LDS Girl

Anxiety Attacks, Insecurity and Rage

Sat, 04 May 2013 14:52:00 -0400

I’m having a little bit of a panic attack right now and it is really hard to come up with the words to say, but I feel like this is the best thing to calm me down.

I’m sort of boxed in right now. This happens a lot. I feel cornered, conquered and imprisoned. They left me here alive. My body is a cage. I feel so horrified, disgusted and completely fragmented into a thousand parts of myself. My panic attacks come from lots of things - threatening people, severe guilt, overwhelming stress, feelings of failure and insecurity. Today, it’s failure and insecurity, which is much quieter than the other types of anxiety attacks I get.

My shoulders hurt from being so tense all the time. I feel like people must see me as someone who hunches a lot. I’m… tense. Or do I really have a hunch regardless?

This happens so fast and I feel thrusted off the face of a cliff, completely unprepared and just praying to hit the ground sooner. The acceleration is exhausting, tortuous and extremely disturbing. It is meshed with feelings of rage and defense, thoughts and desperate impulsions of violence. I love that I am paralyzed by my panic attacks (calm to other people) and I am, at the very least, able to exhaust these impulsions with purposeful visions (daydreams) of violence instead of actual actions. But they make me feel… really tainted to use thoughts of violence in such a comforting way.

Anxiety attacks are just hard to deal with.

Photo

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 13:40:18 -0400

Enneagram Type 6w7

Thu, 28 Feb 2013 17:58:00 -0500

Finding out my enneagram type has helped me a lot. Knowing, for a certainty, that I suffer from Anxiety Depression and knowing that regular exercise helps me be present and less reactive has been an important tool for me for the past several months. I’ve been reading up more on anxiety depression lately, and the suicide rates are fairly significant as compared to typical depression. I want to emphasize that these feelings and blogging here isn’t a cry for attention, (I’ve always a wretched guilt associated with selfishness about exposing my suicidal thoughts in real life for fear of being seen as egocentric, put down as trivial or taken too seriously) but is moreover a documentation of my sanity and… I guess my desperation for a safe place to truly belong. My writing style has changed since I’ve stopped spiritually blogging and now it’s an emergency pitstop when I’m lonely, full of dread, anger and sadness. I feel bad that I’ve associated mostly with LDS blogging, but I hope that the nature of my tumblr doesn’t bring anyone else down. I would be grateful if it gave others the confidence and capacity to understand themselves and others.

I realize how disturbing my thoughts can be, but I’m so afraid to share my sense of being overwhelmed with people in real life because it’s when I’m the most vulnerable. Ultimately, there’s nothing that can be done by voicing them to my friends (and definitely my family) so I can do nothing, but sit and stew and wait until it passes over. Being myself, going to the gym, listening to music, letting myself be rewarded with the people around me is so incredibly difficult to do completely voluntarily when I’m being bitten by my depression anxiety. It’s times like these that it’s hard to do the things for myself that I know will make me feel better. I’m just sitting in this awful sense of dread and pressure, and I have to make a decision inside my body to move forward. I’m giving myself thirty more minutes until I pry myself off this computer and walk to the bus stop to visit a friend for Sushi. I know that I can feel better by doing it right now and not thirty minutes later, but I’m reluctant to make the decision. It’s such a deep-seated feeling and I’m medicating myself right now by writing in this blog, feeling suddenly important and significant, as I grieve over the negative aspects of my life and body. The feeling of being important and safe is what I yearn for, and for a moment, wallowing in my own self-pity somehow creates the existential arms of the mother I never had. But it’s all false, but thus is continues in a horrifying cycle, until there’s a knock at the door, a phone call, or an alarm urging me to be present.

When I’m borderline panic attack, reflexively self-medicating with horrible visions of death, gore and self-harm internally express with the goal to FLUSH all of my emotions. (anger, sadness, fear, and the sense of suddenly being utterly destroyed) Also, somehow by being exposed to the darkest, most terrifying parts of life provide for me a sense of safety and protection just by… simply knowing. The ‘unknown’ is a torturous aspect of anxiety, and I therefore counter-phobically seek out knowledge and information on the most depressing and disturbing of subjects - ultimately, my greatest fears. (paranormal, gore, murder, beheadings, disease, suicide, etc) Reluctantly, but forcefully scouring this information is absolutely detestable, muddying, but darkly thrilling and providing for me the sickest most guilt-ridden form of protection and power to overcome my anxieties.

