Sour

When I started writing this post, I had about one full paragraph, but then somehow it was backspaced and deleted. So, I'm starting from scratch again. Honestly, that's sometimes how it looks daily; I am starting over again and again. 2016 has been a very strange year for those of us around me, and I'm not sure what to even begin writing down as hopes for next year. I don't want to stop pursuing the goals and hopes I noted back in December 2015. These are things that make sense, and some are ones that I should never stop doing or pursuing. I want to continue this growth, but I know that where I am at right now is far from where I was when I originally wrote that list. It seems like we often look back on our past self and think, "You silly thing. You knew nothing." But how funny is it that 2015 me said the same thing about 2014 me, and so on and so forth? This changing and reshaping evolution never ends, and damn, I am thankful. The tension of expansion and growth is hurtful and achy, but it is necessary.

This intense season of depression I am emerging from caused a huge part of me to die and get left behind. I read from a Huntington Post article that each time deep depression occurs, a part of us dies: a good part or a bad part. We lose something. I lost much of my normal way of processing and dealing with anything. I used to lead with my feelings and "heart." Because my feelings switched off for a long while, I had to cope with my brain. Using logic, sense, critical examination, and reason to figure out myself, my place, my mental disorder, and how to fight through the lack of energy and lack of emotion was so contrary to my normal function. Now I coming through as a person with less "feeling" tendencies and more "thinking" tendencies. How can depression completely reshape how someone processes life? Is that possible? Or have I been pushed so far over the edge that the only way to progress was to stop feeling and start thinking? I hate limbo and tension, but that is what I live in. How can someone be conscious of something being nonsensical and just being OKAY with that.

What remains on the surface of my thoughts is that my questions and uncertainty will never be satisfied and that the next person will tell me that I just have to "live with it." I don't want to live with it, I'm angry that I let religion and faith dictate my whole life when all it seems to be is a feeling and something I convince my brain that I am experiencing. There is no proof that providence exists, that miracles aren't accidents, and that there is life after death. We see what we want to see. We believe what we want to believe. We create images and ideas and feelings with our brains. How can we trust that all of this we are "processing" or accepting isn't just our brain playing tricks on us? How do I know that my brain isn't screwing with me right now? I have a mental disorder, a chemical imbalance! How can I trust my brain AT ALL? Religion is a feel good, afterlife guarantee dream that people have told stories about from generation to generation so they believe that everything happens for a reason, and so they can feel better about themselves. There are tests done that show people who think more positively are more likely to experience positive things than those who do not, or those who think more logically/realistically.

I don't know what to believe because every angle seems to take nonsensical faith. I want to believe many of the things I was forced to learn as a child - I had no options. Maybe if the people around me taught me in ways that weren't so damaging and forceful and as if there is no other religion that could possibly make sense, maybe I'd be able to say, "Yeah, I accept that I am deciding this is truth and this is real." But no. They taught me to be adamant that I AM RIGHT about which religion is the "only true religion", that the bible is infallible, and that if you don't agree with everything in it, you aren't and can't be a Christian. I've seen people abuse their positions, abuse their loved ones, and fake their way to top leadership, and screw everyone else. I've seem pornography and rape culture be dismissed, women be treated like after thoughts or property or THE PROBLEM, children oppressed and misused, and men never take responsibility.

 I am sick of being told I'm vile or wicked or sinful or worthless without a god. I'm sick of being told to love myself while being told to surrender myself and die to myself. These cliches mean nothing coming from the lips of those who are merely restating words they don't even feel or mean. I don't know what to believe. I want to be kind, good, loving, understanding, faithful, hopeful, real.. because that is who I should be, not because Jesus tells me to be or because I'll get into heaven if I believe in Jesus, not because I'll fucking get anything in return. But because THIS is who I should be, without reward of an afterlife. People don't question their faith because they don't want to risk not going to heaven, and that is stupid. I can't just "choose" Jesus because I don't want to risk not going to heaven. I want to be real, I want my love or faith to be because I am convinced of this person being worthy of faith, and trust, not because I gain anything. And don't tell me that is what you're doing, too. No. You're scared of being wrong and dying forever. I've been self-righteous for too long, and I want to walk away from that. I just want answers and experiences, beyond feelings and beyond critical thinking. 

