Reddish Musings

So, I've been through a few things in the past month or two since I posted on this dealy-o. I guess I kind of let it slip my mind... or really, I let myself ignore the urge to process and write about what was going on and instead focused on clinging to my problems like some kind of backwards life preserver.

But that's neither here nor there now, is it?

We're in Florida at the moment, Fiance and I. Sitting in our hotel room, because I have become too anxious and stressed to drive around in this frantic traffic in a new town (for me). We decided to take this day to relax... if that's even possible.

I've been having a very difficult time unwinding my little ball of stress lately. It's like it has become a part of me, something I love to lean on, because it gives me an excuse to feel as miserable as I do sometimes.

Without going into agonizingly melodramatic detail, it appears I should probably schedule myself an appointment with a psychiatrist at some point in the near future, perhaps in an effort to get some anti-depressants or anti-anxiety pills. Or at least to talk about my problems to someone who won't immediately make me blame my parents for everything, like my only other therapist did.

Being in a Neuroscience class, we went over what happens in a depressed brain. As we pored over the chemicals and the feelings and signs, something clicked. I had joked around about being "a little depressed" before, but it's been hitting me in longer, harder to shake off, chunks of time. I kept thinking that maybe "after this paper" or "after this project" or "after the finals are done" or "after we get off the plane and get the car and check into the hotel," maybe then I can finally relax and be happy.

Unfortunately, it doesn't appear to work that way. It would seem that I'm just unhappy, for no conceivable reason. I've been eating poorly and shirking off household responsibilities, all because I feel like sleeping and moping all the time. I've been sleeping more and feeling less rested, which just adds to the trouble.

I can go from happy to a stressed-out wrecking ball of anxiety in only a few seconds. When one thing doesn't go right, I'm spent. If I have to be around people for more than an hour, I'm exhausted, and so I've been ignoring my friends and being less emotionally available to Fiance. Something needs to change, and so it should. And I think it will. 'cause I don't want to live like this anymore.

Oh, also, my grandfather died. It has nothing to do with all of this, except adding to my stress level. He was my mother's father, and we all have very few happy memories with him. He was somewhat... negative towards my mother and my father, and towards everyone in his life. So all I can say is I hope he is finally happy wherever he is, and I hope my mother can relax soon.

She carried the world on her shoulders for the week he was in the hospital and near to death. Her whole family leaned on her through the whole experience, and you can really tell she needs some rest.

So... that's about all, really. I passed all of my classes and managed to come out with a high-enough GPA to secure my scholarship for another go-around. So now I'm going to focus on getting myself healthier in the head, and the body (which always helps with the head-bit, too), so I can tackle next semester without crying myself to sleep every night!

Fun!

Obama won.

Landslide, it would appear. Or at least very close to it.

McCain conceded with grace and dignity, and earned a modicum of my respect back. I salute the man for his service.

Yet I can't help but feel like crying. What should be a historic and momentous day of celebration is soiled by the hatred and disgust that those on the opposing side are spewing out. People saying we're all doomed, welcoming us to a Socialist nation, threatening to move.

I'm sorry. If you love America as much as many of the opposing side claim to, Democracy should NOT make you want to leave. You should not be AFRAID of letting the people speak for themselves. Perhaps you didn't win - disappointment is inevitable in these kinds of deals, but recognize what has been accomplished:

We have made progress in the seemingly eternal struggle between the races. We have broken many barriers this election season, with both African Americans and women making great strides in the political world. We have opened our hearts up, and changed many people's lives because we see the need for a new strategy in this country.

What we have now is not working. And the same old game of hate and fear did not work. But people will not let it go. People are clinging even more so to their vitriol, ignoring even their own leaders' pleas to accept Obama as their president, to lift him up in prayer even if you do not agree with all of his stands on issues. To follow the leader elect of our great nation, and help us all bridge the gap that has been bringing this country to its knees instead of keeping it high where it has once been.

I do not glorify America overmuch. But last night made me so proud of our country. Red states went blue. Some red states kind of went purple (Texas tried!), but people came together. There was no booing at Obama's victory address. There were tears, many tears. The man presented himself as someone with, as my fiance noted, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Looking into his eyes as he gave that speech, one could see how much he cares for this country.

I hold that I am a decent judge of character. At the very least, certain people rub me the wrong way. Kerry rubbed me the wrong way. Sarah Palin rubbed me the wrong way. McCain started to by the very end of things.

Looking into Obama's eyes, I almost completely give into the belief that he not only wants to change things for the better, that he really can. That not all of his campaign promises were merely platitudes to get himself elected. That he legitimately desires good for America.

You can find him flawed, most people are. You can disagree with his policies, that's what America is about. The freedom to say "I don't like that much." We speak with our votes and with our hearts here in America.

If you want to continue the discourse of hate, then please, make good on your promise to leave. We don't need that here, anymore. I am sick to death of the cries of "Terrorist!" "Socialist!" and many worse. I am shaken to the core at the fact that I could not look away during his speech last night for fear that some ignorant racist with a gun would assassinate him before he even got a chance.

What moral high ground do you really stand on when you cannot look a man in the eyes because of his ideals or his skin color? What righteous anger do you really have when you slander a man without knowing his heart? I know this plea is overly emotional, but I cannot help it. For the first time, my heart is breaking for my country.

I wanted today to be celebratory. Despite having a test I've barely studied for, I woke up today feeling that things were going to change.

Then I saw... amongst my own acquaintances, the bile spilling over into every status update, every bulletin, every newspost.

We wanted change. But you people won't budge. And my heart is breaking. You've not only crushed the American spirit, you've crushed the American dream. When America fails, it will not be Obama's fault. It will not even be Bush's fault.

If you can't find a way to cooperate with your fellow man regardless of ideology and religion, then you have broken into the halls of American History and stolen the book written on what the American dream should be. You have taken it, set it ablaze, and replaced it with the doctrine of the Ignorant American. Clinging bitterly, yes, bitterly, to your outdated hatred and refusing to look out the window to see if its raining or if the sun is shining.

Because to you, if "that one" is on your television screen, it must be raining. If a woman somewhere is having an abortion, it must be raining. If a gay couple somewhere is holding hands, it must be raining.

And it is you who hold us all back. Those of us who have seen past the rain to see the sun streaming through the clouds. Those of us who can look past the horizon of rainclouds and see that the day will shine again will forever be hindered by you, sitting in your dank living room, stewing in your own filth.

We do not believe in your words, but you will not join us on the journey. Even if the rain is pouring, there is a path to the sunshine. But because the path is not covered with the right layer of brick, or because the wrong kind of people will be walking beside you, you'd rather we all just drown. And since we are bound together by the chains of kinship in this country, we will.