I do these things (using my 5 wing) when I’m lonely and have no other real-life social outlets to help reaffirm my security and sense of belonging. It is bad for me to do this, and I don’t want to have to keep doing this. I need more mutually beneficial friends. I don’t want to phobically smother the ones I have like most other sixes because I know it will hurt me more than it will help me. I’m actually too afraid to be a phobic six because I know that it causes problems and chases people away - being an oppressive character. This is part of my thinking that has made me afraid to date… anyone. I’m afraid I’ll be too involved, get rejected, build distance, wonder if my distance is offputting and will chase them away, come back, etc etc just an endless anxious circle of seemingly bipolar behavior of attachment and detachment. I’ve done this with friends and it is an awful anxious rollercoaster of a dance - almost worth throwing the entire friendship away for. I need to trust the person I’m dating before I can actually call it… dating. So I’m never a flirter unless I’ve known the person for a while. Makes me a buzzkill in the dating world, basically.

I feel a lot better now being able to convince myself I’m not crazy and I think I’m ready to head uptown to see my friend. If there are any enneagram wanderers reading this or maybe some lds who have some spiritual advice, I’m not shy of any messages. Any sixes out there who can relate? Counter-phobic, phobic? I realize a lot of what goes into my number is basically downright trauma and neglect from childhood. But uh… maybe there’s people who can relate in that aspect too?

Gore and Death

Wed, 09 Jan 2013 12:53:55 -0500

I haven’t written in here for a while, but I’m kind of in a weird place. I’m not in school anymore and I’m between transferring and military. My depression anxiety hasn’t been bad, but last night it flared up after one humiliating incident of accidentally insulting a friend during a board game. I just really need to write today.

I started to panic when I realized he was semi-teaming up against me with my really competitive and frustrating male roommate probably ten - twenty minutes in. It was just hard to tell whether or not it was playful competition, and I’ve never been on the ‘bad side’ of this friend before. I wasn’t sure if he was mad at me, and the way he’d play the game indicated that he was VERY mad at me, but I knew he must’ve been playing around in a weird way. I could feel myself getting more and more frustrated and wondering, “Why am I playing this game if it’s getting me upset? This isn’t good for me.” I tried to calm down and tell myself nothing was wrong, but I could feel my anxiety escalating and I started having an anxiety attack. My friend was doing little things here and there to be, I guess, ‘competitive,’ but it kept making it worse and worse. So I had to stop and leave, and I don’t even know everything I said, but I feel really terrible about it and I don’t want him to think I did it because I was pissed or something.

I know I said the game was giving me really bad anxiety and that I didn’t want to play, but I didn’t say I was actually having an attack and just needed to calm down. The social problem is giving me more anxiety. I tried to reason with my body, but it just kept freaking out: I felt tense, really high heart rate, feeling flushed, somewhat shaky, super nervous, a massive sense of dread and just this permanent rising knot in my chest. When all of this is happening, it’s hard not to let my mind go in a thousand directions and I start feeling dizzy crazy, and then it just gets so hard to be inside my screaming body that I can only attack myself by imagining myself exploding into a thousand pieces or being shot at with a thousand bullets to the head. Thoughts of self-gore and death seem like the only things that calm me down during an attack.

The rest of the night was horrible. And it’s carrying into today. And all I can think about is suicide again and I’ve been thinking seriously about it since I found out my loans can be forgiven on my dad’s end if the dependent dies. I have a lot of time alone on my hands for the coming semester so it could worsen my suicidal thoughts or it could give me time to work on myself.

Where I am right now, regardless of religion and potential consequences of suicide, I just want to prepare my things and spend the next 6 months writing letters and putting together a will. I want to do it, but I know I won’t be able to bring myself to actually doing it. I feel like I just need to find a way to make it past these psychotic breakdowns and find a way to make it through to a better morning. Today wasn’t one of them.

This hasn’t happened in a while, I’ve been distracted enough, but my anxiety makes me distance myself from people and I think it just makes it hard to heal, at least right now

I want to do the things I love to do, but I don’t let myself and I don’t why I’m doing this to myself. I’m being a perfectionist.

LDS Church launches official site called Mormons and Gays - A Discussion on Same-Gender Attraction.

