Undone

Have you ever felt SO amazingly wonderful and so extremely bad at the same time?

I could start this out by saying there are voices that I hear… but then I’d sound whacko, and I don’t really hear voices, It’s more like an evil conscience rattling about in my brain. Now, the little bugger isn’t trying to make me DO anything but feel horrid about myself. after the glowing remarks Scott gave to yesterday, and how my only fault seems to be my fear of eating in groups…. makes me feel like I’m lying to him. I mean, I’m certainly not evil. At least not the last time i checked. And i like to think I’m pretty wonderful…. Bah. I don’t know. I know that sometimes I just feel like a great big liar.

But something else i know is that i’m really genuine with Scott. Which is an odd thing. I’m not really that genuine with anyone. The list is small. Including only my most exclusive friends. Everyone else gets this big act. (My brain right now is screaming at me that this concept makes me a liar) I’m usually one of those people who changes themselves to fit the situation. I’ve pretty much learned that way everyone will like you.

I feel like I should say something right here right now. To expose myself, just a little. I have this horrible habit of cussing. You can see it in my writing sometimes– but if i get around the right group of people, I sound like an eighteenth century British sailor. That’s one of the many reasons why i’m leery about taking Scott to meet my coworkers. We all sound like sailors. It’s really not fitting for a girl. The thing is, in my previous romantic relationships, everyone expected me to give it up, because they said so. Like it was just what girls did. Stopped swearing because their boyfriends didn’t like it. I guess in the past I didn’t like them enough to care. My dirty little habit seemed more stable than their passing fancy for me. I didn’t want to give it up. It felt like “In a month you’ll be gone, and I’ll be back hanging out with the crew at work.” I guess I just feel differently with Scott. Like first off, he doesn’t know i cuss (until now), so he’s not demanding that i change. And… I think…. There’s a change in my brain. There’s a difference between someone saying “You have to change, now.” and the “I’d like you to change, if you could.” atittude. The second one is more…. open.

I want to change. I’ve been so much better about not cussing, even when I’m at work, and Scott’s no where to be seen. i think because now, if someone asked me “Why are you quitting swearing?” I wont’ say: “Because my boyfriend wants me to.” I can say “Because I dont’ want to do it anymore.” and mean it. I don’t want to do it anymore. *shrugs*

Derringer Meryl [Confessional] Out

I had quite a nice day at school today. While for my first class I was tired and angry that i had make up homework, I’m just ready to throw in the towel and turn what is done without even trying. I don’t deem it necessary to take time to walk a mile and a half and take my heart rate and count my bloody calorie intake.

Why? Because it depresses me to think of how much fat and what not i’m taking into my body. My fitness philosophy for life: “I’m going to die. There is no evading that. I might as well enjoy what i’m going to eat. Sometimes I’ll enjoy a healthy salad, and sometimes i’ll enjoy a little debbies snack. and sometimes I want to eat so much processed cheese that i can feel my heart stop. I’m going to die a happy woman. yessir.”

So, I love my carbs, and I love tuna fish. So … i’m not gonna give that up. Sorry.

I have yet another odd confession. I’m pretty much technically illiterate. I complained about my sound being out on my computer for like a week (or maybe two) when it was just my speakers being plugged in at the wrong place. The only USB port i’ve ever seen is on the PS2, and i don’t know how to install hardware to my PC. *frowns* I know that I have fourty gigs on my computer *nods enthusiastically* I know how to program basic stuff. (not program in BASIC, just how to program basic website stuffage) I know that my mouse used to need a converter for my computer, i’m not sure it does anymore. *frowns*

The basic thing is that I’m afraid i’m being seen as more spiffy than I am. I write. I program HTML (in the simplest of manners) and I play video games…. sometimes I get frustrated and can’t play certain ones. LIke resident Evil. I love the whole thing– but i can’t run in the game. I really really suck at them. But I love to play. I’ve roleplayed before, online, based on an anime i watched. Often I get into these weird moods where I can only think bad of myself (i’m thinking i’m in one right now) and I can’t possibly understand why anyone would ever want to spend a minute of their precious time on this earth with me. And it scares me. The way I am. I’m so scared of loving someone because I know it hurts. The first time I told someone i loved them (non family of course) he said “You don’t know what love is.” I’ve kinda always doubted myself because of that. Always went back to that mentality when i got depressed.

And it seems like the highest of highs may be great, I’m just the pessimist that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to say “I’ve changed my mind. Bye!” and at this point that would break me all over again. I’m so scared to open up to anyone, because… everyone seems to want to pick me apart when I do that. And I’m so scared that my throat constricts. I know the lows that come after being this happy, and I’m scared. I’m scared that if and when it comes that i won’t survive this time. That scares me. I’m scared that I’m gonna scare Scott, and thus it’ll just be some huge self fulfilling prophecy and i’ll be my own demise somehow.

and i’m tired of tainting my own happiness like this.

And oh blah, I just realized I have a psych paper to write for tomorrow. Crap-tastic.

