I don't really understand what sick pleasure the universe receives from hurting me, but it must feel ahh-mazing, because it keeps happening. It seems like I take one step forward, and start feeling positive about something, and in the blink of an eye, I'm knocked back fifty feet. I'm just to sick and tired, physically and mentally. I feel so beaten down, and I don't understand if this is some kind of karmic punishment, or something else.
Lately, I've been feeling utterly alone; in every sense of the phrase. It's like everyone around me is so preoccupied with other people and obligations that I'm just starting to slip away from everyone's view. There's always been some part of me that has felt invisible at one time or another, but now, I really am starting to believe that I am no longer a part of this world. I think I've always sought refuge from myself in others, but now there is nowhere to hide, and I am being faced with all my demons all at once, and I have no armor. What makes this so much worse is the fact that my depression makes me feels isolated even in the happiest of times, but now people, who I thought were close to me, aren't even noticing my absence; and it's starting to kill me.
When I say that people don't notice my absence, I mean that in a few ways. It can be little things, like at home, I'll be locked away in my bedroom for hours, yet no once seems to notice or care. Which, maybe I'm just being self-centered, and people are busy, and my whereabouts are not a priority. I don't want or need to be the center of anyone's universe, it just hurts when I hear my family laughing and talking, and carrying on. My anxiety makes me irrational at times, so I'm probably blowing this way out of proportion. However, to me, when this happens, it just feels like life would persist perfectly fine without me.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I was actually having a really nice time with my family. I helped my mom make this huge meal, and it was really fun catching up with my family. Things actually felt pretty decent, which doesn't happen so much for me these days. On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I decided to get on Facebook really quickly to see if someone had replied to a Birthday message I sent them. Getting on Facebook was probably the dumbest thing I could have ever done, especially at a time when I was feeling really good. ( I tend to avoid most forms of social media like the plague, because it just feels so fake, and at the same time, I depresses me, because even though I know no one could actually be having a time as fabulous as the one they are posting five million photos and statuses about, it still sucks to see people doing [seemingly] so much more with their lives than I am.)
The first thing that popped up on my Facebook feed was a photo of all of my best friends from High School. At first I smiled because they all looked like they were having a nice time, but then I realized that the photo was uploaded just moments ago, and at that exact moment all of the people who I still called my best friends had decided to get together for dinner, and I was not with them. I was not with them because not a single person, in a group of at least seven people, could be bothered to invite me. The fact that I was literally talking to my mom about my great friendships that had withstood grade school just days before really struck a nerve. In previous years, whenever this group (formerly called "our group" when I would talk to others about my great high school friends) would get together, there would be a group message on Facebook, and some texts would be exchanged to make sure we could all make it. I can only assume that the same string of events transpired, the only difference this time was the fact that no one cared or remembered to invite me.
I had never really felt like an actual member of this group, to be honest. I was always just a part of it because I had really tight relationships with at least two people in the group. While all of these friends went away to college our bonds loosened a bit, but at least two of these individuals stayed in actual contact with me. I called these two people my absolute, ride or die, best friends. Until the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I would have honestly died for these people. I had been through so much with them. Well, looking back, I had actually put up with too much from these people. I am just now beginning to realize that our friendships were very one-sided, and held together by a very thin bond. I had been the person left to pick up the pieces for these two countless times. When they needed a shoulder to cry on, I was there. When they needed relationship advice, or a place to vent, I was there. Looking back though, neither of these people were ever there for me like that. In fact, neither of these people, who I know so much about, know anything about the struggles I've been dealing with for years. Part of that could be because I'm quite secretive, but the main reason is because neither have ever put in any real effort to get to know the real me. They basically just used me. That fact hurts. No, it devastates me.
It was like everything I thought I knew came crashing down around me all at once. Friendships that I thought would withstand anything, were actually made of glass. So here I sit, sifting through years of friendship, getting cut by the shards of falsehood. When I saw the picture, I was angry, yes, but I really just wanted to burst into tears. I held them back though, until that night. I cried alone, in my pitch black bedroom, for what felt like an eternity. I always resort to crying in private. I suppose a part of me feels like the pain isn't as real or intense if no one can see it, especially if I can't see it. When you cry in the dark, you can feel the tears, but you don't have to see them. Seeing them is like accepting them, and pain isn't worthy of acceptance.