Depression is a Quiet Darkness

The more I learn from school or pleasure reading, or podcast listening, or conversations with professors, the more my mind expands. I appreciate the ways that my education has pushed me to expand in ways I never would have imagined. I try to adapt my language and word usage to the communication style I've been taught is most effective or appropriate. My writing styles have developed, changed, bettered, and are enriched with stronger, more descriptive words. I didn't used to think I needed to learn how to express myself better, but now that I have been taught ways to write that I never knew existed, my options are unlimited. The only thing that seems limiting is me. No, I meant to use the word in that way. I am limiting, limiting my potential, my possibilities, and my drive. How am I doing that? I will try to explain.

I don't know how to ask for help, nor do I truly believe that it is acceptable for me to do so. I continually am told by friends or family that asking for help isn't a sign of weakness. However, they are telling me this while they are on the sidelines, and not asking anyone for help in that moment. I'm the youngest of four children, raised in a family where I thought asking for help was a sign of weakness. I thought that if I didn't look like I had it figured out, like I was okay on the inside, that I wasn't going to be loved or accepted, understood or cared for, listened to or validated. No, my parents didn't do or say things that made me think this way in particular. The only thing my parents did was cause me to be in an atmosphere where I connected with people who led me to think this way. I have a hard time asking for help because I thought I would fail either way, and I would just be embarrassed further. I thought that my parents would be more proud if I somehow magically had my shit together without needing them, needing anyone, and by me responding with the right answers. I hate telling anyone that I'm a mess because I grew up thinking I needed to hide the sadness, the emotional turmoil, the helplessness, the disconnect, and the depression I've had since I was a kid. 

Why am I exposing myself to you now? The more I learn, the more I see how necessary it is to contribute my thoughts to the giant mess of networking that exists out there. In all the negative messages that occur on your newsfeed, here is my message with a snippet of my story. This is so that maybe the belief I deeply hold that my purpose in life to connect with others in a deep way can still actually happen despite the fact that I am severely depressed and have little to no drive to keep any connection with anyone whatsoever. For those who don't understand this type of depression or depression in general, it isn't being sad or grumpy or pessimistic. There is no root cause or pinpoint problem when I talk about depression; it is a complete imbalance in my brain. Yes, it is a real thing and I'm not asking for prayers, thoughts, or attention to ME on this. What I want to narrow in on is that there is still no excuse for me to ever give up, even when every part of my being is wrestling against itself, limiting itself, and telling itself to shut down and stay in bed. 

I'm not asking for help, especially since I've never been good at doing so. As I continue to study communications, I see how necessary it is to continue to connect with people, even when my brain tells me it doesn't matter anymore. I see how necessary it is to mimic the appropriate nonverbal expressions or use similar language or facial expressions as my friends even when my emotions are numb and my interest is nonexistent. Who I am to my core still exists despite how far away my body and brain seem to be from each other. Who I am still exists despite my uncertainty of everything I've thought, believed, or hoped, or trusted. I am limiting myself when I think I can't ask for help, I am limiting myself if I stop reaching out to friends even when my brain tells me I don't care anymore, I am limiting myself if I choose to stay in bed and hide, and I don't want to limit myself anymore. 

The reason I haven't posted anything in a long time is because I didn't know exactly how to describe where my mind has been the last few months. I daily am accepting each state of mind I am in, and learning to take care of myself as I learn more of who I am in this depression. If I haven't responded to you, if I haven't reached out, if I haven't tried to see you or do what I normally would in our friendship/relationship, I am sorry. I truly haven't been my full self for a while, and I am seeking out guidance and healing through it. I am not crying out for help or support or words of encouragement because honestly your words probably won't be received as well as you mean them, mostly because I cannot process things as I normally do - my brain is overworking itself. The most important thing I have been learning in all of this is that I still have to be real with people and be real with myself. I refuse to lie about or hide who I am, what I am facing, and what I think. 

My life motto is as follows: Be brave, be free, be love, and be real.

