Long-winded, introspective entry
If you have some spare time on your hands and want in on some of the things that have been going through my head the past few years of my life read on.
Over the past four and a half years of my life, nothing has really gone my way. I have always been able to deal with things not turning out the way I hoped they would; shit happened, I couldn't change matters, so I got over it. However, each time something like that did happen, it seemed that a little part of me went away. I know not what happened to those parts of me, the parts that made me feel, the parts that gave me passion for the things that I cared about and for my dreams.
With the more recent events that haven't gone my way, it seems that progressively more of me has died with each disappointment. Things were starting to look up for a brief period when I had been accepeted to the only college I cared about going to, I even got a small scholarship; but it was too expensive. Then, a few days later, I learned that I wasn't going to be able to go to Tennessee (the first time), things didn't work out, but I still had a sliver of hope for the job down south. So, I stuck around a while, took some easy classes at Schoolcraft and things were fine, but not good. The classes I took, while I was interested in them, were below me and I didn't care about them in the least. I had always told myself that after I graduated, I would start to take an interest in my institutional education because I would have classes I enjoyed and be treated as an adult. After not living up to the promises I made myself, I felt pretty crappy, but I managed to sleep my way through the classes and get good grades while not caring. I still thought that I would be leaving everyone and everything after the semester was over and I was fine with it. The semester came to a close and I was ready for the small break I would have before it would have been time for me to start packing up. As the move got closer and closer, I started having more doubts about it. I had thought I was ready: ready to have a real job, ready to leave what little I had here, ready for a change. Yet these thoughts kept sneaking up on me and I knew that I would not be able to go.
The main reason I decided to stay was my mental health, I have not been right for about four and a half years now and I thought I should get that taken care of. I have not really been happy at all in the past few years of my life and any happiness that I did experience, I knew was fleeting. I made some promises to a friend of mine that I would start taking care of myself. I needed to make the promise with someone else so that I would actually carry them out. I made an appointment with my doctor to see what was the matter with myself and he told me to see a therapist. I have always sworn against seeing a shrink; I have made it this far in my life without one, why do I need one now? But I promised.
Agreeing to see the therapist was a large step for me; I hate doctors, all of them. I knew that my head wasn't a good place to be, so why would I wish that horror upon anyone else? The visit seemed pretty routine, she asked me questions about myself and made sure I shouldn't be locked up, but talking about all of the shit in my head at the time seemed to help; I didn't go into much detail, we had a lot of stuff to cover in a relatively short period of time, but it helped. She gave me some pills to help with the depression and my anxiety and paranoia. I am not sure if the pills are working yet, if they are, they work for a day or two then the next day is shitty, worse than it would have been without the pills. I still haven't been on them for too long, so I keep my fingers crossed.
After that first visit, my head was much clearer, but there was still a pretty big drain on my mental capacities, something that occupied, and still occupies a majority of my thoughts. I have not talked about it with many people and I wont do it now either. This was a big something though and there was a slight chance that it could have been something that turned out for the best. I had a lot of hope for it but I still knew that it would end up bringing me pain; everything other situation that could have gone right for me in the past has turned out to go wrong. Needless to say it did go wrong. Not only did my fears become a reality, but I had made promises to myself and others that I was unable to keep and that kills me.
With this most recent blow to my psyche, I feel more empty that I ever have before and I have felt very empty in the past. This time, I don't have anything left; there had always been a sliver of hope left for myself in the past. Whatever there was in me that kept a flame lit in order for me to see my dreams realized has been extinguished. I told myself that I would not let myself get hurt again, but I did.
I traced the source of this pain to what few emotions that I have. They have only caused me trouble in recent times, so I tried to get rid of them. I didn't last a day. I know that one can not shut them self off forever, but I want to. For a long time I did this and I was filled with a rage. One so strong that it tainted all I saw and did and part of me misses that. The hatred that I had for everything kept me warm at night and kept my senses sharp. The loneliness I experienced from pushing everyone away and not trusting anyone became the best ally one in my position could have. But I soon found that I wanted more, but I didn't know what it was.
That was a long time ago and I have since discovered what I wanted. I want myself back: I want to feel passionate about an ideal that I hold, I want to have dreams again, I want to be more than just content with myself, I want to be able to keep the promises that I make to myself and to my friends. Alas, I hold no hope for these things, I know they will not come back to me no matter how many happy pills I take; I had something that made me feel these things again and I feel that I may have destroyed it.