After this marvelous revelation on friendship, or my lack thereof, I just sort of felt empty. Well, I still fell empty. I mean, I still have my family, but it was nice believing that people who weren't genetically obligated to care about you, were concerned about your well-being. I've had nothing but time on my hands lately, and I've just been thinking about my life, and the path that I'm currently on. Most days, it feels like the world is moving forward all around me, and every day I'm just on auto-pilot, reliving this little loop of an existence. I have got to find a way to change my course, and get on a different, preferably linear, track.
Perhaps I can use my isolation to my advantage. A part of me wonders if the universe has a grand plan for me; I just have to accept the negatives and work through them, instead of trying to go around them. Maybe I'm supposed to be alone right now, so I can grow internally; find out the inner workings of my soul. Instead of having someone to run and hide behind so I don't have to face my fears, and myself alone, I am going to have to put on a brave face. I've viewed solitude as a negative thing for as long as I can remember, I guess I'm going to have to rework my thought processes. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to be alone my entire life (or at least for a large part of it), so I might as well get used to it, and make the most of it.
You know that feeling when you walk into a room with the intention of doing something or grabbing something, but as soon as you enter the room you cannot, for the life of you, remember what you were going to do or get? I feel like I'm perpetually living through that feeling. It's like I walked into the room of adulthood and now I cannot figure out what I was supposed to do here. It's like at one point, I must have known what I needed to do when I got here, but time, society, and self-doubt have faded my once clear intentions. Is there any chance of remembering my purpose in this life? Or am I doomed to walk through life aimlessly, hoping I'll eventually remember?
I've been doing a lot of soul searching and web searching in regards to my anxiety disorder. Initially, I had hoped that my research would lead me to some fantastical cure for my anxiety, or at least a highly effective coping mechanism. Both efforts failed pretty miserably. I did, however, reaffirm what I already knew, that I suffer severely from social anxiety disorder, or SAD (what a shitty, and highly accurate nickname for this condition).
I have been very "SAD" lately, and feeling hopeless. I've been experiencing all of the tell-tale signs and side effects of social anxiety disorder. I'm slowly becoming a reclusive shut-in, my relationships are suffering greatly, and my anxiety is trumping my ambition. My entire life has felt like a giant game of tug and war, and I'm always on the losing team. There's an old Native American tale (and I'm paraphrasing here) about how every person has two wolves battling inside of them for control over their spirit. One wolf is good, and the other is evil. Ultimately, we choose which wolf to feed, and allow to win. I feel like instead of having a good wolf and a bad wolf, I have an ambitious wolf and a severely depressed, slightly suicidal wolf, who simply wants to stay in bed all day and eventually just die in its sleep so it doesn't have to face another battle with life.
I know that is probably one of the most depressing things you've ever read, it's one of the most depressing things I've ever written. (We can just marinate in this depressing statement for a moment, if you'd like. It might give the rest of what I have to say a bit more of an impact. So let's simmer here for one more second . . . yes, my life really is as tumultuous as that statement alludes. Pretty bleak stuff, isn't it? I think we've simmered long enough, back to your regularly scheduled blog post)
Since dropping out of school, I've not really done a whole lot of anything. My parents are urging me and expecting me to get a job, or try to start some online classes. The thing is, I get anxiety thinking about the amount of anxiety trying to hold down a job will cause me. For the most part, I can hide my anxiety, (or so I think) no one outside of my immediate family, other than my neighbor, who is like a little brother to me, so I lump him into family, even knows that I suffer from any kind of anxiety. In school, people just thought I was shy, or a nerd, or a bitch (I got called of the above, and picked on for years, which looking back, probably only heightend my social anxiety). Hiding the level of anxiety that I experience on a daily basis in social situations is exhausting. It's like running a mental marathon. Part of my condition causes me to obsess over minute details and constantly live in fear that I am being judged. With a job, you are constantly being judged on how well you handle details, and if you mess up, you don't get paid. It's a terrifying thought for me to wrap my head around. I so desperately want to be independent and self-sufficient, but my anxiety is physically debilitating.
