"Finally Thinking 'Bout Me"

I will be the first to admit that I have a tendency toward the over dramatic at times--thankfully not when I really need to have a cool head--and that I let my emotions get the best of me fairly often. Books, movies, TV shows...just about anything that has the possibility of making me emotionally invested stands the chance of causing tears. So, when I say that I've just reached the point where I could actually read all of my critiques from my performance and talk about how I felt without crying, it's a pretty big deal.

The past few days have been hard. I still haven't had the chance to try and talk to one of my best friend about this because she's so busy, and I'm not going to complain about that because I know that her life is so screwed up that she really needs to be busy; I've been ignoring one of my other friends because I knew he would try to make me talk about everything and I wasn't ready to. But it has been hard for me. I finally caved the other day and sent my mom an email talking about all of it and how I felt. I cried the entire time I was typing it, and her reply the next morning made me cry more.

She did make me think though. Last night, I got down on my knees, and I poured my heart out to God about how confused and hurt I was, and I asked Him for answers to my questions; I did the same thing this morning--but with significantly fewer tears--and I fasted today as well. For the first time in almost five years, I went without food and I really and truly prayed for guidance. And I got it.

I didn't get all the answers, but who does really? I was reminded about a few things that I already knew I was supposed to be doing, and I heard a few really good things from my bishop when he spoke today. On top of that, after church I asked for a blessing and had those same words that I liked so much when my bishop said to me reiterated. And I was challenged to do certain things while I'm home the next few months, but I was promised things too. Even better than all of that was the many times I was told that I had made progress this year, that God was watching over me and that He was proud of me.

That made up for everything I went through this weekend.

I made another realization tonight as well.When I was growing up, I honestly didn't care that much about me as a person. I got caught up with other things and I didn't take care of myself, and when I got to college, that only became worse. Tonight, I was watching a recent episode of The Biggest Loser with the girl I'm planning on living with next year, and one of the trainers said something that hit home with me. Roughly paraphrased, he said  that all the progress this one woman in the show had made showed how much she had learned to care about herself as a person. It made me realize something: I need to put the same amount of care and effort into my relationship with myself that I do with my friends.

So, I have a lot to work on, but I think that's a good thing. It means that I can become better.

And who doesn't want that?

"Just Forget the World"

I thought about it.

I thought about it as wrote that last post.
I thought about it as sat on my bed watching Grey's Anatomy.
I thought about it when took my second shower of the day (hottest possible temperature).
I thought about it when I walked down to my friends' room before their choir concert.
I thought about it when I walked down to campus for dinner.
I'm thinking about it now.

About sharp needles and some form of blessed release from how feel so that can bock it all off, shut it away until I feel ready to handle it.

But I didn't.

No, instead, took my hot shower, shaved, put on some makeup, straightened my hair, put on some pretty clothes, and left my room. And I'm going to got to the concert, put on a smile, and give one of my best fucking performances ever a the awards tonight. And then will go back to my room, cry, and think about it some more.

But at least I'm only thinking about it.

**For the record, I wrote this yesterday shortly after the first post, but I did it on my phone and it wouldn't let me post. I'm in a blissful state of denial and avoidance right now and focusing on my brother's current choice of girlfriend.**

"Nobody Knows Where We Might End Up"

While at times I may seem really odd and out of place when I speak of things such as "omens" or "chakras" or "dream interpretation", ninety percent of the time, I don't actually put any store into such things. I may find them interesting or insightful, but I don't actually believe in them.

Today, right this second, falls into the other ten percent.

The other shoe has dropped, and it wasn't in the way I expected or prepared for.

I'm finishing up the last week of school before finals and minutes ago left my final class for the semester, a class which--while not of any significant importance to my graduating--is within the realms of my major. But I should probably start before this.

Let's start with last Thursday, exactly a week ago. This time last week, I was preparing for a graded performance, and I was feeling really good about it. I didn't actually have to do this performance, I had already done an in-class equivalent of it the previous semester, but I felt that it would be good for me to get the input from my professors before I became a senior next spring. I went in around 4 and was finished within ten minutes, and I didn't have a care in the world. I didn't care about the grade, and I told people this; I was only there for the critique.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I noted to myself that the weather was really grey and dreary: not the best omen for the last few days of class before finals. I remember that I hoped the weather today would be better.

