Move Along (Move Along)

Quick update before I'm off to class. Writing everything down felt great last week. Aside from that I have been busy with midterms and BF3, which is fantastic. Papers and projects are escalating as well.

Peace

There and Back Again

Disclaimer: I wrote this between 2-4 am. I am tired, but sober. I know it is too long to read. I don't even think I meant for it to be read, I just started typing without logical flow or progression, I just needed these thoughts to come out.

Not much has been happening, but I thought it had been long enough since an update. That's another thing I noticed about my older posts, they were too scattered and didn't have a solid time line, sometimes months would go by, probably because I felt like I was merely repeating myself over and over again. But that's okay because an accurate but annoying blog is better than a distorted interesting one, especially when I'm the only one that cares. So I hope to do once a week minimum.

In place of present events, I think I'll do a recap. You know how every show has one episode where it repeats everything for people who missed the beginning? Well, this is my version. Don't flatter yourself though, because this isn't for you. Writing things lets me re-analyse them, maybe find some more answers.

Anyhow,

I feel a bit better this past week, or maybe past couple days, I don't keep tight watch of these kind of things, I just know I didn't come ranting to the blog, so that's a good sign, I guess. Just letting it out, putting it somewhere else, anywhere else, is helpful. I'm not even concerned if no one reads it, or worse, that no one cares. I've always been accustomed to relying on only myself, hiding from or pushing others away to protect myself.

It started with not trusting either of my parents, caught between two people who care only about hurting each other isn't a very trusting or stable place to try and become a mentally stable individual. My mom was too busy preoccupied with trying to find a new man and being angry at my dad, while my dad lived thousands of kilometers away. So I learned to hide whatever I wanted inside without needing anyone else, or so I thought. It was more like acid eating away at me from the inside, thinking I was safe and protected from enemies while my insides burned to ashes.

It was here that I taught myself horrible coping mechanisms, there was so much hurt that I had no idea how to get rid of. When I was around 14 the poison started to affect me a lot. All I thought about was dying because I had not even the faintest clue how to function any other way, and there was no way I was going to continue living like that. I spent a lot of time listening to "emo" music because I wasn't able to put my feelings into words, I had thrown them deep inside, somewhere even I couldn't see at the time. So instead they manifested into moping, depression, thoughts of self-mutilation, desperation, but I refused to get real help and was convinced I wasn't different compared to others. That my childhood was normal and I was just like everyone else, therefore I was sad because I was missing something that other's had. That it was a problem that could be fixed by changing something in my external life.

I put a significant amount of hope into girls, that they were the cure to the mysterious disease that ravaged my mind. Unfortunately, in my current state I only attracted girls who were equally messed up, and commenced a three year roller coaster that was filled with dysfunction, obsession, control, manipulation, just two messed up teens. It distracted me because I was able to put 100% of my focus into trying to fix her, I could pretend I was healthy, simply because I had no obvious symptoms.

Not to bad mouth or blame her. I was passive, secretive, I enabled her. I learned a great deal about others but also she forced me to look into myself despite my heavy resistance. I started realizing that maybe I wasn't as normal as I wanted to be, that what happened had shaped me in very significant ways that aren't typical, especially for a child. After three years with her I began to strengthen and find my own footing, but the lessons were few and didn't prepare me for the future.

The breakup was confusing and I avoided dealing with it as much as possible, telling myself and everyone that it had no effect on me, that I had come to a logical conclusion and there could be no pain once I had that. Just like before I let the pain slowly poison me instead of safely disposing of it. I had only been hiding from the pain before her, and losing the distraction forced the pain from before to comeback, but with three years worth of interest, plus this new pain from the breakup. I had put the most time into her and although had some other friends, relied mostly on my socialization from her.

On top of that I had just graduated High School and lost touch with a lot of "friends" who I thought I was close to. Despite my texts and calls and trying to plan things, they just didn't want me in their life, so I lost everyone I could talk to. Meanwhile, I took a year off and started a new job at J&H.

