Yes, Virginia. I am sick again. I was sick last christmas. Actually, I was sick at Christmas. Hopefully this time I can cut it before it drags on longer. I started getting sick on Friday and it has only completely escalated. I can only breathe property through my nose if I am verticale. I can't breathe through my mouth because my throat is raw from coughing. It hurts to swallow. Bah.

It's more than likely just a cold. Our weather has been, typically, Mississippi weather. Seventy-five one day, forty the next. Sometimes it starts out being sixty then drops. So, yeah. Lovely Mississippi weather

I have about a quarter of my christmas presents bought. Mom, Dad, and I are going to Baton Rouge on Saturday so hopefully I can complete my shopping, otherwise I have to go back to Baton Rouge on the twenty-third. I really don't particularily fancy doing that. I hate being this late buying my "main" christmas presents. Usually by this time, I'm all "oh, (this person) would like this, I'll get it for him/her." I haven't the foggiest notion what I'm getting my brother's for christmas this year. I don't want to by them gift cards. But, that may be what they get. I just don't know what to get them. THey aren't particularly hard to buy for, but I'm not as close to them as I am to H. or, of course, to my mom. I bought my dad games for the Gameboy DS that mom bought him, but I need to get him something else.

Okay, it's five-thirty in the morning and I'm absolutely just rambling. I took a nyquil at about eight. By three it stopped working. Now, it's not working at all. Nothing is. Bah.

Dude, belatedly, sorry!!! Happy birthday saras_girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm twitching over here. I always have a notebook on me. It's just a small little book that fits in my purse, but I always have it with me to jot down notes, feelings, etc., so that I can function throughout my day.

Apparently, when I decided I would stop paper journaling (which I have returned to, I started an entry on it, but haven't got back to it), I put my little notebook away. Now, I desparately need it. Seriously, I'm going to have to write on a post-it note!

Me and my extremes.

I really need to stop taking my medication so late in the day. It really, really makes me feel like I'm drugged for half of the next day. Right now, at 8:35 AM, I can barely hold my eyes open and I'm all figidity and shit.

Just me being me, I'm being overly dramatic about the state of my sanity lately. Every once in a while, it comes around and I'm perfectly alright. But, it seems that on occassion, and more than once in recent weeks, my hold on my sanity is slipping. I use the metaphor of Capt'n Kirk hanging on to the edge of a platform and a Romulin stepping on one of his hands. My sanity, of course, being Capt'n Kirk. (Or Kork, if you are the little Russian dude.)

I am so bloody figidity right now that it is not the least bit amusing. Not even a little bit.

I haven't really been up to much. Trying to figure out where I'm going to get the money to buy the gifts I want to buy and buy medication and spoil myself - as I am apt todo.

I don't have much going on. I go to work and I come home. I started reading Foundations by saras_girl, but about half way through it I started reading Secrets by Vorabiza instead. Both of these stories I've read quite a bit.

Right now, I'm laying in the middle of my living room floor watching figure skating. I have been watching/window shopping on QVC. I ordered two things yesterday and for some reason, my credit card didn't work for one of the things. I don't understand that.

I really have been been quite boring lately. Nothing much has been going on--nothing worth commenting on at any rate.

I've been delving into my imagination and just moving along. Perhaps I'll put my imagination to use one day and write something remotely creative, but I don't know.

Yes, I like Christmas. Yes, my ringtone is "We wish you a merry christmas" and my alarm sings christmas songs. I am upset that I do not get as excited about christmas as I used to. It bothers me. A lot.

Fuck you for saying something about my christmas ringtone. You should have known better. (A year late, but still...)

I have an actual post that I'm working on, but the last few days I've been alternately bitchy, and then I was putting up the Christmas tree. It's supposed to snow tonight. I am going to my boss' daughter's (outdoor) wedding on Saturday. I'm going to freeze. (shrug) Professional obligation. I'm bringing H. along, but I'm going to buy her Draco for her effort...does anyone know where I can buy him? :) I don't want to buy her Tom Felton, that would just be wierd, but Draco...Draco, I should be able to buy.

I've decided that my recent problems have been excerbated by lack of confidence and behaving like a child. Mom says she doesn't think that I've been behaving like a child, but I know I have. Like all things when I feel like I'm doing something "bad", I feel like I have to quantify this. To somehow prove what I'm feeling is true? I'm not sure. Or, to stomp my foot, pout, and say, "I know this is how I'm feeling, let me deal with it." I would suppose it is her mother's instinct to say that there isn't anything wrong and nothing needs to be fixed. Her mother's instinct to protect her child. I don't know that either. I'm not a mother, nor do I plan to be, I'm just rambling at this point.

But...I've not been taking responsibility for the little things. The little things are what add up to be the big things that make us who we are, right? I think so. It's the silly little things that I let my Mom do for me, or ask that she does for me. The things that I would have to do myself if I lived by myself. No, I do not live by myself, but that doesn't mean I should take advantage of the little things. (Now, that being said, I still wouldn't cook even if I lived by myself. I loathe to cook.) Seriously, it's the little things like actually getting myself up, fixing my own coffee (although most people in my family have an aversion to this), getting my own beverage, these sorts of silly, minute little things that I think add up. To me, this means I'm not behaving like an adult who is almost thirty.

*sigh* I don't know. Maybe I'm just looking for things to not like about myself. It's a possibility. Because, there is still that part of me that thinks that I shouldn't like myself. There is still that part of me that thinks I'm not worth it; that I'm not like-able. And, if I don't like myself, how in the world can I expect others to? So, I project onto them. (especially at work. I am bad at projecting shit onto my co-workers. Worse, though, for my family. Or at my family.) (Loud co-worker has her voice back. Bitchy co-worker? Still a bitch.)

