I envy birds.
That they're able to fly away when released from their cages, they can fly wherever they want.
My cage is my mind, and I'm trapped.

Crazy Girl

I went to the doctor today for persistent headaches, fatigue, & just generally lacking energy for anything at all. I've been falling asleep early every day, and then sleeping around 10 hours a night and am still exhausted. Maybe I've just giving up trying with anything. My brother thinks I might be anemic. We went to find out.


The doc was just doing her job, this I know. But she started asking me questions about my life, and when I became less than responsive, she tried to dig deeper, saying that something more was going on and she could tell. At that point I just shut down. And I realized I don't want to talk to people about what's going on, at least not somebody like her. It scared me even imagining how she'd react if I spilled it all right there in that tiny room...I don't like other people telling me there's something wrong. I already know this. And her suggestion of anti-anxiety medication or something similar eluded to the fact that she wanted me to have some sort of psych consult...that's not going to happen.


I want to run away. I want to get away from everything. I don't want people to know anything about me, I don't want them to see my scars or know about my past or present. I'm tired of feeling like I'm just being judged for how I feel, for how my mind works. I'm sick of it all.


The lyrics to Crazy Girl are irrelevant, but the video seems to hit home. I feel like I'm locked up against my will, that no matter how hard I try I can't break free. But unlike the girl in the video, I don't want to ask for help. I won't. Part of me is comforted by my 4 walls, at least they stay constant in my ever-changing world. And maybe I like my misery, my persistent displeasure in my life and the world around me, unable to achieve happiness for longer than a fleeting moment. Maybe this is how I'm supposed to be. Maybe I am just crazy.

This summer is already starting to feel a lot like last summer....& if that's the case, I don't think I'll be able to handle it.

Little Bit of Truth

Tomorrow, my parents are flying up to help my roommate and me move into our new place. The lease doesn't start until the 21st, so we'll have another day to get organized and packed up. While I'm excited to be going back home, to spend the summer with my parents and the few friends that'll be in town, I don't feel ready.


I've been bitching about this place for months now, desperate to leave, desperate for some sunshine and a change of scenery. I've wanted nothing more than to run away from all of my demons up here, to forget everything that has happened this year. And there's been a lot...more has happened in this past year than ever before it seems, and at the moment it's all weighing me down. I don't feel at peace, not internally, and not right now. Maybe this will come when I am finally home, but I know full well as much as I try to run, the past always catches up to me.


I always doubt my actions, doubt my choices in life. While I know everything happens for a reason, I can't help but wonder what could've been, what would've been if one little thing had been different. If I had never started self-harming; if I had kept it all a secret instead of telling my friends; if I had chosen to live in a different place for my junior year; if I had acted on my feelings instead of cowering in fear. 


I have been living in fear for as long as I can remember. There have only been a couple of times where I have truly jumped in, head first with my eyes closed, unaware of what I was getting into but actually okay with it. I will never regret these decisions, the ones I made when I knew I had something to lose. These are the ones that taught me the most, that gave me the most perspective on life, and have given me the best memories I could ever hope to keep.


In two more days, I'll leave Oregon for almost 3 months. I'll be away from this town, from this state, yet everything that's happened will stay with me. I'll live with these doubts and fears until I come back up here and no doubt do it all again. Vicious circles. 






I got a 4.0 this term. 

I'll Be Seeing You.

Something to Believe In

It's easy, really. To slip. To be so close to the edge, peering over, the wind blowing through your hair, whispering in your ear "just do it." And, you wait. You think about everything over the past year, everything that has accumulated and brought you to this point. Your hands start to shake, your mind races, your heart pounds. You close your eyes, and try to remember the hope you used to have, the peace you used to feel. And then, everything goes dark.


Without even realizing it, yesterday was 4 months. Yet I'm indifferent. I don't seem to care that I've gone that long, because I've taken up new self-destructive habits as a replacement. And if anything, these make me feel worse, like I have even less control than before.


Will there ever be a time when I can look in the mirror and be okay with what I see looking back? The moments where this does happen are fleeting, they leave just as quickly as they came. A moment of calm, of peace, and then hatred once again. Hatred for how I've handled my life, how I've dealt with stress. Hatred for how I let it get this far, how I still have regrets and wish I did things differently. Hatred for wanting it all to end.


This isn't me saying I idealize letting go. If anything, I just need to feel something again, anything. Because ever since the last time I was able to breathe, I've felt numb. And I let this numbness drown me in perpetual waves, not caring if I never come up for air. Yet at the same time, I can feel someone inside screaming, begging. She wants her life back, she wants to feel happiness and excitement. Mostly, she just wants hope. She just wants something to believe in again. 

