior year, if I'd had a junior year, I had just gotten out of Rogers, I was still exponentially pissed at the entire world for making me leave that place; I hated trying to work with these people, trying to build a life here, when I wasn't even supposed to be here. I resented everyone so much, and I felt like I was just being shuffled around, going through the motions of therapy, without any real connection to who I was or what I wanted. I felt like no one understood because for the most part they didn't. And then, suddenly, Tracy died. (This is the year that I think I'm completely reliving right now. This is the year I think I've been remembering, emotionally, without realizing it. What's been playing out for me again - below the surface - while I try to focus on the present and what I want to have in the near future.) I don't remember anything particularly awful about December 2002, except that it was the first anniversary of Tracy's death, there was a lot of difficulty getting my family together, and it was the last Christmas my parents were together. Obviously, we didn't know that last one at the time, but I'd be willing to wager if I looked through my journal, the stress level would be significant enough to foreshadow a bit. And last year was pure hell, I don't even remember all the horrible things that led me to beg for a change with the New Year; I only remember that on top of all of those, my therapist was critically ill in the fucking hospital for the month. So, basically, December and I do not have the most positive of relationships at the moment. And it's completely unconscious - or it was. I wasn't even focused on what's happened this time of year in past years, the way I often am; (I keep track of so many anniversaries, it's ridiculous) - I just seem to have emotionally reentered it. And how the hell do you deal with problems and emotions in relationships that are three fucking years old? Hi. Many of those people - Judie, Harriet, Bronwen and Randy - I don't even see now, ever. So many of them, I have a very different relationship with now than I did then. And so much of what I wanted isn't even applicable now. I wanted to stay with them. Well, duh. But "they" aren't together anymore. Rogers still stands, but the people who made it for me have scattered some. I sure as hell do not want to return to the hospital, to any hospital, and I'm much closer to having strong relationships with individual people from that part of my life than I was three years ago when I still had the no-outside-contact barrier. So, yeah. Practically speaking, there's nothing to do about any of these feelings. That I can think of anyway. The sucky therapist has been replaced, the ridiculous mistakes of the outpatient program have been survived, and the serious resentment has at least made room for other emotions, allowing - you know - the past three years to happen. Apparently *that* has not gone away, but honestly, other than using more expletives than I consider normal and raging a little - what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?
I still really hate anger. I'm much better at realizing and "admitting" I'm angry, (despite the show at my session Monday; I was still the one who pointed out that I was indeed *acting* rather furiously for someone who was supposedly so at ease), but I still feel less than competant dealing with it. And that's when it's in the moment anger, applicable to the current situation. What do I do with anger that's three years old? ...Damnit.
And the thing about friends struggling with self-esteem... it's related, too. When I left Rogers, I felt so cut off from everyone - the people there and the people here. And part of what I hated about interacting with the people here - who mainly consisted of my parents - was that, unlike everyone I'd been with over the past few months - they weren't focused on trying to make their lives work, deal with their emotions, feel good about themselves. All of the ideas and rules that were like 'gospel' at Rogers meant nothing to these people. I felt like I had to get better in a world where everyone else was choosing to stay sick, not trying to improve how they related to the world, or themselves... With this conversation I just had about seeing something in yourself to be impressed with, I think that was playing a lot. I just wanted so much to hear that she was going to try. I've been thinking about nourish a lot; I just asked diaryland to put it back online for me - because I've neglected it so long, the site no longer functions. But that's what I want; I want to explain those ideas and have people who believe them, too... I don't want to be doing this alone, the way I did three years ago. I think if I'm honest, I was very much alone then.
The thing with Sara is a thousand times more complicated and more difficult. How in hell am I supposed to be angry with Sara? How can I possibly feel the disappointment and the betrayal and the outright *anger* toward this girl that I love so much, who didn't mean to hurt me at all, who's trying so hard? How can I feel that? I can't even finish a sentence about what I feel anger-wise without needing to defend her side of it. Which, you know, is/was my side of it also. If recovery made any sense, I think it might be a little easier. If I could look at my life and say, "this is what happened or what I had to do in order to get better" then maybe I could say, "I'm angry that this didn't happen for Sara" or "I'm so mad at her for nothing doing what I did" - but I don't fucking know. I have no idea what the difference between us is. All I know is that she's gotten sick again so many times I've lost count. I've been scared so much. I've hurt so much. I've loved her so much, through so many terrible, rough times... and in all that time, when did I stop going? When did I stop working? When did things fall apart for me? The most horrific things kept happening, and I kept recovering anyway. While everyone else... didn't. Or couldn't. I don't know which word to use. My own dad gave up, which is really helpful, let me tell you. And Sara. That girl does not know how to give up. Thank love for that because I couldn't bear, I cannot bear, to lose her. (Why the hell do I have to say this again? She was doing better. And it's not even an issue of panicking, or how far off track is she, or what's happened... it's just the fact that she couldn't just be ok. In the sense of "even if things suck, I'm not going to die anytime soon." I just want to be able to trust that much from my friends. And damnit, I so want to call Dave because I've seen them fight. I've seen him be pissed off at her illness, so maybe I could talk to him - to that one person - without feeling like total slime. Maybe he can explain to me how the hell you express anger at someone for something they can only sort of help. But I can't ask Dave because I don't go to Dave for therapist-like things, and I try to stay away from too much Rogers-talk, for now, because we're trying to build a relationship outside of that. So instead I called my therapist. See how good I am at doing the appropriate thing? ...See how much it doesn't matter...)
Yeah, this make sense. Work with everything you have for over three years, manage to make huge progress, discover you've held onto resentments that are so past their expiration dates, watch the people around you fall apart, (again, and again...and hey, how about again?), and continue getting to better so if nothing else you can *feel* just how shitty it all is.
I feel immortal in the worst possible sense. I feel like I could stand in the middle of a war zone or a concentration camp and watch every terrible, horrible thing happen... and while everyone else dies off, I just stay here, taking in more and more and more. Hurting more and more and more. Watching how awful the world can be, unable to do anything about it.
But hey, at least I'm still alive.
Yeah. This is how much bullshit we're living with. I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm the survivor.
~me