Despite what I feel or don't feel, because it seems like my feelings have been switched off, I am completely pursuing to represent my motto, whether my brain tells me I want to or not. Instead of just sending prayers or thoughts up for me, DO something. Seek out how you can be brave, be free, be love, and be real with the world around you. Seek out ways to stop limiting yourself, and pursue your potential. Seek to make yourself expand because you shouldn't use any excuses, just as I shouldn't.

If you have had similar experiences, or are having similar experiences as I am, don't be afraid to reach out to me. If you want to talk to me about what depression is and what's going on with me, I don't mind and please reach out to me. If you have any questions or thoughts, or if you want to encourage me, I am not opposed to that at all, just know the point of this wasn't to make anyone pity me or feel sorry for me. 

Notions of No Emotions

The desire to journal or blog or write about my thoughts and state of being right now have been so far away from my mind. When the idea of writing did come to mind, it was initially redirected to "what's due" and "will this count for my poetry practicum?" To be honest, no one reads this, except future me. (Hi, Hannah. Yes, you are a retard talking to your future self. And future self, you're probably smiling. Stop that. Okay, don't.)

I want to say so many things, but I realized something new about myself, or what my interpersonal comm class will define as "blind self." There are so many things buried within my head and heart and soul, and I'm blind to it. Others might be able to see it, or maybe not. I am not always capable of putting it all into words. Words diminish the value of moments and feelings. I wish someone could touch me and I suddenly felt what they meant, and not just heard words describing what they mean. I wish I could blame all this hollowness and emptiness and blank state on depression, but part of me wonders if I drove myself to this. Did I push myself to the limit and now I can't feel anymore? Am I a walking sociopath who mimics everyone else to seem normal? Have I forsaken true emotions? Will nothing touch my heart positively anymore?

I try not to make the first paragraph so heavy, but just as a normal introductory like an essay is supposed to be. Blogs aren't exactly essays, are they? I've been writing too many research papers and not enough journal entries. I'm not quite sure where I lost that desire. I want to document this year, my damn senior year of undergrad. But I hate this year. I don't feel detached, I am detached. I don't feel anything. When I feel something, it is so slightly and it fades quickly. It's like taking one bite of dinner and swallowing, and that's it. The feeling and the taste is over, digested, and gone. Well, I still can feel sadness, but part of me wonders if that's really sadness I feel or sadness is where I am at. My actions aren't that of a depressed person, per say. I push myself and try very hard to still do all the things I normally would do, but I'm suffocating when I do try. Everything is hallow, shallow, seems pointless, meaningless, and nothing really means much to me anymore. Excitement, arousal, happiness, entertainment... These are rarities and short occurrences. I think I broke myself. To be honest, future Hannah, because no one else is reading this, I am completely uncertain of nearly everything. My counselor told me we can work together to sort through all this. Who else can I truly talk to? God? I'm not really certain about him right now either.

I don't lack confidence or self assurance for the most part. Hurt and this heartache and these scars just won't go away, and I think my insides are gutted out, and there is no room for anything but shadow and fog. I have been aiming to reconstruct my mind and how it processes things, or deals with things. My natural way of processing is to lead with my heart, my emotions, and not with my head. Because of my stress and business, I've pushed that to the side and been forcing myself to be logical. I kissed someone I don't even like just to see if I'd feel anything negative or positive. All I felt was the fact that his lips put pressure on mine, and it was just happening. There was no disgust and no tension and no chemistry. Future Hannah, you might be saying now, well Hannah I never liked that guy and I wasn't that attracted to him, so no kidding. Damn, Hannah I hope we are at that point when you read this again. I hope you don't remember the details of how much it aches that I want to feel something intensely good again. I'd say it feels like this, but again, I can't truly feel anything. 

My Scarecrow Dreams

Why am I so opposed to saying I'm happy? Why have I let this heaviness linger on me for so long that I feel guilt for feeling good? I might not be the epitome of a 'glutton for punishment,' but I definitely qualify for that faction of people. I believe my state of mind has been hurting itself for years, and I have been reaching for an upward hand to pull me out of this place. I could stare in the mirror for minutes to maybe hours, eventually seeing my face change. I have shaped my opinion of myself through so much negativity, instead of what I know is true about me. I know in my heart that I define and create who I am, but my head gets so caught up on the idea that I am defined by what others do to me. I lay down and only have homework to stress over, yet I feel this heavy guilt that I should be worrying over more. Why are there so many gray clouds hanging over me when it's 'sunny with a high of 75?'