Fri, 07 Dec 2012 14:17:09 -0500

LDS Church launches official site called Mormons and Gays - A Discussion on Same-Gender Attraction.

I want this sweater

Tue, 06 Nov 2012 09:40:30 -0500

I want this sweater

Things I Am Thankful For

Sun, 04 Nov 2012 19:27:00 -0500

I write too much in my tumblr when I’m depressed. Here are some of the richest things in my life that I can’t be anything, but completely grateful for:

I have a dad with the power of the Priesthood
I have a space heater in my room
I have an ipod touch that I can watch Netflix on
what am I saying - I HAVE NETFLIX
Breaking Bad, Mad Men, and sad movies with Adrian Brody help keep me company when I feel like my brain has taken the wheel for too long.
The Legend of Korra, The Boondocks and Cowboy Bebop make me wanna draw
John Williams exists and I have heard his music, along with many other beautiful composers.
I have boots that PROTECT me from water and shoes for walking that look COOL!
I HAVE WARM CLOTHES!
I have a matching bed-set!
Tron and Wreck-It-Ralf exists!
De-caffeinated Coffee exists!
I’ve never broken the Word of Wisdom aside from drinking coffee!
Which has actually helped me lose weight!
SKRILLEX, KNIFE PARTY, and THE GLITCH MOB exist to help me deal with feels!
I have a laptop!
I can draw a lot better than I could 5 years ago!
Tumblr exists!
I have a part time job!
I have artist friends!
A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Girl Interrupted and The Land Before Time were written just for me!
The BOM is in my arsenal!
I have a cell phone with unlimited texting!
I have schnazzy little tv, desk and finally my own 360
I still haven’t seen the Star Wars movies and it remains a gift to myself for future first-time experience
There are some cool groups at my school with great resources!
I’ve met some super awesome faculty here
I’ve met some amazing people at this school even when I thought it couldn’t get better than what I had in high school
Mass Effect exists!
I know that I can work a 40 hr job a week and survive on my own-ish!
I’m building/establishing credit! :DDDDD
I have the awesomest cat in the world who cuddles with with me at night
I have gained a lot of knowledge in certain aspects at this school!
I’m more open to foods I never would try before - I’ve even tried squid!
After a 4 year silence with my sister, we’re finally actually friends and we kinda sorta support each other when things get bad at the house!
I have a new backpack!
My little brother is a good kid!!!!
I don’t live in the ghetto right now!!!
I get to ride the bus for free!
I live by grocery stores!
I have the gift of the Holy Ghost!
I know about The Plan of Salvation and I’m still alive because of it!!
Did I mention I have a heater in my room? It feels super awesome.
Robert Downey Jr. and Leonardo DiCaprio are cute!
The Avengers came out this year!
I’m improving my swag with these new shoes I got off ebay for super cheap
I have internet!!
My friend from my hometown is gonna let me sleep at their house during this Thanskgiving Holiday!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!

I feel so happy right now!!! aghghghghghghg yay

Photo

Sun, 04 Nov 2012 13:40:04 -0500

It's Finally Happening

Sun, 04 Nov 2012 00:04:00 -0400

My sister beat her 3 year old child, who still cannot speak, to the point of apparently ‘near’-unconsciousness.

Foster Care gambles with rape/molestation, maybe even murder. Social Services might put a restraining order on the entire family in an effort to ensure no-contact with his mom. I… I don’t know what the right choice is. To send him away into the gamble that is Foster Care, or be a supportive aunt and help when… when I’m around I guess. And encourage my other family to keep an eye out… and tend to the boy. Dad would quit pulling loans if I sent his little grandchild away. Maybe if i become a big rich successful artist, I can swoop him away and give him the chance at life he deserves.

The one who abused my 3 year old nephew is your run-of-the-mill (pardon my language) used up trailer trash whore who led a man to believe her second child was his in an effort to get at his money. (Duh, they do a test for the father, don’t act surprised)

I swear I’ve seen potential in my siblings. I’ve seen so many good things about them, talents, and goodness in their hearts, some warm memories, but when they go out into the real world, they are completely the lowest of the low. They’re Jerry Springer characters. They are so incredibly selfish and…. destroyed. They couldn’t handle it, the neglect, the trauma, all the things that fucked them up, that fucked everyone in the house over - They resorted to the only immediate pain relievers on hand in a small, ghetto-ass town; drugs, sex, money/debt, fighting, maybe stealing idk that portion very well. The worst part about it is that I know them, I know their story…. and I love them. It’s tragic watching their lives continually and pathetically spiral out of their control. I understand, but I cannot support their methods.

