too fragile for my own good...

I have a sensitive personality by nature. Commercials about homeless animals, photos of orphaned children, and the occasional man standing on the corner with a sign trigger tears. I feel for people, and animals, and sometimes I feel trapped because what little help I can give personally is less than a drop in the bucket.

That kind of sensitivity is a good thing in some ways. While it can be problematic at times, it's something I've learned to work with, instead of let it control my life. Recently, though, I've been sensitive in ways less compassionate -- meaning I find myself getting hurt a lot.

I don't know what it is, but stupid little things hurt. Comments from family members and friends or things I read keep reminding me of mistakes I've made or the goals I'm so far from reaching. It's like thinking you're moving forward, a step at a time, until you turn a corner and there's that wall again, smirking and saying, "Hey, remember me? Your old pal? You keep trying to forget me and move on -- I don't like that. Good luck walking away from me, kid."

There are reminders everywhere. Reminders of times I've failed and stupid mistakes I've made. Honestly, I feel like I'm worthless. I'm starting to think I don't deserve happiness. Which is wrong -- both of the previous lines are wrong. The thinking is wrong -- I know that. Knowing that doesn't seem to make it hurt any less, though. It's quite frustrating.

It's frustrating that no matter how many good, right things we do, the bad things creep up out of nowhere to knock us down. That no matter how hard we try to be happy, and to take care of ourselves and others, it's still ridiculously difficult to get out of bed in the mornings and face another day.

struggling through...

I have a bad habit of looking straight to the end of things. I'm a big picture person, but big picture in the most finite sense of the word finite.

Sounds oxymoronic, right? Oh, honey -- I know it.

Here's how my brain works: I see all of the little tiny details as they should be in the completed picture, all at the exact same time. Right now, I'm looking at a tree -- or at least, a tree that I'm envisioning in my mind. 

I see the entire tree at the same time I see each vein in every single leaf. I see how tall and wide it is, leafy and green with a brown trunk, simultaneously with the intricate ridges and curves in the bark. I see the big and the little in the same moment. 

Then I see what's beyond the tree: the seed, how it grew from a sapling to a giant, the rain and the sun that fed it, the birds that lived there, the snow and sun that laid their weight on its branches, and that the tree will one day fall to the earth -- the ways it can fall, when it can fall, which direction -- so many possibilities. And seeing the new trees that will come from the rotting limbs, and will feed those trees as the limbs were fed while a little tree.

That's how I see life. All of it, all at once. The past, present, future in an instant, all of the tiny details and the infinite elements.

It's exhausting. Exhausting in the sense that my brain is never quiet. I can never stop seeing and observing, thinking and experiencing. Exhausting in the sense that I constantly see the potential outcomes -- the multiplicity of things that might be, could happen.

I'm struggling with all of the seeing. My potential outcomes are generally negative -- failure, disappointment, heartache, sorrow -- I see potential negatives at every turn. I feel sadness, shame, guilt, fear -- a dying, twisting, rotting tree, decaying from the inside out because inside, it wasn't good enough.

Failing -- I may fear that more than anything else in the entire world. Not being good enough, not choosing the right things, not having it perfect.

I feel so deeply. I think so hard. I try and try, against all of the ever-pressing obstacles that throw themselves in my way. Yet, it never seems to be enough. 

Will I ever be enough?

sides of me...

The me I've been is a happy me. She's still an introvert, but she reaches out and tries making friends. She learns new things and goes new places. She smiles, even when she's sad. She can focus on the task at hand, or the person talking, or the idea she's rolling around in her head. She reads and cooks and talks and laughs. She doesn't worry as much as before. She takes pictures and writes, goes adventuring and plays just as much as she works.

The me I'm becoming isn't a happy me. She's reverting to the sad, shy, quiet, lonely, afraid person of a year ago. She stays home because she doesn't want to go out, because she doesn't want people. She frowns more than she smiles. She gets sidetracked easily, choosing to spend time on the Internet, rather than exploring the world around her. She still reads and cooks, but the reading is out of habit and the cooking is out of necessity, not enjoyment. She talks a little, and laughs less. She worries a lot. She doesn't take pictures, and she has to force herself to write, living from bedtime to wake time to bedtime again.

I feel like I can't be the me I want to be anymore. I'm trapped in this "not me," uncomfortable, unsure, unwanted in my own head. Or not "not me," but an "other me." I don't like this other me that's resurfacing, this sad and sullen and negative me. I don't know how to get rid of her -- she keeps coming back, year after year after year. But how can you get rid of what you are?

Both girls are me. Both are insecure, but one is able to cope with it more than the other. Both like to be alone, but one is alone because it helps her be happy, while the other is alone because you can't get hurt if you're alone. Both want to love, but one does so willingly and the other holds back. Both live, but one lives well and the other survives.

