Positively Scarred

I’m forever in a vicious cycle of sleep and non-sleep; I am awake for anywhere from 18 - 27 hours, then crash for 13 or more. Then I begin again. I can’t seem to put myself right again. I have tried and tried, but I always fuck it up again.

My dreams don’t help, either. I’m always caught in a whirlwind of friends I never see and post-apocalyptic worlds. I thought after stopping the pain medication, my dreams would return to normal. But I guess not, eh? It’s also unpleasant in my room most nights and I get caught in a vicious cycle of hot and cold and I think, “Maybe this is what tap water feels like when we’re trying to adjust it.”

And so when I got up to turn on my fan tonight, for the 5th time, I thought maybe my body is just a metaphor for my feelings about my social life. I’ve been so hot and cold with everyone near me lately.

Yes, I love you, please stay.

No, go away, I don’t want to talk to you.

And maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to find a guy I really connect with like I have in the past with my male soulmates, or with my long-distance heartthrob presently. I’m so hot and cold.

I don’t want to be touched.

Oh dear God, please touch me.

The thought of being intimate with someone—and I mean intimate on a “let’s date and talk about the meaning of life” level, not just drunken hookups—is a severe turn off. I think about it and I just want to puke because A) why would a guy want to touch me when I’m clearly damaged goods (and perhaps a tad-bit loony) and B) why would I want to be touched by someone who doesn’t take me seriously? Who is going to leave me? Who probably will not remember my name in ten years?

Maybe this is why I’ve become such a binge drinker since my breakup last August. Because I thought I had it all figured out—I had a life planned around one person. And everything since then has just seemed either irreparably broken, or not intriguing enough for me to involve myself with. And the only thing that has appealed to me? It’s beyond my reach.

I’m frustrated and I’m unhappy. I want my old self back. I’ve been trying and trying but I seem to be getting nowhere.

When I last left you, I was feeling “meh” about my birthday—a day that I’m usually so excited about. Well, it DID end up being really low-key and I seriously couldn’t have enjoyed it any more than I did. I got to sleep ALL day on my actual birthday which is how I wanted to spend it.

My dad is feeling better. He went back to work yesterday and he’s doing a lot better.

Okay… I won’t beat around the bush…

I’m depressed. Severely. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know if this is related to the past year of my life, or to what’s been going on currently. I feel like I’m not in control. I’m stressed and worried about medical bills. It’s taking a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get approved for Medi Cal and disability. I’m probably going to have to apply for bankruptcy.

I try really hard to be strong, and I have been so strong for the past year. Everyone has complimented me on how well I’ve handled everything and how strong and brave I am. But, to tell you the truth, I’ve feel like that I’ve had to be… That that’s my only decision: Either I be brave and strong, or no one is going to respect me. I do not, nor have I wanted, to be catered to and coddled. I feel like more people would have babied me and that’s not what I want. I amnotmy injury. That is notwho I am.

Another part of my depression, I think, relates to matters of the heart. Now, it’s hard enough being in love with someone who rejects you (my ex) but it’s harder being in love with someone who you can’t have. I’ve tried to tell myself that this should just be a casual thing, that I shouldn’t take it seriously, that I need to be content in the here and now instead of possibly future plans. But no matter which way I slice it, the fact that there is someone out of my reach tugs and pulls at my heart.

The fact of it is… There has never been more potential or chemistry between me and another person. And that really scares me. Because what if this is all built up in my head and none of it is real? I’ve always trusted my heart, and more often than not, it’s been right. But even my heart has sugar-coated things, or put them behind a curtain and shielded truth from me.

I think I’m certifiably insane. There are way too many things that run through my head and the amount of emotions I feel could make your head spin. It makes my stomach hurt.

So why don’t I just rid of the things that are driving me nuts? It’s not that easy. I’d be ripping out my own heart. So as crazy as it all makes me… I can’t just let it go.

