Apologies are hard. If it were possible--and remotely feasible--I would swear off doing anything and everything that would cause me to need to apologize to someone because it is so emotionally hard on me. In the world called reality, however, that isn't possible; which means I get to look forward to more apologies and more crying, and we've already established my distaste for that activity.
I've made two fairly large apologies within the past few days. One was a repeat apology that I felt needed to be made now that I had a better understanding of the aftermath of my actions. Note to self: listen to the little voice in my head saying "That's a dumb idea, don't do it." It's much smarter than I give it credit for.
I also apologized to my program director for not giving the 100% I should have been over the past two years. Many other things were said that I'm not getting into again because I just barely stopped crying and have a headache. I'd prefer not to make it too much worse.
The biggest thing I've done the past few days wasn't an apology as such. I stood up and voiced my opinion and worries to my closest friend here, something I had been debating for weeks. She was beginning to get into a situation which was causing a lot of gossip around town which could have proven to be really bad for her, and it was beginning to remind me of a situation I'd been in earlier in the year. A situation where I didn't try to voice my misgivings and talk my friend out of her actions, encouraging her instead because I knew that's what she wanted me to do. It's something I've regretted for months, still regret even though I apologized for it, but she's the type of person who will just blow off that type of apology because she doesn't think it's relevant or necessary. I happen to disagree, but whatever.
This time, I decided I wasn't going to do the same thing twice. I was going to be the better friend and do what I could to help my friend stay out of trouble. And I'm so glad I did. I'd be glad even if this friend hadn't listened to me and understood what I was saying. Because I learned from my mistake and I voiced my opinion. More than that, I had an opinion.
Slightly bigger than baby steps now, but I'm still going in the right direction.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
"How Much She Blamed Herself"
By this point, it's fairly obvious that I have issues which I have been struggling with for years. Family issues, relationship issues, cutting issues, friend issues...emotional wreck issues. You get the idea.
Every time I get on here, I write a new post about my life and my problems, etc etc. I have the tendency to go back and forth on things, to be doing really well in one aspect of my life...until something else happens and then it all comes crashing down and I have to start all over. Which is neither fun nor particularly easy. After I have my regularly scheduled regression into issues which had been over and done with, I tell myself "Yes, you screwed up, but you're going to work even harder against that this time."
It's taken me awhile to really realize and accept one part of me, to see that what I'm doing isn't good for me and it's only making everything else harder. It's not my sexuality. It's not my cutting. It's not my exhausting family or emotional stunting due to my exes.
It's my shame.
If I were to describe everything that has happened to me, I would somehow eventually lead it all back to it being my fault somehow, even when it wasn't. I blame myself for being weak, for not standing up for myself, for letting people use me. I've always blamed myself for what went on at home, for not being stronger and keeping everything inside.
Twice this week I met with missionaries from my church and I opened up to them, to total strangers. Cried my eyes out like a baby; they're started to carry tissues just for when they meet with me because they know I will cry. And I do. But I realized that the only way I am going to get better and be the person I so desperately need to is by working through everything and coming to an understanding with myself and with God.
Today, I finally understood that I do more than just blame myself for these things: I hold onto them and I refuse to forgive myself, especially for the things that really were my fault. I haven't forgiven myself for letting myself mark and scar my skin in order to feel as though I was in control. I haven't forgiven myself for allowing an event that I don't even remember to dictate how I viewed my body and my self-esteem or for furthering my loss of self by being with guys who didn't make me feel good about myself. And I especially haven't forgiven myself for not standing up to my dad and stopping what was going on at home until it got out of hand.
But, I think, I can work towards that, towards forgiving myself. I need to. There's a lot of anger and shame and self-doubt that I have to let go of, and I know it's going to be hard. There are going to be so many more tears, and I'm still not going to enjoy crying and the emotional upheaval and headache that always comes with it--not to mention I always snot myself to death when I cry, and I almost always end up crying in front of other people. Letting go of all the negativity and breaking down the walls I put up is going to hurt like hell.