These days were absolutely unbearable, everyday was hopeless. I thought about dying every second, but managed to paint this great smile on my face constantly. I began self-mutilation, and it was the best coping mechanism for instant happiness. Bruises and blood would send a rush of endorphins, for seconds I was fixed. And like any drug, you get desensitized to it, so I had to do it more frequently and more intense to keep the suicide at bay. I wasn't ready and didn't have a clear plan or note ready, so I fought them off as best I could, which meant this physical manifestation. All my hurt was internal, and it felt fake if it was merely my thoughts, so I made sure it became real on the outside as well.

Here, 6 months after ending the last relationship, I had become involved in another broken girl, this time from work. The infamous Cassie, the main reason this blog started. She was 2 1/2 years younger and had a worse childhood than I had and I thought she was at a mental stage that I used to be at. I tried my best to help her, because I thought I could, and she made me feel that I was.

She didn't spend the time I needed to trust her and I was also insecure about losing her, she had become my only reason to live, and although the depression and mutilation continued, it was getting better, I was improving, and not just hiding for once. I became attached very quickly, and very intensely. She would say things that made me so confident, so happy. ("When I think about my future I can only imagine myself with you" QUOTE) she wrote me pages after page of love letters, expressing her hope for us and opening up to me. Yet, my subconscious was always uneasy about her because her words and actions never quite aligned, something always felt wrong. But spending time with her made me the happiest I have ever been (past and present), and so I swept my worries under the rug.

Unfortunately, she was more important to me than anything else on the planet, including my well-being, even my life. If I thought killing myself would have made her life better, I would have done it in a second. A fucking scary thought now that I look back on it. But I was irrational. I lost my job, got a new one that sucked a lot. I could feel her pulling away and it scared the living hell out of me, to the point where one day I knew she was intentionally avoiding me, which made me snap.

I abused the hell out of myself and was terribly hurt, I can't find words to describe the feeling but it was worse than anything I had felt, which was pretty nuts. I didn't know what to do, I needed her, I told her I was going to end it. I wasn't 100% serious but I needed to see her, be comforted by her that if she wasn't going to respond to this then there was nothing else.

She responded by confirming my fears, the ones I convinced myself I had over-analysed, that I thought were only my insecurities causing me to doubt. She broke up with me via a text message, then called the cops to my house. The indescribable pain that I felt earlier that day became more intense. I ceased functioning for most of the day, lying under my blankets in the fetal position for hours, breathing 150 breaths a minute with a heartbeat probably over 130 (I'm usually about 80) for hours (speculation, of course). I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything, I had already hurt myself earlier and it didn't help, I was paralyzed. About three hours after breaking up I asked if she still loved me (because she had told me she did before, and I believed it). She said that she did. It gave me enough hope to not die, at least for now.

And then the cops showed up, while my mom and Dave were home, they checked my wrists but I was more creative than that. It was my chest that was torn to shreds, and they didn't find those marks. So I wasn't forced into the psychiatric ward because I denied the accusations. But my whole facade was broken, my mom, who had never known anything about me, now knew about my depression.

I finally forced myself to move, to get up from the bed. I ate a little food, I tried calling everyone I could trust, I needed to see someone else, to protect me from myself, to help me somehow, just make sure I wasn't alone that night. But they were all busy. Later I would find out that all my friends (close and drinking buddies) all went to a movie together and hung out that night, and no one informed me or invited me, they were "just busy" even when I asked about their plans. This hurt too, and I made sure to never need someone else ever again.

I spent that night like before, frozen, I couldn't think straight, everything was fuzzy, I couldn't sleep, time was as slow, I had entire theoretical conversations in between seconds. My gut was super angry from hurting so much. I got a call from one of her friends who proceeded to yell at me for making her cry. I tried to defend myself but I cared more for her not hurting than me dying, so I took the blame that I deserved.

All her friends and sister formed a tight protective circle to prevent me from talking to her. Despite me being in a much more fragile state, no one cared that I had wanted to commit suicide, only that me saying it hurt her.

Over the next months we texted, mostly her texting me. She kept giving me hope that we'd get back together and that it was her family and friends preventing it.

QUOTE

Owen- "I know I'll be okay, and I know that you'll be okay. What I fear, is that we won't okay."

