There is nothing I can look at for very long, except the sea.

Gamut

Today was awful. I’m lying in bed now, I can say this with authority.

I don’t want to count the ways in which it was terrible but at every turn something went wrong.

The day ended with my roommate acting snippy at me (after which she crawled into bed with all the lights on and threw the covers over her head rather than talk to me to say she was going to bed and wanted the lights off) and my making myself throw up in the bathroom. That actually was a highlight, got this awesome sense of euphoria even though I know I’ll be in pain tomorrow.

Something really needs to change for me.

I tried talking to my mother about it but instead we got into a fight. She thinks that when I try to talk about my emotional problems I’m saying she’s a bad mother, which I’m not saying that at all. And then she went on to say that she was a good mother I was just “bad”. Of course what she means by bad is that I didn’t do every little thing she asked and I talked back to her when I felt angry. I never caused her one second of real trouble.

I just need someone to support me. It’s really hard fighting battles all by yourself, I feel so alone. No one cares about me except me and even I’m having a hard time giving a shit.

Trials

Today has been a trial, a long, multi-part trial. You already saw my rant from this morning and it only escalated from there.  I’m just trying really hard to ignore all the anger and let it go so I can be both productive and not make my heart attack me.

god damn it

I just spilled water all over every important electronic I own.  

All over my wacom tablet, my iphone, ipad and ipod, a drawing of Thor which had to be thrown away, all over my earbuds, usb/lightning cords, a gorgeous kid’s book, my dad’s watch, even my tax documents got wet from a stupid glass of water that was not even half full tumbling at exactly the wrong angle. 

And i’m swearing and frantically trying to wipe water up, trying to figure out what gets saved first and my roommate just lays in bed reading her iphone. I’m like jesus christ you couldn’t have at least grabbed me some paper towels? 

Heart

I’m really worried. I’ve been having heart palpitations for several days now.

It doesn’t hurt but then I worry that maybe it does. I’m hoping it’s just stress. I went out and bought food with omega 3 and a ton of liqueur, red wine and whiskey. I figure I need to self medicate to calm myself down. Alcohol is the only medication I have to anesthetize my brain. I don’t even like drinking so I’m not too worried about trying it out for a few days.

I’ve tried drinking more water and now I’m about to sleep with my legs elevated. I’m so worried about what that means and why I can suddenly feel my heart beating when I didn’t notice it before.

Online says it’s most likely nothing serious but that I should go to the doctor. But with no health insurance I’m not sure where I can go that won’t cost me my rent money. I don’t want to go unless it’s an emergency.

Girl, reminded

You ever watch Girl, Interrupted? There was that girl Polly aka “Torch” whose face was burned severely. Do you remember that scene where she sees Suzanna and a boy making out and then that night she remembers how severely scarred she is and wakes up sobbing and screaming uncontrollably because she will never be loved?

That always stood out to me because that’s kind of how I feel about myself and my depression/anxiety/loneliness. Most days I pretend, forget or ignore it, but then Valentine’s day comes around or some other such love-display and this despair just crushes me.

Relief

Just got back from a therapy session. I cried again. I hate that. It makes me feel so stupid.

But she said, “You sound depressed,” and those three words coming from her mouth gave me such relief.

Like, yes I am not exaggerating. I don’t need to just suck it up. I’m not losing my mind. This is real. What I am feeling is real and legitimate.

snowballing

I uploaded a whole bunch of concepts to the database for the guy I’m freelancing for and he wrote me a very ambiguous “Hey, let’s talk” email which has filled me with all kinds of anxiety because that means he didn’t like them.  If he did like them, he would have said so.  There’s nothing I can do about it now. I just hope that it’s not too bad.  He gave us very little direction, so I guess it can’t be helped.

I’m trying not to get too stressed about it and remind myself that stuff like this happens ALL THE TIME. Nobody can like everything that I do. That’s just not possible.  Art school was all about critique, critique, critique.  Everyone tore your stuff up all the time.

