Just a Bit of Self-Loathing

I still can't believe how small a trigger can be to turn me into a wreck. I can be completely fine, dealing with nothing but a few manageable anxieties, and then they began to nag until I get the smallest indication that they might be true. It gets even worse when I know it's my fault since I do not handle guilt well.

So, here's how today's story goes. It starts with me being an asshole and ends with me getting my just desserts. Aesop would love to write down. Basically, my friend moved to Europe to work as an au pair a few months ago. I was excited for her, since it was a big step but also pretty envious. Not that I'd like to work as an au pair or would like to live with another family, more because she did something incredibly brave. Something I could never do. She gets to experience so many new things, like being immersed in another culture, learning a new language and meeting all sorts of new people. And here I am, still dealing with all my shit.

Time for a few confessions that I haven't really told anyone. They'll make me come across as more of a jerk, but I like to be brutally honest. I'm a bit of an egotist. I can also be a little competitive with my friends, like I'm sure most are. The thing is, I've always seen myself as the successful one. The smart one who was going to go out into the world and achieve things. The one who would brave it alone, away from my small home town. Yup, I'm an asshole.

News flash! I'm still living a home with my parents, I have yet to go to university (and I'm terrified to do so),  I'm on anti-anxiety meds because I can't control it anymore, and I hate myself. Every time I see a photo of one of my old school friends on Facebook at their university, I hate myself more.

I really don't like me all that much. I don't feel like I can be anything special. I feel like half the time I'm just pretending to be someone sweet, when I really feel like the complete opposite. I know this is one of those downward cycles of mine and I'm sure it'll be over soon, but that doesn't really diminish my feelings.

I'm worried about going home to the small town where I grew up. I don't really want to talk to anyone there. I'm worried about being asked what I plan on doing for university. I'm worried about people bringing up a God conversation or telling me they're praying for me or that God has a plan. Thinking about it makes my head hurt. I may decide to spend Christmas alone.

Body Issues

One of the hardest things about being a girl is the constant attention payed to your body. I'm not just talking about other people, in fact I'd have to say that it's my own constant thoughts that cause the most damage. Almost every hour my mind turns to how I look. Did I gain weight, why isn't my stomach perfectly flat, my thighs look fat, does it look like I have a double-chin. Now, if you know me in real life, you'd probably laugh. I'm petite. Not super thin or willowy, but I'm not even slightly overweight.

I suppose I could blame this on my mom, I did grow up hearing her call herself fat, or media messages about how woman should look, or a misogynistic culture where woman with wrinkles or grey hair aren't beautiful and on men it becomes distinguished. However, today I really don't feel like blaming anyone.

I just feel sad. I'm sad that I spend so much of my time obsessing over how I look and basing my value on something so superficial. Why can't I value myself for my intelligence or kindness? Why does the way I look matter so much? Why do I stress myself over something that I don't really care about?

Granted, I probably should start exercising more for my health, I know being stationary all the time is less than beneficial. Not to mention exercise is as good for mental health as for physical. I just feel as if lately my mind has been dominated by feelings of inadequacy in terms of my physical appearance. It's very tiring to spend so much time disliking parts of yourself or obsessing.

Feeling a Bit Better

I think I'm making it up or exaggerating it. It's weird because I go through periods where I'm completely calm and wonder why it was ever an issue, but a few hours later will burst into tears. And when I'm calm again, it's like it never happened.

It feels like I'm just pretending; maybe I am. I stayed home from work, yet I feel like I should be there. There's no real guilt for missing it, which was a little surprising. It helps me to conclude that I'm not heading into another avoidance pattern, at least not yet.

It's nice, though. Staying home where everything's quiet and not having any guilt. I feel like I'm being nice to myself, as if I'm treating whatever's going on as if it's an actual illness. It feels good. For once, I'm not really pressuring myself to get something done or enjoy the time off while I have it. I really like the feeling.

Obviously, I'm calm right now. My head still feels sore and over-filled, and I still have a lot of confusion. I think one of the reasons I'm having such a hard time figuring out why I have a freak out is that once it's over, my mind erases the details. I freaked out last night before bed, started crying and such, but I don't know why. I don't remember what lead up to it, just what happened afterwards.