Anyway, off track I go. How you guys follow, I'll never know. I tend to stream-of-consciousness write. I always have. Mom used to say I write like I talk. I'm not sure if that's still true. Perhaps it is. I tend to talk stream-of-consciousness, too. I will run off on tangents in the middle of what I'm saying. Then, backtrack and pick up whatever it was that I was talking about in the first place.

So, yeah, projecting and not liking myself. Also, I forgot my Klonopin this morning. My heart is beating all funnily. Any doctor worth her salt would say I drink too much caffiene and to them, I say ptthhhh. Give me one vice will ya.

I'm a little bothered by the degree to which I let myself, my thoughts go over the past month. In November, I suppose. That I even allowed myself to think about cutting. It's so ridiculous. It wasn't an actual thought. It wasn't a subconscious thought. It was very conscious and very "this is a bad situation and this is how I deal with bad situations." Luckily, the better part of my brain was all, "what the fuck ever, dude," and I didn't do it. But, I thought it. I should never think this. Ever. I've come too far to even have the thought. I know it was an addiction and the thought of the addiction never really goes away, yes? But, still. This isn't like a drug/alcohol addiction. I don't think. Maybe I'm holding myself to too high of a standard, but I really do not believe that even the idea of cutting should enter my brain, at any point. Let alone it be a conscious, deliberate thought.

I know this is long, I'm just trying to get shit out of my head. I've stopped paper journaling completely, and really haven't journaled anywhere but here in about two weeks. It was a decision I made. I felt like journaling, on paper and personally, (somehow this is different), was something I was holding onto from my past. A part of who I was. Journaling was a huge part of who I was. It's where I went when I had no where else to go. I have probably fifty journals over the span of ten years, detailing my spiral downward. So, journaling had become something I did when I was depressed. Because, that's the only time I did it. I associated writing in a journal with depressing, heavy thoughts. I've tried over the last (almost) two years, to over come that. To write about good things. To write about anything. But, it just wasn't happening. And forcing myself to it wasn't doing me any good. I felt guilty when I didn't journal. I felt heavy and depressed when I did. It was just not good. (I like to see on my calender over there, though, when I shows I've posted a bunch.)

I'm going to end this before it gets even more obscenely long. The funny thing is, I didn't write about what I'd been planning to.

I like my job. Really. I do. As much as a person can like a job they don't actually think they are suited for anyway. But, my co-workers. Oh my god. I work with two menopausal women. One of whom refuses to take hormones. Which, fine, to each their own. But, my god, she is such an fucking bitch that it isn't even something I can overlook to just being hormones. This is an inherent part of her personality. To just be a bitch. To be a grumpy bastard is one thing. I can be a grumpy bastard. But, this woman. I've known her for a long time, I used to take dance with her equally bitchy, pretentious daughter. She's always been this way. Controlling. Bitchy. Did I mention a fucking bitch.

My one consolation this week is that one of them -- the more vocal of the two, but the somewhat less bitchy has larengitis and can't speak. Is that wrong? Probably.

I'm going to the special hell anyway, so it shouldn't matter. But, at least I'll be in good company. You know, with all the other non-god-fearing heathens.

I've adopted a little bit of a "fuck it" attitude. It worked well for me over Thanksgiving. I said to myself, this is who I am and fuck them if they don't like it. And, honestly, I think it went better. I did not cry this year. I did not even want to cry. Except for the computer password debolicle. (Mainly, I was being a paranoid fucker one day and put in this really complicated password to start up my computer. Then, I couldn't remember it. I had to have my cousin break into my house. It still took me two hours after that to get it right.)

I think I might put up the tree tonight. I may not. I don't know. The last two days when I go home, I want to do absolutely shit. Which is what I did yesterday. Actually, I watched three hours of Grey's Anatomy. Good show. I want DVDs for christmas.

I'm spacey today. It's cold, damp, and miserable outside. saras_girl can I borrow the Slytherin scarf? Actually, that's a funny story. I bought my cousin/best friend a slytherin scarf and beanie hat for christmas and ended up ordering two. I hope she isn't getting me the same thing. Oops. I just have to make sure not to wear it around her until after Christmas.

Like everyone else in the free world, I am having money issues. I am stressing about how I am going to get people stuff for Christmas. But, I've decided Fuck it. I'm just going to get them what I can afford. I'm just going to get them what I am going to get them and call it a day. Yes, H. will probably end up getting more presents than everyone else, but I know her. I can blindly buy her presents and know that she will like them. Everyone else is a toss-up. Even Mom. I haven't the fuckest idea what to get mom for Christmas this year. MOM!! Just tell me. (Although, that does take the fun out of it quite a bit.) Most people are getting gift cards. But, I am going to wrap them in boxes so it looks like it's an actual gift. Seriously, though, in my family, gift cards are probably the best way to go right now. We all tend to buy whatever we want when we want it. We are spoiled that way.

In other news, the thing with my younger brother is now tense. Before, it was just clumsy and awkward. Now, it is tense. I saw him and his girlfriend at my other brother's house and I literally recoiled when he touched me. I just don't know. I don't feel like I'm holding a grudge or holding on to anger, but I was physically disgusted by the sight of them. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what I want them to do. Mostly, I just want them to leave me alone. He asked me in text if we would talk like we did before, and because I managed to text him with no problem, I said, "yes." But, seeing him was something entirely different. My mind is not letting go.