Is joy a state of being? Is happiness more than a feeling? I find fulfillment when I let go, take off my restraints, and run on incline as fast as I can. Anger doesn't take root in my heart like it used to, and bitterness is becoming a distant friend. Darkness comes to me every night, as if to ask, "Hey, aren't you still gonna let me in?" How can I see through this stained glass when it's become like contacts in my eyes? The world is tainted by my vision; my mind's eye isn't 20/20. It's not that I can't connect with the world around me, it's just I never knew it was okay before.

Who is truly quick to diagnose herself with mental illness or other health issues? I don't desire to have problems that need fixed. It amazes me to watch the reactions of others when I describe the way my mind works - it ravages itself. Some say the heaviness or disinterest I have is due to growing up, but have I been a "grown up" for the last 14 years? I've been called an old soul before. Do old souls experience a never ending ache of sadness that feels like how a low hum sounds? Do all of our brains tell our hearts to feel shame for not feeling sadness for one night? Does anyone else repeat the words "I'm fine" again and again because they don't really believe it? I read that "thoughts become things," and that if I keep being so cynical, life will always be dim. How do I rewire my brain when I had no dictation for my own makeup?

My heart is searching for peace and freedom. One day, I hope my brain will quiet down and let itself be at ease. There are moments of joy, happiness, highs, peace, and freedoms. I long to shape my mind and belief around those moments, and remember that they last forever, because they really do. I know that shame is a passing thing, and depression will one day fade away. Maybe I must start repeating to myself, "Life is beautiful despite the shadows," I will feel that and think that. I can heal.

Come Now Illusive Side

Dreams are so weird. The details slowly shift and we don't question why we started out searching for one thing, grabbing another, and walking away with the thing we didn't even grab. We get dropped off in the middle of what is happening, get a vague idea of what we are doing on our journey during the dream, and we don't question it's strangeness. Of course, we don't question til we wake up and realize it was a vivid, yet confusing dream. What I believe to be the real world isn't quite the same because I question so much, and cannot function well if things don't have a good step-by-step process to explain how I do things. This isn't the case for everything, but I am also the person who will drive past the new location I'm going to - like 6 times - before parking because I'm anxious to go to the door and it be the wrong door, and I don't know where to park properly... It's weird. I could not live life as if it were a dream.

So, why do I base my romantic desires off someone I saw in several dreams? If I couldn't truly live how I need in a dream like state, why do I hold onto this idea that "the knight in red" is someone I should be waiting on? Dreams leave off details, or they drastically change them, and leave us sort of looking down at our hands, thinking what was I first doing in this? I shouldn't chase down what's unclear or uncertain, yet I do it anyway. And it isn't like what I've found myself chasing down has even been good enough to compare to my strange dreams. I think if we want to believe a dream is sort of like a desire or a wish, then those weird images our brains project when we sleep shouldn't be called dreams. They're like mind video games - except video games generally give you some directions.

I decided a long time ago that I hate dreams. I used to fall asleep and have terrifying nightmares, and they got so bad for a long time that I could barely get myself to sleep. But now, even "pleasant" dreams hurt. They might conjure up past feelings that I thought I had walked away from, and then the next few days are heavy and I'm left with feeling emotionally involved in something that was (sometimes long) gone. It might be strange that I am venting about dreams, but I had one last night and I wish I hadn't. I don't want hopeless hopes creeping back into my system based off dreams that aren't reflections of reality. I've already fallen into a deep depression, and it has disguised itself to not look like what I've become used to it being.

There isn't a deeper point for me to hammer on at this point. I could go on, go deeper, and stir up more emotions. For now, I will end my thoughts at just existing. I need to sometimes just let myself exist, and experience things for what they are in the moment. Sometimes I put too much weight on things that I need to just let the pressure off myself. Here's to breathing a little easier, because I don't need to think too much on the dreams I had last night.

