Why, hellooo, insecurity.

Why, hello, Angst. Fancy meeting you here.

So, when I was younger, and growing up, I was riddled with insecurities. But, as a teenager, those were tired, and clichéd. [b]Everyone[/b] had an insecurity. Wah, wah, wah, I'm too fat.

Wah, wah, wah, my skin is awful.

Wah, wah, wah, I'm on my 12th boyfriend, and no one else seems to like me.

The first two were me, there. But even though I was feeling those things, I never let people know. I refused to wear makeup, because I was determined to stand out from the crowd. I was [b]certain[/b] I would be commended and accepted and loved for being different from the rest. The term [quote]Black Sheep[/quote] was something I looked fondly upon, not realizing it was more isolating than endearing.

Then, when I was nearing the end of my Junior High school days, my older sister gave me a piece of advice that I took in a totally different direction of its intent, and ran with it. She had figured out the school system; she was quiet, and shy, but [b]gorgeous[/b] so everyone loved her. Wanted to be her friend. Wanted to date her, convert her for better to marry to. (<-- That, by the way, super-sentence failure)

We were in the bathroom, and I was watching her get ready to go out with her friends to a movie. She was thin. She had the right curves. She had hair to her damn ass. She was applying her makeup with such perfection, she looked like a doll. A painting. No blemishes. Perfect hair. Porcelain skin.

She looked at me in the mirror; I can remember my limp hair, my acne-ridden skin, ill-fitting clothes.

[quote]Lou,[/quote] she said, [quote]Don't start wearing makeup. Once you do, everyone will only want to date you, and won't want to be friends anymore.[/quote]

That was it. That was the magical answer to my problems! It had to be, right?

So.

I started wearing makeup. But that didn't do it.. I wore tighter-fitting clothes. Which, let me tell you, when you're a chunkier person like I am, not the way to go.

It didn't make sense.

Why weren't her tricks working for me?

I kept trying. I kept failing.

I eventually settled in to my social standing. I was the "friend". I was the "little sister". I was the "really awesome girl that I just wish you and I could date!"

.. Gee, really? Huh. That's funny. Because you'd rather go after the trampy dancer who's practicing her pole dancing techniques under the guise of Dance Team. But, sure. We'll go with what you said.

It got to the point where any time any guy shows an interest in me, I automatically like him. Instantly.

It didn't matter if he was..

A verbally abusive WoW addict who would tell me I was stupid when he made me cry, cause he didn't [b]mean[/b] it offensively, and who didn't visit me when I was in the ICU cause he was leveling up.

It didn't matter if he was nearly 10 years my senior, and assaulted me on a regular basis.

It didn't matter if he told me he wanted a three-way with one of my sisters.

It didn't matter if he was a Neo-Nazi who claimed to hate Jews and brown people.

I just.. can't help myself. Because I think, "Well, sure. You're kind of an absolute blemish on society, and it would be better if you never bred, ever, never. But, by God, you said you liked me, and that's better than being alone, right!"

And.. I KNOW it's not better than single.

I know it's AWFUL, and being alone forever and always is a better option than any of those guys I've dated.

I finally have reached a point in my life where.. I'm not happy. Or content. But I don't hate my body as much as I used to. I've figured out ways to feel pretty, and how to cinch up certain areas to look less pudgy, and how to accentuate decent points of interest.

But, shit, if I don't always feel insecure to not only my gorgeous older sister, whom I was always in her shadow in junior high and high school, but now I'm eclipsed by my sister who's 4 years younger than me.

Multiple guys who have tried dating me expressed interest in a three-some with her. Never mind she's my sister, and incest is illegal. Never mind the fact that I don't really swing that way. Never mind the fact that she's illegal, and if they ever touched her I would break their fingers off, and mail them to the police with a polite little note saying, "Please fingerprint these, and return to the owner. And then keep him there. Love,"

But.. God. She's.. a teenager. That's all I can say. I know she's my sister. And I love her dearly, and time after time do whatever I can to make sure she's safe, even if she yells and screams that I'm ruining her life.