Oh, and yes, my mother tells me that I'm not so different from my co-workers. Uh. Thanks mom. Considering my opinion of them, that quite felt like a slap in the face. But, then again, aren't the things we hate in other people the things we most hate in ourselves? If you suscribe to that particular psychology.

Frankly, after ten years of psychobabble, I'm starting to think the entire thing is made up of shit.

Those in the States, hope you had a good Thanksgiving. Thos not in the States, hope you are enjoying your weekend.

We are still in Texas. We have been here since late Wednesday. We are probably leaving late tonight to get home early in the morning so we really have Sunday to kind od recoperate

For the first tine in about six years, I did not cry on Thanksgiving. There were about seventeen people here and I socialized to the best of my ability. I didn't even feel like I wanted to cry. I managed and feel like I developed.a lot this weekend. I feel like I grew quite a bit (and not in the wide way). I feel like I took more steps to get my confidence developed and a good base to develop it.

I may or may not be rambling, but I'm typing on my blackberry so I'm not really pay attention to what I'm typing

I'm stealing ideas from Nat. I have two pieces of string on my wrist. But for different reasons. I don't have anyone to share them with to signify love, but they are for me to remember my favorite things and how those things make me who I am. And to remind me of how far I have come.

The thing with my friend is done. She read my last entry and wasn't pleased. I honestly stopped reading her email after she seemed to think I was doing these things to be dilebratley obtuse or hurtful. It was neither of these things. But its done and now, two years later, I can close that chapter of my life. And now I'm ready to move forward with my life.

I've been doing most of my personal journaling on the computer instead of on paper. But, I miss the feel of the pen in my hand, scratching across paper in my sometimes messy handwriting.

I wonder, though, if journaling isn't non-beneficial to me. If it doesn't only perputate the bad feelings or thoughts that I have because I focus on them. I do not do that as much here, because I am aware that I have an audience. Pardoxically, I also don't censor as much here as I do in my paper journal. I'm not sure why that is, except that I type better than I write? Although, strangely, I both type and write like I talk. I don't know. It's very mind-boggling. Back to the matter, I wonder if, I guess paper journaling, doesn't, in the end, cause more damage than it helps. A part of me wants to stop journaling all togather. Except here. Here is something different. But, still, there is that damnable part of me that thinks I should journal and I'm not entirely sure why? Because I did it for the entire scope of my illness? Because...because why? Because I have to get the thoughts out of my head? I'm not sure. It's a should issue and not necessarily a want to issue. I suppose what I need to do, is really just put the past reasons behind me, and really think about what I want to accomplish with my journaling and that will decide whether or not I need to continue it or not. I think. Thoughts? How many of you keep a journal outside of LJ?

The situation with my friend is, strange. I keep going back to that I never meant to send the email. If I'd had a few days to sit on it like I'd planned, I never would have sent it. For both of our sakes. I feel like my contacting her, I am opening wounds that maybe just began closing. But, I believe that we need closure. Neither one of us got that when we stopped being friends. I also realize there was a massive miscommunication there. One that needs to be corrected, but I fear will only start an argument. I do not do confrontation. At all. I avoid it at all costs. And to have a confrontation with someone that had come to mean so much to me? I'll pass, thank you. At least on my end, our relationship, our friendship had become a crutch, a way to keep from having to deal with the outside world; because we said as long as we had each other, we didn't need to deal with the outside world. And, I didn't. I very much pulled away from anything and everything that didn't have something to do with her. I changed for her. It was gradual and it was in an effort to keep the peace between us, because at the time, I thought that if we had different interests, if we were too vastly different, then we wouldn't be friends and I wanted to be friends. So, I changed parts of my personality, parts of what I liked and what I didn't like. And I completely withdrew from everyone around me. When I contacted her, and she emailed me back, I started doing the exact same thing. She emailed me and I pulled so far away from my mom, my best friend, that the distance was palpable.

When I first contacted her, I was so desperate to get back what we had that I was nearly begging her. I told her she could read this journal, but I did not give her the name. I had it prior to our not speaking, but I don't know if she remembers or if she bothered to come read. But, I'm not going to friends-lock this. I am not going to hide my feelings anymore.

I need to send another email, a more painful email detailing, actually, how I think it would be harmful for us to try to be friends again. Yes, we miss each other. But, do we really, or do we miss what we had and in that longing have not tried to have that with other people. I know I don't trust people all that well. At a time, she didn't either. I do not suspect she does now, so it's hard to build a friendship. But, despite what therapists say, I have friends. Yes, they share the same DNA as me, and yes, you guys are across the country and across the ocean, but you are my friends and I trust you. We were both longing for something that we had.

And the fact that we tried to build a romantic relationship will only serve to be a giant elephant in the room. Because, well, I'm not gay. I thought I was because I was in love with her. But, I was in love with the idea of having one person that knew everything about me and loved me anyway. (Plus, I'm about as attracted to women as I am to men, which is to say, not very much.) I was in love with the idea of having a romantic relationship because at the time, I thought that's what I wanted, or again what I should want. The thing is, I don't want a romantic relationship. At all. Then or now. I was being told that I actually did want one and events in my past were keeping me from being able to be open to have a relationship, gay or straight. But, that's not true at all. I think, had my past not happened, I still wouldn't want a relationship. Because other people with my history have relationships, get married, have children. They do those things because the want to. I don't want to. And I think I thought that I should want to because I was being told that the reason I didn't want to was beacuse of my past and because I wasn't dealing with it properly. But, I've dealt with it. I've made my peace with it. And I still don't want a romantic relationship. I don't think, though, that you can go back from saying that you are going to be together in that way and at some point (this is a point of contention) live together, to say that you are just going to be friends. To me, you can't go back from that. You just can't.