I just worry that he’s not going to like this and then he’s not going to like the next thing and then he’s going to end my contract. Freelancing is all about pleasing people. Please people is so hard to do.

I’m trying not to think about it but I can’t seem to stop. :/

I know it’s wasted energy, focusing on this. I won’t know what he thinks until I talk to him. It might not even be that bad. Or maybe I’ll have to start over from scratch. I don’t know. That’s it, I just can’t know until sometime tomorrow.

This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me panic for a full time job. Someone wouldn’t fire me over this.

If I could just make some freaking money I wouldn’t have to fear about every negative comment. 

I don’t think about my future anymore. I used to day dream about it, what I’d be doing, where I’d be working. Now it’s just too bleak to imagine. When I think about ten years from now, I imagine myself destitute. Or just not alive. I just don’t see how someone like me is going to make it. The other day I had this macabre thought about how I should start cleaning out my stuff now and making contingency planes for the moment I keel over dead unexpectedly like my dad did.

Sometimes I wonder if he had a life online, are there people we didn’t know about who wonder about him and where he’s gone, not knowing that he’s dead? He did travel a lot. He spent all his time on the computer or in front of the tv.

I’ve been thinking so much about him lately, about how he’s dead. I just can’t seem to get over that fact. It’s weird. He died two years ago and for some reason the last few weeks, it’s just on my mind. I’m walking in the hall in my apartment, My dad died, I’m eating yogurt, Dad would have liked this but he’s dead, I’m cooking eggs, Dad made great eggs but not anymore.

Sorry if I keep talking about him. I know it’s depressing and awful and who wants to read about that, but I think I’m going to have to talk about him for a little while yet. He’s somehow tangled up in my job woes, in my sad, pathetic practically non existent little career. Dad was kind of proud of me, but it was in that way that you’re proud of a five year old for making you dinner It’s the best she could do, she tried. My parents were shocked that I could anything at all, that I could function as a human being without their constant. They have such a low opinion of me and my abilities that they were surprised I could order a soda on my own (Yes, this is an actual example my mother relayed to me that my father said when I told them I was moving to Cali to go to grad school— they did not think I would do it).

Sometimes it feels like my unresolved issues with my dad are the root of everything. He was such an overbearing influence in my life, everything had to be for him, that I am still discovering things I did and quirks I have that were solely to please him.

much on my mind

It’s been raining pretty steadily here for the last few days.  It’s good I guess because we need the rain, being in a drought and all.  But it sets a depressive kind of mood.  Everything is dark and wet and no one wants to leave the apartment.

My roommate has been laying in bed all morning and it makes it difficult to get things done. I’m not sure if I can make noise or not. It’s after noon, so I’m going to get on with things that I have to do around the room. It’s my room too. 

I’ve been restless and indecisive more and more lately. There are a million things I need to do, but I only have so much inclination. I think I will feel a bit better about things once I make my list and start tackling them.  

I don’t know about you but I can’t seem to move on with my tasks if I feel like my space is a mess.  I’m not exactly a neat person, but right now, even though there are other pressing things to do, I know I need to take an hour and straighten things up before I will get any kind of productive work done.

Sometimes I wonder if this habit is anxiety or if it’s a quirk related to me. It’s probably something to do with control anyway. 

False Memories

Last night I dreamed that my Dad hadn’t actually died, or that he was back or something. I remember feeling so confused and not understanding how we were going to explain to everybody, myself included, that he was alive. I remember seeing him around the house as he was before he got entrenched with multiple illnesses.

I’ve dreamed this once before but I’ve been thinking about it all day, like all day I’m remembering my Dad from the dream as if was a thing that really happened and I have to keep reminding myself, No, that’s not a memory. That was from your dream.

And it’s kind of been a sad day because of it. :/

the-treble:

fuck-benedict:

can we just collectively agree as a generation that we aren’t going to care if each other’s houses are clean when we visit bc im gettin real sick of the “the house has to be spotless or our guests will judge us” deal my parents got goin on

none of us in this generation is going to be able to afford a house.

(via norrihiddlesrdjfandral)

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