If I want to postpone getting a job, I have to seek out some form of education. The only thing is, I have no idea what I want to do, or what I can do. School has always been one of the greatest sources for my anxiety. I am incredibly smart and capable of breezing through any course, (that's not intended to sound arrogant) but the physical act of attending a class paralyzes me with fear. When I am sitting in a classroom, I am constantly bombarded with waves of fear. I feel like everyone is judging me, and staring at me, and just waiting for me to slip up and say or do something stupid. I've always sat in the back of classrooms (if possible) to avoid the eyes of my peers boring into the back of my head. When professors ask a question to the class, I always know the answer, but I physically cannot raise my hand to answer it out loud (the worst teachers are the ones who just want you to blurt out an answer without even raising your hand. I've always thought those teachers were put on this Earth for the soul purpose of trying to kill me).
Sure, there are online classes, but even those freak me out. With an online class, there is still electronic correspondence with instructors. Writing an email to a professor takes every fiber of my being, because I don't want to look like an idiot. I obsess over every period and comma. I actually have to psych myself up just to open up a blank email tab, because I'm that terrified of speaking (actually just typing) to another human being. Furthermore, when it comes down to deciding on what to major in, I'm lost. I am interested in many areas, and capable of doing so many things (well, capable if we remove the anxiety cards from the table), but I have to consider my SAD when it comes to planning my career path. This is a world that thrives on communication, the one thing I dread most in life. There aren't really many jobs out there that cater to people who can't order a sandwich in public without rehearsing their order a thousand times in their head before the waitress comes, so they don't appear ignorant.
Based on my research, the best career for people who suffer from anxiety is actually writing. The one thing I enjoy doing most in this world. The only problem is that this is a very difficult career to make a living in. Trust me, homegirl isn't getting a dime off of this blog, and she doesn't anticipate any cash coming in anytime soon. Who wants to pay a whiney shut-in to write about being a whiney shut-in? No one. Perhaps if I had some connections in the literary world? But connections require communication, and I can't even communicate with my friends. I've avoided Facebook for months. One, because the site is completely overrated (who actually gives a shit about Farmville?) and two, I don't want to look like a complete loser without a job or a college degree. Want to know what's really depressing, the fact that the people I thought were my friends haven't even tried to get in touch with me outside of Facebook. I've not gotten a text or phone call in months. What a great morale boost, eh?
So here I am, completely alone, with no idea what I am going to do with my life. A part of me wants to look into therapy of some sort, but cognitive behavioral therapy and some antidepressants really don't sound all that swell. I don't have many people to talk to, because no one really understands what I'm going through, and not many people seem to care enough to even try and understand. Maybe this huge sense of isolation is the main reason people with SAD end up offing themselves at some point. (Don't worry, I'm not at that point yet) I just wish I knew where to begin when it comes to getting better.
As I sit before this computer, watching the steam roll over the rim of my coffee cup, I realize that I'm exactly where I was at the beginning of the summer. I'm residing comfortably in my family home; I'm staring at the same walls I've encountered for twenty-one years. There is nothing wrong with this house, however, this is not where I pictured myself being a few months ago.
When I last posted, back in May, I thought I had everything figured out. My future was laid before me, in fact, I laid it there myself. I was going to be going away to school, begin working on a Bachelor's degree, have my own apartment, and get my first real job. Everything was going according to schedule by mid-August. I had an apartment all lined up. My class schedule was made. I was ready to become an adult. Only, I wasn't. The night before I was supposed to go sign my lease, and two days before classes started, I had a full blown panic attack. I would call it a mental breakdown of sorts, but I believe a mental implosion seems more accurate.
I ended up locking myself into a bathroom in the back of my house. For a long time no one searched for me; which was great, I wanted to be alone. I was curled up in this tightly wound ball, pressed into a corner of the room. Wedged between a rack of magazines and a toilet, I wrapped myself up as tightly as I could. I clung desperately to myself as my world spiraled out of control around me. I've suffered from panic attacks and anxiety disorders my entire life; but this was one of the worst episodes I had ever experienced. If you don't know anything about panic attacks (you blissfully ignorant bastard, you) they feel like you're having a heart-attack, epileptic seizure, and an asthma attack, all while being stabbed repeatedly and punched in the gut. If that sounds a bit dramatic, have a panic attack, and then get back to me.