Today, I had the written portion of my final for this class, one which I really enjoy and have been told I'm really taking to. I still felt good. The weather was still gloomy, but I felt good. The test only took me a little over half an hour--mostly because of the many short answer questions--but I felt, and still feel, like I did considerably well. As I was leaving the test, I decided I would swing by my advisor's office to see if my score had been posted from the week before.

It was.

"Potential to Major"

Last semester, I was cleared with a high enough score to do a final performance, and now I get three sheets of white office paper, stapled together with my name typed on them, saying that I am not doing well enough at this to have a final performance.

I only have the "potential" to major in this subject, that's all.

Just potential.

One step above "need to reconsider major".

I've been trying not to cry ever since I saw the papers, and failing miserably most of the time. I haven't talked to anyone because everyone I want to talk to is busy.

I feel like shit. Without that performance, everything I've done at this school will have been pointless because I won't be able to graduate. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't graduate and do the things with my life that I want.

So, instead of trying to figure this out and feeling even more miserable, I'm going to curl up in my bed for a few hours, watching Grey's Anatomy and eating chocolate until it's time for me to get ready for an awards ceremony for the people within my major: one more knife stabbing me and saying I'm not good enough to even be nominated for one of the awards.

Great.

"Let Your Dreaming Be Your Guide"

I love how weird my dreams are. Seriously, they just prove exactly how twisted my mind is.

Last night, I was dreaming that I was in some reality show that slightly resembled The Hunger Games...minus the actual dying and the funky romance and the crazy politics. Although, all of that could have been in there and I just forgot. But I think we either faked the deaths or it was a really death-like elimination.

Anyway, I was in this show, and while I don't remember much of it--my roommate's alarm went off early this morning, I thought it was Friday and actually got up--I know that I was "killed off" around the fifth episode of the show; as I was watched the episodes later, I was thinking that maybe the show would make me famous because my screen presence (and death scene) was amazing.

I have a bit of an ego when it comes to acting, so sue me.

Interpretation, to the best of my ability, is as follows:

reality show: life is under scrutiny; need a reality check
Hunger Games: feeling unfulfilled and challenged in life
being on TV: want to broadcast something to the world, a desire to express self; or, trying to be more objective about life
faked death: looking for a new start in life
five: five senses and sensitivity; change in path

>>>>I feel as though my life is under constant scrutiny by those around me and I am challenged by what it is they expect me to do. I feel as though I am expected to do certain things and be a certain way, when all I want to do is show everyone exactly who I really am. But I don't do that, and I give up and stop trying to challenge myself and continue on by ignoring certain aspects of my life. I need to be more sensitive to what I want and who I am, but shouting to the rooftops that I'm starting my life over isn't the way to do it.<<<<

I knew I was a twisted person; my subconscious used The Hunger Games to give me a reality check.

"The Truth That I Know"

I'm not normally the type of girl who has crazy crushes and goes insane over some guy, daydreaming about silly things...lately, however, I've been exactly that girl. And I feel pathetic.

Tonight, I got to be the awkward fifth wheel because one of my friends felt as though it would be awkward to go on this non-date to get dinner with another couple. Both of the guys who were at dinner with us were really good friends with my friend who is on his mission for the church right now, and I found myself zoning in and out of the conversation--especially when we were in the van and lacking someone to be coupley with--and I would just daydream about the weirdest things. Well, weird to me.

It's possible that the sudden influx of sparkly decoration on the left hands of so many girls at school is getting to me, but the word "proposal" floated through my mind more than once. I was thinking that I would have all of the spring and summer to be around and with this friend of mine and then we would go on this trip to Ireland like we had planned on before he left; somehow, this idea morphed into a sparkly blue topaz and diamond ring on my hand.

I find the entire idea mildly terrifying. For starters, I haven't seen this guy in over a year and won't see him again til after Christmas. On top of that, when he left, he was interested in a different girl and I was with a different guy; as far as he knows, that hasn't changed much on my end. As if that wasn't enough, there is a chance that his dad could be my bishop at some point, which would inevitably lead to his dad finding out about all of my problems and issues and screw ups.

And quite possibly worse, I know he is way too good for me. That is more than evident as soon as you meet each of us. How incredibly depressing.

Do I actually like this friend of mine? I've gotten to the point where I really have no idea how to tell if I like someone, and I am more than aware of how bad I am at relationships.

For now, I'll have to leave the whole thing alone. It's a moot point until he gets back, and even then...

"They See Someone That's Not Me"

Sometimes, the people I go to school with and voluntarily spend my time with amaze me by how sheltered they are. And by sheltered I mean the level of discomfort they have with sexuality and the choices some people make.