Perhaps When the Day Is New

What happens to a writer when words just seem to fail? There's nothing to do, but sit and try to form complete thoughts. There is a heaviness on my chest, on my skin, and binding me to this place, where I don't believe I look up again and find kind eyes and a true heart. These doubts and past images start playing back into my mind, as if the memories are clear anymore. They are memories, and the more I re-think them, they become less real and more a reflection of a remembered memory. My own memories deceive me as they shift with every time I replay them. When I play those games in my head, I'm causing more destruction and ill than good and reconstruction.

I check myself. I reflect. Growth and development have been taking years, and every year I can look at how far I've come. Others around me see the difference, and that shows me I'm not just imagining it. Sometimes I wonder at how I can even keep going or how I have kept going. The days haven't gotten easier; I think sometimes I'm numb to what has happened. It isn't healthy to constantly dwell on the past events, but it isn't easy to completely give it up all at once. When I mull over things, I rediscover parts I didn't see as clearly before. Many times I just find more blame to fill my head with, and more regret to weigh my heart down with. It's when I believe I've found relief that a storm comes again.

Am I always prepared for the storm to hit? Someone once said that it's when we are happy and in a good place that the storm hurts us the most. A year ago, I was much lighter than I am now - finally. I had been drawn to this place where I finally felt the freedom I've been given. And now, this constant heaviness lingers on my skin, and I cannot push it off. I've spent the last nine months making excuses for some foolish choices of mine because of severe hurt and pain I, shockingly, faced. Now the demons are pounding on my door, trying to pry it down, and destroy the walls I have rebuilt. It isn't like my protection looks very high from where I stand, but I recognize that I cannot see what is invisible.

Kindness is free. The truth sets you free. Forgiveness isn't free. I don't want it to be that I find contentment from being "fulfilled" in a dream-like relationship. My heart's deepest desire is spiritual fulfillment and strength. If I just didn't have the other desires, I would feel much more confident and less distracted. My hurt and pain, the damage others have caused, distracts me and ravages my heart. I don't want to only find fullness and peace when I'm "good," but honestly I was single, and not with recent heartache when I was in such a good spot. But I guess that's where the quote really does mean something. I had pursued a stronger spiritual relationship with Jesus Christ, and was finding such confidence in that comfortable place. I was unprepared. I was unaware.

I made a stupid promise that I could deal with whatever He chose to give me... or not give me. And when I ask for peace from God, I guess we tend to think he will magically make us feel better. I am to have peace no matter what I deal with or face. Peace doesn't make sense. Jesus gives peace that "surpasses all understanding." Basically, the peace I can get from the Lord doesn't make sense, it isn't easy to explain, and it isn't this simple good feeling. That is a frustrating fact, but it is also very relieving because then I know it is something so deeply pure, and real, that I don't need to be afraid of it just being an emotion. (I only say stupid promise because God tests out if I'll keep that promise, and he'll try me on it, and see if I'll come through. It won't be how I perceive it, and that's the trick of my decision to promise it. I can't just expect no challenges.)

I'm fighting to keep it together. I'm trying to push myself just to get out of bed, some days. The cloud hangs over me so often, and it makes waking up feel like a mistake sometimes. My security and safety comes from the Lord, and I will not find that in anyone else. From my experience, lovers are cowards and they only want what they want. Any others who were more stable, apparently I couldn't feel settled within about them - and that is the thing that I mull over and I really should just shut my thoughts down when they surface.

I'm trying to realign myself.
Everything hurts.
People overwhelm me.
I'm really fine with being alone, I just wouldn't mind if the desire for otherwise would go away.

From the Outside Looking In

I would tell you how I'm feeling, but it seems as if it is supposed to be hidden. I can't put out what I'm thinking or feeling within. I don't want it to be made known to all, again as if I have an audience here. My insides are squirming, my heart is uncertain, and my mind conflicts with itself. I'm concerned that this feeling won't go away - the feeling that something isn't right.

I'm a problem. I'm a disease. I'm dissonance. I'm not an exciting mystery anymore. I'm routine. I'm not a wonderful surprise. I'm not pursued anymore. I'm not charming or fresh or unknown. I'm familiar. I'm imperfect and argumentative. I'm stubborn and negative. I'm aching within and don't know how to face this. I cannot say a word. I cannot explain. There is no answer, and I'm just in the dark.