Over the past four and a half years of my life, nothing has really gone my way. I have always been able to deal with things not turning out the way I hoped they would; shit happened, I couldn't change matters, so I got over it. However, each time something like that did happen, it seemed that a little part of me went away. I know not what happened to those parts of me, the parts that made me feel, the parts that gave me passion for the things that I cared about and for my dreams.
With the more recent events that haven't gone my way, it seems that progressively more of me has died with each disappointment. Things were starting to look up for a brief period when I had been accepeted to the only college I cared about going to, I even got a small scholarship; but it was too expensive. Then, a few days later, I learned that I wasn't going to be able to go to Tennessee (the first time), things didn't work out, but I still had a sliver of hope for the job down south. So, I stuck around a while, took some easy classes at Schoolcraft and things were fine, but not good. The classes I took, while I was interested in them, were below me and I didn't care about them in the least. I had always told myself that after I graduated, I would start to take an interest in my institutional education because I would have classes I enjoyed and be treated as an adult. After not living up to the promises I made myself, I felt pretty crappy, but I managed to sleep my way through the classes and get good grades while not caring. I still thought that I would be leaving everyone and everything after the semester was over and I was fine with it. The semester came to a close and I was ready for the small break I would have before it would have been time for me to start packing up. As the move got closer and closer, I started having more doubts about it. I had thought I was ready: ready to have a real job, ready to leave what little I had here, ready for a change. Yet these thoughts kept sneaking up on me and I knew that I would not be able to go.
The main reason I decided to stay was my mental health, I have not been right for about four and a half years now and I thought I should get that taken care of. I have not really been happy at all in the past few years of my life and any happiness that I did experience, I knew was fleeting. I made some promises to a friend of mine that I would start taking care of myself. I needed to make the promise with someone else so that I would actually carry them out. I made an appointment with my doctor to see what was the matter with myself and he told me to see a therapist. I have always sworn against seeing a shrink; I have made it this far in my life without one, why do I need one now? But I promised.
Agreeing to see the therapist was a large step for me; I hate doctors, all of them. I knew that my head wasn't a good place to be, so why would I wish that horror upon anyone else? The visit seemed pretty routine, she asked me questions about myself and made sure I shouldn't be locked up, but talking about all of the shit in my head at the time seemed to help; I didn't go into much detail, we had a lot of stuff to cover in a relatively short period of time, but it helped. She gave me some pills to help with the depression and my anxiety and paranoia. I am not sure if the pills are working yet, if they are, they work for a day or two then the next day is shitty, worse than it would have been without the pills. I still haven't been on them for too long, so I keep my fingers crossed.
After that first visit, my head was much clearer, but there was still a pretty big drain on my mental capacities, something that occupied, and still occupies a majority of my thoughts. I have not talked about it with many people and I wont do it now either. This was a big something though and there was a slight chance that it could have been something that turned out for the best. I had a lot of hope for it but I still knew that it would end up bringing me pain; everything other situation that could have gone right for me in the past has turned out to go wrong. Needless to say it did go wrong. Not only did my fears become a reality, but I had made promises to myself and others that I was unable to keep and that kills me.
With this most recent blow to my psyche, I feel more empty that I ever have before and I have felt very empty in the past. This time, I don't have anything left; there had always been a sliver of hope left for myself in the past. Whatever there was in me that kept a flame lit in order for me to see my dreams realized has been extinguished. I told myself that I would not let myself get hurt again, but I did.
I traced the source of this pain to what few emotions that I have. They have only caused me trouble in recent times, so I tried to get rid of them. I didn't last a day. I know that one can not shut them self off forever, but I want to. For a long time I did this and I was filled with a rage. One so strong that it tainted all I saw and did and part of me misses that. The hatred that I had for everything kept me warm at night and kept my senses sharp. The loneliness I experienced from pushing everyone away and not trusting anyone became the best ally one in my position could have. But I soon found that I wanted more, but I didn't know what it was.
That was a long time ago and I have since discovered what I wanted. I want myself back: I want to feel passionate about an ideal that I hold, I want to have dreams again, I want to be more than just content with myself, I want to be able to keep the promises that I make to myself and to my friends. Alas, I hold no hope for these things, I know they will not come back to me no matter how many happy pills I take; I had something that made me feel these things again and I feel that I may have destroyed it.