Now, I know that any "normal" person would be nervous about moving out of their family home and starting a life on their own, but my fear was only heightened by my pre-existing anxiety disorder. Perhaps I should have seen this episode coming. Looking back, I dropped hints to everyone around me, myself included, that I was not ready to go, and that I was scared of what would happen if I did, in fact, leave. Furthermore, I've said I never wanted to attend the school that I was planning to go to this August, for as long as I can remember. So, you're probably asking youself, why in the world did I still plan on forcing myself to go to a school I didn't want to be at; and why did I still plan on moving out when all signs were pointed towards the fact that I wasn't ready?
Since I already sound like a completely unstable person, I might as well be totally upfront about all of my mental quirks. One of the perks of having severe anxiety, in my case, is that it is so often accompanied by depression. My entire life, I've battled this demon, anxiety. This demon likes to plan its attacks in waves. I can go months and keep my anxiety level low, and not have any panic attacks. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, (stress and change seem to be the biggest triggers for my anxiety, however anything can set it off) Boom! I can't control or supress my anxiety. When your entire world feels like it's out of your hands, life can seem pretty bleak. When my anxiety is at its worst, so is my depression.
Only very recently, because of some serious self-reflection, have I noticed my pattern. If I were to create a diagram of sorts, it would probably look something like this:
If you would, kindly ignore the ghetto-ness of the graphic, I just made it in five seconds. But it's a pretty accurate representation of what I go through. All of my issues stem from my anxiety. When I can't control my emotions, I get depressed because I desperately want to be like everyone else. I want to have control over my body. It's supposed to be MINE. But my short-circuted brain is like a hijacker, who controls my every move. When I'm depressed, and feeling hopeless, I feel the need for some sort of self-control. This desire to have some form of stabilty and self-control leads me down a road of eating disorders. It's this mentality of: If I can't control how my body reacts to my environment, and I can't make myself feel happier, I can damn sure control what food, and how much food I put into my body. It's a vicious cycle.
All too often , I feel like I'm war with myself. There's one side of me that is terrifically ambitious, bubbly, smart, and carefree. Then there's this darker side, that feels completely at odds with the world. This dark side wants to simply give up, and give in to it's demon. This is the side that was curled up in a ball, locked away in a bathroom. This side wanted to lay in the floor, and quietly die, so it wouldn't have to fight and feel so much internal pain and conflict. Luckily, this side didn't win, not yet. Isn't it funny, how even in the darkest of times, it's simply human nature to fight a bit harder and cling to every last remnant of hope?
Eventually, my sister came to my rescue (as she has my entire life). I won't share what she said to me, because there are some things that should remain private. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that I should not sign the lease and that I should not force myself to attend school this Fall. I think I was so determined to overcome my anxiety, and force myself to be like all of my friends and peers, who are starting their Senior year of college, that I lost sight of what I really wanted and needed.
When I decided to back out of everything I had spent years working towards, I sealed my fate. I don't know how much stock I put into things like destiny and fate, but for the sake of explanation, I'll say that I believe we are all given two paths in life. Neither path is better than the other, they simply take us on different journeys. I have decided to take the longer journey of the two. I don't know where it will lead, but I do know where it will start: with healing. This Summer has been the most core-shaking, life-altering experience of my life, thus far. For the time being, my focus is entirely on gaining control over my mind and body. I don't know how I will gain this control (but I'll keep you posted).
I'm tired of trying to be like everyone else. I think that was the main problem I faced this Summer. The ambitious and driven side of me desperately wanted to fall into the same category as my friends: college student at the inception of their future. That's a remarkable journey to be on, however it's not my journey; not at this time. I have this sinking suspicion that if I had forced myself down that path, I would not have made it to the end (you can draw your own inference on what exactly I mean by that).
So here I sit, with a now empty cup of coffee before me, and a prescription for healing and self-growth. I would greatly appreciate it if you would ignore all of the spelling and grammatical mistakes this post is certainly riddled with. I typed this entire thing out in one go, kind of like a stream of consciousness. I just needed to get my feelings down and out of my body. Also, if you could, refrain from judging me. We all have our own demons to fight, and I am trying to be brave and share mine with others. I'm taking my first steps down this road today, who's coming with me?
