Giving thanks 2 days late

I like to attempt to post what I've been thankful for that year every Thanksgiving. It is dumb, but it helps me remember when my life was less than the best, when I thought it would be better to die.

This year I haven't, because while a lot has changed, it is still mostly the same.
I live with my best friend, who helps me more than he will ever know, even when we fight.
I have 2 jobs, one just because I love it, and I am working on getting my life on track much better this year than previous years.
I still fight most days to get out of bed to go to work, or get errands or housework done, and I often lose that battle when it doesn't come to work.
I still hate myself a little more every time I don't actually get done what I plan to get done, and idiotically sulk more when it happens, so other stuff doesn't get done.

I am still trying. I'm not perfect. I don't see a lot of my life as a problem until I view it from the perspective of people who grew up differently than I did. I often need the somber reality checks that break my heart, because they push me to fight more than a request or hateful threat will. They push me to be better when I want to wallow in the misery that threatens my life daily. But they also add to the pain in my heart that makes wallowing so simple.

I am lucky. I'm not in a loving relationship, my family is full of bullshit games, and I pretty consistently am on the verge of not being able to afford to live on my own. I have little siblings who love and look up to me, and some of the best friends you could ever meet who remind me that I am loveable and worthwhile, even though I'm stubborn. If that doesn't make me lucky, I don't know what could.

Killing me slowly, bc softly is a lie

You know, I'm a fuck up. I fuck things up. I don't try very hard at things too often because I'm pretty sure that I will fuck it up.

It took damn near six months to clean out his room. There isn't an excuse for it. I didn't do it because I let other things be more important, and that is wrong. But I'm trying. And the moment I start trying, he decided he was done. He tried to leave tonight, and I couldn't let him because it was breaking my heart more than normal. It breaks my heart that he doesn't want me to be his person on a daily basis. But the idea of him leaving, and I can't function. I start to bawl, and best friend or not, he doesn't get to see when he breaks my heart. So I ran away. I ran outside and broke. I cried until I was numb from cold, and I will lay in my bed and cry some more. This isn't how this is supposed to work. It just isn't.

I can't have my best friend give up on me when the rest of the world could give a fuck less. I can't. I won't make it through that. That's not being over dramatic. Its just the truth.

Are you fucking serious?

Yes, I'm mad. you probably don't think I should be, think that's left only for you. I'm sorry you didn't answer the phone any of the 5 times I called you. I'm sorry you decided you would rather go home and play video games than hang out where you would be able to remind us of laundry. I'm sorry you think that I'm being selfish or whatever it is, but we don't get home until 8am ever. and that was still 3 hours away, plenty of time to do laundry before normal bedtime. you even said you didn't know what time you wanted to do laundry, so how the fuck am I supposed to know what time I need to be home to not piss you off? Don't ignore me, then be mad I can't read your mind. and if you're pissed off, when you don't even have your clothes gathered to even attempt to go, it is going to piss me off every fucking time. I'm not a mind reader, I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your mother. I'm your best friend, and you need to tell me specifics before you get pissed at me.

Unlikely sources

Lately, I have been doing better.

Part of this is due to my stubborn self competing with someone else's stubbornness.

Another part of it is that I am on an upswing at the moment, for some reason.

And, because I'm ridiculous, I find that this comic that I found, called depression comix, actually helps me. A LOT.
It helps me realize that I am not the only one who has the bad down swings. I am not the only person who doesn't want to die, but who also would love not existing at times. It is easier, knowing that there is someone who understands that I am able to do only so much in a day before I am overwhelmed and exhausted.

After pretending around most people, and dealing with the stubbornness of those who should definitely know better than to try to push me through it, it is REALLY refreshing, knowing that I'm not crazy.





I'm not ok..... but I am getting there.

"We accept the love we think we deserve"

I love you.

That isn't going to change, regardless of whatever else I tell you.

What will, and must, change, is me waiting around for you to figure out that you are worth that love.

This is what you keep saying you want. This is what you think we need. Who am I to say differently?

So what I am going to do is exactly what you say you want: I will be your friend, and that is all.