Cassie- "I think we will be okay."

Unbeknownst to me, she had started dating the friend who had called me that night to yell at me. And she had done this two weeks after breaking up with me, despite leading me on more than a month later. I was doing counselling and had lost my new job, replacing it with a really good one that I kept till next fall when I started school.

My days had become manic, some days I would be hopeful and I was working through my problems. Most days I would think about her all day, super frustrated, there were a lot of mini-dramas with her, some of which are documented in the early posts. I had a multitude of questions that had no logical answers, to this day I never received any, but I don't need them anymore.

Therapy stopped working, one psychologist even said I didn't need it anymore, but I knew he was wrong. Despite my mood I had learned a lot of things and resolved to never need anyone again. I would always enjoy other people, but I narrowed my emotional range. I can't feel extra hurt and I won't hurt myself or even consider suicide anymore, but I also can't be as happy. The best way to describe it is becoming numb. Not entirely, but a significant amount.

For 6-7 months after breaking up she continued to text me, there were giant lulls sometimes, but frequent periods too. I had given up hope a while ago, but the wounds never went away. She talked to me about her boyfriend, about problems she was having, my advice on things. I gave her money when her friend ran out of food once (or so she said), about $400. She said she'd pay me back, I didn't expect it, and never got it anything.

While I was out of town at a family reunion she drunk called and texted me from 3am about how she was super drunk and getting some meth. This sent me back into a panic, I still cared about her extremely, and spent an hour trying to call her and talk her out of it, find details, and maybe find someone to help. I was utterly helpless, and it killed me. If I had been in Saskatoon I would have driven and found her because she gave me a location, but I couldn't and it hurt.

Fast forward a week or so, one night I was feeling depressed again and was drunk at a random bar far from home. In a moment of extreme bad judgment I called her, she was driving around thinking, so she picked me up. We talked, more like me being a belligerent, drunken idiot. I didn't get any answers out of her and even jumped out of her car trying to prove a point (can't remember why). My knee still has the scar from that brilliant decision. The conversation was a waste of time but I felt that I had been "strong" or something during it, I felt better.

Or so I thought, 15 minutes later I get a call from her friend saying they were outside where I was and wanted to talk to me. So it's her best friend and her boyfriend (phone call guy). They say that Cassie had told them that I had been hitting her, and that I tried to kill myself by jumping out of her car (not true) and that cops had searched her car (they stopped her cuz I was urinating publicly, but just gave me a warning)

I was really drunk and tried to deny things, but they wouldn't believe me and I started believing them, that I had actually done these things. Her friend started hitting me while her boyfriend watched. I think he wanted to seriously shit stomp me (he easily could), but we were in public, and my humiliation was enough to satisfy them. They eventually left after her friend's yelling and hitting started to get noticed. I tried telling them about the drunk calls, and her texts, that she had told me she was doing meth. That I'm not trying to hurt her, that I never would, but no one listened. Caring about her made me the enemy.

That was the last night I talked to her or any of her friends. For the next 8 months I felt like shit, sleep was very hard to acquire, depression was everywhere, surrounding me, but I refused to give in. I drank a lot, and alcohol made me a slobbering mess, I think I got a reputation for being psychotic from my friends, but it didn't bother me, I had felt things that they couldn't even begin to fathom, I had been places many people never go even for a life time. I was smarter and more experienced and although I was still broken, I was stronger. I did a little bit of mutilation, not much, just once or twice, but learned to easily control it. I slowly repaired myself and strengthened my resolve to never need anyone ever again.

I met Hannah out of the blue again, I had known her in high school. And we hit it off right away. I won't go into details but I kept growing, refused to hide from my past. I felt very confident and very stable around her. My recent post described what happened well enough. My growth has been exponential and despite taking a long while to get it going I have changed a lot for the better during the time I was with her. I still have my moments of weakness, see every post in the last month. But they are just moments, and I continue my journey upwards. Even though it still hurts some days, I am not afraid to stare into the abyss.

Now I know I don't need anyone.

Bruised

I keep asking myself if I made the right decision. Hannah and I had a lot of good times together and I enjoyed spending time with her.