But let’s back up, because I was depressed even before matters of the heart were of concern. To be perfectly honest, I think Ihavebeen depressed since the accident, but I just didn’t want to admit it. Maybe believing that I was such a strong, brave, and happy person was what got me through the first year. But now, as I approach the year anniversary of the accident, it’s all catching up with me. I never really mourned. I think I convinced myself to snap out of it, because that would be easier than me admitting that this was such a huge deal and that I was upset.

So, the question now, I guess, is where do I go from here? How do I get myself back?

It’s been a while since I posted anything of real substance, anything that meant something. Mostly because I’ve been getting stuck: not exactly writer’s block because I know what I can say or should say or want to say, but the words just don’t flow naturally. So here I am, at 1:30AM, carrying something worth writing about.

A little back story: I kind of went a little batshit insane Tuesday and was mad at the world. Not to mention I woke up to several missed calls and texts from various people and it just annoyed the fuck out of me. I posted a big “fuck off, fuck you” status on Facebook, which I later took down. I just needed to be by myself. In this whole process, however, I ended up [most likely] fucking up a good thing I had going.

My actions sent up red flags. I was accused of being bipolar. “Go get checked out,” he told me, “Same thing happened with a girl I dated once. She said the same stuff and sure enough she blew a fuse.” I was more upset at the fact that he was comparing me to someone who is NOT me than the fact that he was accusing me of having a disorder that I do not have. I’ve been to various doctor’s and I’ve only ever been diagnosed with panic disorder, social anxiety disorder, and depression. I’m embarrassed by my actions and for how I handled myself. And I told him so.

Hoping for things to be fixed, I apologized profusely. I just wanted to be past all of this. I explained about the anxiety and depression. Apologized more. I told him to not compare me, because comparing makes things more difficult, and by comparing you’re pretty much telling me that YOU can’t get past something. He said he’s afraid of it happening again, me going postal and being angry at the world. I’ll admit, I get mad. I get mad at myself, at situations, at people, but I’m usually way more composed than I was Tuesday.

Trying to sympathize and relate to what he was telling me, I told him that I, too, am afraid. I’m afraid he will begin to exhibit behavior like my ex. But I trust that he won’t. I hope that he won’t. That I’m willing to give it a shot even though it scares me. I told him that if you can’t go thinking something is going to happen continuously because it happened with a previous person. That you have to trust that this could be different. I ended the spiel with, “If your gut is telling you something is wrong here, that this is not right, then go with that feeling. I’ll understand. I’ll be upset, but I will understand.”

“I’ll sleep on it.”

And then the conversation was over.

At first I was freaking out, because what if I really am bipolar and it’s just been overlooked all these years? Should I make a doctor’s appointment? Do I need to talk to my mom about it? This all basically lead to a self-evaluative crisis: I’m worried I’m not good enough for him. I’m intimidated. I’m afraid.

Things were put into perspective when a friend said, “If you never get upset, if you never get exalted, if you never get depressed, if you never feel real emotion? THEN you’re a motherfucker with a problem. Feeling real things isn’t a disorder, failing to feel real things is.”

And they’re completely right. Why should I feel so horrible about FEELING? About having emotion? When I was on medication for my “issues,” I didn’t feel ANYTHING. I was a stone. I was lifeless. I felt but I didn’t FEEL. I laughed but it was hollow. I smiled but it was empty, like a face painted on a porcelain doll. I was numb. I hated it… So I’m not going to feel bad that I had emotion or that I felt something. Or that I feel a variety of emotions in any given situation(s). I’m human. Part of being human is having emotions. Isn’t that was separates us from animals?

I admit, yes, I shouldn’t have reacted how I did. I should have composed myself more… I know this, I understand this, and I’m going to work on this.

If he decides that dating me is not a good idea for him, then I’m perfectly fine with that. I will probably cry and feel upset. But I’m human and it’s alright for me to feel that way.