This is getting really long and if anyone is still reading, I commend you.

So, I don't know if she's reading this. I'm not sure it matters. These things need to be said. One way or another.

The very wonderful saras_girl wrote me a beautiful piece of Harry/Draco fiction. It made my day so much better and pleased me very much.

I still think that because it's a holiday week, I shouldn't have to work, and we should get off early every day, or at the very least, it should be more relaxed. Like it is in school when there is a holiday week. But, alas, no job I've had works this way. I want to whine, "but I don't wanna work."

I talked to my brother for the first time since Halloween. I decided there was no point in continuing to be angry or upset with him. I understand he didn't do anything to be malicious and he really wanted me just to have a good time. I think that if we both had it over to do again, we would both do things very differently. But, you live you learn, I suppose. I don't know.

I have a lot that I want to say, but I don't know that here is the best place to say it. I made a mistake and it needs to be corrected. I don't do strong emotions. I don't do anger, and I certain do not do it when it is directed at me. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I know what I need to do, but I'm not sure that I know how to go about doing it. I suspect another email is in order. And perhaps this time I will not send the fucking thing before I'm ready.

I do not know that I will be able to continue posting everyday, although it was amusing me. I'm leaving Wednesday to go to my brother's in Texas and I'll have internet for a bit, but then when we are staying at their house, I will not really have access.

So, for the American's, have a good, safe holiday.

I'm singing songs from Glee in my head. Singing Mr. Shue's mash-up of young girl and don't stand so close to me.

Anyway. I did send an email. On accident. I was in the process of typing said email, when the phone rang. I tried to press save so I wouldn't lose it and, typical story, I hit send instead.

I did not handle it well. I freaked out basically. Then, I waited. There was nothing I could do. The email had already been sent and she was going to react how she was going to react. To two of you or so that were with me last December will remember how heart-broken I was -- this is the same girl. I didn't email her then, though. I was just hit with the heart break of not having her in my life.

She did email me back. So, I'm hopeful.

I have a destany of toiling in Internet obscurity.

I hate when people tell me what I'm feeling is "just sinus." I know what just sinus dripping etc feels like, and this ain't it.

I suppose I should stop looking for validation of my illness from other people.

Though, it comes from being accused of faking it when I was in school. Or making it a bigger deal than it is. Being melodramatic about being sick. Fuck. I feel like I have to justify myself. I'm not being melodramatic, I am sick! I feel like I'm caught in one of my nightmares where no one will listen to me, no one will believe me.

I just want to cry I feel so bad.

fuck.

...watching QVC all day Except when I took a nap. Yep, going to rejuvinate.

I tried reading about Wicca and studying it in an effort to "become" Wicca. But, it, like most organized religions, just isn't for me. I will take some of the philosophies of it, just like I take some of the philosophies of christianity and make my own thing. No, it doesnt have a name. But, it gets the job done for me, and that's al that matters. Right? Yes.

Back to my resting and relaxing.

Trying to find lovely Harry Potter icons. And failing.

Fanfiction is awesome.

That is all for today.

Please cool accordingly.

I'm feeling better. The nightmares I had on Friday involved not being able to breathe. Everytime I went to sleep I woke up panicing because I couldn't breathe. In my dreams, I even tried to get breath by having oxygen put on, it didn't help. I could feel the air being pumped in through my nose, but I couldn't get oxygen into my lungs.

I went to bed pretty early last night. (Early for me, I feel asleep on the couch, lightly about eight, I think. Then, went to bed at ten.) I woke up this morning at ten. Cleaned up and read the Wicca book a little. (I'm still having pretty serious issues with my faith. I agree with what what I'm reading right now says, but I'm not sure about the spells and the rituals. So, I don't know.) I put Friends in at one, and just woke up about an hour ago.

I'm feeling better. I really think my energy levels got so depleted dealing with everything over Halloween and I never took the time to recover them that it caught up with me. Naps seem to be helping. I'm taking Tuesday off, so I know that will help further. And actually writing here helps. I haven't been writing in my paper journal much, but it's different. Writing here doesn't feel like a chore and, shockingly, I censor less here. Even though I know my mom is reading. That actually helps. We have odd ways of communicating, but we get it done. Typing is what seems to do it. It makes it my words, but still somehow allows me to be more open.

saras_girl, this is in no way to rush you, but did you get my email? I know you've been...*ahem* otherwise occupied, but I just wanted to make sure you got it.

I find I am quite ill. It could be that I didn't sleep well last night. I had nightmares all night. Everytime I went to sleep, i would wake up in a panic that I couldn't breathe.

Now, I feel like there is something sitting on my diaphram, and I feel very ill. So, I'm probably going to spend most of the day in bed reading fanfiction or the Wicca book. I actually probably just need to sleep, but I find that I'm a little afraid.

Do you have to know what something is called before you can treat it? What if it's not something that needs to be treated? What if it's just a part of my personality. Surely my personality can't all be disordered.

Perhaps, my personality isn't disordered after all. Perhaps it never was. For crying out loud. LISA!! Listen to yourself. You.Aren't.Disordered. You dislike disorder for one thing. I like calm, controlled atmospheres. I like for my room to be neat and clean. I like for my bed to be made up. I like to be neat and clean. This doesn't make me a freak.

For shit's sake.

There is nothing wrong with me. Just...Nothing.

(Not that it bears anything, but congrats to Taylor Swift on her wins last night. And the big one!)