As always, if you change your mind, that will be on you. I will not try to change your mind about it though, and if I am not available when you finally decide to change your mind, then that is too bad.

Nothing will stop me loving you, but I don't have to hurt for it all the time. I refuse to keep having nights where I cry and feel like I am not good enough. Because, screwed up as I am, I am good enough. I am more than good enough. You just have to realize that you're worth being loved. I can't help you with that. That is all on you.

Exhaustion

I'm tired.

I'm so tired of fighting, of trying to be better than I am. I'm tired of having so much potential that I can't reach because no matter what I do, my brain tells me I'm a fuck up, especially when things are going well.

I'm tired of hurting all the time, of watching happy people, people who love and are loved.

When do I get to be happy?

She lies and says she's in love with him

It took me a long time to understand that song, especially that line. As someone who cannot say she loves someone unless she believes it, it blew my mind. However, lying to yourself out of fear is not the same thing.

4 years ago today, I was preparing for my wedding. I loved my fiancée, and was very excited to spend the rest of my life with him. I was nervous that it was raining, and hoping it didn't continue into the next day.

7 months later, things were downhill, but I still believed I loved him, and he thought that he had settled in our marriage, though I clearly didn't think that anyone would love me, and clung to his offered love.

4 years ago, I was preparing for the happiest day of my life.

Today, I am hurting so badly I can barely keep from crying, and trying to keep that away from JEGB, as we prepare for her happiest day. Tomorrow will be terrible, and I will have to fight so much harder, as we have the rehearsal dinner at the same time that I got married, and it won't be communication through text, but in person. I am going to have to try to build a box to shove it into for the day, until I can let it out away from her.

Today, I wish someone loved me enough to hold me, to lie to me to say it will be ok.

I've a secret

I may have found a safe online place for my thoughts. Maybe.


All I know is that I'm not the only one with issues with boundaries, yet I'm the one who is seen as the bad guy when I don't like the boundaries that we have.

Oh, and getting annoyed that I don't discuss why is SUPER hypocritical.

Scared of sleeping

It isn't that I'm not tired: I'm so exhausted a lot of the time it feels like I should have died a long time ago.
It isn't that I get too distracted by silence: I always have music.

It isn't even JUST because I am kind of terrified of not waking up.

If I am being completely honest with myself and everyone else, I am afraid that I will die in my sleep,

and no one will notice.

It has been a long time since it has been as bad as it has been the past few weeks. I used to be afraid to fall asleep anywhere there wasn't someone next to me. I made some extremely poor choices due to that. And it sounds really stupid, so I don't mention it to people.

It wasn't until my ex-husband left me, and I lived completely alone for the first time ever, that I actually realized why I was that way, which should have been stupidly obvious.

My dad had a heart attack in his dorm room, and died. Alone. And wasn't found for 3 days. That is why I worry too much to sleep, and why I always sleep better when someone is next to me, holding me and reminding me that I am not dead.

I hate that about me, so I try to avoid it a lot. I hate needing people to remind myself that I am not dead, to remind myself that there actually are people who would give a fuck if I died. So instead, I avoid it, sleep alone, or stay up for days on end until I drop from exhaustion. All because I would rather do that then go back to what I was doing, and needing someone around to sleep, inconveniencing them, and making things awkward.

Lately, it has been difficult for me. I have been without physical touch more often than not, for reasons that are complicated, yet make things easier. I can deal without physical touch when I am awake, because it isn't that huge of a deal. I can live. But when I'm trying to sleep? That lack of comfort, of knowing that there is someone who will definitely notice if something starts to go wrong with my sleeping, that is to say, it is becoming the forever sleep, and that they will try to make sure that I don't die.

It sounds so stupid to say. I hate how fucked my head is. Between this stupid need, and the fact that I losing the fight to do anything on a daily basis, even though I want to care, I feel like I am losing my mind. I just am painfully numb, until I get yelled at, then I either get stupidly defensive, or I get so that I can feel the blood pulsing in my ears and I know that I am going to lose my temper if I don't shut my eyes, and focus very closely on my breathing. It isn't even that I feel like I should be angry, I just lose control.

