S/p/l/i/t

Last night I watched the movie Split with my friend B for her birthday. We tend to watch creepy/horror movies together. I needed a good creeped out experience, but this movie wasn't just some aimlessly gory and horrific film. I do watch movies with the lens of "what does this movie say about our culture?" and "why was this movie made?" Normal people don't watch movies with that in mind, but due to my college education, I am doomed to analyze the crap out of media. It's okay. It helps me find the valuable parts of what I'm watching, and also to be a little objective when watching something.

So, the basic synopsis of the movie is a young adult male that has a personality disorder kidnaps three teenage girls. These girls meet several of the male's personalities. Two of the girls have never faced hardship, innocence stolen, abuse, etc, and the third girl was put into the custody of her uncle, who has molested her since she was a little girl, after her father died. The Male repeats different times about having "untouched girls" for "the beast." Once his 24th personality emerges, it ravages the "untouched girls" and starts charging toward the third girl. She had obtained the male's shotgun and was shooting at him until she enclosed herself in a cell for protection. When the male came to it, he started pulling apart the bars so that he could eat her, but then he saw the scars and marks on her stomach and arms. He saw that she wasn't untouched, but rather had been abused (like he had been by his mother years ago).

He stops trying to reach her and tells her she is pure - that the damaged are pure. Because she was (and maybe was still) abused, she understood things way beyond what those other two girls could. That made me think about the power of abuse and how people who haven't been through something traumatic react to something versus those who have. In the moment of something so terrifying, you realize what is about to happen to you, and it might not make sense (to an outside viewer if they could see) how you respond. We who watch what is happening on the TV screen can objectively say, Oh wow, girl you shouldn't have done that, but done this. But I have been in that moment where my actions couldn't match what seemed sensible. I couldn't make up a clear, quick response. All I knew in that terrifying moment was: get it over with, stay calm, survive, don't provoke them further.

The point of Split wasn't to terrify the public about abduction and split personality disorder, The point was that when people abuse others, there are terrible effects as a result. The victim will always live life affected by that trauma, and they will never react to circumstances the same way as those who haven't been through abuse. I'd like to be optimistic and say one day I will fully heal from the trauma, but I won't. My brain will always be scarred by it. My decisions in life are affected by my fears, my scars, my past trauma. The only way for the Male to cope was to develop personalities that were stronger than himself. But eventually that erupted into chaos, abduction, and murder.

So, yeah I did go to bed with images of James crawling up my walls and coming to eat my bowels, but I wasn't really frightened by that movie itself. I was frightened by how horrible the long term effects of abuse can be. I live in fear that I'll have to face someone I am scared to face. I live in fear somehow they will find a way to contact me again. There are so many things I just should've done in that moment, but I didn't do, and I cannot fucking hold that over my head anymore. It's done. That moment is gone, but the effects are evermore present. My trust in people is strained. 

Last Night I Did a Lot of Thinking

It’s nothing new that I overthink. But last night, I wrote out a poem, or was it this morning, about someone that I miss. The problem with dating different people or loving different people is that there are parts of them that I will always love more. I take away the parts that hurt and the parts that healed, and I’m left jaded and with expectations. We all have expectations. I’m no exception to that. 

“Don’t let the imaginary person in your head stop you from loving the person right in front of you.” I read that on Tumblr a few years ago now. I used to really struggle with having this ideal, this prince charming in my head. To some extent, the dreams I had of this person still affect what I imagine, but also people these days just trigger fears. I think that if I had less experience, I’d be less jaded, and things would bother me less. Like the cowardice or distance or selfish language wouldn’t freak me out as much because I’d have nothing it reminded me of. People stop putting me at ease. Things end once that happens. Either they ghost me or I end the relationship. 

Nostalgia, as I’ve said somewhere else, is dangerous to play games with. You’ve got to be careful where you let your thoughts dwell and stay. Sometimes it’s really harmful. I don’t know if thinking about C is really harmful or not. Don’t worry. I am not about to contact him and ask, Would you please take me if I moved to where you are? We have an understanding. I used to want to settle down, and he can’t do the distance between us. I get that. Sometimes perfect moments are just that: moments. I’ve had several perfect moments with him, and maybe full-time would be completely awful. I can’t let myself fantasize about what I don’t know.

I wrote a poem, and it conjured up feelings I had. Come June, we met two years ago, and it seems like a life time ago, but also just like a couple days ago. I remember how are banter made me feel. I remember how inclusive R was, and invited me to join them after the concert. I remember how I had to stop somewhere to buy chapstick because my lips were hurting so bad. They saved me a seat right next to C, of course. It’s funny how I best connected with the single one, and then R. We had good conversations. I miss them all, but mostly miss those two, missing C of course the most. I don’t know when I’ll see them again, if I’ll see them again. What’s hard is that I think part of me can’t really commit to someone now because I am in love with the idea of C and I finally trying out a relationship together. I admit that, in love with the idea. I don’t know if it would really work. With where I’m at now, it takes away the limitations of who I can date. To the deepest part of my heart, I do want to move to Texas. I’ve been trying to make that happen. But then Grad school kind of fell through, and my plans of moving closer to him did, too. 