One day, I'll learn. I keep trying to force my square self into that damnable round hole. Or, possibly as my mother said, I'm a big round peg trying to fit into a small square hole.

Either way, I'm trying to force myself to be a way that I am not. I feel myself going against my instincts. (This is why I'm taking a day off next week. A mental health day to get my equilibrium back.) I'm trying to be controlling again. Trying to forcibly control myself and the environment around me. Nothing ever good comes from this. Ever.

(I really need to figure out how to make a localized warming charm. I've been so cold lately.)

Sometimes I still forget everything I learned when I was in the hospital, and everything I've learned since then. Sometimes I forget everything and I let the darkness and the despair and the utter depression take over because I get tired of fighting. But, that can't happen. I can't let that happen. I will not let it happen again. I was waist deep in it this time before I even realized it. I knew I was going into the water, but I felt utterly powerless to stop from going in. That shit is like quicksand. Quicksand scares the fuck out of me.

I can't undo the last three weeks. I can't. But, I have learned how to kind of control+alt+delete and start again without guilt or remorse as to what the last three weeks have been.

I grow my backbone again. I stand up strong. I speak stronger and I feel stronger.

The last three weeks didn't not happen. That's not what I'm saying and I'm not trying to pretend like that. What I am doing is saying, "yes, those things happened. Yes, I let myself get dragged down the rabbit hole. But, this is what I've learned. This is how much stronger it's made me, and this is what I'm going to do to move forward."

Really, towards the end of these "episodes" I get so frustrated with myself that I'm an absolute bitch to be around. It's not pleasant. I'm not nice to myself. I'm not nice in my head. And I'm not very pleasant to be around. (Mom, I'm sorry.) The good news is, if that's happening, it usually means I'm at the end of an episode.

What I need to do is get better at recognizing the signs more immediately and working from there. Yes, I still have a dwelling issue, but, uh, I figure that's here to stay. The thing with Halloween was unexpected and I feel I handled it to the best of my ability at the time. Yes, there were better ways for me to handle it. (I should have left.) But, beating myself up over that minor detail isn't going to help. I no longer assign blame. The hurt and the betrayal isn't going away and will not for a bit, but I can help it along. I still will not talk to him, and Mom thinks, I figure, as long as I will not talk to him, this will not be resolved. I feel it will be resolved on my time.

She feels they both owe me an apology. And they do. But, I'm not going to wait around for it. Why? Because, I'm pretty sure neither of them think there was anything wrong with what happened. That's just their friends, and they would never hurt me. So, I'll get an "I'm sorry you felt that way," and that's not enough. Neither of them will ever understand and I don't think I want to explain it more than I have.

I'm putting this behind me. It's in the past. The nightmares have subsided a bit. I no longer see their faces. (Except for the one.) I know you can't put a timetable on these things, but what I can do is control my emotions and control my reactions, and control my thoughts. THOSE are the things I can control, not the external factors like I've been trying to do, and what I try to do when I get upset and chaotic.

I love the feel of the wind in my hair. It's on of my favorite sensations in the world. Invarably, though, when it's windy outside, I have my hair pulled up in a pony tail and do not get the sensation. It's disappointing.

I had trouble sleeping last night, it was only a light, fitful sleep and then I had a nightmare. I don't remember what the nightmare was, or if it was really a nightmare or just a bad dream. So, I didn't sleep well last night.

Then, this morning, actually, it started at one o'clock when I woke up, my eyes were itching and nasty with allergies like mad, so I had to take out my contacts. This morning when I tried to put them back in, it was like pouring sand in my eyes. I'm wearing my glasses. I do not particularly like to wear my glasses. I don't like the feel of them on my face or the fact that my perphial vision is blurry.

I went to the local drugstore and paid $25 to get claritin and clairitin eyedrops. So far they seems to be working, but I'm still hesitant to put in my contacts.

I'm having this huge debate with myself as to whether I should go to the bank at lunch (30 minutes away) to help out my bank account, or go home and try to revitalize myself. As of 10:22, I do not have an answer.

So, the subject. Apparently, there is a hurricane out there. Apparently no one alerted it to the the fact that hurricane season is over on the 1st of November. I think that's where the wind is coming from. But, I could be wrong. I often am.

I'm tired of struggling. I'm tired of feeling like I'm struggling against internal forces. It's exhausting.

I would say that it's just been the effects of the last week and a half that has made me feel this way. But, it's not. That's why I went there in the first place. Hoping it would solve my problems. It did not. It only caused more.

My problems are not out there. They are in here and I'm tired. I am so tired of having problems in here...

I'm so fucking tired. There is a little part of me that wants to give up. And just let it all win. Success story or not. No success story is without it's...whatever, backslide or whatever. Hardships?

I'm trying so hard. Why can't it be easy, just for a minute.

I won't relapse. I won't.

I think the reason, I think I'm depressed today is because I can't find anything to read. I feel like I should want to read something more intellectually stimulating than fanfiction. But, does it matter? Do I even really care or do i just think that I should care? Do I think I should want to read books that I read when I was in school? Should I care that I don't want to? I never liked the "classics". I don't think I do even now. I tried to read about Wicca, but I just don't know. Mostly, I just want to read sweet litte stories about characters on television (or books).

Am I feeling "down" because I seem to think I want to? Do I want to feel sad? Is that what I'm going on here? Seriously?

I'm so done being sad. Being mellow is not the same as being sad. Being calm and having a relaxing day is no cause for thinking I'm feeling SAD. IT'S NOT THE SAME!!

There are more emotions than "Normal" and "Sad".