But she's a teenager. She's selfish, and high-maintenance, and uncaring.

And guys in my age group would rather crawl on top of her than even look at me sideways.

And if they DO take a side-long glance, they ask me how to date her.

"Be a douche, and then she'll cheat on you like she does all of her boyfriends?" Not the best answer, I've learned.

I just..

EUHG.

I shouldn't have to compete with my little sister for attention from the entire world. She takes my families attention with her bullshit. She takes guys attention.

It's like I'm 13 again, and awkward, and never know what to say. And the Pretty Girl struts around in her string bikini, and the guys salivate and follow like Pavlov's dogs, and I'm in the corner, wearing a one-piece, reading a book.

Movies

So, as an avid movie watcher, I have a few rules of thumb.

If you're watching a movie with someone, and you know NEITHER of you have ever seen it, please, do not insist on asking your fellow viewer why a character did what they just did.

I have no idea why. Just like you.

But, it does spark a little sarcastic flame inside of me. A slightly enraged flame, that questions whether I should interrupt the movie back, and lead them on entirely different plot development path than the writers and director had originally intended for them.

"Gee, why on earth was she mean to that poor guy??"

"Well. It's probably because he's her estranged brother who smothered their parents in their sleep."

"REALLY?"
"Well, they didn't DIRECTLY say that, but you could tell based on the subtle nuances that that's what they really were trying to elude to,"

I find if I use slightly more thesaurus-esque words, it makes me more believable. More.. trusting. Like a Department Store Santa in Utah, who's not black.

Like something a lot less racist.

Things that I've learned..

These past few months have been a bit of a learning experience for me.

As a female, I have read plenty of the awful, self-help, dating advice columns. Reading body language. Little hints that he's "into you". How to make yourself seem more attractive and confident!

But here's the lowdown I have learned.

1: If after six months, he still wants to see other people?

Chances are he doesn't, nor will he magically and suddenly despite what EVERY chick flick has even instilled into your subconscious has taught you, want to be with you.

2: If he tells you he wants to figure out a relationship, but is still schtupping his ex?

Probably doesn't actually want that relationship with you, so much as he wants to grab some cookies from all the jars. And ladies. Please. Keep the lid on your jar zipped.

I mean closed.

3: If he has asked you out repeatedly, but every time bails at the last minute, or doesn't even tell you he's cancelling?

You're not worth the time to pick up a phone, and even drop you a courtesy text.

4: If the words, "I don't feel like it, I'm in a funk," are uttered repeatedly?

He's a bit of a girl, and needs to walk off his man-period. If he expects you to be perky and happy and non-moody during YOUR time of the month, but declares he needs to be left alone because he can't handle people.. you'll be on the backburner most of the time, when he's being funky.

And my personal favorite!

5: If he uses you as an emotional booty call..

This means he only comes to you or talks to you, or gives a damn about you when his life is falling apart. Usually the statement, "I know we don't hang out that often, and it seems like I only talk to you when life is bad, but I just know you'll always be there, so I can rely on you!" is uttered, meaning, "You're nice to have as a fallback in my life when I've burned all my bridges, and I can emotionally abuse and rip you apart thinking we're friends, and possibly more! But when things get better I'll drop you again."

Now, remember.

Exes?

Bad idea. You broke up with them for a reason. Probably multiple reasons.

And if you didn't do the breaking, something was afoot in the relationship.

So in the wise words of Mae West,

“All discarded lovers should be given a second chance, but with somebody else.”

Medicated and numb

It's peculiar, the difference between feeling emotionally numb from total overload, and from taking a little white pill to stop feeling everything.

About 6am Monday morning I was awakened to a familiar, and non-too-fond of feeling; picture this.

You take a piece of glass.

Pound it with a hammer until you're left with nothing but shattered powder.

Now swallow.

Only, instead of it reaching your stomach, it goes to your kidney. (For those of you unfamiliar with the kidney area in your back, it's about two-to-three inches left or right of your spine, and deep)

Then, the glass shards dig themselves into your rather vital organ, and begin to scratch and scrape at your insides until it finally reaches your ureter, and you have to pass it in your urine.

