...

The tears come in quiet moments.
When the night has fallen and the stars awake in the sky;
when the city goes to bed, and the clock creeps slowly on to midnight.

Finally alone -- and I cry.

I cry for the sorrow, the hatred.
The pain. For the hunger and sickness -- for the loss.
But mostly

I cry for the children.

...

I can't explain my life to you. The pain. The fear. The constant exhaustion that never goes away.
Until it all becomes a sort of fog, where I'm choking, but I don't care.

You can't understand it. You can empathize -- and for your compassion, I am grateful.
But you can't understand.

I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you cannot.
Because to understand? You have to live this.

I pray you never live this way.

living with depression and all that comes with it...

Things that go bump in the night go bump in the day;

the difference so little that time slips away

-- exhaustion.

more than survival...

"You're always so happy." "You are always smiling! How do you do that?" "It's impossible to not feel loved by you." "Dang -- you just have life figured out!" "I wish I was more like you."

I get comments like this a lot. I smile and nod and say thank you, then rush to encourage the speaker or point out their good qualities. I appreciate their words. I can tell (most of the time) that they're sincere. And I'm grateful for their kindness.

But -- I don't feel like I'm any of those things at all. I don't have life figured out. I know for a fact I'm not always happy, nor always smiling. People say they want to be more like me, yet I'm constantly wishing I was someone else.

I'm not "that girl." I don't have everything under control. I'm insecure and vain and shallow -- I worry about dumb, petty little things. My thoughts are often obsessive, focused on tiny issues that probably don't matter to anyone but me. I want things I can't have -- I do things I shouldn't do.

Honestly, I feel like I'm always the girl who is struggling with something. No matter what I do, something is going wrong that's outside of my control. Either that, or the internal struggles become so intense that I can barely function.

It's a miracle that I hauled myself out of bed this morning. Part of that was because I know need to work so I can pay for graduate school -- fear of massive debt or financial strain is a huge motivator for me. Part of it was because I knew I'd be more bored if I stayed in bed -- and I felt guilty for feeling bad.

I don't feel like I smile very much. I don't feel like I'm a very happy person. Often, I'm shocked that I have as many friends as I do, particularly after I was told that I'm "an incredibly negative person and no one really likes you, which is why you have no friends. People don't like you; they don't like to be around you." Comforting sentiments, let me tell you.

The happy compliments and this absolutely devastating remark swim through my head on an almost daily basis. I hear "people don't like you," and fight back "but she said I'm nice!" And it comes back, "Yes -- but you know it isn't true. Because people don't like you. You don't even like you. Even if everyone in the world liked you, you'd still be like this."

I have no reply.

Whether surrounded by friends or in the comfort of my small bedroom, it's dark. So often I find myself begging to just make it through the day, or even the next five minutes. I'll sit with my head bowed over my desk, willing the tears to go away; I'll lie curled on the floor of my room, physically trying to hold myself together until it passes.

Each time I make goals or attempt new things, I suddenly feel paralyzed. My motivation to progress and do something, anything, is overturned -- and then I'm in survival mode. Just wake up -- just roll over -- just walk out of the room -- just brush your teeth -- just make it back to your room -- just survive.

I don't want to simply survive life. I want to live life actively, passionately, maybe even a little aggressively, meaning not as someone who has things done to them. I want to be the one doing things.

frustrated...

I hate making mistakes.

It's so frustrating to be doing so well and then to have one bad day, and so much of the progress you made just gets zapped away because of a single error. After all of the fighting and struggling and changing, you find you really haven't changed. Because if you'd really changed, you wouldn't have messed up again.

I'm tired.

i don't get it...

Often when discussing personal problems, I get told, "Just be grateful for what you have and then life will be happier for you."

It's always seemed like great advice, and so I've taken it multiple times. Given the numerous stories and testimonies shared on the subject, it seems like it should work great.

Wrong.

Maybe it's that I'm naturally pessimistic (or as one professor called me, a true nihilist -- I still resent that), or maybe it's because my world seems incredibly dark right now. Or maybe I'm trying too hard?

For some reason, counting my blessings instead of sheep not only keeps me up at night, but it also triggers high levels of anxiety and ever more frequent feelings of emptiness. As counting sheep merely bores me, I've started preferring that to listing good things that happened during the day or ticking off the things I've been given -- boredom feels better than emptiness.