But I also know it's worth it, and I can do it.
After practically fifteen years of this, I'm finally ready to let go and stop blaming myself.
Every time I get on here, I write a new post about my life and my problems, etc etc. I have the tendency to go back and forth on things, to be doing really well in one aspect of my life...until something else happens and then it all comes crashing down and I have to start all over. Which is neither fun nor particularly easy. After I have my regularly scheduled regression into issues which had been over and done with, I tell myself "Yes, you screwed up, but you're going to work even harder against that this time."
It's taken me awhile to really realize and accept one part of me, to see that what I'm doing isn't good for me and it's only making everything else harder. It's not my sexuality. It's not my cutting. It's not my exhausting family or emotional stunting due to my exes.
It's my shame.
If I were to describe everything that has happened to me, I would somehow eventually lead it all back to it being my fault somehow, even when it wasn't. I blame myself for being weak, for not standing up for myself, for letting people use me. I've always blamed myself for what went on at home, for not being stronger and keeping everything inside.
Twice this week I met with missionaries from my church and I opened up to them, to total strangers. Cried my eyes out like a baby; they're started to carry tissues just for when they meet with me because they know I will cry. And I do. But I realized that the only way I am going to get better and be the person I so desperately need to is by working through everything and coming to an understanding with myself and with God.
Today, I finally understood that I do more than just blame myself for these things: I hold onto them and I refuse to forgive myself, especially for the things that really were my fault. I haven't forgiven myself for letting myself mark and scar my skin in order to feel as though I was in control. I haven't forgiven myself for allowing an event that I don't even remember to dictate how I viewed my body and my self-esteem or for furthering my loss of self by being with guys who didn't make me feel good about myself. And I especially haven't forgiven myself for not standing up to my dad and stopping what was going on at home until it got out of hand.
But, I think, I can work towards that, towards forgiving myself. I need to. There's a lot of anger and shame and self-doubt that I have to let go of, and I know it's going to be hard. There are going to be so many more tears, and I'm still not going to enjoy crying and the emotional upheaval and headache that always comes with it--not to mention I always snot myself to death when I cry, and I almost always end up crying in front of other people. Letting go of all the negativity and breaking down the walls I put up is going to hurt like hell.
But I also know it's worth it, and I can do it.
After practically fifteen years of this, I'm finally ready to let go and stop blaming myself.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
"But It's All Getting Old"
I don't care how many scientists claim that crying is good for you and helps release pent up emotions...it's not fun. Personally, I get no joy from crying. It's almost painful, especially when I start crying and know I can't control it, which means I have to leave the room and walk past girls I see on a fairly regular basis. More emotions on top of the already fragile state that is me. Add to that the knowledge that every single girl in that room with me (totalling maybe 20) knew I left because the subject we were discussing was directly related to me and that I was crying.
I hate crying.
My mental and emotional breakdowns never occur when I'd like them to, they're conveniently inconvenient almost 100% of the time. And once I get started, it's very hard for me to stop. Floodgates have dropped and are locked in place until I get at least half of it out; but even the slightest thing could set me off again. Which means that the girls who I know were trying to make me feel better by hugging me after the meeting only served to nearly make me cry again. Honestly, I wish they'd just let me eat my brownie in peace. Brownies are good. They help me. Although hot chocolate would be even better.
Note to self: keep hot chocolate in stock all year.
Since I got back from my meeting about...10 minutes ago, I've been debating whether or not to call one of my friends and ask a favor: namely, her babysitting me for a bit so I don't start crying again. This particular friend knows a fair amount, she never asked for details and I never offered, but she understands enough. Right now, she's the only one I can go to physically. My roommate is busy taking care of her boyfriend, and my best friend is in Florida. Worse and worse options.
Being who I am, however, means that I won't call this friend and ask her to come watch something silly with me (most likely Beauty and the Beast because it's her favorite and we have it) and bring her ice cream. Instead, I will sit on the couch, eat a really big cinnamon roll with a glass of milk (sadly, it doesn't do quite the thing hot chocolate does for me but oh well), and find something online that hopefully won't make me cry.