After my relationship crumbled with Christian back in 2012, I promised myself to never choose a guy over my future/career/ my plans while I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life. And I haven't so far. I've not let it stop me. But to some extent, I have. I've let past hurts or past loves stop me from moving forward in relationships. It's not like I have ended relationships that shouldn't have ended. I have always had valid reasons, and I wasn't being a crazy jerk.

I guess the question is, would I move my life for the chance to be with C?  Am I, deep down, in love with C? Could I fully commit and trust him? Could he feel that way about me in return, and also trust me?

Maybe. I don't know. 

I don't have a paper due so I wrote a blog post instead

"Oh, what the hell? I just can't win for losing." I think of those lyrics from the Rob Thomas song because it seems like I just catch a break. I went to the MedStat clinic yesterday morning at 7:30 AM. They ran all kinds of tests on me to see what was wrong, and all of those tests came up negative. I'm fine. Except I'm not. I woke up last night knowing something wasn't right with my body. I can't prove anything, but my sister suggested I get an x-ray of my abdomen. There's a possibility I've got a hernia or I pulled a muscle. One thing is for certain, I don't feel right and it is partially self-inflicted.

The doctor sat down with me and talked about depression, self-harm, and ways to find peace or help when things are dark. I've always been apprehensive toward hospitals, doctors, and health professionals in general. I don't fully know why. I think it's because some of them are rude, but also I don't trust that just because they are "doctors" that means they can actually help me. Maybe it's because I've walked into a hospital room as my friend died. Whatever the reason, it's pretty serious for me to make myself go.

I could really use just some kind of break. The heaviness on my mind, heart, chest, stomach, and skin is nearly too much. There is nothing I can take that will make me feel better. I temporarily felt better at work today, and enjoyed some conversations with co-workers and some outgoing customers. I thought a lot, but not as much as I usually do. I was able to stay a little busier, and that was nice. I can't believe I haven't had coffee since Monday. It seems weird that I don't feel that bad without it, but it does feel weird.

My mind isn't so restless at this moment, but there are things weighing on it. I keep thinking about summer of 2015, and the people I met then. The things that hurt. The things that were wonderful. And it's strange how certain things held me back from really letting myself have feelings for certain people, but now that I am not really in this strict christian belief system, it kind of opens up my options of love interests. I mean, once I move out it's a bit more open, because if I were to live outside of my parents' laws openly while living with them, I'd get kicked out anyway. Probably. But I know that I really don't want to do distance again. As much as I deep down still love and care for him, I would have to live near him for us to be together at last. That's how he feels, that is also how I feel. I don't make enough money to do distance that far.

Something that also has been on my mind is that I don't know how to love anymore. It isn't that I don't love my friends and family because I do. I mean, I don't think I can commit myself to anyone. Things trigger me and scare me. Even in my head, though I love some people to some extent, I don't think I could give myself to them fully. I don't think I am capable of that. But then I read this post from TWLOHA "Your love still works." That is a beautiful statement. Can I still love someone deeply and it last? Can they go past my fears and be real, be honest, be kind, and not be frightening or threatening, and not be cowardly?

Worse than Not So Good

Last night, I crumbled and did something I haven't done in almost a year. The past week and a half have reminded me of all the reasons I hated feeling. I know in my head that being numb again would be terrible, too, but I'm caught in a paradox. I feel so much, yet I can't truly love or trust really anyone. Those who have said they love me have proven their love to be conditional or just a lie. Those who want to play the victim will do so, and those who are truly victims refuse to stay that way.

Everything inside of me feels heavy. I look at my body and I feel uncomfortable. I have gained weight, and lost motivation. Sometimes I have spurts of energy, but it's minor. Being here at school complete takes away my motivation. I hate this place. I know that, come summer, I'll be daily active and not be here in this state of "I am gross." It'll be okay there. I am dreading moving in with my parents. I've spilled my heart out on here, and I think anyone who has read this blog would understand why. I don't want to be treated like a child who still has to report back to her parents.

From my relationship being in shambles, my uncle dying, my relationship then ending, my uncle's funeral, the underlying judgment and assholery of my mom's family, and my nephew busting his mouth... Last week was really bad. You know when people say that one negative comment out of 100 still grabs your attention? Well, every good thing that did happen last week was completely outbalanced by the bad, because the bad was pretty bad.