I'm sick of it. I have empathy for many types of people in this world, but I cannot feel pity for you anymore. I feel angry, hurt, and so very frustrated.

We have places to go and people to be in this world. You deserve to have your say, because this is the United States of America, but if what you say has not changed in the past few decades because your thinking has not updated either, then please. Just stop. You are only hurting all of us.

So, up there with abortion in the ranks of issues that will continue to divide Americans on "moral" grounds yet will never actually be cemented in stone (because then nobody would come out to vote), is gay marriage. Some people are for it (equal rights!) some people are against it (one man, one woman!), and each have their logical and illogical reasons backing them up.

But the phrase that gets tossed around a little too much for my comfort is that we need to "protect" marriage. The sanctity of marriage is under attack! One man, one woman! O noes!

Let's look at this, for a moment. Why do people start attacks and thus wage wars? There are normally a couple reasons: The Attackers want to destroy it, or the Attackers want to take over it.

In the first scenario, it's pretty easy to wave that off as nonsense. The LGBT community (and however many other letters they've added lately - first the rainbow, now the alphabet. Share, people!) has little interest overall in wiping out marriage as an institution. There are those who hold that marriage should not be a government thing, that it should be put back into the hands of religions and privately dealt with so as to remove this whole debacle anyway, but the majority of people are not saying they want it gone for good. I mean, think about it - if they wanted to wipe out marriage, they wouldn't be petitioning to be granted the right to GET married.

That would be like wanting to destroy the Christian church by reading the Bible and paying tithes every Sunday. Given that "Marriage" isn't even an actual location or group of people, there's no way that infiltration would do any good, even if that was their goal.

So, no, they aren't out to destroy it.

Now, are they out to take it over? Again, let's think about this: In the history of wars, overtaking a country normally had one of two or three outcomes. Either the people who used to live there were destroyed and the Attackers take over, or the people are permitted to stay there, either to be assimilated into the new society or to pay tribute to remain as they were.

Let's talk about the first idea: Do the Gays want to storm in, wipe out heterosexual marriages, and claim marriage as a Homosexual-Only institution? No. That's what Heterosexual fundamentalists are doing right now. Most couples just want the right to be married, regardless of whether they're in the current phase of their relationships to do so RIGHT NOW. They want the tax breaks, the hospital visitation, the next of kin rights. They want adoptions, they want to live a normal, happy, monogamous life. That should make opponents of the "Homosexual Agenda" happy, since they normally point to how adulterous and dishonest the dating gay world can be. How dare they want to settle down and be boring like the rest of us? Buh?

So, that leaves the other option: Are the homosexuals attacking marriage in order to rule over it? Seeing that I have heard no legislative ideas that require heterosexual couples already married or seeking marriage licenses to pay tributes to the Gay Marriage Czars, I think not. Nor do they really seem to be hunting down straight couples in order to sway them to the gay persuasion.

Some war. It's really more like immigration. They want IN to the marriage world, not to take over it. They want to function in its society, legally, and get all of the perks of participating in it as the current citizens get. Civil Unions are really like visas, but marriage would be akin to a permanent citizenship being granted. And those gays living together? Well, I guess they're the illegals? It's a faulty metaphor, I'll agree, but it works for a little bit.

You can oppose to gay marriage all you like, and I can't do anything to stop you. That's your right, and I'm not going to challenge it. All I ask is this - whose marriage would really be endangered by the ability of some couple somewhere in the country to get married? Who would really be at threat in that scenario? The couples who can participate in society and have to deal with Homeowner's Associations and taxation and insurance policies just like everyone else? The kids who are adopted into loving homes instead of being left floating around in the foster system? YOUR marriage?

In short, my opinion still stays the same, albeit somewhat trite and abrasive: If you don't like gay marriage, don't get one. But no gay man or woman will be knocking down your door to take your wedding rings away from you anytime soon. So chill out.

I've been through quite a few experiences in my day. I went through almost all of my high school years glued to my laptop, playing World of Warcraft and chatting my days away with people from all over the world. It was nice, even if it was a tad bit... well, the word fake doesn't seem right. It wasn't fake, not to me, not then. They were real people, and we were real friends who cared about each other. I still keep in contact with a few of them, but now I know them by their real names instead of their characters. So we are now "real" friends, I suppose. I still haven't met them, though, so that makes them still pretty "imaginary" to those not in the know.

But anyway. In the midst of the chatting, relationships grew. Good friendships, and more. I had a few... oy, it seems almost silly to refer to them as "boyfriends" now, but I do have to admit that I felt more than a little bit in love with them at the time. So the term remains.

It was normally a gradual process - we would be in the same game channel, forum, or something, and make the same jokes. We would "get" each other. For one, it was just a lust of the moment. Someone was just paying attention to me, and I relished in it. We had somewhat similar tastes in music and movies and stuff, but there was nothing really cementing a relationship other than the fact that we were both looking for something. I'll refer to him as M.

M was Canadian, and quite a few years older than me. He also suffered from bipolar disorder, or something close to manic depression. He refused to take his medicines, and thus would be in slumps for days, treating me affectionately, and then ignoring my conversations entirely. I was a youth (15 or 16, he was 22), struggling to deal with life as an outcast, as someone different, and I realized pretty soon into it that I couldn't deal with his problems and shoulder my own. I spoke to a mutual friend about the problem, and he later found out that I had mentioned the medicines to her. That erupted in a pretty awkward, hurtful discussion after I had already broken things off with him.

A mistake, entirely. I knew that. But while I had been dealing with the burden of his depression and wondering if this was all I was meant for, I ran into another soul. This, this was N. N was also older than me - I was 16 at this point, and he was 20. A trend is emerging, no?

N was sweet. He was a Christian, something I had been lacking in M. He liked the same music as me, and some of the same books, albeit only on my "Christian" side, as I sometimes call it. I couldn't really share in my other indulgences with him, like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, heavy metal rock music, and enjoying a good dirty joke here or there. In fact, he was kind of Puritan-esque, I would later come to realize. He was very sweet, though.

He had helped me through the ordeal with M, and before I knew it, we were writing stories together and flirting back and forth all the time. We ended up deciding to try long-distance dating. He sent me text messages full of funny stuff. We talked on the phone all the time. It was amazing. I felt cared about, instead of just someone who happened to be there.

Then things got weird. It's hard to really describe the devolution of this relationship, being that you have to understand my game world a little for it to make sense. I played World of Warcraft, on the Horde, on an RP server. This means that we all played the game for the sake of the story, building relationships between characters and players, in and out of character, building upon plots and ideas while enjoying the quest mechanics set forth in the game.