Lovely.
I hate crying.
My mental and emotional breakdowns never occur when I'd like them to, they're conveniently inconvenient almost 100% of the time. And once I get started, it's very hard for me to stop. Floodgates have dropped and are locked in place until I get at least half of it out; but even the slightest thing could set me off again. Which means that the girls who I know were trying to make me feel better by hugging me after the meeting only served to nearly make me cry again. Honestly, I wish they'd just let me eat my brownie in peace. Brownies are good. They help me. Although hot chocolate would be even better.
Note to self: keep hot chocolate in stock all year.
Since I got back from my meeting about...10 minutes ago, I've been debating whether or not to call one of my friends and ask a favor: namely, her babysitting me for a bit so I don't start crying again. This particular friend knows a fair amount, she never asked for details and I never offered, but she understands enough. Right now, she's the only one I can go to physically. My roommate is busy taking care of her boyfriend, and my best friend is in Florida. Worse and worse options.
Being who I am, however, means that I won't call this friend and ask her to come watch something silly with me (most likely Beauty and the Beast because it's her favorite and we have it) and bring her ice cream. Instead, I will sit on the couch, eat a really big cinnamon roll with a glass of milk (sadly, it doesn't do quite the thing hot chocolate does for me but oh well), and find something online that hopefully won't make me cry.
Lovely.
Friday, August 3, 2012
"Feel a Little Bit Brave"
Last night, I made a big step. Big for me, at least. For other people, it probably wouldn't be that big a deal. I mean, all I did was voice my opinion to my mother. Easy, right?
Not for me.
Ever since I was little, I knew that I should keep a lot--if not all--of my opinions to myself when it came to my dad; it was easier that way because I wouldn't be disagreeing with him, even if I actually did disagree. My mom has always been another story.
She's much more easy going than my dad is, and she lived by that same rule when it came to my dad. Most of the time. When she didn't, they would fight. Or rather, dad would yell and mom would try to voice her opinions without making it too much worse. Usually, she wasn't that successful.
I love both my parents, but I have always gotten along better with my mom because of this. Which also meant that I was really hesitant about disappointing her. Let's face it, life is easier when you're on good terms with your parents. So, I tried really hard not to argue with her, to keep my differing opinions to myself and go with whatever flow she happened to be on. And some days, that sucked because I really didn't agree with what she was saying. But I was the good daughter and didn't argue or disagree...to her face.
All summer, my mom has really been pushing the idea of having my own small business so I could be self-sufficient and not depend on her or someone else to support me. In theory, it's great; I like money, it's fairly important in this world. So, I put on my interested face, went to meetings, talked up products, wheedled and bullied friends to get on calls that I honestly didn't care about...and it was exhausting. The only part I liked was the products I got out of it because they were helping me be healthier, and I tend to have issues trying to be a healthy college student.
This is why last night was such a big deal. Mom had been reminding me that there was a conference call for the new business (called 360) and said I needed to get on it.
I didn't.
When she sent me a text asking what I thought, I stared at my phone for a good five or ten minutes trying to come up with an "excuse" for why I didn't get on the call before I decided to bite the bullet and be entirely honest with my mom, possibly for the first time in the past six years. I told her that quite honestly, I didn't care about the business end. I liked the products, I would use the products, but the rest of it just wasn't me. And last night, I went to bed slightly worried because she hadn't answered.
This morning, all she said was she was thankful for my honesty and that she just wants me to be able to take care of myself.
So yeah, maybe saying "Hey, I don't want to do this" isn't a big deal for most people. But I feel good about it.
Not for me.
Ever since I was little, I knew that I should keep a lot--if not all--of my opinions to myself when it came to my dad; it was easier that way because I wouldn't be disagreeing with him, even if I actually did disagree. My mom has always been another story.
She's much more easy going than my dad is, and she lived by that same rule when it came to my dad. Most of the time. When she didn't, they would fight. Or rather, dad would yell and mom would try to voice her opinions without making it too much worse. Usually, she wasn't that successful.
