So I decided to write out about what's keeping me awake tonight. In other words, I'm going to write about what a big bundle of crazy I really am.
I sat up and I let the tremors rake through my chest tonight. I know that sounds like a novel, but whatever. The point is, I had an anxiety attack. Or... something like one. Emotional breakdown. Got the weepies. Jeez, I just don't know how to get this started.
I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I'm lazy, selfish, unmotivated and deprived of a social life. I'm not suicidal and I'm not really depressed. I just hate myself, and I have no one to talk to. By lazy I mean, I can hardly summon the energy to clean the kitchen every day or swim for forty five minutes at the pool. By selfish I mean I worry about myself and my problems, and though I worry about other problems, I always come back to worrying about my own. I beat myself up over little things that I don't need to. By unmotivated I mean that even though I hate myself, I can't find enough strength to change, no matter how many nights I stay awake crying. I can't change. By deprived of a social life... well, that is self explanatory. I live with my parents, my siblings both live in Olympia. I rarely go places or do things or hang out with friends. My mother is often working from the early afternoon until late at night. She doesn't get home until eleven o'clock at night. So I spend most of my days with my father. We get along fine. I don't really think I'm going to explain much about my family life right now.
Every day, I sleep in until around two o'clock in the afternoon. Maybe later, rarely earlier. The first thing I do when I wake up is take two Tramadol and head for the coffee pot. I then drink as many cups as I can. It makes my entire body stench of coffee. Caffeine spikes my blood, and even my urine smells like coffee. And not good coffee. I know this is bad fore me. I know I'm addicted to caffeine as well as Tramadol. I take Tram to get out of pain. When I try to quit or cut back on the pain meds, I feel cold and alone and sick... queasy, congested, like I have a knot in my chest that goes down to my stomach. My feet burn and I'll get a headache. I can never go through.. no matter how hard I try, I have to take some before I go to bed, or I will be awake AND in pain. I know this is withdrawal.
After I've been awake for a few hours, at about four thirty my dad pops his head into my room to tell me it's almost time to go swimming. I grump and in my mind I'm thinking of a million reasons why I don't want to go. Even though I love the water, even though I need the exercise and even though I am a good swimmer, I don't want to go. All my body wants to do is sit around until my blood forms puddles in my system. All my mind wants to do is sit on the computer doing hardly anything, waiting for someone to talk to or something to do. Sometimes I say that I feel too sick and I don't want to go swimming. Most of the time I manage to suck it up and go, but just barely. Ever since I failed to get that job at the pool, I just don't want to go anywhere near it. However, I go swimming at least three days out of the week, and don't complain. Much. Even as I'm swimming, I'm thinking of how tired I'm getting and how this malaise is ruling my life. Swim two laps crawl stroke. Breathe. Swim two laps breast stroke. Breathe. Crawl. Breathe. Breast. Breathe. I stop every lap to gain the energy to finish another. My dad is on the other side of the lane, swimming endlessly, hardly ever taking a break. I feel ridiculous. Then I feel self conscious. “Are the lifeguards laughing at how pathetic I am? Does Lynette (the pool manager) feel glad she didn't hire me, because I'm weak? Do I look silly compared to the other swimmers?” All of these thoughts are buzzing through my head. Then the more serious problems occur. “Why the hell do I care so much. Why can't I just be like my dad and swim swim swim. I know it comes with just exercising regularly, but why can't I gain the energy to do this? I'll try to swim four laps without stopping for a breath. Now I've done two.. god dammit it's too hard.” I suffer my mind. It speaks to me fluently, telling me what my problems are. I know all of this, but I can't solve anything. And that pisses me off even more. When I get out, I head into the shower. I shampoo my hair, take of my suit, condition my hair, soap up. However, I worry about the people coming into the shower room with their kids who are taking lessons at six. Do the women think I'm disgusting for undressing? Are they going to complain to me or to Lynette? Then I tell myself it doesn't matter, but those thoughts are always buzzing through my mind. And they won't go away. After I dress and head out, physically I'm feeling better, but mentally I've just abused myself again like I do every day.
