Always someone's ex

I am not someone's everything. I don't really want to be, but goddammit it would be the best thing in the world sometimes. It would be really nice to have someone care about me the way I care about him.....the way they care about the girls they adore. I just......dislike not being someone important to someone else. I hate it. I hate it so much. But I would hate to be someones everything, the only thing that matters to someone.
I am Izzy, but I am also George, and I am Meredith, and I am goddamn Karev, and I am fucking Jo. And right now I really hate being Izzy. because I know that I can't get by without my best friend. I know that it is not ok to be all or nothing all of the time.

But who am I to my person, is just a friend. and the only people who are interested in me are interested because their person isn't interested. God, it would just be nice to be someone's first choice.

Im having a hard time. Love is not easy, and accepting that you should let go of love is even more difficult. I want to be ok. I want to be happy. I want my life to be fuller. I know letting him go is best, and I am trying, but he keeps me focused and sane, and I know I am safe when he is around. He makes me care about me, about growing and being the best version of me that is possible. Maybe it is selfish, but it isn't nothing.

On the other hand there is the friend who calls me when he is sad and needs a friend, and I constantly have to tell him that if his wife hasn't gotten rid of her fling in 4 months, she isn't going to do so.

Forever feels like home sitting all alone

My brain has been everywhere lately. Thinking about everything that has happened, of all the feelings I can't seem to lock away right now. I tried dating. I tried random banging, and none of it changes anything. I don't know what to do. I just know that I need my best friend, especially right now, and if it stays as it is now, I will lose him. He will leave. I can't deal with that on top of everything else.
I'm an emotional disaster, trying like hell to keep my head above water. I feel crazy. I feel vulnerable and exposed. I went from not giving a fuck about anything, to going fucking nuts over stupid shit. I know it is dumb. I know I sound jealous, because I feel alone. I feel like no one cares, like I'm pointless if I'm not satisfying someone else's needs.
Pretty sure that it was a panic attack at work the other night, brought on by who knows what. I'm unstable. I'm trying to be more stable, and I need my constants. But my constants want their space and I don't know what to do but freak out. I don't know what to do when I'm alone unexpectedly. I don't know what I need to have people who I trust around without pushing them away.

Closed eyes

Another day,
just like every other day,
working until my fingers bleed.

Pain erupts,
so sudden it steals my breath,
doubles me over.

I lose time,
overwhelmed by the ache,
deep, and constant,
but increasing quickly and steadily.

I lose focus, can't keep my eyes open,
struggling to say anything,
to let someone know.

I lose strength,
body siphoning everything
to keep conscious.
The tears stream freely and openly,
not easing the pain.

People come in and leave,
ask questions I don't hear fully,
accept answers I don't remember being clear about.

So many people,
and I don't know if anyone understands.

I don't know if I'm being clear.
I don't know a lot of anything.
I know he's in the room,
next to me,
but I don't remember him coming in.

They strap me on the board,
ask questions;
laying down helps.

My pain stops being priority,
my body tries to lose consciousness.
Purple and blue blossom behind closed eyelids,
and I'm asked more questions.
I hear my babbling responses,
know that they don't track,
don't know how to explain,
know I'm not being understood.

The longer I lay down, the better I feel.
The trip to the hospital is long;
I see none of it.
The squeezing calms.

The hospital asks questions, does tests,
but gives no answers, no medicine.

The nurse writes my responses on a napkin.

I shouldn't be here.

I'm sorry.

I am sorry I can't let go easily. I'm sorry I've been a bitch lately. I'm sorry that I haven't done what I need to do to make life easier for all of us. I'm sorry I've been a pushover in a lot of ways.

I know you don't believe me, but I am trying. I really am. I know you understand depression. The problem is that you don't see and acknowledge when I'm fighting hard. You just tell me I need to do better without medicine or doctors, that I need to buckle down. I'm trying hard, and you don't seem to get it. I'm hurting and stressed.

I'm not blaming you. I know it seems like it. I know you don't want to live this way. I just....I'm trying. I know that isn't good enough. But it is all I can do.

I'm not a pity fuck.

I'm not your fallback bang when you have no one else. I am not someone you take pity on and therefore deem fuckable.

I am worthwhile and amazing. I am worth taking the time to know, to love. I am not just some chick you bang. I can be your best friend, your friend with benefits, your girlfriend. I cannot and will not be your last resort.

Eventually, I will find someone who wants to be my person. Eventually I will find someone who considers me their person. In the meantime, I'm not wasting my time. I will look for them, but I will not wait for someone who refuses see what I mean to them. If they figure it out, that's on them. I'm tired of being alone, of being afraid to sleep because I'm afraid I will die alone. I'm looking. And I will find someone who sees my value, and doesn't want to let it go.

Misfits and misunderstood

Been listening to a lot of ICP and Twisted lately. I blame my best friends.

On that note. Today was bad. I couldn't sleep, then I had a panic attack, and started freaking out about being alone in my room. My best friend accepted that I kept him awake, because he knew I needed held.

My dad died in his dorm room, because he was alone, didn't feel right, and didn't have anyone to make sure he called the hospital. He had a heart attack. They didn't find him for 3 days. He was 32. I don't know if I will ever be able to live alone. I think I'm ok, and then I freak out, and can't deal with things.

I am starting going to the gym in January. I need to get my weight controlled, because I'm 4 years away from 30, and almost twice the weight I was at 18. I can't not do this. It is important.

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.