While on Pinterest today, I read a saying which stated that in order to be the best you, you must first accept all the things about yourself -- the good and the bad. Strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices; all parts of yourself need to be taken into consideration to be the best you.

I don't really want to accept the unhappy me. I just want her to go away and never come back -- it hurts to feel so down, and it's heavy and lonely and confusing. It isn't even rational -- but what I feel is hard to logic back into happiness. I know the things I'm feeling, but I don't know why. And all of the reasons I've come up with don't make sense. My life is good. It's better than good, to be honest -- it's great. Dad is doing well, Callie is doing better, I have great friends, my bills aren't a problem, my school is working out just fine, I have two good jobs, I'll have a room mate for sure in the fall, the room mate I have now is a doll, I have a good family, my car works, my body mostly works, I'm not starving -- I know all of these things, but I still feel so sad.

How do you accept what you are when you can't stand yourself? When you can't stand the way that you feel, and no matter how hard you pray and study and try every day to be grateful for the good in your life, you are constantly uncomfortable in your own skin, and even worse, your own mind?

obvious...

As you know, I'm pretty stupid when it comes to boys. I am almost 100% unable to hide the way I feel. This makes it very difficult for me to act "normally", and it often leads to me blushing like a tomato (as Coty put it yesterday), stuttering, and letting things slip without meaning to.

For example. I have a picture of Steve Rogers (Captain America) on my cell phone as my background. Yes, I'm a little bit obsessed, but at least it isn't Batman. Anyway. Several of the girls at work and I have decided that our only male coworker looks scarily like a thinner version of Steve Rogers. One of the girls (Chelsie, who is totally a Disney princess and is one of the funniest people I've ever met) didn't agree with us until she caught a glimpse of my phone tonight. She thought I'd put our coworker's picture on my phone! Nope. Just good old Steve. Who my coworker happens to look like.

After she decided that he does indeed look like Captain America, we showed him the picture. He did some sort of super hero/model pose and made us laugh our heads off (we do that a lot).

Later I regretted ever showing him because of my more than slight attraction to him. He was using my phone to try and help me figure out some security settings. While working with it, he casually commented that Captain America is quite the attractive man. Then, glancing slyly sideways at me he said "I wish I looked like him."

Words failed me and I blushed so badly that I got a headache.

dreams...

I fell asleep last night and woke up feeling more exhausted than I was when I went to bed. All night long there were weird, weird dreams. Each one segued with no rhyme or reason into the next. Out of order these may be, because I can't remember which one came first. I just remember that they were weird:

1. There was a little lost two or three year old boy in the toy section at Walmart. He was sick and threw up all over the aisle and his clothes. I wanted to comfort him but figured it would be a good idea to clean him up first. When I was trying to do this, some employees and family members started yelling at me that I was totally heartless for not picking him up and holding him to stop his crying. He wasn't even mine! I had no idea who he was. Cute kid though. Super cute.
2. It was Thanksgiving Day and EVERY Burger King in the state was closed until 2am. For some reason I had to have the car home by 11pm, so no fries for me. The people in the car with me were mad at me because I had to have the car home early, and they got out and told me to get lost. Meanies.
3. An ex-boyfriend I didn't know I had was throwing pieces of glass at me, and then locked me in the bathroom of a hotel and started the building on fire.
4. Mom and I went to Costco and were getting samples while shopping. One of the samples was chocolate covered strawberries, one being dipped in milk chocolate and the other in white chocolate. The man at the counter let my mom have one of each, but when I tried to take two he said that I could only have one. When I tried to sneak one of the other kinds, he smacked me on the hand with his spoon.
5. My mom and I were shopping again and we split up so we could get the job done faster. I came back after I'd found everything on my list and met up with her. She was talking to some ladies from our ward. When they saw me coming, they all turned their backs on me and started talking about me, then walked off.
6. Somehow my grandparents' house got moved to Wyoming. There was a ski lodge there that my dad was at, and he had me wait in the car while he was talking to some people. He decided to give his new friends rides home, and there wasn't room for me in the car (even though it was a Suburban). They tied a sled to the back of the car, threw me a blanket, and told me to hang on. I kept slipping and trying to hold on to the blanket and the rope, and then dad turned really sharply and I got thrown into a tree.
7. I was helping with a friend's wedding, and I was supposed to be dipping strawberries in chocolate to chill for the reception the next day. Every time I dipped a strawberry, it came out all flat and shriveled, like a balloon that's had all the air let out. My friend got super mad at me and told me that she didn't want me to be her bridesmaid anymore because I messed up all of her strawberries, and kicked me out of the kitchen where I was helping.
8. The ex-boyfriend showed up again at a lodge where I was staying. He told me he was sorry things had gone bad, and he had a present for me out back. I walked out onto the balcony, and he locked me out in the cold. Then I saw the polar bear that he'd brought to eat me, trying to claw its way up onto the balcony. Slightly terrifying, especially when the balcony started to give way under the onslaught of sharp claws and teeth, with an angry bear roaring beneath me and an insane ex-boyfriend laughing inside the lodge.