But me, a creature masquerading as a middle-class college student with a functioning home life well enough to support this ridiculous private-art-school-charade, has, does and always will resort to those consuming and darkly-comforting suicidal thoughts. I’ve told very few close friends about my siblings, but they tell me that I’m doing good compared to them. Me, the sitting duck in a completely fictional and EXPENSIVE art education luring students with bullshit ‘scholarship’-handouts, waiting until my four-years of babysitting is over to return to the shitty, horrifyingly dangerous and dysfunctional world that my family is. And right there to accompany me is my ugly self-esteem and depression-anxiety. Sure, I haven’t drank, I’m not a cutter, I don’t smoke and I haven’t abused pills because I know I want and need it, the statistics say I’m a good kid compared to my family. But what matter does it make when I live just as well-acquainted with tragedy and hopelessness as they do?

I have dwelt in poverty and I never know when someone is going to throw a chair across the room or pull a knife from the kitchen and threaten to kill someone or themselves. Three of my siblings and my mom have all tried OD-ing. Right now, my brother is drunk all the time and vomiting all over the house. (who recently moved back in because his girlfriend of 3 years finally had the balls to kick him out - Did I mention he tried to throw a dresser at her when she was pregnant with their first child?) I think being high on weed or being a smoker is a thousand billion times better than crawling into a bottle. At least he’s a depressed drunk and not an angry one. Molly says he cleans up the puke usually, but I don’t want to think about it.

I never knew what living in a clean space was until I moved into my dorm room in college. I had roommates complaining about the mattresses, and I’m telling you right the fuck now, I will never forget the first time I slept on my amazing mattress. I was, and am, completely spoiled. This house I’m living in now is only possible with my government loans for school. Once school is over, this whole life will vanish in an instant.

And I will go back home to that putrid, filthy, decomposing structure filled with insects, actual animals and the animals that are my siblings, all falling ill to their choices and to the same ailment that I suffer now.

I need the military as a backup. I need to think seriously about transferring. If I’m going to try and build a life out of nothing in the typically hopeless nature that is the art-world, I need to make DAMN sure that I’m gold. Otherwise, I don’t know that I’ll be able to handle the fall. I wish it were as easy as these other girls who can throw themselves into the arms of men with money. I’m not about to try and find my self-esteem in the approval of men.

I know that all things in life come with purpose. I have to know that there is a God who loves me, and that how my actual life has been defining me this whole time, isn’t true. I’m worth something. And even though I can scarcely ever see it, it’s true and I need to survive without killing myself and without any damage that could result from starting alcohol, drugs etc that would put me on the level of endless torture that is like that of my siblings and mom.

I would hope that if there came a point, like my dad dying and all of his dependent crazies winding up homeless, where I can’t handle things and I can’t handle what chemicals my brain is spouting out, that If I killed myself, God wouldn’t send me to Hell. I would hope that God knows how hard it is being hopeful in a trench of hopelessness.

Super sporadic and unorganized wordy post. My emotions are starting to degrade my patience, and hopefully not, my intelligence.

Thoughts

Sun, 28 Oct 2012 11:11:39 -0400

I’m contemplating speaking with a doctor and talking to them about depression-anxiety. If I were to be diagnosed, I would forfeit my financial life-saver of entering into the military. But if I really can be treated with medication, I could potentially save my emotional life/actual-physical-exisence. Which means I could work stronger on my portfolio and possibly enhance my functionality to the point where I can start dating. And you know, that eliminates any chances of suicide too… But there’s a chance medication won’t work and I would have thrown away my only safety net.

It’s been so bad lately that I’ve skipped a lot of my classes this week. My teachers think I’m nice, and aren’t sure how to react because I’m a good kid… but at the same time I’m not doing their work and I think some of them are really interested in seeing the kinds of stuff I can make. Their disappointed faces look a lot like my dad’s… and that should be an incentive, especially when they go out of their way to impress upon me their disappointment, but it makes me shrink into myself.