At home, I go hide in my room some more, online, waiting for Ian or some other friend to talk to. I'll go on Meebo and enter a chatroom. I'll talk to Sparky, if he's online. I'll consult in Carl, my gay friend from North Carolina, about the problems I'm having, though I haven't gone into depth about any of this to him or ANYONE like I am to this silly word processor. I'll sit on my bed and go through scenarios in my head, some where I'm casually hanging out with friends, some where I'm doing something with my life, some where I'm even bearing my soul to another person, and a lot of the time I try to plan out how I'm going to solve a problem with a friend or with my life, a good solution, but I rarely end up going through with it. I sit on my bed, with my laptop, doing these things until I'm so bored or fed up I have to leave my room, even if only for a few minutes. Then I go back. I do this until my dad makes me clean or until my mother gets home. Recently my cat Beverly has accompanied me in my room. I lean over to pet her sometimes. Like now, I just did. Scratched her behind the ears. But she's taking a bath. Anyway, when my mom gets home, we might have dinner, she might go sit in her new jacuzzi, we might watch a Farscape or something on TV, or they might watch something while I go back and hide in my room, my consoling den of insanity.
I stay up late into the night, even after my parents go to bed, thinking, thinking, thinking... that's what I'm doing now. I'm letting the thoughts that buzz through my head encourage me to write. I think of anything. I think of my pain, I think of starving children with malaria in Africa, or some other third world country. I get angry about Republicans and conservative Christians who want to take my right to an abortion away, or get angry at some Mormon for wanting to convert me. I think about how I think too much. I think about how I want to sit around and do nothing all day. Think think think. Sometimes I play music to soothe the psychological pain. The funny thing is, I don't know if this is normal or if I shouldn't be worrying so much. I worry about getting a job and going to college and handling stress and living my life. I listen to my dad talk about bills, taxes, politics, and I get so scared about having to deal with those things when I am an adult. People tell me that I don't need to worry, that I'm too young, that when those times come it will get easier and I will be able to do it. Even though I believe them I still sit up and worry worry worry. My anxiety worsens. Sometimes I'm in pain when I think too much. My feet burn or my ribs ache or my head is pounding or my muscles feel exhausted. I almost always feel queasy and feel uneasy in my skin. Right down to the bone, I feel uncomfortable. I think of how easy I have life, but still how hard it is to put up with my mind. I'll also think about how annoying it is to be addicted to pain meds, how much I want to quit but can't. How I hate pain. How I hate being lazy, selfish, unmotivated, and deprived of a social life. How I hate myself. Which brings us back to the beginning. Eventually I fall asleep. Maybe not until five in the morning, but I do sleep. Then I sleep late into the afternoon, and the cycle repeats. Wake up around two. Take pills Get coffee.
“I hope tomorrow is different,” I say. I hope I do something. Though I never do. I hardly ever want to. I don't want to deal with life. Maybe, once I start living it, things will be different.
“Any minute now, a ship is coming in. I keep checking the horizon. I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing, come crashing down, down down down on me. And you say 'be still my love, open up your heart, let the light shine in, don't you understand, I'm waiting for my real life to begin”
When I awoke today suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path
And up this cobbled lane
I'm walking in my own footsteps once again
And you say,"Just be here now
Forget about the past
Your mask is wearing thin"
Let me throw one more dice
I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
Any minute now my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
And I'll check my machine
There's sure to be that call
It's gonna happen soon, soon, oh so very soon
It's just that times are lean
And you say,"Be still, my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in"
Don't you understand?
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
On a clear day
I can see, see for a long way
On a clear day
I can see, see a very long way
I don't like to make big decisions for myself. I get scared. The week I took that lifeguard class I had at least three anxiety attacks. I'm afraid to be alone and I'm terrified to do things alone. I have a fear of making a fool of myself.