N had originally played on the Alliance. But he had switched over, and started a Horde character to pal around with all of us, not just me. We both had different characters that took part in different storylines, with little reason to overlap much. We were still in contact with each other often, just interacting with different people most of the time.

He started wanting to know who I was talking to, and what we were saying, and what was going on, and what it all meant. He also started to become suspicious of me, I think. There is a phenomenon of those who engage in Roleplaying on the internet to also "cyber," through the voice of either their character or themselves, which basically means write out sex back and forth.

Now that I've been in a real-life relationship, I understand how kind of hokey it is, but trust me - when you're lonely, it's tempting to seek that kind of contact, that want, that value, from anything.

He started, not pointedly, asking after where I was. My character had begun dating, it's true. It was purely an IC (in-character, meaning only between our characters) relationship, and the fellow manning the character she had a total crush on was sweet, but not someone I knew really well. It was an innocent love story.

N also came to visit, once. He came down around the Christmas time, stayed in a hotel nearby, and I chauffered him around for about a week. It was a nice visit - he was chubby and cute and geeky, and he was a gentleman. Too much of one, really. After being so lonely, I was waiting for someone to come sweep me off my feet. To hold me, to tell me how beautiful I was, despite my weight problem, and to kiss me and treat me like a Queen.

He treated me like a delicate object he had no idea how to handle, so he best not try at all. Hugs were hard to get out of him, and they were chaste. There was one night where we cuddled on the couch by the fireplace, but that was it. So, nice, but... underwhelming, after all of the buildup of having a REAL BOYFRIEND who was coming to VISIT ME.

When the questions about where I was and who I was with began to become too much, I finally broke down. I called things off with him a month or two after his visit, which admittedly, he had paid for (we had paid for his hotel room). I felt bad about it, but it just wasn't working. He lived across the country from me, he was paranoid and suspicious, and it was driving me nuts. He even had the gall to ask how I felt about C, the boy who controlled my character's then-fiance.

Well, maybe gall isn't the right word. I had started to fall for C. He was sweet and kind, and slow to anger. He had a sense of humor and humility about him. He was also a broken human being, and God help me, I had the urge to Mother the hell out of him and save him from this cruel world.

C was my first love. To this day, I still wish nothing but the best for him, but I couldn't help him. He was also 20 (lol) and I was 17 I think around this point. We were together for 8 months. I remember that one. It started a while after I broke things off with N, but probably not long enough for his liking. *shrug*. I was young, my heart went where it pleased, and as a side note - N had been cybering with HIS character's WIFE behind my back since basically he started his character. He also tried to whip his e-penis out when one of my friend's characters was around him. While we were dating, both of these things. So, sexual repression and paranoia, much? ANYWAY. C.

My family went on a vacation around Yellowstone, and we took him with us, stayed in a big condo we rented for a week. I kissed him on that trip, tired of waiting for the right moment. Unfortunately, it scared him. He was too... I don't know. Damaged. My heart still breaks thinking about him. I have no romantic intentions towards him anymore, I just want someone to come rescue him from the doldrums that he lives in.

That leaves us finally with K, whose name also starts with C, but for ease of distinguishing, we will call him K. After things got too depressing with C - he was moving with his family, he was unwilling or unable to enroll back in school, but he didn't want to move nearer to me to start a job or education, so we were stuck still in a long-distance tango, and I realized that I just couldn't fix it for him. I was miserable, he was miserable, and it just... wasn't working.

He quit playing the game, so I hadn't seen him, his character with mine basically dropped off the face of the planet, so I just went back to questing solo and trying to remain friendly with everyone else I knew.

There was K. He had always been a member of the channels I frequented. He was surly. He was mean, in a funny way, and everyone loved to hate him. He was the one who poked fights on the forums just to watch people start squawking. It was fun for him.

Also, he was C's best friend before C moved. I met him when we picked C up for that trip. Just the once. He, also, was damaged.

I could write pages and pages on each of these people's roles in my life. K was probably the most frustrating of all of them, the final straw, if you will. He and I were like yin and yang. Where he was surly and pessimistic, I was full of e-hearts (<3) for everyone. Where he liked cussing and flaming, I liked smoothing things over with people. Naturally, attraction was inevitable.

We flirted up a storm. He would show me kindness he showed nobody else in that world of his. I would poke and tease him, and he would take it with a patience, again, nobody else got to see. It sort of evolved into that whole "But you don't know the real side of him!" thing.

It ended basically as soon as it began. He seems to follow this strange cycle of chasing me. We would flirt, we would discuss, we would stay up late chatting... until we decided to go for being boyfriend/girlfriend. Then we would promptly forget how to behave with one another. He would go stale and surly in discussions, then mix that with being overly caring and boyfriend-like. It was as though we were both trying way too hard, and it just strangled the thing.

Eventually, I decided against the ordeal, 3 months or so into it, and we called it quits. We didn't talk much for a while, as was my custom with people I had cut ties with. Then, months later, presents show up for my birthday, from him, and I start talking to him again. Same ol' thing. We discuss, we flirt, we tease, we banter. Things are good. I offer to come visit, thinking things are maybe going to be good this time.

I pay $900 for a trip to Mid-Western America, to be tugged back and forth with misleading clues for what felt like an eternity shoved into a week's timespan. I was told he didn't want to be in a relationship, because, for real, he said this: "Bros before hoes," in response to being friends with C, when months before, in our FIRST attempt, he had said "Forget C, I want this." When I visited, he had really stopped talking much to C, due to his moving, and their drifting apart.

Then he would hold me, we would sit close, he would wrap his arm around me and treat me like a girlfriend, only to tell me again he didn't want anything. He said he was attracted to me, but then he wasn't interested in the long-distance, and back and forth and back and forth.

I left heartbroken and miserable, uncertain of where we stood, and also pretty angry.

Another side note - months after that whole visit debacle, after I had already begun dating my fiance, K called around Christmas time. I didn't even know he still HAD my phone number. It was awkward, to say the least. He apparently has taken up drinking and being miserable. So it's probably best for both of us that I'm not there.

At this point in my life, though... I forgive him. It wouldn't have worked, and I guess we both knew it, I was just desperate for someone to love me already. I was willing to sacrifice education for almost all of these men. I was willing to throw away cheaper tuition rates to try to go to school in states (and COUNTRIES) I'd never lived in, forever away from my family. I was willing to sacrifice everything for love.