And the worst part of all of it, is that even through the issues, even through someone trying to get me to explain what is wrong, I can't do it out loud. I can't say out loud that I'm afraid I will die if I go to sleep. I can't say out loud that I don't actually even really care if I do. I can't say that every time they try to make me explain, I can hear my pulse in my right ear, which is what happens when I am losing control of my temper and thoughts.

Saying any of that is insanity; but that doesn't make it a lie.

I never thought I'd be so fragile

I am bad at a lot of things. I don't always make the best choices. The way I feel so much, so often, makes the days that I feel nothing seem like blank sheets of paper, laminated so they stick out and make it impossible to mar the surface. If I do things on those days, it is a surface level emotion, not actually sticking proper in my head, if that makes any sense. Those days have, thankfully, been few and far between lately, and yet, that also makes those days seem worse when they pop up. It's almost as though they show up to remind me,
"Hey, guess what? You're still fucked up."

I used to deal with them by wallowing, by letting those days be wasted, even if I had originally had plans. I became the kind of person who would flake out at the last minute, the kind of person who never got around to things, the kind of person who seemed miserable for no damn reason. I hated everything about my life, for no reason. Things were never easy, but there are people out there who have it a lot worse than me. I would remind myself of that often. It never helped, just made me feel worse for feeling so bad for no real reason.

I started getting better at dealing with those days. I would force myself to keep plans, though if it got to be too much, I would say I wasn't feeling well and excuse myself from the situation.

This last one though? I don't know why I was hit so hard by it, except that it showed me that, as numb as I had been feeling, I wasn't the empty husk I had the potential to be when the days were really bad. I was empty this last time, and briefly considered cutting into my skin to see if I could feel anything at all. The only thing that stopped me was knowing that if I started, I probably wouldn't have stopped until I couldn't hold the knife anymore, and the guys would have come home to that, just another mess I would leave them with. 

I haven't had that bad of a day for no reason since I lived with my mother. I haven't felt so overwhelmed and worthless in almost a decade, and even then, I don't remember it being so jarring.

I don't like to actually talk about things of this nature. I can never figure out a way to explain it that doesn't seem over dramatic or like less than what it is. When I take the time to write things out, it is because I need to get it out of my head, to where it is possible for someone, anyone, to read and understand. I've always been bad at saying how I feel, because with my mother, that was always frowned upon. That's why I've never told someone I was saying that I loved them until I was sure, because the words wouldn't come out. Even if I could write it, it didn't mean the same thing until I could say it.

Maybe it was especially bad because I was home alone. Maybe it was bad because my brain started to go through every mistake I have ever made. If I had to guess, I would say it was bad because I don't feel like I have control over my life right now, but I never know why it's bad one day and not another. All I know for sure is that I can't talk or write about it until I've processed as much of it as possible. 

I'm still not 100%, but I will be at some point. That is the important part.

Bleakness

I hate my life. Honestly, it isn't even that the life I live is bad. I feel empty. I feel lost. I feel like I am pointless. I hide it as best I can, but alone, I feel like I'm drowning. I feel like no matter what I do, it doesn't matter. Everything's been gray for a while. All the fun I force myself through, the conversations I barely keep an ear on because I can't focus my attention pretty much ever, the smiles and laughter I fake...it works sometimes. It gets me through, a little more refreshed than I was before. It never feels right.

I'm trying to be less of a burden. I know that I'm not very good at it, hell, I'm a fucking bitch who doesn't do things very well at all. I don't bring up the bad days, and I do my damndest to not be a drag. Most days, I even do that poorly. Tonight, I'm just laying here crying. I don't even know why.

Fuck this. Just.......fuck it. I don't even know why I'm writing, apart from that it normally helps when I am alone and confused. But, not this time. I don't feel anything but scared, and I'm terrified, even though when asked about it, I'm going to say it was no big deal, just a bad night, because I don't want to talk about it, because it won't help at all. It hasn't helped to talk, and it doesn't help to sleep, and right now, it doesn't help to write.

I'm going to ignore it for now, and maybe I will want to talk about it later. I just.....hoped that this would help.