Without a doubt I am less happy without her, and the days go slower and my mind wanders to the worst parts of my mind. I was 100% stable and positive and "normal" when we were going out, and it's probably exactly where I should be. I felt really confident and great.

I also find it hard to find someone who is attracted to me. Let alone who will also put up with my chaotic history that pervades my subconsciousness. I spent a long time, in this blog especially, talking about how happy I would be when I found someone after Cassie. And then I somehow came to the conclusion that I should go back to being alone, and I hate being alone. Well, that's not what I thought would happen but it's what ended up happening.

I thought that my confidence and self-esteem would continue, that I would be able to make some serious improvements that had to be made alone. Things that I couldn't do with anyone else. I also don't know enough about people, and I wanted to be a part of others' happiness, and their sadness too, just understand more people and learn more from first hand experience. It had nothing to do with wanting other people or not wanting her, I know I wasn't ready for what I had. But instead, I sit alone and write here.

I guess part of me was afraid to open up to her completely because the 50% that I had shown had hurt her, so I left the other 50% stay hidden, and it didn't allow us to grow together because I had to protect her from myself. I think she will be better off without me, maybe not immediately, but she'll find someone who is ready and who never had any psychosis, I think she will be happy.

Also, I've always been a fanatic of improving and growing, and I felt like I was stagnating. I wasn't ready to stay who I was/am and I guess I needed to go back to pain and failure if I was to continue at all.

Do i miss her? Of course I miss someone to hold and someone who cares about me. but I think this is where I need to be.

I have such a low opinion of myself, and I know this is self-defeating. But when I compare myself to others, although I have a lot of good qualities, I see a lot of gigantic warning signs that would keep people away from me, some major deal breakers.

Although the whole of this song doesn't really fit me or anything, these two lines from the chorus, I feel, ring true.

Jack's Mannequin: Bruised

I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this:

Like every inch of me is bruised

And my greatest fear is that I'm right. That I am too crazy, too bruised, and that eventually everyone will notice that I'm not quite like them.

Revisted

So I just spent the last hour re-reading every post I've written, and listening to all the songs I posted. There are a couple things that I noticed this time around.

1. My spelling was garbage, so many typos and mistakes, it's embarrassing

2. I've changed so much in my outlook and how I respond to things, I'm surprised by who I've become

3. I filter my words a lot more than I think, I remember exactly how terrible those days felt, but reading them doesn't come to close to expressing the true emotions.

4. Posting song lyrics instead of writing real words was stupid. Sure I still love music and relate to it, but it's a media used to express my message, not a message in it's own right. I think I was too afraid of what people would think if I wrote my real thoughts, because I felt suicidal and destructive, and I acted on it to an extent. You'd never know that through those posts though.

Many may notice the time, and wonder if I'm drunk. I'm not, I'm just lonely and feeling a little sad. I'm not feeling like I want to. I'm not the person I thought I'd be, I think I've failed my years of attempted growth.

I'm smarter, I'm stronger, I'm more resilient, I'm calmer, I have more self-control. But I don't feel different enough. Sure all the little things have improved, but I'm not sure the important parts have. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic in a moment of weakness?

The other night's dream was obviously about Cassie if anyone didn't get that, I didn't want to say it at the time because I feel foolish that she still shows up in my dreams to hurt me. Even though I have no control over that kind of thing, I still blame myself. In fact I blame myself for a lot of things, I don't know how else to function.

Sometimes, I wish I could just purge my insides, clean out the anger, the disappointment, the blame, just cry, and feel ok with who I am and what's going on around me. That I don't need to always improve things. But I can't, this self-perpetuating pain only hardens my features, these scars remind me of the price I paid, to never forget.

Absolving the past would require making peace with it, and I don't think I can ever feel peace for what happened and who was involved. The lessons I learned cost me blood, and I'll be damned if I ever let them fade away.

Forests of Nightmares

So I'm still working on that sleeping thing, getting better. Only spent an hour or two awake this time. Ironically, this night it was being asleep that was the weird part. I had an epic dream that continued even after waking, I'd awake get up, fall asleep and re-enter the story.