And all of these things came together today to make me realize something - They taught me how to know what I want. When I look at my fiance, I see someone who is kind, patient, giving, loving, forgiving, and a Believer to boot. He doesn't get angry, he has never been mean to me in any action or word (on purpose - he flails in his sleep). He was close to me (he moved from Florida to Texas just before we started dating... literally, like, we met on OKCupid, talked for 2 weeks, then he moved here and we were inseparable, and it wasn't for me that he moved). He is older than me. He is smart, he loves reading, he loves music, he loves drama without needing to cause it. He trusts me, and I him. And he doesn't lead me on and disappoint me.

For once in my life, I am loved the way I needed to be, and I am able to love back the way I longed to. We were watching a bad horror/zombie movie today, and I realized as we joked back and forth, and also when he was laying back on my stomach as we both read books of our own likings... this is all I want. I'm going to school, I'm pursuing a career I think utilizes the most of my abilities in dealing with people, and I'm marrying a man who makes me happy, and who is happy with me in return.

There's no gut-wrenching feelings of guilt and misery as I sit there waiting for an IM response from someone I'm not sure how to love. There's no teeth-tightening sensations of agony as my stomach twists as I realize that I am unhappy here. There's only hope and comfort as I know that no matter what the future holds, we can be happy curled up together.

This is incredibly lengthy, and probably dull to anyone who doesn't know me, but it was more of a needing to get it out than looking for an audience.

All of these internet trysts, whether I met them in person or not, they all had their hand in my formation of romance and respect for myself. I don't understand the internet the way I used to, now that I see what it is like to really be loved. I think some long-distance relationships work (hi James and Aria!), but for the most part - I wouldn't trade being able to rub my fiance's head while he shoots Spies in Team Fortress 2 for the world.

Life is happening really quickly these days. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred, but I've found myself kind of waking up on Mondays and going "Wow, it's next week already? I barely did what I needed to do LAST week!"

Which is an unfortunate sentiment, but true nonetheless. Ah, well. Things are still getting done as they need to be, and I'm still treading water in all of my classes, despite a crippling bout of depression that has kept me feeling down and out. And by treading water I mean acing tests and doing okay on the ones I thought I for-really-real bombed.

I have taken out, as they say, a new lease on life. It's hard, but we get through it. I've got to learn to open up and rely on other people. I realized last week that the more I focus inward on my own problems, the less I notice other people's struggles. And I don't think I'm here to do nothing but gripe about my life. I think I was given a heart that loves fully, and I think I've been terrified to use it lately.

Because bringing people who aren't me into my life means surrendering control over the simple, albeit sometimes lonely existence that I live. By fully believing the lies that my brain likes to throw at me, I lock other people out. Letting depression take control of my thoughts, my tears, all of me, keeps me from being reached by the people I most desperately need.

I recently had to acknowledge the fact that I don't have much money. That may not a big surprise when you take into the account that I am in school, with no job, and no income other than just what I need to clear my share of the bills. However, that fact scared me. It made me feel something of a failure.

How backwards is that? Needing to rely on my fiance, who has a job and a steady income, to help buy groceries and gas, made me feel BAD. So many people in this world would squeal to have the opportunity to rely on someone else, and I'm moping because I have someone who's willing to shoulder that responsibility?

Seriously, I worry about my head sometimes.

But I know where it comes from. I've been a loner for a long time, and even though I've been with him for over a year now, the idea that someone is there for me in any and every capacity still seems so foreign. I had to take care of myself, for the most part, growing up. Sure, my parents paid the bills and bought me food, but emotionally and academically, I fended for myself. My parents loved me and raised me well, but my sister ate up a lot of our existence. Still does.

That's a blog entry for another time, though.

Regardless, I've been so used to isolation that it became my strength. And I've just come to realize that being alone is not strength. Being strong on your own isn't any feat - what battles do you come against when you have no friends or enemies? Being able to work with people beside you, to stand on your feet when you're afraid, to have the confidence not to back down in any of life's ordeals... that's strength. And it can only happen when you let people in and start living life, instead of hiding from it and pretending that's enough.

It's a hard lesson. One I'm still working on mastering, I'm more than ready to admit. But I've noticed changes in myself. I'm happier, despite this hormonal drag these new pills have set me on. I'm more willing to voice my opinions in groups, in classes, in hallways. What is there to fear? As long as you respect others, you can do a lot more good by speaking out than you can by sitting still.

Nobody can hurt me if I don't let them. Sure, they can say mean things, but I have control over how I react, and it's been easier to just... do what I need to get done, school-wise, but also feel happy and secure in my own existence.

My body is mine. My thoughts are mine. My humor, my style, my heart, it all makes up me, and I've come to realize that people kind of like me. I'm by no means nearing narcissism here, but it's a nice feeling.

Anyway. I am waiting for a Joss Whedon Fan Club meeting to organize here in the Comet Cafe. We're working on getting this sucker started, and I am dedicated to making friends and having Common Interests.

Take that, negativity.

All right, so it has kind of been made clear to me that I may have been overreacting about my health issues. Not in mean ways, just in very clear "It's not the end of the world" tones. Of course, when I feel like I was feeling, those kind of statements irritate me. How dare people bring logic and rationality into my sulking?

So, yes. I have readjusted my thinking a tad. The pain is the number one problem for the time being. I have been given pills to help combat that, and we will see how those work before I even start to whine about not being able to fix it.

The other side effects of the diagnosis (which are very much up in the air) are not immediate threats to my daily life, nor are they things I should really focus on. I have too much to panic about to let things that might happen years from now bring me down.

I mean, I have a test soon for a class that I've somehow magically missed 3 chapters in. Oops! But I'm here for review today, so I hope it helps.

And the economy is failing! That's always fun! I'm seriously considering shifting some of my future goals to help anticipate less of a falling out when I get my new shiny Bachelor's Degree. I was already contemplating getting a teaching certificate while I'm here, and now I'm thinking that's a wise choice. I still would like to pursue a Master's in Child Development and all that, but for now, I'd also like to make sure I have a marketable skillset on board.

So there.

Not panicking. Much.

...I still have to fight this urge to run away and get married and live out in the country running a small bookstore and restaurant. *shifty*

I went to have my lady exam yesterday. It's only the second one I've ever had, but it comes at a time where I've been getting increasingly more pain with each cycle, so I was hopeful that something could be diagnosed and done about it, to make it stop, so I can live without the ouchies.

So, the doctor told me there were a couple of options as far as causes went. One was that my uterus might be tilted the wrong direction, causing some extra pain, or it was endometriosis. Yay.

Upon doing the exam, he informed me that, yes, in fact my uterus is tipped. What we didn't go over after the exam was whether endometriosis was still on the table as a cause of pain, or if the tipping was the sole cause and that it couldn't be endo by that point. Unfortunately, it can be a chicken-egg situation, I've found doing my own research. So I'm on the fence. The general idea I got from it was that it might be likely (my mother had it, after all), but that we would try a lower-dose birth control pill with some prescription Motrin, and see if it helps with my pain before trying to do a complicated endometriosis diagnosis.

