Tantalus

I have been feeling like I'm running in place lately. As though all of the things I have been actively striving for (sanity, happiness, stability, independence, success) aren't getting any closer to fruition.

Small slights sting more than they ever have before. Every unreturned phone call and harsh word cuts deep- even though I knowingly surround myself with blunt and brutal people. I know with one hundred percent conviction that I am being ridiculous, but that doesn't stop the wounded feelings.

Lovegood once told me that I'm a pushover. The part that she doesn't understand is that I can't always tell if I'm overreacting or if my hurt and anger is justified. I'm afraid of letting my crazy out, so I pick my battles very carefully. Maybe too carefully.
This is, perhaps, where I get myself into trouble. I have a hard time trusting people, so when I do let someone into my life I expect that they will appreciate how difficult it was for me to do so. I expect that they will respect and understand that I can't always vocalize my needs. I expect that they will understand that when I say something isn't a big deal it almost always is, and that when I'm dramatic about something it is almost always trivial. I know that it is ridiculous to expect people to know this. I know that I hold people to higher standards than they are capable of meeting. I know it is crazy to do this- to set my relationships up for failure. I know that I can't expect people to follow the strict life rules that I set for myself. I am incapable of explaining this without sounding like a self-righteous asshole. This is why I cycle through friends with such regularity, it is why my relationships don't have staying-power. I am easy to disappoint.

I wonder why I do this. Maybe it is easier, safer to just be disappointed. If someone disappoints me, I don't have to try anymore, right? Maybe. I'm not sure anymore. Its something to think about it.

Lately, I have been actively making an effort to get better, to be better.. I have been making an effort to verbalize my feelings (with the exception of last week). I have said no. I have done things for myself because it was what I wanted or needed. I have spent time alone, rather than spending time lonely. I am actively trying to be independent and healthy and let go. I am making an effort to forgive and understand and be reasonable.

This is where the running in place comes in- all of this effort seems wasted. I don't feel any more healthy or stable or independent. Everything still feels messy, like I'm barely hanging on... like I've been barely hanging on for awhile.

No More Balloons

Thursday was Justin's 24th birthday. I had spent the last few weeks with a growing anxiety. I had mentally circled the day in red ages ago. 


In years past, my mother has assembled some sort of hoopla to celebrate Justin. Two years ago we went out to the spot where we scattered his ashes and released balloons, then she cooked all of his favorite foods and we exchanged gifts. Last year my mother and I released balloons at the park where my brother played Little League. We followed that with dinner at his favorite restaurant and a dessert that was a childhood tradition. 


This year: nothing. No balloons. No birthday cake. Nothing.


No one even said a word about Justin. My sister had an appointment to get her hair thinned at 3:30 that afternoon.  BestFriend called me; she didn't remember that it was Justin's birthday. I couldn't force out the words to remind her.


I couldn't bring myself to say anything to anyone. In the days leading up to the 29th I hadn't mentioned it either. I wasn't sure how to approach it with my family; I didn't want to inflict it on my friends. I know that my friends would have been supportive. When I mentioned the significance of the date after the fact in that casual-but-not-really-casual way that I bring up tough things my friends were lovely and supportive and insisted that I should've told them. It wasn't that I didn't want to, exactly. I felt incapable of forming the words. And I didn't want to shine a light on my pain, or invite people to pity me. I didn't want to be viewed as seeking attention or sympathy. 


To be completely honest, I expected people to remember. Not my friends, but his friends, my family, all of the people who inserted themselves into my grief   when he died.


The worst part isn't that no one reached out to me. The sad, dark part of me always expects that. The worst part is that I feel as if everyone forgot Justin. All of the people who were his friends, who promised to love him forever are gone. It hasn't even been three years and he's already been forgotten. My grandmother didn't even call. 


By early afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore. I got into TheEgg and just drove. I ended up at the same sand dunes where we scattered Justin's ashes. I go there every so often to visit him. Not as much as I should. I sat there, wrapped in a beach towel and staring into the sea, until the wind dried all of my tears and my feet were numb. 


Days later, this is still bothering me. I feel so alone. How could they have all forgotten so soon?

Novacaine

I am experiencing a period of sensitivity.

This happens to me sometimes. I become temporarily unable to see the humor in things. Off hand comments sting; insults and petty digs pierce my soul. My whole self feels raw, as if there is a sucking wound in my chest. My skin is tender.

It is not unlike the way that depression feels, but it is not wholely like it either.

It is during these times that I am most erratic. I will have an out of character soul-baring conversation with a coworker only to follow it with a days-long self-imposed exile. I am more still and silent than usual. I hold everything I see and hear close to me to be examined later. I dwell and I obsess about absolutely everything. I search for meaning and significance where there is none to be found.

Do I know this is happening? Yes. Do I know it is absurd? Absolutely. Can I stop it? Not a chance.

I fear that its a return of my crazy. That all of the sadness is coming back. I fear that I can't ever escape it. I don't want to wake up at 45 and still be in therapy trying to come to terms with age 19, my father, my sister. Justin. It has to end. I deserve an end. So I keep still and silent. If I don't react too quickly it can't get out.
And so I find myself sitting up in bed tapping this out on my phone. (My laptop would, of course, choose this time when I most need to blog to misbehave.) Taptaptap tap taptap. Dwell. Dwell. Dwell.

I'm dwelling on a comment made by one of the kids who works for me. It was mostly off-hand, but it hit disturbingly close to home. It mirrored something BestFriend commented (scolded) about last week; something TheTransplant mentioned weeks ago; my own secret fears. BestFriend is almost always right, but she's especially always right when I most want her to be wrong. I really want her to be wrong about this.

I know I'm being silly and stupid. I know I should shake it off. I know that I shouldn't care. I wish I knew how to be less insecure, more confident.

I should practice what I preach: What Other People Think Of You Is None Of Your Business.

But I'm weak and insecure and I have this gaping wound in my chest and it won't stop.
So until the melatonin I took kicks in, I'll be here tapping and dwelling. Taptaptap

Achieve

Reverb11
Prompt for December13: Achieve: What do you hope to achieve next year? 


Let go.


I want to let go. 


I want to find a way to "cut the fat". I want to exorcise my demons. I want to streamline my life.


I need to minimize my mental and emotional clutter without running away and avoiding my life. 


I want to focus only on the things I can control. 


Sanity. I want my sanity back. I want to feel stable. 


So. That's what I'll be doing in 2012.