Blood ensues.

And for days afterwards your organ aches, and just.. hurts.

I took the pain as long as I could- about an hour and a half, until I was digging my fingernails into the counter tops, and in so much pain I had surpassed the ability to cry.

Que the pill.

It apparently blocks your central nervous system, and stops it from firing off the, "HOLY SHIT, YOUR BODY IS FAILING" signal, allowing me to fall back asleep for another 8 hours.

I.. hate the feeling of being numb. But now that I have something to compare it to, I much prefer the medicated numb, where everything is hazy, and I can't quite see everything clearly.

It's easier to handle than the pain-filled, emotionally drained numb, where I wonder if I'll ever be able to climb out of the hole I'm sinking into..

I hate both..

But this one is more.. comforting. Like my brain is just fuzzy, and I can't quite discern what's happening.. versus knowing full well, and not being able to help not feeling.

I so much prefer physical pain to any emotional ones.. That may be because I've had more than my fill of emotional heartbreak these last few months, and things being cured so easily with blocking my nerve endings is a comforting feeling.. I know the pain will stop as soon as I do this one thing.

I stop feeling everything as soon as I toss my head back, and take it with water, as directed.

And when the physical pain ends, I know that that pretty much is the end of it..

I so much prefer the physical to the emotional.

I don't have to rely on people to get through physical pain. I can depend on myself alone for that.

I've been hurting so much lately..

I feel like I'm boring everyone around me. I don't want to burden them with being sad..

Because..

When I get used to them being there, and really rely on them..

That's when people are best known for their vanishing acts.

“The greater your capacity to love, the greater your capacity to feel the pain.”

Yaaarg!

My most recent difficulties in life have stemmed from my inability to match up my Intellectual Side and Emotional Side.
I can seen the logic in most situations; can gauge them, disconnect myself enough to reach the deeper meaning, and stifle my emotional side.
But today was just.. so hard. I heard myself speaking, knew my thoughts, everything, was irrational, overly sensitive, and immature.. but.. the deeper part of me just couldn't work up the effort to care. Yes, I was being irrational. Yes, I was blowing simple things out of proportion, but.. I am.. so tired of always being logical.. of not wanting to step on toes, of smiling, and shaking my head when people act like complete and total assholes.

I don't want to be on the back-burner of everyone's life anymore. I want to take priority to someone.. anyone..

I'm tired of being hurt, and people acting like dicks, and just accepting it as a part of life.

I want to be able to be irrational some of the time!

I want to be able to just cry, and have someone tell me it's okay, and they're sorry for whatever it was that they did, even if it doesn't make sense to apologize!

Is that really so much to ask for?

I'm still drowning.

My usual life preservers seem far-off, and hazy on the horizon.

I'm tired of fighting..

I'm tired of crying myself to sleep to melancholy jazz music..

I just.. am tired.

I want to sleep, and have someone hold me when I wake up, and tell me the world really is rainbows and butterflies like I try to see.

Am I finally growing up?

Is this how grown-ups see the world? Dull, and hurtful, each good time soon to be ruined by the next heartbreak, instead of hurtful sometimes, but overall good, and uplifting like I've tried to see?