So Far Away

Something miraculous happened.
I've been putting Mederma on my scars for a couple of months now, and every time I did I would look at them with regret; regret for ever cutting, and regret for telling people about it. I would think about them and be fearful that someone (especially my parents) would see them; I would be afraid of how anyone would react. Yesterday, I looked at them and was actually proud. Which seems weird- why would someone be proud of their self-mutilation, all the damage they did in moments of weakness? Then it hit me. I'm proud of these because for the first time, I truly feel like they are only a part of my past. This is not to say that I am completely "saved" or "cured," or that I won't cut again. I can't make that promise to anyone. But for right now, I don't want to.  I want to see the scars and remember the heartache, the pain, everything that led me to picking up the razor. I want to look at my cuts and remind myself that even through all of that, I made it to here. 75 days and counting. 75 days since I've been so numb that I needed to draw blood to actually feel something again. 75 days since I let someone's words and actions hit that hard and dig that deep. I know there will be more hell I'll go through, it's inevitable with life. And I know that I can sit here and type this out, say that I'll be okay because for right now I am. But the past few weeks have been a testament to all of that. I've found other ways to cope, other ways to push past those urges and the overwhelming need to cut. I've silenced that voice. And for right now, that's all I can ask of myself. 


I've always been one to push myself. I pushed myself through junior high and high school, determined to get a 4.0. I've been pushing myself through college, with the expectation that I'll graduate with over a 3.7 cumulative GPA. And since February 11th 2012, I've been pushing myself to give up a habit I should've never started. 75 days later, and I have never been more proud of myself. I'm not scared about people finding out, because just like everyone else, I have a story. I know not everyone will understand or accept me, but I will. These scars will be a part of me forever, even if they do eventually fade. Because I'll remember how I fought for the freedom from myself, from my own mind. And how for almost 3 months, I've won.


The song So Far Away has always been my favorite. It's been one thing to continually put a smile on my face, regardless of my mood. I've always known I wanted to get those words tattooed on my body, but I never knew where or for what purpose. I think I've found that reason. Because right now, I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today. This is me, this is my life, and this is part of my story.

Cigarettes

I need the sea because it teaches me.

I don't know if I learn music or awareness,

if it's a single wave or its vast existence,

or only its harsh voice or its shining one,

a suggestion of fishes and ships

The fact is that until I fall asleep,

in some magnetic way I move in

the university of the waves.

Today was one of the best days I've had in a long time. I woke up, made myself breakfast, showered, & drove into Albany. I bought myself a slower cooker from Target, then went over to Kohl's and got two cute new shirts. On my way out of town, I happened upon the most adorable little farmer's market and decided to stop. I got some kettle corn from a precious old couple, and bought myself some flowers (which, according to my mom, was well deserved). Upon returning to Corvallis, I packed myself a lunch and headed for the coast. Newport is a gorgeous little town, when the sun's out of course. Laying a blanket down in the sand, I read my book for a couple of hours, occasionally looking up and watching all of the people who came with their kids, their loved ones, and their puppies. It was the most at peace I have felt in a long time. I needed a trip to the beach, to hear the crash of the waves, feel the cool breeze against my skin, and absorb the sun's comforting rays. Pablo Neruda's poem resonated with me the whole time I was there, especially the first line: I need the sea because it teaches me. I always feared the ocean, and today I realized why. The ocean is deep, it's immense; parts are unexplored, and undiscovered; it's feared and it's admired. The ocean is just like me, I am the ocean. This isn't to say I think that people fear me or admire me, but I think that it's composed of the same contradictions as I am. And because of this, I can learn from the sea. I can learn strength and fierceness, consistency and calmness, rhythm and peace. 
Sometimes all I need is to take a step back from my life and stare out into the sea...to realize that compared to the ocean, I'm just one person. And all of my problems, my battles are tiny compared to the beauty that lies within, all of the beauty that has yet to be unearthed. This realization gave me hope- hope that I'll make it through this dark phase, that I'll find peace among the storm, and that I will be okay.

It Happens

Yesterday, the power went out for about 4 hours. If I was at home, I wouldn't have an issue with this. We'd light a bunch of candles, and I would probably sit down and read or talk to my parents. But because I was at school, it posed a bit of a problem and inconvenience. I had two papers due today- one was a midterm paper for my Physics class, and the other was a research paper for my Health class. I had finished both of them, but hadn't proofread or printed yet when the power went out. No power meant no printer. Which also meant no hot water, no oven, microwave, or stove. So, my roommate and I made elementary school sack lunches (pb&j sandwiches, apple juice, crackers, and a cookie for dessert), and trekked to the library where there was power. It was absolutely packed; people had all come there to avoid the darkness like it was the plague. I managed to get my work done, and finally around 8:00pm the power came back on. We came home, and I figured I would just use my printer rather than printing at the library, where chances are it would take forever to find a computer. Naturally, my printer wouldn't work. I had to fiddle with it and my computer for about 25 minutes before it finally got working again. Lesson from all of this? Shit happens.