Hollowness. Alone. It's just this heat is leaving my body. There is no persistent feeling. I feel so distant and faraway. I'm not sure where I can find love or happiness again. I don't mean that I am so unhappy with my life. Nor do I mean I'm not loved. But in this romance, it seems to be all draining. Losing. My hopes, my heart, my desires, it seems they are put off and being disregarded. It seems like I am not good enough anymore. I'm a routine and a familiarity. I'm not exciting or desirable or wonderful anymore. I'm real. And that isn't so pretty.

I'm not so pretty. The real me. Living with me. Trying to love me. It's too hard, isn't it? Maybe not, but it seems no one wants to pursue the task after a certain point. It boils away. It goes away. And maybe that's for the best, maybe it's better this way. But it hurts. I'm hurting so much within and I don't know anymore if it's hormones, or anxiety, or depression, or my personality disorder, or REAL. 

Ultimately Lonely

This feeling comes about when I don't want to spend the night alone. The feeling starts aching in me when I realize I have no plans. The summer has turned into a bad routine - a bad feeling. It starts in my head, thinking over and over about the fact that I'll be stuck in the house with no one to talk to or see or hangout with. Then, my parents tell me they're going out for the evening, and I'm left with my nieces. There isn't anything wrong with them, they are sweet. But the feeling is loneliness. 

This ache doesn't just go away by me snuggling with my dog, or playing with my nieces, or watching a show. Somehow, when my heart decides it needs company, everything hurts and I want to cry. And I know I keep repeating myself to others that this summer is really frustrating. Honestly, complaining makes me feel bad and I already have an issue with thinking I'm a bother. Which is my other feeling.

I don't want to be this person who needs constant reassurance of someone's care and affections, but because things so easily change, I want to know often if someone is okay with me. Insecurity, maybe. I'm sorry, I'm rambling. It isn't like you are really listening. You're not really there. 

Sure, I have close friends. Sure, I have a boyfriend. They're not here. They're far away. Sometimes I doubt they even want to be in my life. I doubt they want to stick around. Sometimes I think if I say the wrong thing, it will all unwind, like it has in the past. I've just been me and people have completely treated me like trash. It isn't that I'm not being treated well. I'm afraid it will all go away soon. 

So, there's my Saturday night. I wonder how much longer I have before I screw up and lose those around me. I sound really depressed. What's interesting is that today I came across a psychoanalysis paper on myself and a personality quiz I took. I wrote this paper back in 2012. It reminded me that I have high anxiety, serious trust issues, and depression. It isn't far fetched to say I get into a depressive state every few months. I can't tell you if this post is my depression talking or just loneliness from only hanging out with family for the last two months. And even that has been scarce. 

I'm restless. My mind keeps eating at every corner. I would say more, but part of me doesn't want to acknowledge some things and make them complete reality. I'm not in denial, I just don't want to voice some thoughts if it could fade, or somehow be found out I even said anything about it. I feel like some people could do more, let go of more, and maybe show more of what I mean to them. And then I tell myself, no Hannah... They pursued you, so obviously that is a sign. Yet I feel like something just isn't quite right. I'm missing something, yeah? I feel like I'm not what they really wanted, now that they see the real me. Maybe I'm paranoid. 

I'm Bigger Than My Body

Let me start out by saying, I don't blog enough anymore. I used to talk about my thoughts and feelings more often when I first started this, holy crap, 5 years ago. I was a freshman when I got my first laptop and started blogging. I think I had planned to type out lots of more, but life always gets in the way. I put off things. 

I think where I'm at right now is wondering how I've let hurt and pain scar me so much. The last 5 years of my college career have made me so guarded and so jaded. Rest assured, it's been more than those 5 years that affected me, but it's been a key part to who I am now. I've faced so much, and I am thankful of where I am. I want to think that it's all been for something, you know? That I haven't been hurt for nothing. And maybe, just maybe I will be restored one day.

So, here it has been several years since my first, real heart break. It seems like a dream, but that was when I thought I was in love with my best friend, and it was unrequited. I've heard it said that unrequited love is the most painful. I believe that to be true. The most severe heart breaks we face when it comes to love is when things are broken off, jagged. There's no such thing as a clean break, and a heart doesn't get torn perfectly in two.

