one life for another

..and the anxiety continues.  now it’s accompanied by fear and doubts.  i just found out that my grandfather, who is thousands of miles away, on a different continent, is very sick.  he is going to be in surgery on monday and things don’t seem good.  his health has been declining in the last few years.  i try to prepare, but nothing will prepare me.  i wont be able to handle the grief or my mother’s grief any better than i can handle any other situation i’m in.  even though i won’t see him and i am just one of his grandchildren, something inextricably connects us.  life is so unfair sometimes.

my grandfather, whom i haven’t had a real conversation with since there is a communication problem, is someone you would be honored to meet.  he is a great husband, father, and grandfather.  he is a good businessman even in an environment that strives to extinguish you.  he can make you laugh/smile.  he is knowledgable, unrelenting, strong-willed, hard-working, daring, yet stubborn.  it will be so sad when God takes him and I will still be here doing nothing with my life.  i would trade places with him because he would do something with my life instead of letting it waste away.  even though i realize this, i continue to let it happen.  so there.  guilt on my plate, plain as day. 

i need someone, something to distract me from this.  i listen to my music straight through on my iTunes playlist and this song is not helping at all.  it is “bye bye” by mariah carey.  how ridiculously coincidental.  i should die instead.   i want to cut now and let the pain and guilt numb.  lucky i don’t do it much anymore as i dont like wearing sleeves when it’s almost 80 degrees out.  i have minimal scars, since they have never been severe, just enough to leave a few marks here and there that someone would never be able to tell the difference between the cutting scars from ones i could have gotten when i fell off a bike when little (which i dont have any).  *sighs*

impending doom

in the last few days, my anxiety level has shot up.  before that, i had started worrying that i was gaining weight.  it would be easy to concede to someone that 2 or 3 pounds is nothing, but i would be lying.  i never really worried about my weight before, but i think there are reasons for this.  

when i was younger, i really didn’t care about my appearance AT ALL.  i don’t even think i thought about weight.  and i mean, as long as i looked human, why did i need to care?  when my depression started, i cared even less.  my emotional issues were overconsuming so i didn’t even realize that i stopped eating.  i never felt hungry.  i went days without eating entire meals.  if i did schoolwork; it would be right through dinnertime.  my parents were rarely home for dinner anyway, and this allowed for it to go on (not that i blame them).  i would cut and bruise my arms, but still did not notice that i could hold my wrist and my thumb and pinky would touch or that my ribs were showing.  people would say things as the years went by, but i dismissed them.  two years ago, i started getting better so i ate more.  my bf introduced me to restaurants and different foods, which i appreciate greatly.  food is a great experience.  still, while my moods change, i have kept the same attitude that i can just eat whatever without having to consider my weight.

i was 104 and now am at 110, so what the hell?!  i wonder when joking about my own stomach flubber is going to internalize as hatred and externalize as cuts or bruises.  neither has happened yet.  at the moment, i’m still in the stage where i worry to the point that i can’t breathe sometimes.  i keep thinking i gained another pound, i gained another, and another…  look at my belly.  look at my thighs.  i look pregnant.  awfully sickening.  i could exercise; i tell myself i will.  i hate exercising which is good because i’m too lazy too.  my laziness, no motivation, no drive.

if that wasn’t bad enough, my teeth are contributing to my rising anxiety.  the top wisdom teeth are coming in and for a few days now, while biting down, they have been hurting the skin on the bottom where they haven’t come in yet.  i have the bad feeling that i’m going to have to have them pulled.  DREAD.  i’m scared of dentists, doctors, etc.  i dont want to find out something is wrong with me.  i don’t want to end up with some dentist that is horrible and pull all my teeth out or something.  i’m just waiting for the teeth nightmares to start.  only once did i ever have one. 

everyday i am reminded of these two worries, and they are not my only.  i am having pains in my chest and my stomach.  i dont know if these are due to eating unhealthy or the anxiety or a combination of both.  i feel like ripping the fat off my stomach and thighs.  i feel like cutting or bruising.  i want it to turn purple and blue.  i want to bite my lip and taste blood.  i feel like taking a shitload of pills and passing out and never waking up.  everything hurts.