Slacker

So, it's sad when life throws you so many curve balls, simply writing them down seems near impossible. Let alone remembering all the details to tell your shrink.
That's one.
I now have a therapist; she's amazingly sweet, and soft-spoken. But occasionally, it feels as if she's treating me like some animal that wandered into her yard, high-octave tone, hushed, sitting observing me as I emotionally gut myself in front of her.
I hate feeling like I'm whining to people, which is why I created this blog. As a way to get everything negative I'm feeling out of my head, so I don't drive myself to snapping point, break bit by bit, until I'm a neurotic mess doubled over in my jeep, shrieking to some unfortunate soul I picked up from a movie. (Love you always)
I feel like I'm drowning again.
Some times it gets better, and things don't stick. Nothing registers as bad, and it's like I'm six again. Unknowing of the potential traumas, lost in finger-painting the walls. But it always hurts again.. and I realize that's life.. and that's just.. how it goes. Good times always followed closely by bad. Eventually it gets good again, but the periods in-between, waiting, counting the hours, trying to hold myself together long enough for it to be okay again..
I never am quite sure if I'll make it. I panic, wandering how soon until the pain stops, and I can actually laugh again.
So much of my life feels fake and forced at this point. I know my friends, the real ones, really care. But they have so much to handle themselves that I can't rely on them constantly for reassurance.
It hurts right now.
I've realized someone whom I trusted unparalleled.. isn't there.
It's like they're not real anymore. I'm questioning every conversation we ever had, replaying every moment, trying to pinpoint where it went wrong, where it deteriorated, how I managed to mess up another thing in my life.. Was I not good enough, yet again? Even for friendship.. for basic human compassion..
It kills me. It physically aches, nausea swelling, tears always another thought away. I'm so tired of crying over him..
I can't believe I let myself love him.
Believed him when he told me he'd always be there.
He's not..
He's happy. I have no place in his happiness.. I'm left to hurt, and ache, and scab over, not even a second thought to his new life.. it kills me. It.. it HURTS.
I feel like a cliché, that it's so overdone.. unrequited love.
But it goes DEEPER than unrequited love.. I know he doesn't, nor will he ever, feel the way back for me that I do for him. It goes to.. unrequited humanity. That I just.. am afterthought. Fade to black, start to roll credits, and realize that I'm left sitting there, wondering what I could have POSSIBLY done to deserve this.. it doesn't make sense that it just happened.
I had to have done something for this.
I had to have done something to be forgotten so easily.. am I so easily replaceable? Just.. toss me to the side, get the newer model, obsolete?
I don't want to be the tonsils in peoples lives! I don't want to be chopped out after so many years, suddenly useless, and left to disappear in a medical waste bin!
I don't know..
And.
Apparently I have Daddy Issues. I am a giant freaking cliché, wrapped in flesh.
Maybe that's why I'm so easily replaced.
I'm boring.
Depression, anxiety, Daddy Issues.. I'm a damn soap opera character.
Que the pregnancy with two different mens babies, twins.
Maybe sexier hair, a nice Spanish accent to throw everyone off. Be ethnic, but still "Safe".
Euhg.
I just.. want to stop hurting.
I want to stop getting hurt so easily. I want to not care, to shrug it off when someone breaks me, and go, "Yeah? It was about time. I'm surprised it took you this long to do it." and move on.. to not cry into my pillow night after night, unable to sleep till 5 in the morning, till all my tears are gone and I'm near dehydrated from it.
EUHG.
DAMMIT.

Light Bulb Wars and Late Night Food Runs

Day 1+16

In the midst of current life events, the little things that I would shrug off have become somewhat intolerable as of late.

Such as stolen light bulbs.

A few nights ago, when walking in to my room, I went to turn on my light. And, wouldn't ya' know it, the light bulb was gone. The stand totally bare, empty, naked. Alone.

Which, was pretty damn funny, considering I had put new bulbs in every lamp in my room. I remember doing it. Mum helped me rearrange my furniture, getting angry from the lack of light, every bulb old and burnt out in my room.

When the light bulbs had died, burnt out, you could actually see it. Their end. They flash a bright purpley-blue, there's a popping sound, and suddenly they dim. It all happens so quickly, but the after-images get burned into your eyes, so you see colored spots, the noise loud in your ears from your silent attempts at sleeping.

So, light bulbs gone, I wandered into my little sisters room, curious, remembering all her lights had burnt out as well. And, wouldn't you know it, all her lights turned on.

Now, at first, I just took them all back, turning all my lights on, screwing the bulbs carefully back into the bases of my lamps. Then I left.

Came home.

Bulbs all gone.

Frustration.

However, this time? I don't just take the bulbs, and put them in my room.

I take them with me. Downstairs, on the table beside me, Movies, House episodes, Nic's frustrated, Aubrey's sick next to me. Sister comes downstairs, livid.

"Did you steal my light bulbs?"

You mean did I take back my light bulbs?