My senior year of college is coming up this fall. I know. I said it's been 5 years since my freshman year, and it has. I never would've imagined finishing this far off course. I never would've imagined that things would be this way. Sometimes, I think back on those so many nights I cried myself to sleep, I was tempted and may have self-harmed, those nights I prayed that God would take me, and those nights that I just wanted someone who understood and would truly be my friend. I am amazed at what I've stood through, and yet I'm also wishing I wouldn't be so jaded. Maybe I wouldn't be so skeptical about people I start to invest in if I hadn't invested in the wrong people. But I'm no psychic and can't tell who is shit and who is not. Honestly, it shouldn't matter. I should pursue the people in my path despite what outcome I could know would happen.

I've recently read back over "diary" entries, on a USB drive, from 2011. I can see how much I've grown, how much I've learned about myself and what I believe and think. I can also see how badly some other things have progressed, and how my past definitely infected how I view everything. It's like I have this cracked lens and I'm shrinking down many times, afraid that someone will just hit it and completely shatter my vision. Darkness. So, I can't trust anything or anyone because I can't see anymore. I don't want that to happen; who does? And I think it also helped me realizes that I've consistently battled depression throughout my college years, at least. I like re-reading what I've said. Reflection and self-growth is really what I'm aiming for than just nostalgia.

But I remember how alone I felt. I remember wondering if I'll ever get past this hurt. I've said that about several things. I remember thinking that no one could possibly, truly be real. One night, in 2009, I remember screaming "IS NO ONE REAL!?" in my room. I have felt utterly alone for years. And I read in this book called the Prodigal God that children who never feel like they belong grow up to be adults who have such a hard time keeping attachments. I can attest to that. It isn't just me that screws stuff up; it's hard for me to want people to stay around because either I idolize them or they are psychotic. Both are extremes, and there are so many that meet in the middle or lean toward one side or another.

Where am I getting? I wrote a list of things I want for myself this year. I wrote it just before the year ended, and I had no idea what I would have in store. Simple wants to deep, real, passionate desires. That's the list. I've shown it to NO ONE. I wanted to have silver hair, and I have. Something so simple, yet it's been a desire of mine for a couple of years now. And there's others that I've wanted for years and years. It's amazing what kind of list someone can come up with when truly thinking about what they want for themselves. I want something deeper, realer, truer, lovely, and lasting. That sounds like relationship related, and it can be. All of it can be.

Renew. Revive. Restore.

The Vultures Will Surround You

This blog has been my escape for several years now. I started it when I started college. When I began it, I guess I assumed I would make entries more often than I do, and honestly I am not bothered that I come to it rarely. I created so many other social media outlets that this one isn't my first go-to, but maybe it should be a more prominent one.

I'm sitting at Martin's, drinking iced coffee, and dabbling on little bits of homework and sending out emails for information on projects that are due. I cannot believe I actually survived this school year. I have less than a two weeks left to go, and I actually lived through, saw things through, and didn't quit. My counselor here at school has said to me several times that she would completely understand if I never talked to anyone anymore and just dropped myself out and away from people. I don't know why I still pursue intimacy with anyone because it terrifies me while intrigues me. Megan once said to me that I'm a lover and I can't help it. She's right. I don't have to look for people very hard, they kinda just come into my path and I want to show kindness and love. But sometimes, I want to shut down. I want to cut everyone off and disappear.

Do I have every right to hide away from people and shut everyone out? Do severe hurts inflicted on me allow me to ignore the world? I'm not sure that's how life is supposed to work.

When I decide to go alone, like I can't depend on anyone or confide in anyone, I end up making bad decisions. I am not used to supportive friends. To me, it seems like a "Punk'd" episode and I'm just waiting for Ashton Kutcher to show up and laugh in my face. I know how depressing that sounds - I don't think my friends are real. What? I'm jaded, okay. I would base my thoughts off other things if I had better life experiences with people. The last time I looked to someone my age for help or advice or just as my confidant, that person shut me out.