If there’s anything I want, it’s for one of them to actually ASK what’s wrong (somewhat privately, not in front of the whole class) and just listen to me. I wouldn’t ask them to give me a good grade, I’d just ask that they stop impressing their disappointment and understand. I feel racked with guilt and shame all the time and I don’t know if it’s something that’s out of my control (trauma, illness etc.) that requires medication or if I’m not trying hard enough to be happy or to do… anything.

I hate that my mom had children in such a horrifying, disgusting, completely drug-induced, low self-esteem state of mind. It is and will always continue. She hates herself and she uses it against people. I remember as a little kid hearing her hiss, “YOU don’t love ME. YOU wish I were DEAD!” and I’d be pleading, “No, I don’t want you to die, I love you, when did I say-” Mom: “You don’t show it. You don’t care about me, you don’t listen. Your Dad doesn’t love me, I’m just going to go away for a long time.” And I’d ask her what I can do and she’d guilt me into cleaning the entire house for her so she wouldn’t leave.

If I encroach upon suicidal thoughts as often as I do, how in the world could I ever be an upstanding mother for my children? I don’t ever want to make my children feel the way my mom made me feel. She’s infected me with her self-hatred as some kind of sick ritual applied especially hard to my childhood. This is why I rule out having children, and for the sake of my future husband, marriage. I don’t want to be anyone’s burden ever and I don’t want to blame anyone else more than I already blame my parents for my unhappiness. It’s just childish.

I learned recently that I feel protected when I’m in control of myself. If I’m ever cornered, stranded, or relying on anyone else with a car that even shows the SLIGHTEST sign of threat to me, (like a deer in the headlights) I WILL HAVE A PANIC ATTACK and I will probably FOREVER avoid them and put them on my instinctual black list.

I can sniff out anyone who maliciously uses methods of intimidation to get what they want INSTANTLY and they AUTOMATICALLY go on my instinctual blacklist. No matter how much they ‘apologize’ or say they were having ‘a moment’ or explain their problems, I honestly can’t trust them because I NEED to protect myself. I have absolutely NO flesh or skin to handle those things. I don’t have ANY family support I can turn to, my best friend just moved away and I have very scarce resources from my self-esteem to pull from. So when I’m cornered, ESPECIALLY by someone I let into my trust zone, it hurts ten times more than it normally would and I just have to pretend I’ve accepted their apology or like I’ve moved on, but I’ve entirely written them off afterward. Things that people have thick skins for don’t impact them as much as they’d impact me. If someone tells me to “stop being a dick” when I very carefully, fearfully, and gently ask for respect on a certain matter, I implode on myself and have a panic attack and want to run away or kill them.

I can’t imagine experiencing that in the dating world. You have to have a thick skin.

BLAH BLAH I have to get off and go grocery shopping. Thoughts for my future self.

Photo

Sat, 20 Oct 2012 12:51:18 -0400

Photo

Sat, 20 Oct 2012 12:37:16 -0400

I AM DOING THE OPPOSITE ANYWAY :(

Fri, 12 Oct 2012 20:32:02 -0400

I AM DOING THE OPPOSITE ANYWAY :(

Photo

Fri, 12 Oct 2012 00:11:45 -0400

Photo

Fri, 12 Oct 2012 00:09:49 -0400

Photo

Thu, 11 Oct 2012 23:59:09 -0400

Thanks

Wed, 10 Oct 2012 13:06:39 -0400

I seriously appreciate the responses. After that little breakdown, my roommates happened to be having a good night when I got back from campus and were very welcoming. It warmed up my night. But the next day, things returned to normal.

It’s interesting how I’ll be crying, and thinking about the future, and the bad parts of the present, and how I invite hopelessness and ultimatums to enter my life and I truly feel abandoned in every way possible - and I just want to make it all stop. There is nobody running to you, like in the movies, telling you not to jump and telling you they love you and want you, need you to live.

But there is the coincidence that that very night, after wiping your tears and dealing with the pain enough to keep going to the evening: your roommates will have been gathered in the livingroom, good, inviting moods, ready to involve you when you walk in the door. When this whole month, everyone’s been clique-ing and ignoring each other, or being rude, or being distant, or living their own lives. The one day where I want to end it all, this is the way He handles it.

And it was enough. And that message was enough.

And everythings been the same way it was before since that day. My dad still doesn’t call me, nobody in my family bothers with me. My roommates are all distant and I’ve only two people who I can laugh with, one of which - Well, you get the gist. But I haven’t broken down since then.