Derringer Meryl [Great. Grand. FANTASTIC] Out

So I randomly download songs. I dont know the artist, I don’t know the style, and i don’t know anything but a few key words.

and sometimes i stumble onto crap. Complete and utter crap. and other times, it’s gems. Something that makes me understand myself a little better, and removes a layer of protective skin…. Teaches me about myself. Sometimes people in the songs, say it in a different way, but it feels the same.

Different words, same meaning. Like someone who didn’t finish school, and can’t remember what they did go to thanks to the drugs…. saying how hurt they are from betrayal, compared to an English Major (Linguistics Minor) from Harvard, or Bradley saying the same thing, only different words.

Describing the same pain, feeling the same frustration for the lack of vocabulary– because no matter how extensive your vocabulary, there are always some words that just extend beyond the reach of human pain. The words seem trite and over used. Nothing to describe the anger that seems to fill you until it pours out your eyes, and there’s no way to hold it back– and you just want to be held, to make it go away–

but there’s no one there, to make it better. And no one tries to. It’s not because they don’t love you, it’s because they don’t know just as much as you don’t. That’s why the pain doesn’t go away…. Not until you accept it for what it is.

I was talking to friend of mine (who needs a nickname…), and he asked me “Why do you do that? Why do you see me as good, when I feel so bad?” and I told him, possibly the most profound thing i’ve ever said….

“People weren’t meant to see the good in themselves, but in each other. It keeps us happy, and it keeps us humble.”

I’m spewing off smart things. Ya know when it’s good to be happy? How it’s a good thing and not fake or anything? When you can still do things without being angry. I don’t know how to explain it in general, but i can do it in specifics to me.

When I write, I normally have to be in an angsty ‘i-just-got-dumped-and-i-couldn’t-feel-worse’ kind of place. I have to not be happy. Call it an Angel complex, because as soon as i get happy… my writing goes evil. It’s sappy, and romantic. And it sucks. A lot. So– you know when something is a good kind of happy, or at least i know i do, when i can still write, any way i want. Sappy happy stuff, or angsty stuff… without a problem. It’s great. I love it. 🙂

Derringer Meryl [Compiling a list of Resolutions to share] Out

So you know how i’ve been complaining about how Kharma doesnt’ exist, and how i was fairly sure God really really hated me, and was actually punishing me for all of my sins ahead of time… contrary to what I actually believe– i was just PLOMing it. (Read: Poor Little Ole Me, also known as “No body likes me every body hates me, i think i’ll go eat worms” disease.)

And at the beginning of this new year, as happy and glorious and special as it is, i’d like to point out the ever so obvious…. Without the Ups, there’s no point in downs. it’s stupid. It’s insane. It’s frustrating. So what? Doesn’t that sound like everything else in life?

Sure, you have to drive behind some REALLY slow old people, but ya know what? You still get to where you’re going, right? You might get there slower, but so what? Who cares? There’s fifty million other things to be happy about, and you focus on the stupid things that are depressing.

And trust me, i’ve been into a whole lotta funks, I practically live in one– but then I sorted a few things out, and i’m not saying i know the secret to everlasting happiness, because HELLO, life isn’t a video game with a guide and things like that. There are no cheat codes and there’s no reset button.

Mou. Life is hard. But if it was easy, then we wouldn’t have people making money off of selling blogs. No one would read books, no one would bond in pain. No one would go to therapy, no one would want to be entertained, there COULD be no entertainment, No computers, no internet, no ANIME!

OH GOD MAKE THE EASE STOP! *giggles insanely* So I found a happy in my life. I remember a time when the Specialist had such a happy in his life that he chased it until the Happy accepted him.

I’m not saying that there are no down point. I”m just saying instead of looking down to them when stuff is good, keep moving.

I don’t know how to explain it. it’s a little crazy. it’s a little blurry, but… it’s good. And so… you dont’ try to puzzle about things when God gives you a blessing, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you say “Hey, this is good. I like good. Good is Good.” and be happy.

Accept things. Love them. Feel them. And go from there.

Derringer Meryl [Feeling Philosophical] Out

Doesn’t it drive you insane when you’re trying to remember someone’s exact words and all that comes to mind is gibberish. *growls* I want to remember what Aragorn told Eowyn… when they talked before he went into the mountain.

It went a little like this:

Aragorn:”Why do you linger here?”

Eowyn: “Do you not know?”

Aragorn: *pause* “The Man you love is but a thought and a memory.”

I think that’s what he said. it’s the last part i’m worried about. Please, if you’ve just seen the film, i’d LOVE to know. *coughs* You could always Email me… and i’d be greatly beholdin’ to ya. *giggles*

i’m thinking of changing my layout again.. I’m just a fickle girl, I know. Oh, For those of you who haven’t been keeping track of the titles of my blog as of recently (the ones on the pictures) I’ll indulge you (like you care)

Affirmation, Acquiescence, Relapse

it may not seem like a lot to you, but honest. It means something.

i sorta want to explain it to those of you who don’t know me that well, but– part of me hesitates… because i don’t want to keep going on this. I’m tired. I’m tired of ragging on it. That’s what Acquiescence was about.