Throughout every dream, it was consistently 3 degrees Fahrenheit on the temperature reading on my phone. I know because my dream self checked it at least once during every dream.

Stupid dreams. But kind of funny now that I'm not dreaming them anymore!

and then it went to pot...

I worked the evening shift today. One of the girls texted me and asked if I would cover for her. I didn’t want to…I wasn’t feeling well and just wanted to stay in bed. Buuuuuuut, I figured it would be good to get out of the house, and heaven knows I can use the money. After about two hours, though, I decided that it would have been a very, very good day to just stay in bed. I was just so freakin' clumsy.

First, I dropped an open cooler on the grass and tried to catch it, succeeding only in having the lid slam down on my hand. Which is now bruised. EW. And ouch.

Second, I poured strawberry flavoring into the tiger's blood container, realized my mistake, and tried to pour the liquid back into the right bottle. While trying to do that, I lost my balance and spilled the red juice all over my left hand and arm. That hand is currently dyed pink.

Third, I sprayed myself in the face with a jet of shaved ice because I didn't raise the cup up fast enough. That was in front of a cute guy who was talking to me and asking me questions and stuff and I totally iced my face.

Fourth…I don’t know how it happened but the mango and orange-pineapple flavors went AWOL right at the same time and just like, jumped off of the shelf. Juice everywhere, including on me.

Fifth, while I was refilling the cherry flavor, the flavor mix bubbled up and sprayed all over my pants.

Sixth, I tripped on a cooler and went flying into the cash register, pushing the "total" button and making the receipt spit out like crazy.

Seventh, I smacked the back of my head on the ice chest out back while pulling out another cooler full of ice. Then the lid of the ice chest slammed shut on my back, and I lost my grip on the cooler and dropped it. As it fell, it took half of me with it. I’m sure that the people sitting at the table eating their snow cones enjoyed my impromptu slapstick routine. It probably would have been better if I’d had two more days to rehearse.

By the end of the shift I was freaking embarrassed and wondering what was wrong with me. I just felt sick and disoriented and tired and dizzy, and then everything attacked me.

I must have magic powers or something. I destroy things just by looking at them. And yes. All of this really did happen. Truth is stranger than fiction, friends. I would know. I live truth. My life, no matter what I want, will never be fictional. Which is sad. I really could use an editor to fix my mistakes before they're published for the world (or at least my friends and family) to see.

Anyway. It was definitely an interesting shift. Makes me sooooo excited for Monday.

day 21...

a picture of something I wish I could forget...



Ugh.

Read about it here...

there's a problem, officer...

So yesterday I was driving my dad’s car, which has temporary license plates. They are expired. Problem: we can’t get the real plates because we have yet to get the title from California. My brother gave us the car, and it was registered under his name in California. He didn’t have any reason to change it until he gave it to us. We’ve been trying to get the title from California for nearly 6 months.

As with everything government in California, it takes forever. I explained the situation to the officer, and showed him all of the paperwork to help my explanation. He took the papers and my license, went back to his car, and starting running the info through a computer. Usually this only takes five minutes. But no. He took fifteen. So I’m sitting there on a busy road with my window down (I didn’t know how long he would be, and the car has windows that you crank open or closed by hand, and sometimes it sticks) in the pouring rain getting soaked. I was trying not to cry because I was embarrassed to see people I know driving by—I was two blocks from my house. TWO.

The officer came back and handed me a ticket to sign, saying that there were two problems: the first was a warning for the expired plates. Not my fault. It’s California’s fault. We’re doing the best we can to get the plates, like calling them every week. Each time they’ve said that they sent them, then check the records and say, “Oh. Well, we thought we had. We’ll get them to you by the end of the week.” 6 months of that. Not my fault! The second: he wrote me a ticket for not being insured.

This first made me want to just jump off a bridge, and second (I never use this word, but I’m going to now) pissed me off. No insurance? He had the stupid insurance papers in his hand!! I am insured for every vehicle my family owns. I was there to sign the papers that are on file.

When I got home I was furious and threw a slight temper tantrum (and my keys). Then, of course, I started to cry. I was soaking wet, humiliated, angry, scared, and exhausted. The ticket instruction include a court summons thing, and a huge (and as of yet unknown) fine. It’s not even my fault, and half of the charge is wrong!! My dad looked it up with our insurance agent, who said that the cop is either an idiot or is an idiot. I guess he just made a mistake, but I’m mad enough to call him at least a halfwit. That’s a pretty dumb mistake to make, especially when he was holding my freaking insurance papers.

That was part of my Sunday. It was stupid.

yes does not mean no...

If you really mean to say no, then don't say yes. It causes serious problems. Trying to get it all sorted out is annoying.