With Summer just beginning, I've decided to make some changes in my life. I feel like the start of a new season is the perfect start to a new lifestyle. I'm so tired of living my life at half capacity. I want to live each day to the fullest. I often find myself setting goals for myself and I never follow through with them. I get off to a great start, but I become quickly discouraged, stop working towards my goal, and eventually set a new goal for myself; then the cycle begins all over again.
For once in my life, I want to finish something. I want to see a goal through from start to finish. My lack of commitment to things is quite troublesome; especially when I can't even commit to my own well-being or happiness. This summer, I am determined to make some major changes in my life. I want to completely flip my life on it's head. I have set many goals for myself. They are as follows:
I will learn how to value myself and those close to me. Instead of being flaky and noncommittal, I will apply myself and work on strengthening relationships I have let slip away. I will focus on my mental, emotional, and physical health like never before. For me, this Summer will be all about strength. Finding the strength to push myself farther than I ever have before. I want to work on being more self-sufficient, so I will find and keep a a job for once in my life. I will learn how to enjoy solitude and find the beauty in being alone. There is nothing pathetic about solitude, and I will remind myself of this daily. I am enough; just as I am in this very moment. Flaws and all, I am worthy of love. I will love myself fully and accept who I am. I will find inner peace and happiness.
The goals I have set for myself will be tough to keep, however, I know I must keep them. For once in my life, I'm doing something completely for myself. These goals do not have shallow reasons behind them; these goals come from the deepest recesses of my soul. I have been starving myself for many years. I want to nourish my spirit, and illuminate the inner light I have been allowing to dim. I will become self-actualized and hopefully fill the gap I have been trying to patch with superfluous things.
I will try to keep my blog updated with my progress. There will be triumphs and pitfalls, I'm sure. That's life though, isn't it? The path to any goal is never a straight line. I've laced up my boots and slipped on my trooper pants, I'm ready for this journey. I've needed this adventure. A part of me thinks I've been needing it my entire life, I simply wasn't prepared for it until this very moment. The season is changing, and so is my soul.
I'm very much aware of the fact that I have been failing miserably when it comes to keeping this blog updated. I could list a million different excuses, but an excuse does not create an interesting post. There have been so many things that I could have easily shared on here over the past couple of months. A lot of changes have been going on in my life.
I have finally gotten things squared away at the university I will be attending in the Fall. This sounds like a positive thing, but it's really not all that thrilling for me. I'm ending up at the school I least wanted to attend, in one of my least favorite areas. I got accepted to the school of my dreams, but after visiting the campus, I knew it wasn't the place for me. After much internal conflict, I finally settled on a school close to home, that at least has a few of my friends. I keep telling myself that I only have to survive for a year, and if I hate it I can just transfer to another school. It's nice to have options, but at the same time it just sucks altogether, because I'm not in the place I wanted to be physically or mentally. I had a plan for myself, and a goal, and I feel like a failure now that things aren't going as I envisioned them. I shouldn't be surprised though, I've accepted the fact that I have anti-luck. I like to call this anti-luck "Fuck" (affectionately, of course.)
When I broke up with my last boyfriend back in February, I thought all of these new doors would open for me. I thought there might be potential in rekindling an old flame, the only flame I've ever felt that warmed my heart enough to feel like real love. I rekindled some communication, which is lovely, but there is no hope at all in starting a new relationship. As soon as we started getting comfortable with each other again, he tells me that he's going to be in another state all summer. Long distance fire starting sounds like so much fun, eh? Nope. Fuck strikes again!
I know that it was naive of me to think there was a possibility of falling in love with my first love all over again, but sometimes my optimism gets the better of me. Once my initial hope for love was dashed, I set my sights on another potential love connection. In my mind, this guy is beyond perfect for me, hell, he's practically me with a penis! We've known each other for a few years, and we have incredible conversations. The only thing (well, one of the only downfalls, there's a laundry list) is that we rarely ever see one another. We have amazing and intimate conversations over the phone, and when we are together in person, it never feels awkward. It feels perfect. I don't really know why we hardly ever get together. I guess since he's so much like me, he has a flaky gene (one of my pitfalls, I'll admit it). Two flakes do not make dates very well.