I love both my parents, but I have always gotten along better with my mom because of this. Which also meant that I was really hesitant about disappointing her. Let's face it, life is easier when you're on good terms with your parents. So, I tried really hard not to argue with her, to keep my differing opinions to myself and go with whatever flow she happened to be on. And some days, that sucked because I really didn't agree with what she was saying. But I was the good daughter and didn't argue or disagree...to her face.
All summer, my mom has really been pushing the idea of having my own small business so I could be self-sufficient and not depend on her or someone else to support me. In theory, it's great; I like money, it's fairly important in this world. So, I put on my interested face, went to meetings, talked up products, wheedled and bullied friends to get on calls that I honestly didn't care about...and it was exhausting. The only part I liked was the products I got out of it because they were helping me be healthier, and I tend to have issues trying to be a healthy college student.
This is why last night was such a big deal. Mom had been reminding me that there was a conference call for the new business (called 360) and said I needed to get on it.
I didn't.
When she sent me a text asking what I thought, I stared at my phone for a good five or ten minutes trying to come up with an "excuse" for why I didn't get on the call before I decided to bite the bullet and be entirely honest with my mom, possibly for the first time in the past six years. I told her that quite honestly, I didn't care about the business end. I liked the products, I would use the products, but the rest of it just wasn't me. And last night, I went to bed slightly worried because she hadn't answered.
This morning, all she said was she was thankful for my honesty and that she just wants me to be able to take care of myself.
So yeah, maybe saying "Hey, I don't want to do this" isn't a big deal for most people. But I feel good about it.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
"Just a Gust of Wind"
My family was in town the past few days. Came up to bring my brother to school. I had friends who kept checking on me to make sure I was okay, one of them even called witha fake fried-emergency in case I needed a break from family drama. I didn't, but that's okay.
What is messing with my head the most right now is...my roommate actually liked my dad. None of my friends who have met my dad after I have told them what went on at my houseb actually liked him. They couldn't get past what I told them and my feelings about him. But my roommate thought he was a nice guy who really does care about his family, just doesn't know what to do to take care of them. And I know she's right, but I'm struggling to see that in everything I've been through.
On top of that, I was fixing some stuff on my brother's Facebook and was looking for miscellaneous family members to send requests to when I saw one of my brothers. Specifically, Ben: the brother my family has ignored the existance of since I was three. And it scared me. It scared me to have a visual reminder that he's not in jail. It scared me to see that one of my sisters has accepted him enough to have him on her Facebook. And it scared me that he could easily find my brother and get in touch with him because the only ones who know the full story are my parents and I. And probably my grandparents.
Between having my dad around for two days and then seeing Ben on Facebook, I can't help but look at who I used to be, before all of this happened and I spiralled downward into depression and self-deprecation. All the things that happened because I let situations control me and my life.
I'm not sure which part scares me more.
What is messing with my head the most right now is...my roommate actually liked my dad. None of my friends who have met my dad after I have told them what went on at my houseb actually liked him. They couldn't get past what I told them and my feelings about him. But my roommate thought he was a nice guy who really does care about his family, just doesn't know what to do to take care of them. And I know she's right, but I'm struggling to see that in everything I've been through.
On top of that, I was fixing some stuff on my brother's Facebook and was looking for miscellaneous family members to send requests to when I saw one of my brothers. Specifically, Ben: the brother my family has ignored the existance of since I was three. And it scared me. It scared me to have a visual reminder that he's not in jail. It scared me to see that one of my sisters has accepted him enough to have him on her Facebook. And it scared me that he could easily find my brother and get in touch with him because the only ones who know the full story are my parents and I. And probably my grandparents.
Between having my dad around for two days and then seeing Ben on Facebook, I can't help but look at who I used to be, before all of this happened and I spiralled downward into depression and self-deprecation. All the things that happened because I let situations control me and my life.
I'm not sure which part scares me more.
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