In good news, my mom was really great at helping me out last night. She spent the evening trying to distract me and let me know that I could wake her up and she'd spend the night talking with me too. It was nice to know I had that option, even if I didn't need it. I'm often worried about inconveniencing people, so I usually won't wake them up I'll just wait until they're up. I know my parents said that I was always able to wake them up for anything, but I still don't like to.

I feel very weird. I'm calmer than I've been for quite awhile, peaceful even, but I don't think it's going to last. At least it's nice to post something less negative for once

A Little Bit on the Crazy-Side

So, I had a pretty bad freak out this weekend. I went relatively crazy for a few minutes, worry about nearly everything. Unfortunately, that freak out ended up completely destroying my ability to analyze myself and my emotions. Which means I'm having a very hard time describing what's going on in my head. 

I feel drained, tired, overwhelmed and spent the last 8 hours with a headache that ranked in the top ten worst I've ever had. I'm not sure if I'm exaggerating or playing-down how I'm feeling. I went to work today; it felt too normal. I've had random episodes of crying and feeling desperate. Desperate for what, I don't know. I feel too calm half the time and too emotional the other half. 

I feel more pushed to the side than I ever had with any other anxiety problem I've had. My mom's doing her best, but I don't think she understands how chaotic my mind is right now. She doesn't really seem like she's paying much attention, just kinda brushes it off, which I guess is partly my fault since I've only describe it in a very calm and meh manner. My dad's away on a trip and I know I can email him, but don't know what to say. 

I feel crazy. I don't think I've ever felt crazy before. I've felt afraid, mad, hated myself, etc. I felt somewhat sane then, at least the semi-logical part of my brain was functioning. I knew logically what was happening, even if my emotions didn't want to give me up. I don't know what's happening this time. I don't know how I'm feeling, I don't know why and I don't know how to convey it to people to find help. I'm trying my best here, but I don't know if I'm making it up because I think I should feel a certain way. 

I'm going to take the day off from work tomorrow, and maybe the next day. Surprisingly, it's not out of avoidance. It's not because I'm afraid of going or I'm lazy or anything like that. I'm not even sure if I should, or even want to, take the day off. When I'm home, I just want to do nothing. Just lay in bed the whole day. Why do I want to take the day off? Maybe I'm hoping that a day of nothing will recalibrate my brain, I don't know...

I went to the doctor today and they put me on something for anxiety; they said it would take about 2 weeks to see results. I hope it works, but I wonder if I'm making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe I'm exaggerating how bad that one moment of craziness was because I'm bored or want attention. Maybe I want to spent my life suffering and moping about. Woe is me! Poor girl! What's wrong with me?

Am I exaggerating this? Did I write this for attention or for clarification? Do I want to sound crazy? I don't know. I'm so confused about everything. 

How I Deal with Stress

I'm going to let you in on a little secret, that isn't actually a secret to anyone I know. When I feel overwhelmed, I shut down. I go from confusion to tears in seconds. The trigger that generally causes this the most is something related to registering for school. For example, such a reaction was elicited when I attempted to sign up for a high school chemistry course only to discover that my parents kept none of my report cards (or if they did, they've now falling into the pit of 'never going to freakin' find it') and which contained information vital to my completion of the objective. Instant frustration tears!

But what freaks me out more than just signing up for a damn chemistry course, is whether or not I'll be able to complete it and what comes after completing it. Here's the thing, my self-control when trying to get shit down is nearly non-existent. It's pathetic. I was super proud of myself when I managed to stick to my coursera courses for over 3 weeks, but all it took was one weekend without any internet and the habit was broken. I reverted back to little miss lazy-butt and after a few half-assed attempts, have given up. At this point I'm too far behind and rather than take it as a challenge, I give up.

That's my nature. If things don't work out, give up. Avoid it, hide or runaway. Just like with work, things are stressing me out but I'm too afraid of having to start another job and all the awkwardness that follows. If I had anything close to courage, I would just pack up, move, and start all over again. However, I still live with my parents and have no idea how to be a fucking adult. I just mooch off of them like the jerky daughter I am.