Having a tipped uterus I can sort of deal with. I guess. It seems that the main symptoms of it are painful periods (dysmenorrhea) and painful intercourse. It's sort of...

I feel sad, for some reason. I guess I was hoping I could get a cure for all of my pain at the doctor's, but now I've come to find out that it's my anatomy working against me, and that, unless I go through some weird surgery, it'll always be that way.

Even more, it could make any future attempts to conceive difficult if there is endometriosis causing some of this, which I'm getting more suspicious there is, given the discussions we had and the fact that it can cause a tipped uterus.

So, yay. Everything about womanhood is screwed up for me, and could be for a very long time.

I feel defeated and like I've let somebody down. Or maybe I was let down. Either way, I wanted a cure, and instead I feel like I got a sentence. I'm not giving up all hope of a normal life. Maybe the new pills will help even things out, I don't know. I'm just tired of hurting.

Update at the bottom: 11:00am 9/16/08

So, I check the mail this morning, hoping to find that my monthly rent check from my so gracious grandparents had arrived. Instead, I get this letter from Washington Mutual telling me that they're closing my account due to my transactions exceeding limitations.

My Economics Teacher (name removed).

In addition to the class we had yesterday on domestic abuse, I talked to the teacher about an incident that occurred in my high school Senior Year. I don't know if it still is going on or not, and I'm trying to figure it out, but you'll see why later.

In AP Economics (the equivalent of Honors classes these days, I believe), there was a teacher who had come from an alternative school where he was beloved by students all over to teach us in our multi-million-dollar school building in a nice school district. I'm sure money had nothing to do with him accepting the position.

I'm not going to discredit teachers who work in the alternative-school environment, but all I'm saying is I have NO idea how he survived in that environment without killing people. Anyway.

So, Economics is annoying. I'll admit it. It's one graph and one principle that are applied to a bunch of different things. I didn't try as hard as I could have in that class, but I did adequately in it. It was Senior Year, I was graduating when the class was over, I didn't really care that much. That's fair to say, and for the sake of fair argument, I'll fault myself on it.

But I am not a disrespectful student. I did not sleep in class. I kept talking to a minimum, when we're done with lecture or whatever (until later on, but I'll explain this progression later). My "not caring" generally just comes out in not doing the readings and just getting by (and "getting by" in high school was making a B on a test).

So, what could the problem really be? This teacher was praised high and low for being "awesome" and "funny" by people I respected in both camps. So... what happened? When I got to class, all I saw was an old man who was trying desperately to be considered cool, and would do whatever it took to suck up to the "cool" kids.

This included praising people who slept in class instead of people who paid attention consistently. Picking on kids that the cool kids picked on. Wearing tattoo sleeves on Halloween, as well as a grill, or whatever it is that goes in your mouth and makes your teeth all shiny. Also, gloating about living in a rich neighborhood. When pressed for an address, he gave us a fake one.

I don't know what this man is like outside of school, I will not judge his character entirely. All I know is that I could not respect him as the year went on. His teaching was dull (but the subject matter is dull, so I didn't fault him that), but the problem lied much deeper than superficial interest levels and how badly he pretended to be cool. Which, incidentally, is enough reason for me to dislike a teacher. I really have a hard time respecting teachers who care more about being liked than teaching. But that's a different matter.

He was passive aggressive in the worst way: Spiteful to the students, young adults, he had in his classroom, as well as to the faculty he worked alongside in the school.

I don't know what order these incidents occurred in anymore, it's been 2 years, but they all stand out clearly in my mind. One of the first troubling things was when he threw a half-full water bottle at a student in the back.

A teacher I loved the year before had tossed a white-board eraser at a student who was sleeping during the lecture. There is a fundamental difference in throwing something that weighs less than a pound, and throwing a bottle half-full of water.

I shrugged it off, feeling just a little uncomfortable.

Later on, I witnessed other more disturbing things. I began seeking someone to talk to about it, because I was more and more feeling unsettled by the events that were unfolding. Unfortunately, I can't recall many of the things that jumped out at me, but I know I told the head of the social studies department, a friend of mine and a past teacher of mine.

However, two other events are still pretty clear in my head.

To preface this, I was also enrolled in English IV AP, taught by another friend or so of mine. She was a harsh teacher, but she was fair. If you followed her rules and her groundwork for papers, then things would turn out fine, and she really improved a lot of my form for writing (formally, I still write blogs pretty informally, I'm sure you've noticed). One of her key policies was if you used passive verbs (am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been) in a paper, you would be dropped quite a few points.

So, someone made fun of The Economics Teacher or pointed out something about grammar, and likened him to my English teacher.

His response: "If I were her, I would shoot myself."

This bothered me, a lot. A whole lot. I told her. She told me later that she confronted him about it, and he apparently knew it was me.

At this point, I had ratted him out to two sources, and he was not a fan of mine. In class, it had become a thing where, even if I tried to answer a question, he would ignore my raised hand over one of the other kids. He wouldn't respond to my questions. There was a feeling that I was unwelcome in his class.

I shrugged and continued on, giving up on trying to answer questions, and sticking to reading what notes I needed and passing his tests fine. I passed notes with a friend of mine, the only other person who had a problem with the way he was behaving in class. Everyone else didn't seem to think his comments were a problem, or at all worrisome. He was just "joking" after all.

So, what part of this next one is joking?

We had a lockdown drill at our school one day - Where you turn off the lights, lock the door, and hide in a corner with no windows. This test was developed after the school shootings became more commonplace, and is supposed to be the response when an unwelcome visitor is in the school, for whatever reason.

There was one student he enjoyed poking fun at. I don't know if they had a relationship outside of class or not, but this comment is unforgivable, regardless.

He said, as we huddled into the corner:

"I hope they shoot you first."

I told someone about this one as well, and finished the semester, graduated, and moved on, putting the jerk behind me.

My friend, the one ally I had in the class, called me when the next semester started, letting me know that one of her friends had his class that time around, and that he had pointedly showed the class where we had sat the semester before, and told the class that we were "obnoxious." That we would "fail in life and college."

I drove to the school the next day and asked to speak to the principal. When told he was busy, I laid out everything I had seen and heard to the secretary, and she said she would pass it along.

I never heard another word about it, and when hearing these things, my professor told me to follow up on it and make sure it was dealt with.

Am I crazy? I don't know. I'll look into it, I guess. But I had to lay this stuff out, for memory's sake. It could be that I just did get the wrong vibe from a teacher I disliked... but I've had a lack of respect for teachers without thinking they were going to actually harm students before, so this sure seems different.