That's another problem though, dates. I can never tell if we're on one. I can't read this guy at all. Am I friendzoned? Is he checking me out? Do I sound stupid? Do I sound smart? Does he like me? Am I just a bootycall? It is so infuriating not knowing where I stand with this guy! The unknown isn't even the ultimate tragedy of this situation. Fuck is at it again!
The relationship problems really aren't my main problems. Hell, the school situation isn't even my main problem. They're just like little cherries on top of this horrible ice cream sundae I've been building for a while. All of the little stresses in my life have been adding up and all of this pressure is reawakening some of my old demons. Depression, anxiety and eating disorders, to be exact. I've been trying insanely hard to get a grip on my issues so I can control them better, but my grasp is slipping. I'm getting weaker by the minute. I'm so scared that I'm going to let go and have a mental breakdown like I did a few years ago. My depression and anxiety only seem to fuel my issues with food. I don't think I can physically handle losing or gaining insane amounts of weight again. It just feels like I'm constantly on a roller coaster. My mood is up one moment and down the next. I'm calm around one corner and having a panic attack around the next. I can keep my eating habits under control for a week or so, then it shifts. I'm starving myself one day and binge eating the next. I'm scrambling to find balance, but nothing is working.
I slacked on blogging for a while, but I've been maintaining a journal in my absence. I thought that having all of my thoughts in one, private place could help me keep things under control. I thought the privacy could alleviate some of the pressure I put on myself and the pressure that I feel from society. I've been working really hard with yoga and Pilates. I thought the exercise could quell some of my fears about weight gain and the yoga would strengthen my mind, body, and soul. It has to be helping, but it's not doing as great of a job as I had originally hoped. I don't know what I need in my life in order to find true balance; I just hope I can find it soon.
This week, the Supreme Court is discussing the "issue" of same-sex marriage. I've never understood what the big drama was with same-sex marriage; to me, a marriage is a marriage. It doesn't make a difference if the couple exchanging vows is heterosexual or homosexual. The decision to bond with someone in such an intimate manner is a sacred thing. I know many people argue against same-sex marriage for religious reasons, but personally, I believe using religion to promote hate contradicts religion altogether.
If a person claims to love God and follow God's law, shouldn't they be walking around spreading love? God is love. In America, it's perfectly legal in many states to marry minors, in some cases as young as 14. It's also legal to marry your first cousin. If I went outside right now and married the first man I ran into, sure, people might judge my hasty decision, but there would be no real uproar. However, if I went out and married a woman I was madly and deeply in love with, countless people would be up in arms. In what way does any of that seem logical? Oh, that's right, it doesn't! The arguments against same-sex marriage are anything but logical.
Those in opposition of allowing people in love to marry whomever they want are the biggest hypocrites. In many situations, those in opposition are constantly ranting about the government trying to take away their freedoms; then, in the same breath, they rant about limiting the freedoms of their fellow Americans. The United States Constitution grants Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness to all. If marrying the person you love makes you happy, how should anyone be allowed to take that right away or judge you for doing so? That's the thing, they shouldn't.
America parades around, claiming to be so open minded and progressive, yet so many of it's citizens are as backwards as can be. With over fifty percent of marriages today ending in divorce, how could anyone claim that same-sex marriage would tarnish the sanctity of this institution? Clearly, half the people (the heterosexual people, remember) don't take their own right to marry very seriously. Same-sex couples are fighting fervently for the ability to solidify their love, while many heterosexual couples are fighting just as fervently to end their marriages.
I am not gay; but I am a supporter of equality and love. It saddens and sickens me that in 2013 there is still an argument about same-sex marriage. Fifty years ago, a similar battle was going on about interracial marriage. Even though discrimination still takes place, overall there is no issue. All people are equal, no matter their race, religion, social status, or sexuality. I hope and pray that one day everyone will believe in equality and promote love as opposed to spreading hate.
My challenge for you is to: Open your mind and your heart; be the change in this world. Promote Love and Equality.
Love. It's the one thing we all seek out in life. Whether it's romantic, familial, or spiritual, we all crave it. It's like a drug. Society treats love like the most fantastic thing ever, but in reality, it's one of the most terrifying things we'll ever come in contact with.