I got up 30 minutes ago so the details are going to be a little fuzzy now, but I remember the important parts

It started with me in a past girl's new house, and for some reason I was still head over heels for her in the dream, we just talked for a while and although I remembered every detail about her. She couldn't even manage to remember my name except that it's, "short and rough sounding." She starts warning me that I should leave before her friends, who she knows hate me, show up. But right as I'm about to leave the whole place gets flooded with her friends. I vaguely remember them surrounding me and ushering violent threats. But I can't remember exactly what happened next.

But all of a sudden I'm back in High School, and although she never literally went to my school, she's there in my class, but as a 'guest' of mine who is attending my classes, yet she is being equally as disinterested and uncaring as before. The apathy feels like a crushing weight. Everyone breaks for lunch and while eating I recognize some of my real life high school friends over at a table, I don't have time to talk to them because I realize that she's gone, and for some reason it's urgent that I find her. I pull out my phone and txt her, and she replies with something vague about another world or dimension, it's kind of fuzzy right now.

Anyway, So now I get sucked into this other world, and there's 3 people now, me, her, and I swear doc brown. Not him exactly, but some strange scientist I don't recognize. But we're in this gigantic forest, and doc tells us that the place is growing extremely quickly and is trying to kill us. So we all start running, apparently there are "cities" and safe spots or something, so there is hope of living. We run like mad from growing entangles that are trying to grab us, and brush coming out of nowhere. Trees are thickening like giant redwoods, while vines lash out. She mentions something about finding the best exit, or safe zone or something of that sort. But at this time I've lagged behind a bit, probably 5 metres and it's getting worse. I know that they know that I can't keep up and need help. By now they're out of sight. I come to the last known spot where I heard them. But they're nowhere to be seen, and I feel terribly alone. There's a sign showing a make shift map, showing me where I am and the general places of the "cities".

As I read it I understand fully that there is no way I'm going to make it to any of these places, I essentially sit back and wait for the forest to devour me. Left behind.

At this point I'm awake, but it's 45 minutes before my alarm is set, and I lie there, waiting until my alarm before getting up. Just thinking about the horrible apathy.

Sleep and Psych

My sleep schedule is getting pretty weird these days. For some reason I have trouble sleeping on Mondays and Wednesdays. The two days I have to wake up early in the morning for class (Tues/Thurs) are the days I spend hours lying awake thinking about random things, sometimes hypothetical situations from the past, sometimes meaningless things, example: movies.

I wake up feeling like crap, go through the day, end up going to bed around midnight and sleeping for 11+ hours the next night, with no distractions and perfect peace. But come day before class, and I'm having trouble again.

I definitely don't go to bed with too much energy because I exercise daily around 8 and lie down tired. Ugh, frustrating. I'm not too worried about it though. Historically, sleeping has been one of the most reliable things (excluding 2008-2009) and I'm confident that it will return to normal soon.

Anyhow, back to writing some psychology. I get to write about why I didn't want to break a social norm in public (as in singing in a restaurant or something equally embarrassing), and I'm having fun writing circles to why I didn't want to, then linking it to known effects and biases and how my own judgement was wrong etc etc. Short but sweet.

aaaaannnnnndddd I'm gone

Self-Control (Or the lack there of)

Went out for Spo's birthday Saturday night. Pre-drank at Ross's place for 2 1/2 hours before going to JT's, when we showed up we immediately took shots, bad idea. A bunch of cove people showed up and the place was pretty dead. I was barely hanging on but managed a drunk text conversation that was extremely stupid and embarrassing. I felt like a pretty big tool the next morning.

I ended up jumping on a cab at 1:30 and just listening to music for 2 hours before going to sleep, which saved me from more alcohol. My Mom and Dave were gone for the weekend and I left the car at Ross's, so I was car-less for the next 2 days. Biking everywhere was a good thing though, because after drinking for 4 nights out of 7 I needed to do some serious cardio.

Trying to not drink obviously didn't work, so I plan to try and keep it down to twice a month (perhaps thrice). It doesn't help that my friends only come together when there is alcohol involved so I don't see them unless everyone's drunk.