University is the most terrifying idea I've ever come across. I have no idea what I'm doing, I feel like a complete idiot and I have no one to help me try to figure it out. Besides, even if I did manage to register, the little chicken shit that I am would wuss out and avoid all her classes. Because she's scared of looking like an idiot.

I feel absolutely pathetic. My life will stay at a standstill as my younger cousins and siblings go to university and make something of themselves. Everything I want to get out of life, I have no idea where to start. I don't want to go to university, I'm too scared and it's what I'm expected to do, even though I'm not convinced I want to. After all, how the hell will I get a good paying job unless I go?

Every time I start pushing myself forward, I feel like I fall back into the hole I just dug myself out of. When things start making sense and I think I've grown-up, I like to revert back to confusion and inner turmoil. I'm frustrated, myself and I are not even close to being friends anymore, and I'm about ready to crawl into a corner of my bedroom and never come out.

Worries About Writing

I like to classify things in an attempt to make sense of them and I like to label myself so I know who I am. It's an overly simplified way of thinking and I don't always stick to it, but it's how I like to start working through things.

You know on your first day of school, when the teacher asks all the students to tell the class something about themselves? Well, mine was always "I'm a writer" or "I'm an author" or something to that effect. Having written two books was a big source of pride for me, especially since I was (and still am) not all that confident in myself.

I stopped writing novels over two years ago. I didn't have a clear choice of what to write next and then I wound up sick. I haven't written any fiction after I graduated, since I usually wrote when a class bored me.

Not having a clear idea of what to write, frustrates me. Not having written in such a long time, frustrates me. But it scares me to think that I may never write again, that I suddenly don't need it. I can't remember what it felt like to have a great idea running through my head as I scribbled it down. I just feel frustrated.

I don't know how to start a story anymore. It's almost like I've forgotten how to write. I'm scared to lose one of my self-proclaimed titles, because I just might not be an author any more. I know I'm over-thinking it, that just jumping in and struggling to piece words together on a daily basis will help me to remember, but let me steam in my worry and frustrations until I can force myself sit down in my spare time.

More Frustrated Rants

My week has been crap. Got a discipline notice at work (that I feel was undeserved) and it seemed to be the key to release all my other inner demons. All that anxiety and avoidance that I felt I had recovered from, has returned in all it's former glory. 

So, what do I do? The only logical thing that one can do when suffering self-doubt, picking up one of those self-help books. You know the ones with the cheesy title that sound empowering like "How to Become a Badass", the ones that are feel of all sorts of peppy "you can do it!" talk, and the ones that have you rolling your eyes but keep reading it just in case it turns out to be the thing that changed your life. I haven't come across one book yet that's really inspired a huge life change, most of them seem to creep me out. You just know that there's some creepy dude sitting back in his chair with money stacked on his desk, laughing at the idiots who bought his stupid book. 

Every time I read some of these books, I come to the realization that a) I hate these books and b) I want to stay miserable. I don't have any desire to practice any of their methods, I just want to wallow in my misery for a little while longer. I want to stay miserable because I don't know what to do to fix myself, and know that eventually I'll just have to accept it until the next time something sets me off. 

I'm just so frustrated with my life. I don't want to have an asshole boss who likes to bully me around because I look young and am anxious to start conflict, I don't want money to be the biggest factor in my life, even though it is. I don't want to have to stay at a job just so I can pay for my car, I want to be able to find a job that I enjoy (something I could do on my own from home would be extra nice) instead of waiting around for the magical transformation of my boss. 

The problem is I can't find a way around it. Maybe twenty years from now I'll be in a position to work around it, maybe by then I'll have enough money to make my life enjoyable. But I'm not sure if I'm willing to wait twenty years. Do I want to spend the next few years being miserable in hopes that it'll get better?

Not Yet Forgiving

One of my biggest challenges is learning to love myself. It's an one going cycle filled with some ups and many downs. There's the insecure feeling I get when people think I'm a junior high student and my annoyance at the fact that I probably see myself about as responsible and capable in the real world as one. There's the struggle with anxiety and fear of embarrassing myself in public at any moment. The worry that I'll say the wrong thing, the fear of expressing my opinions only to have someone unleash a torrent of "how stupid are you" on me.