None of my questions have been answered, but I’ve the strength to go on.

Thankyou

“Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10.)

Video

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 17:57:00 -0400

Emergency Writing - Sorry

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 17:53:00 -0400

This might be a panic attack, I don’t know. But I’m freaking out inside. I had to leave class before the anxiety got worse. I went to a bathroom to half-cry, knowing that people will still have to see me afterward so it can’t be an ugly cry. Now I’m in the library, with no place to go. I have another class in an hour and a half and I need to go. I want to be better.

I don’t know. It started with me thinking about my dad. My mom and my dad. And thinking about childhood memories. I tried to think of good things, but there aren’t many good things with my parents. And when there were good times, I found myself aching for them. Pining to go back to when my parents loved me those sometimes. And when I think more about it, I can never go back. I have to keep going forward with the scarce friends I have now. And then I think… “What is wrong with me? What is so wrong with me that not even my own parents wanted me?”

And then I imagine dating, and having a family, and those things that I’m scared of and those things that I’m scared of passing down to my children. Of being a curse to my husband just like how my mom is to my dad, my tired, ill dad. How my schizo sister is to my brother in law. He’ll be like my dad too. Tired, beaten, confused. Me going to college is a strain on him. But doesn’t he owe me at least that? Do I deserve to go to art school? But what else can I do? I can’t do anything else. But look at me, right now, right here, leaving class early, unable to work because of this emotional panic-y clot happening. I’m a handicapped creature incapable of normal human functioning. I’m just like my mom and my siblings. If I can’t even make art for a living, what hope is there for the future?

My resources are depleting.

I’m a big kid. I’ve always dealt with these things alone. I’ll pray, but I don’t have much faith. I don’t know. I don’t know. God is there, but He can’t give me parents. He can give me friends, just as he always has, but He can’t give me friends I can talk to about this. Right now, they’re sort of non-existent. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Praying doesn’t make the panic attacks go away. Does He want me?

Why did He make me? I don’t know what I am or what I’m supposed to do. Church doesn’t make life easier. It’s supposed to, but I have panic attacks at church. I can’t even go there. I don’t know what He wants from me. I just want to quit and go home.

I want to go home. I want my Heavenly Father and my Heavenly Mother. I want a place where I’ll never ask the question, “What is wrong with me?” I want to know. I want to feel it all the time. I want to be normal. I want to be normal so I can actually sit down and focus on my artwork and schoolwork; the stuff i’ve vowed to focus on to carry me through life. But I can’t, and the permanence of my problems is the most annoyingly confirmed truth I hate hearing over and over again.

I just want to do it. I want to so bad. I’m so tired and so scared and so inhuman. But I don’t want wait in the spirit world alone. When my dad dies, it’s free game. But until then, it’s not right. It might not be right then either.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I want to be safe, but my body is screaming at me a thousand times over that I’m not and that I need to go somewhere safe and I don’t know the solution and my body is getting even more paniced and the only thing I can do is accept whatever demise might occur and that combined with the anxiety leads me to suicide and I want to want to live.

But I don’t know. I don’t know how to deal with this. Nobody understands. I can’t even cut myself, that’s stupid, I tried it and it just hurts and doesn’t help. I don’t know how to make this all go away. I can’t even draw. So all I can think of is to write until I calm down and get it all out. I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. I don’t want to scare you, I just want to fit in. I just want to be normal. I want my dad, I want my little brother and my sister back. I want to try again. I want peace, but my body and my brain isn’t constructed to allow these things.

The only thing that helps… is if I remember Littlefoot and his journey. How his mother died and he had no one. He was separated from his grandparents. He sulked in the darkness, lost and alone - until he heard the whisperings of his mother reminding him about The Great Valley and how he needed to find it - and find his grandparents. He pressed forward, meeting friends along the way - both good friends, and bad friends. During which, the sharptooth chased them endlessly. They had to help each other avoid the sharptooth and continue their search for The Great Valley. They, eventually, found it. And there awaiting to embrace him was Littlefoot’s grandparents.

Maybe I do need to go to church. And read the scriptures. Just to gain advantages against the Sharptooth.