Do I analyze? Do I even want to go into that. I think part of my problem is that I have been trying to, and often do, delve too deep into my emotions. I'm so tired of doing that. I'm so tired of over-fucking-analyzing everything.

Things have to come to me this way. There are things that just have to occur to me. And there are moments of perfect clarity that I have. I live for those moments. It's those moments that break through the clouds, the dark, heavy grey clouds. And, I can finally feel the sun on my face.

So, its this. Who cares if right now all I read is fanfiction. And sometimes, just Foundations over and over again, and silly little Glee stories, and heavy emotional One Tree Hill stories, and sweet little Firefly fics. Why do I think I need to force myself into round holes, when I am a square peg. Why do I keep fucking doing that? Eventually, I will learn.

I rearranged my room this morning. Then I took a nap. Yep, that's been my day.

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I feel thisbig. I came into work today, not looking nor feeling my best. Not even my medium and my boss called me out on it. The thing is, I knew it was coming and I kept wearing my hair in pigtail braids. I kept not dressing completely professionally. I kept not wearing make-up. (Not that make-up makes you professional, but it does for me.)

It's almost like I wanted him to say something.

What in the world am I doing to myself?

It hurts to breathe.

I find myself wondering exactly what I'm supposed to feel. I just feel kind of numb now. I'm over the shock of it all. (I'm not sure I'll ever be over the pain of it all. At least not a week later.) I just feel numb. And tired. All I want to do is sleep and to be alone.

It hurts a little...or a lot, that he has made no attempt to apologize to me. Granted, I will not talk to him on the phone, but he used to always text me. Nothing. In a week. After everything. Nothing. It hurts.

I'm so tired of this even being in my head. I so badly want it gone. I want to return to a time...I don't know. Two weeks ago. I need a time-turner. Only, if I can go with some more dignified and stronger sense of self.

I'm tired of feeling weak in that area. I'm tired of waivering in that area. My sense of self is all over the freakin' place. One day, I want to be this hard-nosed, goth, angry chick; the next, a softer, gentler, prettier (not physically), medatative person. I know people adapt to the situation they are in and that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the inherent sense-of-self. The person that you KNOW you are on the inside, even if sometimes you have to pretend to be someone else.

(I want a new tattoo that says "All who wander are not lost" Is that cliched?)

I just feel tired. And numb. I don't necessarily feel sad. I don't think. I never was sad about it, I suppose. I was hurt and angry and confused as to why I didn't stand up for myself. (But, you can't change the past.)

I know I shouldn't focus on this, and I know mom reads this and will think -- something, but everytime I even attempt to deal, I hear her in my head telling me not to dwell on it, to not obsess about it.

Then, I wonder. Did I make a bigger deal out of it then it was. (And, that makes me want to cry. Because I feel like that maybe what some people are saying. And I KNOW I didn't. I know what happened to me, what was said to me, what went on was wrong. I KNOW this. I KNOW I'm not making a bigger deal out of it than it was. It was a huge fucking deal.)

I just want to be alone. (But, I want someone to talk to. I suppose I'll talk to Beckett and Bronte. They seem to be good listeners.)

I feel like I'm missing something. That I'm missing a very important point of something. That there is something missing.

I'm feeling very lost right now.

I've at least stopped crying. And the immesurable weight that was on my shoulders has lessed a bit. I hated that I had to unload on my cousin, but I absolutely had to talk to someone. I wasn't going to stop crying otherwise.

It's been four days and everything isn't peaches and roses. I know this. And, I know at Thanksgiving when I see my brother and his girlfriend, it's going to bring it back. But, I'm working on a contigency plan to deal with it, so it's not so overwhelming. I have three weeks to really build up my defenses.

I'm not talking to either one of them, but in my opinion, they both deserve it. And, they have both lost my trust and my respect. Both of which I value highly and am hesitant to give a second chance once it's lost. My opinion of both of them is pretty low.

At this moment in time, I have no plans to attend their wedding. I know it's a year away. But, I also know that the people that caused me such great pain will be there too and I refuse to put myself in that situation. Even if I have my family that I do trust around me. I will not put myself in that situation again.

Like I said earlier, it's about time I start doing for myself and stop worrying so much about how it might effect other people. It's time to focus on how things effect me and making sure they I am taking care of. Because it's time to realize that I can protect myself. I don't need protecting or taken care of.

I forgot that on Friday night because I was trying hard not to cause problems in front of my brother's friends. The people whose respect he is trying to earn. I compromised myself in that endeavor and I hate him a little bit for it. It's going to take me a long time to forgive him for the situation that he put me in. I will never forget it and I'm not sure I'll ever trust him again. But, this is his fault, not mine. I refuse to take more responsibility for it than is mine. I didn't stand up for myself and I got severely hurt because of it.

But, then I did leave. I wasn't going to stay and put myself back in that situation. I just wasn't. I didn't care how much it hurt him, I had to protect myself. I would have left at two o'clock in the morning if I could have stopped crying. And then I would have left at four o'clock in the morning if I could have stopped crying. I ended up leaving at eight. I was going to leave at six, but my phone was malfuctioning and didn't go off. I finally stopped crying enough around five to fall into a soft sleep.

(But, damn it all, I was in such a hurry to leave that I left my Docs there. The only conversation I've had with them is calling them telling them to send me my shoes.)

I didn't lose myself on Friday. I just pushed her aside in an effort to be open enough to accept my brother's friends. But, damn him. He knows enough about my past and he put me in that situation with absolutely no warning. Damn him.