Passive assent or agreement without protest

it’s okay. I’m going to sink silently into the night, and not bring it up, because– i want the best for you. i want you to be happy. See? This is what i mean. Then… I relapsed.

To fall or slide back into a former state. To regress after partial recovery from illness

or addiction. Obsession. That works too. It’s bad. But I guess i’m sorta dealing with more than just… the one thing. There’s the fact that i’m not taking my medication anymore…. and the relationship that exists mostly in my mind (I guess, but i’d rather not discuss) and …. my first boyfriend. i can’t help it… but every time i look in the mirror I think of the words he’d say

You’re ugly.

you’re not worth anything

God, could you be fatter.

and it’s hard. to not believe him…. to not look at myself and see what he sees. What he saw. He doesn’t look anymore. He’s fairly successful… he has a job, makes more money than I do– he’s still a charmer– and despite the fact that they saw– they SAW what happened to me … girls still fall for it.

I pity them all.

And… I … I would have fallen back into his arms in a heart beat. He had me trained. Might still. *shrugs* i’m not around him enough to know. I can’t let my guard down around him because… if i did, for one minute– i’d be back there– in the hellish place… being hurt– being told those things again.

and the worst thing is that i’d believe him. Every word. because affection, even in it’s most sullied form, is affection. and i need it. I crave it.

i’m more than just casually addicted.

and no– my mum and dad hugged me enough as a child. and there was a lot of love in our home. I know i’m wanted here… that they love me.

but it’s never felt right. The only girl, only daughter, and the youngest, is a dangerous kind of cocktail. Two things you should never mix in a family with alcoholism and depression in it’s background. (not that i’d drink– but still, addictive tendencies) It’s like you’re asking to have a psychotic teen on your hands.

and people always say that i have to love myself before others can love me.

and I’d tell you what i think of that, but i’m trying my hardest not to swear. It’s a bad habit, highly addictive. Gives off lots of tension, with the slip of a tongue. shame on me. *looks sheepish* it’s a load of crap though. There is only one person who can love me the way i am, and sometimes, i don’t talk to him the way I should. Once again with the shame on me…

and honestly, the only people in the world who love me are the ones who don’t know me well, or have known me long enough that they simply must. It may sound like i’m depressed but….

honestly, i’ve not felt better in a long time. not since… well before. I guess I see what i as good and what is good, is different.

I think when I’m not hungry, it’s good. Like yesterday– i ate one meal, and wasn’t hungry the rest of the day. That’s good. good to me. I know it’s because of my depression that i didn’t want to eat– but my desire not to eat, made me happy…. so– my sadness pleases me.

Could I be more masochistic? But I guess, if i wasn’t so down on myself… if i didnt’ hate myself for the way i am– then every thing would be okay. I wouldn’t be so depressed, and i wouldn’t be so masochistic… (being the second and third definition, not the first.)

The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from being humiliated or mistreated, either by another or by oneself.

A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

That’s me. I hate myself. WHy not put myself through hell? I deserve it.

Why not re run the millions of things i could have done BETTER in a relationship through my head until it makes me ill. Until i can’t sleep… until i can’t cry anymore and the day breaks, and no one knows…. and I can’t tell them. Because they think i’m wrong. that i’m sick

and that i’m misshapen. Ugly, disgusting, foul, defective, erratic, faulty, mishandled, unsound, blasphemous, indecent, iniquitous, profane, damaged, mangled, feeble, and screwed up.

I am. I am all of those things. and I don’t know why. I don’t know why the images linger still. I don’t know why I can’t go on like everyone else.

Maybe i cling to those who show affection who had no need to. It shocks me. Intrigues me…. thrills me. i don’t know why they do it. I want to. and before i can ask– they’re gone.

in a heartbeat.

how can a bond so tight be broken so quickly?

Maybe it’s like shoe laces. You pull them too tightly, and they bust.

I feel busted.

and some of this is about one thing, and some of it is about another. and honestly, i don’t know where the line separates. it seems to be one large ball of pain inside of my brain, and i try to shove it away– try to keep smiling, but i find when i don’t notice what i’m doing, tears begin to well in my eyes. the smile that is so often permanently plastered on my face dissipates.

I’m…. hurting. From things so far in the past that i can’t even remember them clearly– from pushing them away so hard…. and from the present. the constant sting of my ever absent friends. but i keep reminding myself.

not everything is about me. everyone has problems. everyone has hurts, and everyone deals with them.

why are you having such an issue?

sometimes i’m angry with myself for saying that. I’m NOT like everyone else– i care. I care about everyone. I care about the freakish jerk who cuts me off in traffic. I care about the homeless person on the street.

and this isn’t a little care. This is overwhelming care. This is inside of my brain all of the time– constantly making me feel. as if to make up for all of those years of not caring…. for not feeling anything….

Derringer Meryl [Something’s here I’m not quite getting] Out