I don’t want to kill myself. I don’t want to give up yet. I want to go to The Great Valley too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJg3GP4tH94

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbW8GgAWKi8&feature=relmfu

The Math of My Isolation

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 12:41:00 -0400

I live with 5 other roommates off-campus and we all commute to school. 1 is male, the rest are female.

00000 <— social fulfillment/ roommate tallies

On our third day having moved in, the male confessed his love for one of the other roomies. It was not returned and everyone in the house was/is disgusted that he placed himself in the shoes of a bachelor. The females have been avoiding him in fear that he will accept our kindness as an invitation to build falsely perceived romantic feelings. We pursue non-committal time with him that we’re comfortable with to keep things on an even keel.

_0000 - strike!

Two of the four other females in the house are practically conjoined at the hip. Where one goes, the other goes. Now to be specific: One is hero, one is sidekick. Sidekick… pardon my exaggeration… is an empty reflective shell. She wears a mask of kindness, but has no intention of investing personal time in anyone besides hero. Therefore, she is not a social resource in the house for anyone else. BUT - when hero has gone away, sidekick uses her trusty backup - backup.

__000

Backup has an awesome boyfriend who befriends any and everyone. When they are together at the house, it draws everyone into the living room and it’s impossible not to feel united with the house. But when boyfriend has gone away, backup is constantly doting around on sidekick, either trying to work with hero or find a moment to steal moments with sidekick out from under hero’s nose. She is hardly a social resource unless (ironically) her boyfriend is around.

__u00 - halfsies

The greatest roomie, and one of my best friends, is really fun to be around. But is hard as a rock and un-empathetic when it comes to the nurturing friends need the most. She tends to dote on sidekick as well. Still, definitely the strongest social resource in the house and genderqueer as well - making her the person I trust/relate to the most in the house.

__uu0

The best is for last. Probably bipolar or bpd, Hero seethes all of her frustrations and anger in every inconsistent social way possible. She is a victim and a nurturer back-and-forth all the time. (just like my mom) She thrives off of sidekick’s constant following/attention and sees backup as a convenient mascot for their trio. It is hard to communicate with Hero, Sidekick or Backup when the three of them are together. Thus dubbing them “The White Girl Trio.” Hero likes to make threatening gestures/comments when arguing isn’t getting her what she wants. Being exposed to family violence, this makes me very weary of her emotional potential and has contributed to a surplus of anxiety attacks since moving in. I’ve had to voluntarily fail a class I couldn’t drop because I was dependent opon her as driver.

__uu- (For her, I dub a NEGATIVE SIGN)

Which, oftentimes, cancels out what little social potential exists at the house because it is difficult for me to maintain my anxiety around her even in groups.

My best best best best best best lgbt friend… moved to NY this summer and I won’t see him again for a year.
_____

So my math indicates that at this very moment - I am extremely lonely. My regular suicidal thoughts have maintained, but I’ve been able to limit the number of anxiety attacks I’ve encountered with Hero by limiting contact with her. But in doing so, I’ve sacrificed contact with backup and sometimes my greatest roommate.

I know that the panic attacks are horrifying and I’d much rather be depressed than in constant physical fear and stress. It’s just… I guess the loneliness I feel in this house, at this moment, is very similar to the loneliness I experienced growing up in my homelife. And I’m not sure what to do at this point. I’m trying to keep working, engross myself in entertainment and literature and classes, but I’m still lacking.

As I walk places lately and as I sit places lately, I feel creature. Like time has stopped, but achievements, goals and social successes continue for the rest of society. I had a friend who told me she tends to drift this way, but she likes and prefers it and uses it as a safe place. I don’t. The anxiety sure as hell wasn’t a safe place, but this world of stagnancy is something… mysterious and immaterial. I choose it over the anxiety, but it’s dark and… not quite, but closely hopeless.

I keep asking myself why I wait and wait and wait and wait while I pine over my family, old friends, future successes etc. etc. If somebody killed themselves, what’s the use when you go and wait some more in the spirit world without the advantages of a physical body and physical world. I don’t understand why I carry this mental scar of instability. Clearly, I have an illness of some kind. Anxiety disorder certainly, but is there something else? I can’t pray. I can’t go to church. I don’t know who or what I am anymore. I’m not doing this right.

Why does God create people who are mentally ill? People who carry these awful, permanently alienating curses that attracts loneliness no matter in what light. What do You want me to do? What can I do? Sometimes, existing is hard enough.

What am I supposed to do here?