I've mentioned before that I have a nasty habit of physically punishing myself (in very, very mild ways) by slapping myself in the head or pinching myself every time I think I've done something wrong. For example, I jokingly told a work friend that my dad wanted me to be Buddhist because he kept trying to get me to read some books on it. Immediately I thought I'd said it to loud and/or offended the East Indians that were in the lunch room. That was four days ago, I slapped myself in the car today when I thought about it.

You'll know when I get a bad memory because I like to hiss under my breath "shit" and then will probably slap myself on the cheek while whispering "stupid". Then I'll let it steam in my own mind as I become afraid that someone has seen it and thought that I was a complete idiot.

I'm not too good at letting embarrassing moment go with an "Oh, well. Can't change the past!". I try. I usual attempt to convince myself to let it go because I can't possible do anything to change it. Sometimes it helps a little, but I usually feel really anxious for a few hours afterwards and any other time I think about it.

I don't have a lot of compassion for myself. In anyone else was doing this to me, it would be emotional abuse. The problem is I have a hard time seeing that I'm a person too. I have to learn how to 'play nice'. Simple as that.

I've also decided to end this on a weird, random and semi-happy note. I freaking love tall prairie grass. It's so beautiful, especially when you get a nice breeze and they all sway, looking like an ocean of grass. Something else I also have a weird affection for, hard wood floors. Especially the maple colour with scuff marks and scratches. They will literally make a room for me. I stayed at a hotel in Italy with floors like that and it was by far the best hotel room I've ever stayed in.

Your welcome for all that fun information. Enjoy your day. :P

Theoretically, this should work...

Today, I attempted to sew. About five years ago I took a Home Ec course where they showed us how to use a sewing machine and how to hand-stitch. Luckily for me, I had a friend in that class that knew how to sew and would often, with a sigh of exasperation as she looked at my clumsy attempts, finish my projects for me. I, unfortunately, did not have that friend by my side as I tried today.

First I had to learn how to thread a bobbin, then how to insert the bobbin, then how to thread the upper thread, and then how to sew in a straight line. After about five minutes, my face was flushed with frustration  and I could feel tears threatening to spill. Still, I pressed on for another two hours. My project is uncompleted and I have to rip out about half of my seams. 

Right now, I'm immensely frustrated. For one main reason: I expected it to come out perfectly. After all, I read the manual, watched the videos and I theoretically knew exactly how to make it perfect. I now know that practical and theoretical knowledge are far from the same thing. But how was I supposed to know? For years in school, all I had to do was pick up a book and let the information sink in. I could easily learn about some point in history or mitosis or political views by reading a book. 

None of the courses I took in school prepared me for my greatest challenge of all... threading that goddamned bobbin. I spent my entire educational life thus far learning theoretically, something that I also think I have a natural knack for. I never really learned how to practically learn skills, something that rings true every time I attempt to do my hair, cook, sew or anything that requires a hands-on approach. 

Practice is what's needed to learn those types of skills. Hands-on practice is not something I'm very good at simply because I expect that since I know the steps I will be able to accomplish it easily. I still haven't learned to french braid although I theoretically know the steps, simply because when I try it doesn't end up perfect and I give up. Story of my life! I'll try to cook something, but if it fails I'll just stop cooking. I'm not an adventurous cook, I can't just throw something in, I need to follow the directions exactly because if I don't it'll come out wrong. I envy my brother for effortlessly throwing random spices in simply because he can. 

It's very frustrating for me. Extremely. And logically I know that all I need is practice, but I"m unwilling to do so because I'm not as good as it as I think I should be. I wish that I knew how to hands on learn, but it's just something I've never had experience before. If you sit down in a classroom, you'll be taught from a textbook or by listening to a lecture. It's rare that, unless you take something like shop or Home Ec, you'll learn hands on. 

People learn differently, but school's don't like to teach differently. I feel bad for my hands-on buddies, because if I was forced to learn just hands-on I have no doubt that I would have had a very poor schooling experience. How they managed to survive in a theoretical world, I do not know. All I know is that I wish I'd had more opportunities to learn hands-on approaches. 