why can’t things just be simple?

this morning, i awoke in a haze to hearing my parents arguing.  soon my mom left to go to work and i could only manage that somewhat sleeping somewhat awake state.  i was sitting up in bed and my dad walked in.  put his sweaty hand on my back and proceeded to tell me that he was going to work.  “okay, bye,” i said expressionless and without looking.  this is the usual response.  as if i cared that he was leaving.  i shook off the sweaty feeling on my back and was about to write a post about how he annoyed me, but somehow got distracted.  i should have known that this day would have eventually ended up in the gutter. 

by early afternoon, it was decided that my sister and i were going to go on a shopping trip.  this made for a pleasant afternoon.  i love how shopping gets your mind off things, even if for only a few hours.  evening went fine with watching national geographic clips with her.  dad came home at the usual 10:00 p.m.  and everything went downhill from there. 

i had to touch his dirty cell phone to put in some numbers into his phonebook.  then, he started talking to me about him buying a house and renting rooms out.  he mentioned that my name was going to be added.  i was outraged to say the least.  he could have fucking bothered to ask me before deciding.  i told him this.  “i’m asking you now,” he said.  “don’t add my name.” he replied with some excuse.  “don’t add my name,” i repeated.  i asked him other questions, tight-lipped, like isn’t it going to… and aren’t you going to have to… and what if… i was getting more information, but i was not about ready to add some potential problems to my plate.   seriously, what fucking right does he have to assume that i will follow him around all willy nilly, wanting to do the things that he wants to do?  i also have a serious problem with people thinking that i should do certain things because everyone else is doing them, that they seem to be things done out of love when those same people have no problem with taking short cuts and recommend acts that are technically illegal even if minor.  yes, i have a fear of the law.  i am fucking afraid of doing things because i might be caught even though i most likely won’t be.  so quit pressuring me and stop being so damn selfish and ignorant. 

for me, i don’t need many things to be happy, just the important things.  i want and prefer things to be simple.  i don’t need a fancy car, a big house, alot of friends, or a $50,000+ job.  it sounds so cliche, but it is true.  money really just ruins relationships with others and yourself.  all i will be able to think about is the money because i have been trained by my family, by people i know, and by the media because that is what matters in america.  if that is not what they intended, they certainly did a shitty job of it.  i would absolutely be content with having a car that worked the way it was supposed to and got me around, a small house or nice apartment, a few friends, and a job that was enough for my living expenses and to save and a little extra to dine out and shop.  i would want my family and relatives to be happy.  i would be happy with waking up with my boyfriend, going to work on the weekdays, and coming home to him to watch tv or dine out or do something in the city, and on the weekends we would go to the city and have cultural experiences.  the only extravagant thing i would like is to be able to travel.  otherwise, i want things to be simple.  i want my life to be simple. 

so i had two choices, which was either to have every future day anxiety ridden and he get his way or to not have additional issues on my plate and instead, have to look from the hallway railing at his sorry self on the couch watching tv every night.  not once did i look at him.  i can’t ever look at his face.  i chose neither and told him to consult my mom.  he finally left and i was finally allowed to breathe.  only moments later, my mom came home and nothing would go well the rest of the night.  i heard them arguing through the walls.  if only walls could speak, what pain they would show. 

so when will i ever do something that will change the situation?  will i wait until someone gets physically hurt or someone will be killed?  i live in fear that one day i will find myself bloody, not from my own accord, and running from my house, through the backyard, and screaming on a neighbor’s front step that they’re all dead, that i’m the one left alive to tell the story.

hopefully, i am too tired to cut right now.  earlier i thought it was overwhelming.  luckily, i have calmed down a bit in the last hour.  then again, it’s only half past midnight.

only two..