Case A: some of my friends were making a big deal about sex and saying how they weren't ready for it, a man's penis scared them, etc. Which, for the average virgin, I suppose is fairly normal. But I just wanted to sit down and tell them it's nothing to be scared of, and I couldn't. I've tried to drop hints that would make easy segues into at least part of my story, but no one ever catches them; like when I said I have learned to be extremely grateful one week every month, everyone always thinks it's because I've had moments where I had to worry that I had some sort of disorder or body issue. The thought never crosses their mind that I've had multiple pregnancy scares in my life.

Tonight wasn't any different. "Beware the one-eyed snake." "I'm not ready for sex." The entire time, I sat there, wanting to say something, but couldn't because very few people here know my story. Of the four people on this campus who have heard my story, one is my bishop, another moved away, the third is the ex of the one who moved (and he's kind of scray-crazy right now), and the other one...she is:

Case B: the past couple of days, this friend has been so hung up on hating on this one character of a TV show we watch because this character cheated on her husband, which therefore makes her an awful person. And I wanted to slap her. Every. Single. Time. Yes, I do mean my friend, not the character in the show.

It's so easy for her to pass judgement on people who have made dumb choices like that, and she forgets that I've been there. I made stupid choices like that. I cheated on one of my exes. Granted, cheating on a boyfriend is not quite the same as having an affair, I get that. But it's not that different either. You still feel like shit afterward, especially when the other person finds out. So yeah, I took a little bit of offense at my friend saying how awful people were who cheated.

Guess that means I'm an awful person.

It's time like this where I start to think that no matter what I do, I'm never really going to fit in in the world I grew up in, the world my school and friends live in. I was born into that world--which is more like a bubble--, and for five years I chose to leave it and live in the rest of the world; now that I'm trying to come back and be a good person, I keep having all of my problems shoved back into my face, as if everyone was saying "You're not good enough...you screwed up....get out". It won't be any easier when I go home, and it will be even harder next year because the girl I'm planning on living with knows nothing of my situation. She doesn't know that I've had sex or thought I was pregnant or have a tattoo or that I used to cut...or that I wanted to cut this week because I was so stressed.

I didn't do it, by the way. Thought about it, but I didn't. Not worth it. But I won't lie about how appealing the thought was. Too bad the only pointy object at hand was a rusty safety pin; there was no way in hell that was coming anywhere near my body, I don't care how desperate I am.

Moral of the story? There isn't one. But there is an evident fact of life: forgiving and forgetting is easy until you start talking about yourself.

Give Me Shelter From the Storm

I'm not quite sure if I even have the words to say what's going through my head right now, but I'm going to attempt to explain it because I haven't posted anything in awhile, and blogging is actually fairly theraputic. And since I quit therapy around February, I need all the help I can get.

I think I've put a block on my life, for lack of better words. It's something I tend to do; everything is going well, but after awhile I start to tense up and back away from whatever was making me happy. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.

I stopped talking to one of my friends for a few days. I wasn't mad or anything, just...didn't text. Haven't talked to another friend in over a week. And I don't really tell my friends here at school about anything going on. Although, if I tried to explain what's happening, I don't think I would make any sense.

A lot of people know me as a fairly pessimistic person; a few friends even joked that it was the ultimate irony that this guy from school--dubbed Mr. Smiley because he's always so freaking smiley--asked me on a date, and I am Miss Negative-Sarcastic-Angry or something. I don't know if I do it on purpose. I guess I've just always seen anything good as just a small break before all hell breaks loose again.

Like when a big storm comes rolling up, and you can see the clouds roiling and the sky is this sickly shade of yellow, and you just know a tornado is coming. As the storm hits, there's all this wind and hail, and even lightning. But just before you start to see the funnel dropping down, everything goes quiet for a few long seconds... And then the world just explodes and everything is sucked into the sky.

I think, right now, I'm just waiting for that tornado to begin, for the other shoe to drop. Because my life is never this calm for long. The only problem with that shoe dropping, that storm finally hitting, is I don't know what I'll do. It's been awhile since I've had this type of calm, and then my life blew up. What if I've forgotten what to do? What if I can't handle whatever it is that happens?

I can already feel myself pulling away, preparing for whatever is going to happen. The storm shelter around me has been weakened and warped from disuse, and I don't know if I can hold up against everything. But I can feel it... I can tell it's time to batten down the hatches.