As for his comments about me and my friend? I don't necessarily believe they were spoken with those words or that tone, but it's possible. The reporter had no real need to make it up to fuel our anger at the man, but since it's hard to validate, I'm just adding it for maybe, not for fact. The fact that it doesn't surprise me if it is true should speak for itself, though.

Now, dinner time!

I'm enrolled in a class that covers topics dealing with abuse situations - child, spouse, dating partner, whatever kind of abuse, it's going to be touched on. And yesterday, the professor gave us a task: Find a goal for yourself. Something that we can do and change in our own lives that will lessen stress and strife for others.

Because, as she noted: We can only change ourselves. It's freeing to realize that you cannot be held responsible for the actions of other people, you can only do your best to make the changes evident in yourself.

So, I decided to be more in touch with what I'm feeling and stop hiding it and defending myself from it. I have a huge problem with bottling things up, one that I fight most of the time just to make myself stay sane and content. Little things, big things, it doesn't matter. I'm tired of not admitting to myself and others that I feel lonely, that I feel frustrated, that I feel anything but "fine" sometimes.

I'm not made to handle things on my own. I'm meant to help other people deal with their problems, and in return, to let them help me with mine. It's kind of a double standard to want to help support someone else, but to demand that I support myself as well. That's not helping, that's carrying them and crucifying myself.

So that's my goal. Stop hiding from what I feel, because it'll make itself evident eventually, and I'd like control over when and how that happens.

If today's weather is due, even in part, to Gustav, I guess that's just one good thing we can mark down from hurricanes and tropical storms, even if it's just to us inlanders. In short, today was beautiful.

It's a little more humid outside than it was this morning, but walking out the door was a treat today. The one thing I love more than anything else in the Fall and Winter seasons is being happy to leave my home when it's cool and cloudy. Summer and Spring don't bring joy with them, for me. They bring heat, sunburn, sweating and thus skin problems, also a bunch of allergies.

To be fair, Fall is pretty guilty on the allergy front, himself. Actually, more so than Spring, but he offsets it by bringing me happy things. And we can hope that allergies are a moot point soon, since I've been undergoing allergy treatments.

My skin has cleared up enormously since the shots began, and waking up with the sniffles has all ebut disappeared (except for very extreme allergen days, when I wheeze a little. Thanksgiving is the true test to see how well these shots are helping, though.

90% of my Thanksgivings have been spent wheezing and sniffling and being too congested to smell or taste the varieties of food people brought over. I'm tired of having to compliment the texture of my relatives' cooking styles instead of the flavors.

---

Things have been kind of strange the past few days, but I think I understand why now. A week or so ago, I could just blame PMS and hormones on every little weepy session and be done with it. But things were emotionally strained and awkward yesterday and a bit of the day before.

I blame this book. A Private Family Matter by Victor Rivas Rivers has been captivating my attention basically since I started reading it (Sunday) and finished it (Wednesday).

Occasionally, in works of fiction, I will feel for characters that I've formed bonds to. I cried when Sirius Black died, though I stopped reading the series after book 5, so don't chalk me up as a fangirl. Harry Dresden's occasionally miserable life draws tears from me here and there. The absolute hopelessness of many characters in A Song of Ice and Fire can bring me to tears as well.

But these books don't ruin my day. They don't quietly worm their way into my heart and chew it up from the inside with the absolute helpless need to bring justice to a family who was shown none. They don't burn at my soul, consumed in the fire of hate for a man who could do these things to his family.

This was my first real dive into what abuse does. I've studied Psychology enough to know that abuse happens, and I've seen some of the side effects of it. But I've never just sat and listened to or read a person's full life's story, recounting in hideous detail all of the crimes committed against them...

Nor have I ever felt so absolutely incapable of helping.

But that's kind of the problem with abuse. Once it's done, you can only clean up the pieces. Prevention tactics are being started, but until they take hold and can teach men and women how to respect each other and their children, qualities that should be innate and not need teaching, these things will continue.

I'm honestly unsure of how to even begin talking about it, due to my lack of experience in the area. I come from a pretty harmless family, be it high-stress at times. My mother's father is obviously emotionally abusive, but not to the extent that some monsters are.

It's just taken a lot of processing, some that I wasn't even aware of. But reading this memoir made it impossible for my mind to rest until I knew what happened to him. How he survived, and how, if, he got away from everything and made his life work. How his family did the same. How his mother ended up. How his father, the bastard, finished his life.

You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, it's true, but someone who commits such heinous acts against his own flesh and blood will never truly die, not so long as their memories haunt and plague the survivors of their crimes.

But I finished the book, and I made a pie, and I think I'm better.

I've just never been affected so deeply by a book, so deep that I wasn't even aware of the what the problem with me was until I realized all I wanted to do was pore through it and finish it so I could wash the stories away from my own consciousness with the fact that he's okay now, as is his true family.

I can barely live with the knowledge of what was done to this man and others, I don't know how he did it.

But I'm glad he did.

Life seems to gang up on people. I'm not arrogant enough to think the entire world and the cosmos are out to get me, but I can make a case, perhaps a convincing one, that the world and the cosmos are out to get all of us... sometimes, anyway.

See, things go pretty smoothly for a while.

Then one day, you wake up. You get out of bed, and you lean down to pick up something, and you hit your head on your nightstand.

Ouch, but you continue. You wander into the bathroom, but your turn is just a few degrees too sharp, your toe runs right into the frame of the door. More ouch. You start wondering if maybe you should go back to bed. But, that's really not an option and there's stuff to do, so you keep going.

Dressing goes okay, except you find out that your bra (or, I dunno, boxers or something) has a broken clasp or the underwire is twisted or poking out, or something. Whatever, you pad it with a bandaid and move on.

From then on, it's anybody's guess what could happen. You're out of oatmeal, milk, berries, bread, anything. You get cut off and almost run into by a handicapped driver. Your class is cancelled. Your blinker in your car goes screwy. Your car won't start. Your bills come and overdraft your checking account with something you hadn't even expected.

The list goes on, and on, and on.

So why does this all have to happen in such a tight space? Why can life not wait to spread out negativity? Some would say that so many bad things in so short an amount of time could be a sign of something bad. Something you weren't supposed to do.

Others would say it's a test, that you'll be stronger for making it through.

Me? I just think life is cyclical. I don't think much of karma on a small scale. Astrology has yet to make much sense to me, except where the earth rotates in a pattern and I think life swings in a pattern, but these two orbitals don't intersect at any specific, trackable points.