In other news, I haven't touched my Panzer 4 in nearly a month (Pics on facebook). After I finished Arrested Development I didn't have a show on netflix to watch, and I can't work on it without something for my brain to do. So it sits on my table, staring at me with these sad, puppy dog eyes asking to be finished and placed on the shelf with its brothers.

However, my computer is finally getting shipped back to Saskatoon, after taking flippin 2 months because of UPS damaging it and claims and waiting for parts to come in etc etc. It is now ready and should begin the journey home tomorrow. If I'm lucky I should have it by Friday.

Field of Daggers

Woe to the King of Nothing.

I see a clean blood running! Brothers of sorrow,

Here is your kingdom coming.

Bring life to tired hopes, buried in fields of flowers.

Bring many sons of battle to glory.

Mroz's bday

So we went out to James' then to Winston's for Matt's 21st. Josh and Megan came down for the weekend and its nice to see them. For no particular reason I just wasn't feeling into hanging out in Winston's. Either go to a bar and actually party, or stay in James' and hangout and talk, going somewhere just to pay more and make it inconvenient to get home doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I guess more people showed up that wouldn't have come to James', so it makes sense, I just wouldn't have done it.

I was about to walk home just before 10 but they noticed me leaving and offered to give me a ride, which I couldn't refuse. I don't seem to enjoy large table discussions unless I'm in a good mood. When I'm feeling crappy I prefer a 1 or 2 people to talk to instead. So I caught a ride home with the first driver, Britt, which turned out better than expected.

I did a lot of talking and I was happy to have a listener for the first time in a while. And, despite the conversation not breaking through any problems, she reminded me that some questions don't have answers, and expecting or wanting them is futile. If I can manage to control my thoughts a little more I hopefully I can solve the sleeping problem.

I guess the biggest take-away was to not let my first thoughts and instincts to control anything, because mine are self-defeating. I have a choice how I react but I was allowing myself to float along.

Hopefully I take these reminders seriously and that they stick, unlike the last time I learned them.

New Layout

So I changed the title and the pictures of the Blog. I felt it was time to upgrade. I really like the staircase picture that I found, it's the perfect metaphor along with being a quality picture. Blogkillington (the old title) was nonsensical and so I came up with something a little more mature, although I can't think of something that great, Partially Whole will have to do. I think it's appropriate.

The description under the header is from the last post, I'm quite happy with it.

Anyway,

I'm starting to consistently have trouble sleeping. I've fallen into habits from previous years where I have trouble turning off my brain. I think myself in circles, mostly analysing scenarios from years ago that have no effect on me today. Worse yet, I've been re-opening wounds from before that, although I knew had never healed, I thought they had at least been cauterized. If that sentence makes sense, it does to me anyhow.

I'm not really sure how to fix it, whenever I don't have something positive to occupy my thoughts (a person) I tend to default to self-defeating ones. And I know this is treating the symptom and not the disease, but I don't know what the disease is. And frankly, this is how I've always been, and wouldn't changing this change the core of who I am?

A Good Part

This short breakdown in a song I've been listening to pretty much sums up how I feel towards myself. Although the whole song isn't that good.

This part is perfect: from 3:50-4:15

These words of mine are trite and so cliché.

Still, we find a place in everything.

It's just to break the silence that has been crushing me.

Half of me is dead, already gone.

Half is screaming everyone is wrong.

Finally asking now, will you just hear me out?

Heeerrrrreeeee's Johney

I've decided to come back and start writing again, not because I need a place to rant to or because I want people to read about me. Nor do I need a crutch to support myself. There are two main reasons (and I'm sure a bunch of reasons I'm not conscious of) for coming back.

1. Removing my thoughts from the infinity of intangibility and forcing them into a physical form, one that can be criticized and which lets me look at myself from a third person perspective. This will help me overcome any bias that I have about myself.

2. Cataloguing, I don't like to be in pictures because I'm not very photogenic but I don't want to forget any part of my past, everything I am is a linear accumulation, and if I have nothing to cue memory retrieval it becomes distorted and forgotten.

That's all I want to write right now