Once I begin to internalize things, I know I'm done for. There comes to a point where the truth of me just isn't something I can bear to share anymore. I've been an open book because I've been shut up and shut down for so long, by so many. But I keep making decisions that aren't safe. I want care, and when the people I'm looking to won't lend it out, I look elsewhere and make damaging choices. If I could give myself a speech on how I just need to push through the hurts and not let myself shove everything away, I would start the outline. I desire things that also scare me, and then I hate myself for what I end up grabbing for.

Just like socialism, why work extra hard for anything when the outcome is always the same? "Do or do not, there is no try." I don't know why I added a quote from Yoda because I don't see how the context makes the least bit of sense. Maybe if I was more mysterious, less vulnerable, more withdrawn, and more ambiguous, maybe I'd hurt less and be less disappointed. But is that any way to truly live, to be so un-involved? 

Self-inflicted pain is easier to deal with than unexpected pain.

I know that with the statement above comes several different exceptions. I believe when you expect a pain to occur because you're allowing it, you know how to face it. If I cause my own pain, I'm prepared for it. Now, if your mind goes to self-mutilation that goes to extreme measures, please stop. I do not mean that it won't hurt as bad if I cut my hand off as if someone else did it. Honestly, it would hurt worse for me because I'd not do it fast enough. The shock of someone else doing it would take over for a while before realizing the pain of it being gone and bleeding a lot. I realize how strange these thoughts are right now.
This comes from a heart that has caused it's own pain and a body that has left scars purposefully on it. I guess this reflection comes from someone who also just pierced her own nose. I'm no expert at anything. Sometimes feeling something I can control is everything. I know it shouldn't be. 

Show Them Your Evolution

I won't settle for this love.
In the movie "the Wedding Date" that I watched last night, the lead male role wrote something like "Women have the type of love/relationships they want." And the lead woman says, do you think I want to be lonely and miserable? What I find while I dig deep into my emotional crevices is that I in fact tend to accept what I think I deserve, or what I am used to. We are all victim to our own minds, what we process as okay or something we can just deal with. There are some of us who don't want to go past the surface and meet our darkest desires or emotions, and we settle for what we can easily obtain and then force feed ourselves the thoughts "This is as good as it gets, I am satisfied." But what of those who just want to be understood, by themselves and by others? I have the hardest time of understanding people who don't want to get to the gritty and ugly of themselves. If we are not exposed to our own persons, then how can we ever truly know anyone else? Or is that something a lot of people don't want?
What intimidates others is that I long to find what drives their heart and actions, what makes them do what they do, and why they think what they think. I search for my own inspirations and what drives me. I analyze what I pursue and my own actions to get beyond what I see right in front of me and maybe find some real answers to what I am accepting for myself. And maybe I can get beyond what I feel, beyond how others make me feel, and reach the truth of it all. Ignorance and being ignored are two things I get thrown into and two things I hate. Details are everything to writers, to thinkers, and to me. I don’t want the vague reply, I want more and more, more than what anyone will give me.
I will not settle for this love.
Beyond ourselves, there is this life. And this life isn't directed by humans. It's directed by God. He offered a love that is beyond any fiction, any story, any comprehensible feeling and action we could conjure up. Why then, if I am offered this unbelievable love do I keep chasing after love that is only so frail and never lasting? Why do we chase after things that don't last while demanding why God won't provide what we've been praying for? Love lasting with some imperfect human who doesn't give two craps about us. I am only writing this to remind myself what God has already provided because I get sidetracked in my heartache when human beings let me down tragically.

"God if you can hear me out all right. Please take these feelings for her inside. My chest hurts when I breathe tonight." - Anberlin

I've been provided for and I cannot do better, anything else is such a settlement if I don't accept the love God decided I deserved. Too many times I have been cultured to think I am waiting on some knight in shining armor to save me, but I don't need saving. I've been saved. And maybe I should tattoo that on my arm so I read it every day and remember what drives my heart, why I think at all, it is all because I was romanced and loved by God.

"And it seems I get so hung up on the history of what's gone wrong that the hope of a new day is sometimes hard to see." - Relient K

Forget all other reasons to love anyone else, but God for the moment. He changed himself to meet me, he left his home to meet me, he abandoned his full true identity to appear as a nobody in particular just as I am, he met me where I'm at. I can never say anyone has done that for me before him, or even after him