I desperately want to say, "Okay, it's time to move on now. It was what it was, but move on." But, like H. said, "it's been three days." I am not going to heal in three days. I'm not going to heal in three weeks. The flashbacks have already started. My sense of smell is playing tricks on me at times. And I can still see their faces. (For someone who doesn't necessarily recall faces, this is pretty traumatic.)

It'll fade though. I know it will. Just like the rest of my past it will fade. I forgave him once before. I will not do it again.

1. I talk too much when I shouldn't.

2. I REALLY need to fucking learn to listen to my instincts.

This was a disaster.

Going to my brother's house for halloween. My dad is not speaking to me because of it. (Because he doesn't want me to drive four hours by myself and he doesn't want me to go to a bar. I'm twenty-eight-fucking-years-old let it go.) I'm hoping I can find my skirt and corset that I want to wear on such short notice. (I have to do things spur of the moment, or I talk myself out of it.) If I manage to get dressed up and do my makeup like I want, I'll post pictures.

I feel like bad chinese food that was cooked, left out all night, warmed up, and left out all night again.

Just fucking lovely.

I just remember that I forgot to tell you all. My psyciatrist declared me sane.

Actually, she declared me "a great success story"

I still have to take the meds, but it's all alright.

Tonight I"m reading Harry Potter fanfic and watching eps of Friends that i can quote by heart.

And feeling a little lost.

I can remember looking at the calendar (seeming like just a few weeks ago) and saying, "ah, today, the year is exactly half way over". And somehow, suddenly it's almost November.

It's shocking to me.

Time.

Something I can't comprehend. I know,
24 hours in a day.
7 Days a week.
4 Weeks a Month.
12 Months a year.

But, where do they go?

I am not
I am not pretty lines on pretty paper
I am not easily contained
I am not easily labeled.

Do not force me, I can not
be jarred or barred. I am not
an ease on a breeze which
floats along a soft surface.

I am not your mother, nor
your lover. I am not who you
think I should be, or who you
want me to be. I am not the
person who sees you on the
street.

I am not soft edges with rounded
lines. I do not speak softly. Nor,
do I carry a big stick. I stopped
closing my eyes and hoping
for the best.

I am not easily persuaded, don't
try. I am not hard edges, immovable.

I am not who I was. Don't mistake me.

There is no excuse this time. No lengthy ponderings.

Just me. Being lazy. Avoiding the world.

It's finally feeling like fall here. There is a chill in the air. It smells cool and crisp.

Bliss.

I've kind of been all over the place lately. As evidenced by my sporatic entries. I keep up with how I'm doing by how often I write and how substancial those entries are. Needless to say the last two weeks have been *throws hands in the air, like Pheobe running* kind of crazy.

I'm doing okay. Haven't really had any problems. I guess, I just... I've come to some realizations. I've smashed other preconceived notions. When I have a moment of clarity that breaks through all of the shit I've put myself through for the last ten years, it tends to drain me.

For the last ten years, or so (approximately), I've desperatly tried to put myself in a box. To give myself a label, I'm Depressed. I am an English major. I am ... it was very binding, but it gave me (an obviously false) sense of order and control. The thing is, I don't fit in a box. Labels very rarely apply to me. Phsychiatric professionals have known this for a while. (This is not to say that I am overly special, or especially unique. Very few of us fit into a box. The problem was not that I was being put into boxes, the problem is that I was trying to put myself in a box.)

Every few months, or at least twice a year, I have a crisis of Faith. I knew when I was sixteen that I did not subscribe to the beliefs of the Christian church. But, I didn't know where that put me. So, I was searching, searching, always searching. (I wonder if my life is all about the search.) I landed at Wicca because I seemed to have more beliefs that coincided with it than with anything else that I'd researched. (Albeit, not very thorougly.) But, I would always put it down. I would always come to a part, something that triggered in my brain that it wasn't where I belonged. But, I want to belong somewhere. My beliefs are so scattered that it's hard for me to say what I believe. I do not subscribe to one particular dogma. And that was hard for me, because as previously mentioned, I felt I needed to label what I believe in, so that I fit in somewhere.

The thing is, I don't really fit in anywhere. (Do any of us? Or do we change just enough so that we will fit in with whatever group of people we happen to be around?) It hit me sometime last week, I don't want to play the game. I just want to be who I am. This is okay. What is not okay is then subsequently getting my feelings hurt when people don't want to fit within my preconceived ideas of how a situation should go. IE, they do not accept me unconditionally. Things just don't work that way. So, yeah, I can be who I want to be at all times, but I have to be strong enough, confident enough to know that not everyone is going to like that and not everyone is going to understand that, and it's okay. It's okay. (That is my life's journey. To find okay.)

Sometime this week, it became okay. Things literally just occur to me sometimes. The confidence just comes to me. It comes to me in spurts, but it is finally starting to add up.

Dragon*Con photos

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The wall behind the pictures with the Stargate Atlantis boys now houses my prints that I bought. I'll post pictures of that later.

I miss live journal when I do not check my friends page.

Sometimes I really hate my job/boss/co-workers.

I shouldn't allow myself to feel hatred. I should "rise above it." My grandmother used to yell at me if I said I hated someone. (Oh the irony. Considering how I feel about her.)

Glad to not be sick anymore -- either physically or emotionally. Now, I must figure out the emotional part.

Work damages my calm.

Will I ever not feel like an outsider? Probably not. I should just get used to it. You would think after twenty-eight years of practice, I would be used to it, but I'm not. It still hurts. It still makes me want to cry.