Before you call me crazy, think about it. Love, of every kind, makes us our most vulnerable. When we're in love, real love, all of our guards are down. We've let someone or something into the most private part of our being: our heart. Once someone is allowed in, they're never really able to leave. A piece of them always remains within us, and becomes a part of us.
In order for love to be meaningful, it has to be risky. There's the always impending doom of loss that accompanies love. It doesn't matter how we end up losing the thing that we love, regardless, it's the most painful experience we'll ever have to endure. We can distract ourselves from the loss on occasion, but we'll always end up being reminded of it somehow. The reminder can hurt more than the initial loss. Because the shock has worn off, reality has set in, the person or thing that you loved is gone; and in most cases, it's gone forever.
Even though there is so much at stake when it comes to love, we all do it. At one point or another, every single one of us will love. That love may be brief or everlasting. No matter it's duration, eventually it will leave us. Are we all just insane? We open our hearts up even though we know that eventually a piece of us will be ripped away.
I guess that ever-present loss gives our love value. Gives that love a purpose. Life wouldn't be worth living without risk. Life would be meaningless with out love. If we were allowed to keep the things we loved forever, we would lose sight of their value. It's human nature to become greedy. We all are greedy with those we love. When it comes time for our love to leave us, we fight it with all of our being. We reject it and pretend it's not real. Eventually we come to terms with it, but on occasion we're reminded of our loss.
That reminder tears us up inside, but at the same time, that pain is comforting. That pain means that our love was real. That pain means that we're still here, and we have time to share what remains of our heart with others. I think that's the real purpose of life, to open our hearts as much as possible. The more open and generous we are with our hearts, the more pain we'll have to endure. But that pain is always preceded with love. And love makes everything worth while.
If your love crashed and burned on it's maiden voyage, are you doomed to go down with the ship a second time around? Or, can you salvage your shipwreck and sail into the sunset? Is love a one shot thing, or can you love, lose, and then love again?
Is time capable of healing old wounds? Or will they eventually resurface, most likely with the worst timing? If you loved someone once, it makes sense that you could love them again. Right? Maybe that's just wishful thinking. Do we ever really change enough to make old problems in a relationship obsolete? They say if you love something you should let it go and if it comes back, then you'll know. But what if you don't know at all? What if some people are better left in our pasts, no matter how much we loved them at one point. The trick is in determining who to leave behind and who to throw a life preserver to. Sometimes it feels like we're all sinking on the ship named LOVE. Is it best to go down on your own, or flailing into the arms of another?
Why does love have to be the most complex thing in existence? And why do we all crave it like cocaine? If I'm going down with this ship, I want to make sure I drown quickly alone; or tread water with someone else, at least long enough to catch glimpse what makes love worth all the pain.
Does Ex mark the spot on our maps, or is it best to seek out a new treasure?
I believe I'm quickly becoming one of the most cynical people ever. That fact scares me to death. I used to be the most optimistic person ever. Nothing could break my undying optimism. Currently, I'm killing every ounce of optimism left inside my body.
I wish I could hit the reset button on my life. Go back a couple of months, when things seemed so different. My life wasn't being held together my cheap duct tape and a prayer. Currently, my life is a perfect example of Murphy's Law. It feels like I can not win for losing. As soon as I think I'm conquering some of the obstacles standing in my way, fifty more fall in my path. It's like this screwed up game of Tetris. I'm trying to find time and a place for everything that's crashing down on me, but I feel like I'm about to reach the edge of the screen. Game Over.
When I find myself in these frustrating situations, I fall apart. I put up a good fight for a while, but eventually it all catches up to me. My anxiety and depression become almost too much to endure. I can't sleep well. I start criticizing myself and my issues with food resurface. I lose all faith in myself and my abilities. When it rains, it pours. It's like I'm drowning in a puddle, hoping someone will throw me a life preserver; but no one can see me. I bottle things up inside; so no one can hear my cries for help. It's a scary thing to be consumed by your own demons.
I just wish I had a solution for all of my issues. Or I at least wish I could take a moment to pause and collect myself. But life keeps moving in fast forward and I'm standing still. Sinking.
Is there any hope; a light at the end of this overwhelming tunnel?
Lindsey. Twenty-Five. Currently pursuing a degree in Professional Writing & Film Studies.