I don't belong anywhere. I have a new job that I start in June, but that doesn't mean I belong. The worst part is I KNOW I'm depressed. School is ending soon, I'll be in Austria, but those things don't take away my state. I am better this morning than I was last night, but not by much. I feel fat and want to starve myself for a few days. That's how I feel. I feel empty. What was the point of all this? If my family knew the truth about me, they wouldn't love me the same. I'd like to think differently, but I know I'm right.

It gets worse with the fact that Erica is going to be gone all summer. I come back from Austria, and she's in Colorado. Mike is moving to Wisconsin. I'm leaving Grace, so my friends won't be in close quarters anymore. Certain friends of mine are already too busy for me anyway. I almost don't want to take my friend out for her birthday this weekend. She's been so absent. I've tried continually to reach out and see her but she's always busy. It's not like we're even going to talk much when we graduate. She'll be too busy with whatever job she gets and her boyfriend. That's how it goes. Yeah?

Wow, I can't believe how sorry I am sounding for myself. I never wanted to meet this version of me again. I don't want to feel so sorry for myself and be so pitiful. I'm really discouraged. I can leave it at that. I am discouraged, last week was really bad and really painful, I am sad and down, and I don't have much energy. People leave all the time, Friendships end. It's really just the way life goes. But that doesn't make it hurt less. People in my past taught me to never tell anyone you need them. They don't fucking care that you do.

Heat Wave in My Brain

Today has been a bedrest day for me. This last week I've felt anxious, stressed, frustrated, nauseous, and had a fever all last night. On top of those things, I also was on my period, which was the worst one I can recall, symptom wise. I've been in a lot of physical pain this week. My mind has been in an anxious state lately, too. When I fall into funks, I can't remember clearly when the last time I felt normal was. I know that's very strange, but my energy levels now are so low. This post sounds so much like a diary entry.

The last time I had a counseling session was February. I rescheduled my last one. Within the last few months, I've become less trusting of so many people. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I move back home. Counseling has been extremely helpful, but I have to leave Deb behind. She's a part of Grace, and I am leaving here. I wonder if there is a possibility I could meet her once a month, but I kind of doubt that could happen. I know there are a couple of amazing people in my life that I do get good counsel from, even if I am not telling them everything.

Will I miss anything here? My mind has been so distracted due to depression and lack of emotions. Right now, I'm distracted by my physical pain and how it's deterring me from working out or doing yoga. I'd just get weak if I tried. But yeah, I think there are features I will miss. I was recently recounting some stories to my friend Jessie about last year. As much as I would like to say I'm over all my past hurts, that just wouldn't be true. It's good to know I feel things again, I balance them so much better than I used to, and I'm much more in control of my emotions. I am disappointed that particular past things hurt still. Physical pain's got nothing on heartbreak. Losing someone you love that you thought you'd have in your future causes pain in your mind and your body.

By now, I thought I'd be sitting at his baseball games and cheering him on. I thought we'd be graduating together and our families having dinner after the graduation. I thought we'd finally connect and be together. I reread what I wrote winter 2015, about the night where he confessed his feelings for me. Nostalgia is dangerous. When I was numb, I saw him and it made no difference. I was at the rec a few days ago, jumping rope by the green room, and he was working out in there. I walked by him to get the rope. He walked by me to get his baseball gear, and of course I was invisible. But I became invisible a long time ago. I wasn't surprised by that. What did surprise me was the hint of pain in my chest.

Now I'm crying. Not sobbing. Just simple tears. My hands are freezing and my face is on fire. How can my body be in two different states, and have two different temperatures?

No Guarantees

Five minutes.
If only I could breathe easily in just the five minute break from class tonight. Yoga has taught me how to breathe efficiently, to some extent. But I don't consciously have that breathing in mind when anxiety creeps on me. I tend to forget about the tattoo on my hip that says "breathe." Why can't I remember that it is a crucial part of my life? Oxygen keeps me alive. Slow breaths calm me down. Exercise lifts my spirits. And one thing can crush all of that progress in just a few seconds. I recognize a trigger once I am triggered, but if only I could avoid scenarios that lead to triggers in the first place. I don't have any strange mutant powers to warn me of future things.

Uneasy.
There is a heaviness on my chest and a sickening knot in my stomach. I'm in pain, yet it's all derived from the anxiety in my head. How does the brain inflict physical discomfort from mental discomfort?  Why is the brain so controlling yet so out of control? Maybe that's just my brain. Maybe everyone else functions this way. I know everyone doesn't think this way. Or is my brain telling me that?? Back to my poem which I read at Inkspot launch party (and in that literary magazine it was published), I cannot trust my brain. I don't have a choice though because I cannot function without it.

I think class is about to reconvene. My mind is full of sadness, heaviness, and ache. I will probably workout hard tonight. My frustration and sadness can't be solved by that, but otherwise I might fall back into bad habits, and I do not want to do that again. Alright. Back to class.