all day i have been moody; someone even told me so.  i guess i should have took it as a sign, but i attributed the moodiness to being me.  a few hours ago, not even three hours ago, i went downhill fast.  the thoughts of suicide weren’t overwhelming, but constant.  i just sat here for three hours doing absolutely nothing, but staring and listening to music.  i tried to comment some people’s blogs, but i found it almost impossible to type something.  halfway through the first sentence, i would stare at the screen and my fingers frozen waiting for something to happen..  i closed my eyes tightly, only to open them to nothing different.  i got fed up and swiveled around in my chair to face my open closet.  it didn’t help because i started seeing things.  i could have sworn i saw someone with dark hair in my closet even though i kept trying to tell myself it was probably just my clothes… just my clothes.  i started crying and have not stopped. 

 i suppose i should put a trigger warning here even though it’s really nothing, but i dont want a complaint so here *trigger warning*

nor could i help the overwhelming need to self-harm.  i went to my original instrument, a mechanical pencil, which is much easier and convenient.  you can go at your arm as much as you want, not having to worry about hitting a blood vessel or leaving long-term scars.  i was glad to see a little blood rush to the skin’s surface and the swelling surrounding it.  it was only two scratches, not bad at all right?  i have been scratching myself with my nails a few times so it’s just like that…  i did, with all my might, not go to the exacto knife.  i didn’t want to start something i was not going to be able to stop.  freaking damn.. i’m having the same problem not being able to type right now.  closing my eyes and the music just seems to get louder and louder.  i want to scream, but i can’t.  the stinging from the cuts are wearing off too fast.  i have a cut that’s on my leg, that i don’t know where i got it from, and that has been stinging for days.  why is it that when a cut is unintentional, it often hurts more than those intentional?

i’m going to look like shit tomorrow.

to be or not to be

today went smoothly as in emotionally but after i came home, i soon found myself alone and realized once again the depth of that loneliness.  i still have my family, although relationships are still broken and awkward.  i still have my health, least for the most part.  i still have my wits about me, well maybe just sort of.  i have *, who i love dearly.  although they are all necessities of my life, i continue to feel incomplete.  there is the emptiness of myself.  i haven’t been able to or maybe not tried hard enough to fill myself with my own happiness.  i think about those who are happy with friends and those who are sad with friends and envy them.  this emptiness cuts me more than any razor could.  i feel stupid for feeling weak and just not being stronger.  i never learned to be strong, which i suppose is no excuse.  being able to provide an argument against everything i say just makes me confused.  it’s getting so hard to keep living.  i’m just sick of living like this, sick of hoping.   i’m terrified.

fear

i miss not being fearful of the dark, not being afraid of my own shadow/reflection.  it’s remarkable how things like fear can just manifest when your emotions are turned upside down.  i dont think i’ve been so afraid of stupid things since i became depressed.  fear is just something in your head and can only be overcome when you’re strong enough mentally to.  i’m definitely not there yet.  the strong winds today made me think about it.  i realize that i’m still afraid of looking into the darkness of my backyard, but still dream of being wrapped in it.  i’m so strange that way.  so indecisive.  always need both ways.. so damn needy really, which is something i really need to work on.  need to put that on my checklist aside from whining and bitchiness ha (not doing so well at right now).  would be so much easier if i could put a lid on my emotions…funny to imagine everyone with a literal can of emotions..

really fucked up.  any opportunity to make a friend or even keep one, i manage to screw it up.  all i can do about it?  let it stay fucked up!  really, i don’t understand why i can’t get a handle on it.  perhaps, counseling is the only option i have in getting better but my own problems are stopping me from seeking help.  hate when things turn cyclical and i get caught up in some neverending torture of self-pity.  self-pity has become very destructive in my getting better.  what’s worse, it’s the cyclical kind.

blah, not even officially winter and i have the mad blues.  i can’t wait for spring to arrive.  i love flowers blooming, the warmth from the sun’s rays hitting my skin, and bright blue skies.  so beautiful.  hopefully, i’m be more lively then, but that’s months from now.  just have to last until then.  hopefully, i’ll get to bed before 4 a.m.