Divination, psychic powers, all of that really boils down to the universal truth that life is sometimes good, but it carries with it the danger of turning on you. This causes fear in people who feel they have the right to know what life is going to throw at them next time around. It's easy to tell people they feel fearful and concerned about finances and their love life... because really, who doesn't?

But when it's happening, all I can do is sit there and tell myself, "This, too, shall pass." Because it normally does. Everything just gets so much more uncertain and stressful when the pendulum swings back to hit me in the face.

Maybe part of growing up is enjoying the swing up, but preparing for the swing back down without losing it when it happens. Not taking things for granted.

Yeah, that sounds good.

Personally, I think part of growing up is also just learning to fake being a grown up.

WARNING: Girly Bits Discussion Ahead!

Anyway. I'm worried about my body. Not the weight thing, I'm working on that. No, it's just that every month seems to be increasingly worse when it comes to the amount of pain I deal with. I know many women suffer your average amount of cramps and ooginess around their period, but I've yet to be able to figure out if I'm normal and just whiny, or if I have an actual problem.

All I know is that the level of pain that I've dealt with has only increased exponentially over the years. My first experience was not at all painful, and not really a surprise, either. So, fast forward about... gah, 6 years? 7? 8? Wow, I'm old.

Anyway. I started taking birth control pills about a year ago, because I was moving off to college and my mother loves me and wanted me to be prepared "just in case." But more than just the protection, there was also the offer of regulating my period, which had been kind of weird in the past. Short, and on a shorter cycle than one month. So there was that.

From that point, my hormonal bursts of sadness seem to have escalated the week prior to me starting. Maybe that's the pills, maybe it's me maturing, I don't know, but it's annoying. More importantly, though, the day that I start, my back suddenly breaks out into pretty bad pain.

It wasn't as bad before the pills, but it was still a problem that was getting worse, so I don't blame the medicine for that. But each month seems to bring with it another degree of pain, all coming from the tailbone-area of my lower back, but on the inside, what I can only assume to be my uterus.

I can flex, I can lay down, I can sit down, I can walk, nothing makes it go away. And the past couple months have also brought along their friend Mr. Headache, bad enough to keep me awake at night. And this month especially seems to have brought a special buddy, Stabbing Pain Contractions.

yay.

So, yes, I've Googled it, but I'm not going to diagnose myself with anything until I talk to a physician next week. I've got an appointment scheduled for my yearly Lady Exam, and I plan to ask about getting on the Depo shot, as well as ask if maybe I do have dysmenorrhea. Because it sure looks like I do.

Granted, my mother informed me that she struggled from endometriosis prior to having me, and these two things kind of go hand in hand, so I won't be surprised if that is the case, but... I really don't want to.

I don't plan on reproducing for quite a while, and if having a child is one of the only ways to fix it... that sucks for me.

Sigh.

Here's hoping something can help, because Advil/Tylenol/Ibuprofen/etc. doesn't seem to.

Simply put, I don't think it should be done. I wrote a really florid piece of drawl whilst waiting for Art to begin on Monday morning, and I'm not going to repost it or even really pay that much attention to it, but at the very least I'll get the point across again: Art should not be defined.

You can show me the history timeline of Art, and show me how it has changed and what we accept as art and as not art, but you cannot, and should not, put a certain criteria out for it. Also, you shouldn't tell me that writing is not an artform. Jerk teacher.

Also he made us listen to a Charles Ives piece. I know nothing of the composer other than at this point in time, I hope he died a horrible death for making whatever it was that was just injected into my hearing places. Augh. I'm sure he had other stuff that was notable and not ear-raping, but the piece we listened to was detestable.

------------------------------

I feel this unstoppable urge to write. I don't know what I want to write, or how, or in what style or for what story or if for any story. I don't think I have a point or twenty just waiting to come out in insightful essays, and I certainly don't feel like writing for class, but the need to make words come out of me is there, just the same.

Maybe it's the hypnotic sound of the keyboard, or the indisputable "rightness" of how a white text box appears once it has been filled with substance. I don't know what it is, but I have that bug again. Maybe it's the reading I've been forced to do for class. Reading more always produces an urge to write more.

------------------------------

Also, I'm dying of hunger and I do not want to go to my next class. No specific reason, just History is boring and I'm tired and crampy and hungry.

Pain + Hunger = :(

Anyway. Job search must begin. :(

So I've started my second year of college, and it feels almost exactly like the first year. That is to say, it feels almost exactly like High School part 2, except for now it's part 3, and I'm getting really fed up with it all.

People told me to wait for college, that it would be my shining point, and I would love it so much. Out there in college, they said, the goals are academia, not popularity contests! Wit and intellect are rewarded with great fervor! You'll find friends who are so like you, because that's what college is for! Smart people!

Wrong.

College is for everyone who managed to make it out of high school without being shot or killing themselves. Anyone who can sign a piece of paper to apply and get a loan to go is now here, sitting in my classes, eating up the brain energy and causing me to be cramped and uncomfortable.

Now, of course, "they" tell me that it doesn't really kick in until your Junior or Senior year of college. Excuse me?

Okay - Yes, I am aware that college can be what I make it. I won't find those friends with similar interests if I don't go to events and actively try to find them. Cool, so which soccer game, Indian dance show and mudball event do I attend to find geeks? Oh, try SPOON! They have geeks there!

No, those are anime nerds. Yes, sometimes that Venn diagram overlaps a little bit, but I have NO interest in anime as a pastime, so to weed through all of the people who are just WAITING to orgasm out all of the episodes of Death Note at me just to find someone who might have watched Buffy and who might be interested in a game of Dungeons and Dragons... no thanks.

So, what then? Go to all of the events I have no interest in and hope someone like me shows up?

I'm not looking for a group or responsibility, so I don't really want to go to the trouble to start a Club or Organization or something. I just want to make contact with a few people like me on this campus and share numbers and find friends. Isn't that how that works? I don't know.

I've never really "found" friends. Friends kind of find me. I just happened to sit next to KayLo at Orientation, and we ended up rooming together for Freshman Year. Fiance came from the internets. Even Linz was from a website of shared interests.

The more I look around each classroom, the less I feel like reaching out to talk to ANY of these mooks. I'll be nice and helpful, but I feel lied to.

This isn't a place for intelligence to shine. This is a place for intelligence to try and crack its way out of the dome of ignorance and uselessness. Sure, maybe by Junior or Senior year the chaff will have dropped out and I can merge with people who share my major, but by that point, I fear I'll be too tired of this whole experience.

On a side note - What the bleepity is up with pre-requisites? It's bad enough that I have to sit through hours of subjects I care nothing about, but when they force attendance for a grade AND require group projects, I just want to stomp my foot and hold up a giant sign saying "GO BACK AND TEACH HIGH SCHOOL I AM PAYING YOU TO BE HERE SO I CAN LEARN NOT VICE VERSA".