Even just losing power for 4 hours in the middle of the day seemed like the end of the world for a lot of people. And I'll admit, I was pretty annoyed as well. It threw off my whole afternoon schedule, and I had to adjust my plans. But I realized something- that's part of the beauty of life. We can continue to have expectations, we can expect that everything we've planned will work out, but it won't. It rarely does. Why? Because we make plans, and God laughs. Sometimes we can't control what happens in life any more than we can control power outages. You have to learn to roll with the punches, to take every curve ball thrown at you, and adjust. And when it comes down to it, we're damn lucky to have everything in our lives. A lot of people are without power for longer periods of time and still survive. It's about making the most of the situation, and not taking for granted what you have. And when it rains, it probably will pour. I've been learning that during these times, we need to be the most thankful. During these times, we become the most humble, and realize how blessed we are. We need to remember how lucky we are to have this life, this one and only life. And without these power outages, without the darkness, we wouldn't be able to see the stars. So the next time the power goes out, I'll be thankful. Because the irrefutable, indisputable, absoluteable, totally beautiful fact is...it happens:)

Innocent

Thursday, March 1st is Self-Injury Awareness Day.


September 18th, 2011 is the first time I self-harmed. I took the blade to my leg and cut, watching the blood as it dripped down my skin. It was a release, it was a way to control my life since everything around me had seemed to be falling apart, and it became my new addiction. It has been two weeks since the last time I cut, and even though I say this all the time, I intend on never doing it again. Right now, we are in the middle of the Lenten Season. And while I tell everyone I've given up chips and ice cream, I have really given up self-harm. Too many people around me are struggling, are in pain, and need help. This is something I have noticed since I first came to Oregon State and experienced life out of high school- real life.  In real life, people are scared. In real life, people are running. And in real life, people are trying to survive. I am one of these people. And for 6 months now, I have used self-harm as a crutch, as something I turned to when I felt desperate. I have had two people walk away from me upon learning about this, two people I wanted to trust and have faith in. Maybe I wanted them to be the ones to save me, to help me get through. But now, I'm realizing I can only save myself. I can't rely on others to pull me out of this darkness, I need to start climbing. I need to take back control of my life.
Right now, everything is uncertain. But isn't that life? We never know what's going to happen, where the day is going to take us, and how certain people will affect our lives. Right now, I am in the middle of a battle, an internal struggle, determined to come out on top. I don't know if I am going to win, I don't know if I am going to lose. But right now, I am making a promise to myself. Next year, I want March 1st to be a positive day, a day of reminder for my success in quitting self-harm. Next year, I want to say that I don't need to cut to make it through the hard times. Next year, I want to say that I survived.


On March 1st, 2013, I will get a tattoo of an orange ribbon, the symbol for Self-Injury Awareness Day, next to my scars. This tattoo will be a reminder of all that I've gone through, of all that I will continue to go through. This ribbon will remind me that I am strong, that I can make it on my own, and that I am a survivor.

Vienna

I thought I had it all figured out. I would go to college in Oregon, get the experience of living away from home for four years, really find myself with new people and a new town. And while I was doing all of that, I would get my Education degree, teaching license and credentials, and come home to do the one thing I've wanted to do my whole life. For a while, it seemed entirely possible. I was chugging along, doing what was told of me as well as I could. Then, the first curveball. My advisers were only having me work on one of my majors, and since I had just declared Spanish minor, I had a lot of catching up to do to be able to graduate in just four years. I took summer school, I've been managing 21 credits the past two terms, and have been ensuring I do everything I'm told to do to make this work. But every time I get back from an advising appointment, I get told something new, something disappointing that pushes me back another 10 steps. And I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling like I'm working this hard for nothing. I'm tired of feeling like I'm giving everything I have for this but getting nothing back. I'm tired of wishing I was doing all of this at home, student teaching with the same teachers who inspired me to work toward this profession to begin with. 
Now it looks like I'll be dropping my Education major, and sticking with Liberal Studies and Spanish minor. This will free up my life considerably; I'll have more time to have fun, to enjoy these selfish college years before real life starts, and I'll finally be able to breathe again. Yet while this all sounds ideal, I can't shake the feeling that I'm somehow quitting, that I'm giving up. I know it sounds ridiculous to think this, because when it comes down to it, if I take this path I'll just go home and get my credentials and license from a school 20 minutes from home. I'll be able to spend more time with my family, the people who mean more to me than anything else in this world. And I'll at least have the option of being placed somewhere near my house for student teaching, and won't be forced to drive an hour and a half away, four times a week like I would up here. I only wish I could take time to think this over, to come to a definitive decision. But there isn't any time. There is never any time. And I'm terrified that if I pull the plug on the double degree program, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. All I know is that right now, I'm missing those days where my biggest worry was a skinned knee, or losing in Halo against my brother. I want that back. I want that innocence back. I want the feeling of safety when you crawl into bed next to your mom. I want the feeling of hope for the world, that somehow everything is going to work out perfectly. But those feelings are unrealistic now, they're in the past. And maybe I just need to move on and realize that all I have is right now.