Either way, now I'm stuck wallowing in self-pity because the all the new skills I want to learn require a hands-on approach. I want to learn how to build a cob house, sew, garden, build fences, cook, how to do electrical and plumbing work, and to become relatively self-sufficient. The only way I'll learn these is if I jump feet first and give myself some slack. It's ok not to get it right on the first, second, third, forth... hundredth time. I need practice, and I need to understand that I will make a lot of mistakes as I learn. A lot! I just hope that my head can get into gear, stop beating me up and begin to treat me like the imperfect human being that I am. 

Vacation Confessions

I'm writing this simply because I've been thinking about this for awhile, and because I'm too much of a chicken to talk face-to-face with someone about. Let's get this clear from the get-go, I am very blessed and I'm not trying to be ungrateful. So please don't take this the wrong way.

A few months ago my parents made me an offer; if I got a job, they would help pay for a trip to Italy. Now, I've got a job and a brand spanking new car that I'm very proud to say I got all on my own. My parents payed for the license plate and co-signed, and I think that's about it. I offers a bunch of freedom...and a ton of more problems and concerns.

When I was younger, I dreamed of going to Italy. I loved to study various subjects and had read up as much as I could on ancient Rome. My parents ended up going to Italy, leaving me behind to cry into a pillow out of frustration and jealousy. I mean, I was happy for them, but mad because I felt like I knew far more about the history than they did and, having the superiority complex that I did, didn't think they deserved to go when I couldn't.

I eventually got over to some degree. Now that I finally have a chance to go, I don't feel that excitement about it and the thrill of knowing all history is gone. Not to mention, I'm going with my parents who've been there before and seen all sights already. They won't be nearly as amazed as I will be, and probably won't enjoy seeing the same things over and over again. It's seems a bit more disappointing than anything.

Then I have money to think about. How long do I plan on staying at this job? How much do I save for school? How much money will the trip cost me? Is it worth the cost? What could I do with the money instead? Will I be too impulsive with my money while on vacation?

Ever since getting the job, money's all that I worry about. I don't know anything about it. I have no concept of what amount of spending I'm allowed to be doing, or how much I should be saving. I worry that getting a car was a bad idea, even though I did need it to get to work. Every time I use my debit card, I worry a bit more. Whether it be for lunch, a tank of gas or a pair of shoes. It doesn't matter the cost, just the fact that I'm spending money. I am unbelievably worried about doing the wrong thing with my money that will end up ruining my future.

What's even worse, is the fact that now I feel very guilty because I'm not more appreciative of the great opportunity I've been given. I'm sure once I'm in Italy, I'll have a lot of fun, but there's still that nagging feeling that if I don't enjoy it as much as I should, then it's been a waste of money. Hopefully the stress will go away after awhile and I'll start to look forward to the trip. I just wish I knew what I should be doing.

Is it Forever?

I think I, or at least used to, view my social anxiety as something that will never change, but lately I wonder if that's the wrong approach. I've stopped trying to overcome it in a way, although I do give myself a mental pat on the back when I manage do something I'm nervous of or when I have to push myself a little.

That may sort of work, but I've started to realize that I become anxious even at home. For example, I haven't ever really used a blender and I got one for Christmas, but I'm afraid of using it when someone's home because I'm afraid of embarrassing myself in front of them. I also don't like baking, or exercising in front of others. They're my family for crying out loud!

And I thought I was getting better. Maybe that's just because I had a major stresser (school) taken out of my daily life. Either way, I'll keep this short by saying that I have no idea what I want to do. I've started considering medication, but I'm not sure that it's a route I'd like to go. My problem with medication is the fact that it's a short term fix. I won't have learned how to manage anxiety on my own and I don't want to be on meds for longer than I have to. 

Therapy's an option, but I didn't really feel like it helped all that much before. Group therapy will not happen, I can say that right now because my anxiety would make me back out before I could walk through the doors. Connecting one on one with someone is something I'm more comfortable with. 

I guess this means that I'll be spending a few more days/weeks/months researching ways to overcome anxiety and thinking about it. Sigh...