I do not know where I am. I'm not depressed. I'm not really even sad or "not feeling well." I feel like I just am. I feel like I'm just existing and moving through a haze of humidity. I'm having an existencial (spelling?) crisis. A spiritual crisis. Maybe those are the same. Maybe they aren't. Maybe I'm just looking for something to do. But, I know that's not true. I know I'm not just looking for reasons to be depressed. What I am, who I am -- I'm always searching. Always digging and seeking for new answers. I don't have an answer regarding my faith. I never have. I have a tattoo that says believe, but other than raging against the dying of the light, I don't know what I believe in. I was raised Methodist, but I have an issue with Christianity. I question the existance of one god. I believe in something, I'm just not entirely sure what it is.

You should never try to paint your fingernails when you only have five minutes to go before you have to go back to work. (They aren't pretty, but they are black, which is what I am. Black fingernails. Black eyeliner. And "bits of string.")

It still astounds me how a quiet talk filled with soft tears in the darkness with my mom can lift my mood. I love my mom dearly and I hate to burden her with any troubles I may be having, because I know she doesn’t understand. I know she doesn’t understand, because I don’t quite understand myself.

It has been a tumultuous month. Quite. Dragon*con was wonderful, but it did mess with my world a little. Then, mom was gone. I haven’t eaten properly in a month. I look forward to the calendar turning to October and the weather turning to Autumn-like temperatures, like we had this morning. That is when I thrive. (Minus that holiday at the end of November.)

I absolutely grow during autumn. I know spring is supposed to be the time when flowers bloom, and you brush of the depths of winter, but autumn is my time of the year. When the calendar shows Autumn Equinox, I grin widely and wait. I know deep breaths of clean, crisp, cool air are coming.

I don't quite know what to do. I don't quite know what the problem is. I need to sit down and figure out exactly what that is.

And I'm so fucking tired of this. So fucking tired of it. I don't understand why I keep having to deal with this. I don't want to deal with this anymore. I'm so tired of it.

But what are my other options? There are none. You just deal.
I had a bit of a run around with the goram psychiatrist that I was seeing him. So I'm firing him and going back to my old doctor. Which means every couple of months I have to take half a day off work. But at least I trust and like her.

I would say that's what started it all yesterday, but it wasn't. Like I said, this has been building for a couple of weeks or so.

I'm just *so* tired of dealing with this. I want it all to go away. And thinking like that doesn't help. Because, honest to go, there is only one way this is all going to go away and that most definately is not an option.

Now what?

Some days it just doesn't seem like it's worth the effort to get out of bed. It's 8:12. This is crazy.

The thing is. I crave routine. I have to have routine. And mundane-ness. I do not do well "free-wheeling" or whatever. Just going with the flow. I need routine. I need structure. This is how I maintain calm in my life. The last few months, I've tried to go against that in an attempt to be less rigid. And, I can be less rigid. But, less rigid with routine. Not just floundering around in the wind to see where it takes me.

I need plans. I need direction. I need hope. I need structure in my life. And, honestly, since I graduated (*ahem* four years ago *ahem*). I haven't really had that. I've had five jobs in that period. I've been here for a little over a year. And, honestly, I'm just now getting used to it and allowing myself to get comfortable.

What happens is I let myself flounder and toil in the sand. Now, it's time to pick myself up, dust off the sand, and move forward.

Maybe I make things more difficult than they need to be, but that's just how it is. And it's not more difficult for me. Maybe it looks more difficult to an outsider, but for me, it's what makes things easier. It's what makes it easier for me to breath.

I'm closing in on something not good. Thoughts are coming into my brain that aren't good and that haven't been there for sometime. I do not want to go back in to therapy, and even though I have an appointment, I resolutely refuse to go back into therapy.

I bought a new, thick, beautiful journal that I plan to fill with all of the stuff that is causing me problems. I just have to let that filter down. The one that keeps me from telling the truth to myself.

I do not know what I believe in spiritually, but I believe in fate and destiny (maybe that's what I believe in spiritually) and I do not believe I was meant to toil in this madness that is depression and anxiety. I know the answer to me coming out of it is just around the corner. It is closer than it has ever been. I just can't seem to reach out and grab the snitch without falling off my broom.

There are definate parts of my personality that I do not like. The parts that make me, well, blunt, and sometimes funny. The parts that are really rough around the edges. I don't want to be rough. I want to be soft and round and gentle.

Maybe this isn't making any sense. I don't know. But, as long as I know what I mean, I suppose.

I have been feeling this way for a while, it's just that I'm too lazy to make an effort. This has to change. Things are not going well right now. It's just the beginnings of things not going well. They haven't gotten bad yet. At least I don't think so. Mom could answer this more than me. I'll have to ask her.

This month has been a bit of a topsy-turvey ness. I like routine. I like the same thing day after day. This month has not been like that.

This has been going on longer than a month.

I just really, really do not wish to be at work today. My mom came home last night and I'd like to be at home with her. Furthermore, there is something going on with my eyes. They are dry, dry, dry or something because I can't stop rubbing them in an attempt to make them stopping hurting. But, I working in a skin/cosmetic dermatological area for a year, I know what rubbing your eyes does to the skin. Not to mention how it is affecting my eyes.

Ugh. I'm in a grumpy mood and I don't care for it.

***

I just ate fast food. I hate eating fast food. It makes me feel greasy and gross, but I'd taken three tylenol and felt like I needed to have something in my stomach other than coffee and diet coke. Also, my hair is only half-straight and I have no make-up on. Now I have my glasses on. So. To Sum up: I feel gross.

Blech.

Usually, onece I make it to Wednesday, I'm good. I feel confident that I can make it through the rest of the week. Not this week. This week I will not feel confident I can make it through until Friday - 5:00 pm. Then, I will feel better