"No, they're mine!"

Accusations at my room being dirty.

Insult.

Insult.

Insult.

You can go get new light bulbs from the back room.

Indignation. "No! I want my Goddamn fucking light bulbs back!"

Chuckle.

Indifference.

You can really just go to the back room to get brand new light bulbs.

Rage. "I just want my fucking lights!"

More accusations at my dirty room.

Continued indifference.

You know those were my light bulbs first, and you stole them from my room?

Raging indignation. "They were not! They've always been mine!" Sliding towards giving in. "Besides! My lights don't work in my room!"

Neither do mine.

Apparently if I cleaned my room for the third time I could turn on my overhead light.

Growing tired of her being a bitch.

Aubrey's uncomfortable from the cursing.

Nic's reaching the end of his Tolerance Rope.

Which is pretty damn long.

They're right here, on the table.

"Are you fucking kidding me!"

Yes. Those aren't actually light bulbs, obviously. They're candies.

"Stay out of my room!"

A long pause.

Shared looks.

Shrugs from everyone. Nothing new.

It'd sure be nice if she'd calm down.

"SISTERS never quite FORGIVE each other for what HAPPENED when they were FIVE."

Day 1+15

Day 1, plus fifteen.

It's been fifteen days since the realization of everything hit. Some people know. Some don't. Some days are easier then others.

Some days hurt more then I could imagine.

It comes in waves, my poor attempts at coping obvious failings. I know it's not my fault, everything that happened. But if it's not my fault, then the situation wasn't in my control.. I was a fool, and gave my power to someone else, and trusted them in a way I never should have.

I don't know how I could have been so stupid.

I feel numb inside. When I finally do feel things, it's just pain and hurting, I sit and cry for no reason, sometimes in silence, sometimes with gut-wrenching sobs that return me to my childhood.

When I can't feel anything, I'm terrified. When it's numb, unemotional, raw.. I'm always slightly relieved when the crying happens, afraid that I'd remain in the empty state.

Six months I've been numb inside, shoving everything in the background, not allowing the feelings to surface. Now, everything is there. Angry, raw, blistering. I go through moments of feeling as if my chest is empty, cracked, a shell. Then it's on fire, burning, churning with everything. Everything shakes, uncertainly, as if I'm trying to get my balance back from being unconscious.

I can't figure anything out. Every day things seem impossibly hard. Getting out of bed is the hardest thing to accomplish. Knowing I have to fight my way through another day.. And once that Impossible Task is completed, it's another. Getting out of the shower. Pulling myself up from off of the floor. Driving a car, eating, drinking, walking out the damn door..

A friend jokes, "You need to be happy.. you're broken right now,"

I know I am.

I don't know how to fix it. I truly don't. I feel ridiculous for letting it affect me so much; this occurs to something like 1 in 4 women. With something so common, I feel like it should be easy to fight off, blow over, get passed.. yes. It happened. Where do I go from here? How can this empower me to be a better person, to achieve my dreams, for me to fight to the top, to be who I want to be?

It's not empowering. It's crippling. It hurts, every day.

There are two people outside of my family whom I truly feel comfortable being around. Who don't make me bury my feelings, and let me cry it out when need-be. When I have a panic attack, they don't mock me. They help me fix whatever it was I just did in a subconscious lashing against myself.

I distract myself instead of adding physical hurt to my emotional. Currently I've taken to painting my closet. Giant, white expanse. I hate looking at it. How bare it is, not achieving it's potential. I feel like the walls in my closet. Bare, dull, cream colored. Missing everything I once had..

I want to crawl out of my own skin, and never look back. I'm scrambling. Coloring my hair. Changing my clothes. Different perfume. Different makeup, Every way someone could view me. Just different.. I don't want to be angry and bitter. If I fake happy long enough, it should be that way. Stay that way. Like muscle-memory.

I have too many thoughts.

I don't know where to begin. How I'll end. Am I in my middle?

“Being HAPPY doesn't mean that everything is PERFECT. It means that you've decided to LOOK beyond the IMPERFECTIONS.”