Or cry. Crying is also something I want to do these days.

I just want to be grown up and out of this place. And class is starting.

Woo, History.

Okay, not an awful lot is changing. Just my lifestyle here and there. You know how it goes.

Today is my last day at work - ooh, aah. Everyone is hemming and hawing about how much they'll miss me and how they don't know how they're going to get on without me... but this happens every Summer. People become surprisingly dependent on me within a month or two's time, but they manage to somehow survive after I leave. /eyeroll.

There's a party in the cafeteria for birthdays and to commemorate my last day... I hope there's not a big deal. I get a card sometimes, sometimes not. And I'm bound to get teary-eyed, even though I've hated this place since the first month ended.

As for what I'm doing after this job ends? Well, there's about a week's break and then it's right back to school for me, on the 21st. The troubling thing being that one of my classes has STILL not posted textbooks that I need to buy. The other class that waited this long ended up getting cancelled, and I had to find another section of it to fill my schedule out. I'd prefer to not have to do that with less than a full week before classes START. Work with me here, people.

On a side note, I had a wicked dream last night. Some catastrophe had befallen our town, maybe the world, I don't know. There were scenes of Fiance and myself huddled in a grocery store, locking ourselves in the bathroom for some peace from the outside world of people trying to rob and kill us. Then we took a drive to a housing development area, wherein Fiance had this huge house that looked like it was going to be half home, half Haunted House. There was a big skull on it, and it was green and creepy.

He had a lot of money in my dream, apparently, but it was surprise to my dream-self too. He let people stay in the house, fended it off from burglars and crooks, and took care of whatever people needed while they were there. And we talked in the hecticness of it all of just getting married before we died.

It was... it felt like a movie, of sorts. Cinematic, definitely.

Now begins me weighing the pros and cons of getting a part-time job for the school season. Tune in next time where you can hear whether it is good to be poor and content or have income but be exhausted. :D

(This also depends on whether or not Fiance gets laid off)

Watching Bridezillas on Women's Entertainment (sigh) suddenly decreased my faith in the human condition. Truly a tragic thing, since my faith wasn't all that great to begin with. Thankfully my kitties are alongside me to remind me that some things will always be cute.

But really, perhaps it is only those deemed "Bridezillas" that act this way when it comes to their weddings and their supposed future relationships, but good God. These people turn what should be a happy day into a spiraling cyclone of hatred and spite. I guess, having not been through that experience of yet, I can't really comment on how I would react in this situation, but... yikes.

It's frightening. You see people who barely have anything in common, and who certainly don't seem to get along, yet they've decided to spend the rest of their lives together? Color me confused.

Granted, I have some friends who are in relationships and marriages I see the same things in - but they seem happy. I don't judge, but I won't pretend I'm not puzzled by their pairings. "Whatever turns your crank" as my pseudo-fiance says, and I tend to agree.

Still... don't marry someone you don't love. Those tics that drive you crazy now? Are probably only going to get worse. Getting married to change someone is, frankly, a horrible idea. I heard somewhere, and I'm probably going to mangle this, "Don't marry someone because you love their good points, marry them because you can stand their bad points."

PF (Pseudo-Fiance) and I? I get emotional and sometimes feel depressed, but he can make me smile and works me through it. He's kind of forgetful and unobservant, but I'm supportive and help him remember. That's about it.

We've yet to really fight about anything. The closest we get is over what we want for dinner, and anything that really requires a choice. Not so much fighting as it is "Oh god, someone please have an opinion so we can get this done."

So yeah. We're not really worried about our future together, but sometimes I just wonder what we have that other people don't... or if you're supposed to make each other miserable just a little bit.

I'm happy with how we are, though. And that's really all that matters. :)

I think many people can sympathize with hating their jobs. In fact, most people probably have it worse than I do when it comes to their career of the moment, be it for the long run or for the college break.

Oh, that reminds me, I need to buy books.

Anyway.

It's not that I think I have it worse than anyone else. I complain a lot, but only because I get surrounded by miserable people who complain just as much as I do. I refer to myself as the emotional sponge, because it's true.

My brain can only take so much misery and complaining before it starts to soak it up, to stress about it, to worry in other people's stead. Many of my friends end up feeling better after venting to me, but me? I feel worse. So much worse.

It takes a lot for me to put a stop to it. I am so susceptible to people around me that once I start slipping down a misery hole, I can't see the sunlight shining down the top, I can only fathom how deep it goes.

But no matter. I've reached the point where I cannot keep emptying myself out for people who don't need that. Nobody has asked me to carry their burdens for them. They're just airing them, not asking me to carry it. The burden is still theirs, but making it known helps lessen the pain.

I must learn to listen, not to take and bear. If I'm to have any success in my future, I have to. I'll go insane, otherwise.

If you are a female ranging from the age of 13 to 90 in this era, you are probably aware that the shape you are in determines a lot about how you feel and how others view you. If you fall in this age range, you probably have endured many different diets, lifestyle changes, programs, seminars, book groups, rededications to a healthy life, etc. But what really changes?

Not much, as far as I can tell. Me, I've ranged in weights from the upper 280's to the lower 200's. That's a grown child that I've gained and lost in my short life of 19 years, and I'm still working. Still striving to reach a goal that is even to this day only vaguely defined.

Thinner? Maybe. That'd be nice, sure. Healthier? That sounds closer, but in what regards? Do I measure my success in weight, in how much I can lift, in how far I can run (hahaha), in how long I can walk until my asthma kicks in, in what size my pants are? I don't know. I still don't. I've read a lot of books, a lot of blogs, and I still have no idea.

All I know is that I want to feel better. That's a lofty goal, maybe, but it's not really that hard to attain, either. Feeling better starts with the inside and works its way out. That's the difference between dieting and looking to be better. I don't think my worth is gauged on that scale in an inverse relationship - I've seen the pictures of girls who make it close to the 0 side of the scale, and they seem to be pretty miserable.

I don't think I'm ever going to be thin. I don't think I'm ever going to be absolutely satisfied with the body I've been given. Welcome to being human, right?

I do think I can take better care of myself. I do think I can exercise and build muscle and feel more alert and active and healthier. I think I can weigh less and I can wear smaller clothes and feel more comfortable when snuggling with my boyfriend.

But I don't think that will make me happy. I don't think that surgery, weight loss, exercise, any of that, can make me happy. The only thing that can cause happiness is an alleviating of worry and stress. Acceptance.

Things may change. Things may not change.

And I'm okay with that. I just want to try.

I promise not to beat myself up. Much. Cept for one week. That week doesn't count.

Ta!
~Red~