Saying that it's simply listing good things isn't the process, mind you. You've got to sincerely foster an appreciation for the things, people, and opportunities placed in your life. And I've tried that. I've tried looking around at my life and truly appreciating what I have -- sometimes I even find myself thinking, "Wow. Look at you -- you're one lucky girl." And I believe it.

Then, right after that, the pain starts again, the emptiness becomes a choking cord around my throat, and the dark closes in, heavy and cold.

Somehow, being grateful for good things brings horrible, devastating guilt. It's as though by attempting to feel happiness, the sadness deepens. Light and joy seem far above my head, and either the floor beneath my feet is dropping at a rapid pace, or my arms are shrinking: either way, I can't reach what I desire. Instead of feeling my chin lift hopefully, I feel a weight increase until I can barely stand, arms wrapped tight around me as I hold myself together on the floor.

Why? I don't understand it. I don't understand how searching for happiness -- maybe not even happiness, but just some relief -- and doing all of the good things I can do only makes things feel worse.

I don't get it.

nothing to do but do...

A phrase comes up a lot in conversation these days. I say it, my friends say it, my family members say it -- after we take turns detailing the hard things that we're facing or the stresses brought on by work, school, health, and other things, we say with a shrug and a half-sort of smile, "Eh. What can you do?"

It's as though it's a socially constructed way of saying, "Thank you for listening to my problems, and don't try to help me -- I just needed to talk."

It's true, in a lot of ways. So many things just have to be done, regardless of the difficulty or the heartache. Life doesn't stop for anyone. Unless you happen to have a billion dollars in your bank account, of course -- then you can tell the world what to do and it has to listen. Money talks a lot louder than anything else.

I keep looking at the things in my life and I'm sometimes amazed that I get anything done. I'm honestly baffled that I'm accomplishing anything at all.

Sometimes I look at other people's lives and feel grateful that I don't have their struggles. They're so strong -- sometimes it makes me feel even weaker -- I couldn't do what they're doing.

Everybody's got something. For me, and for everybody else -- despite the physical pain which grows worse by the day, the emotional issues that creep in the background, the lack of sleep due to nightmares and pain, and the immense anxiety caused by deadlines, health problems, bills, and what-have-you -- we just keep going.

Eh. What can you do?

Everything, apparently.

today, i feel like i suck...

It's just been one of those days.

Ever since I got out of bed this morning, I've felt completely stupid in all areas of my life. I can't seem to get everything done, or done as well as things need to be done.

I'm so stressed out by work. I used to love my job -- now, it's like hell. I turn around and there's another enormous project that needs starting. My to-do list grows and grows and grows by the hour with people wanting this done or that done or these things finished and hey, remember that one thing from last week that still isn't finished?

I can't keep up. There are 7 employees hired in my department. Guess who comes in to work?

Me.

I'm doing the work of 7 people -- even when people come in, I still end up doing most of the work. If I was a part-time employee, it'd just be part of the job, you know? As a student, though, there are things that I really can't do, especially once school starts.

I hate going in to work because I know that the second I step in the office, there will be more to do -- and I'm the one expected to do it. I hate constantly worrying that I'm going to get in trouble for things I'm doing my best to cover.

I have to work, though -- I need the money, and I need the job experience for my career goals. And I do like the job, most of the time.

Money. Another area of my life in which I have felt uber sucky today. I cannot seem to save money. I'm a compulsive spender -- this school year will be dedicated to changing that trait. I'm creating saving plans that do not involve plastic cards, because ever since I got a debit card, my financial life went crazy. I did realize today that I've had $200+ in coins in a shoebox for a year without touching it, and I'm starting to think that's a pretty good way to go -- cashing in coins is too much of a hassle to do regularly, and buying things with all nickels and dimes is embarrassing (to me).

There. Less sucky. Although the thought that I've made almost $5,000 this year and have literally none of it makes me want to punch myself.

We'll start today with saving money. No more spending it on stupid things -- rent and groceries are no longer an issue, as I'm living with the parents again (one upside). And so, save away.

avoidance...

The blog has been inactive for the past couple of weeks, as those of you who read here have probably noticed.

I haven't had much to say lately. More truthfully, I've had so much to say -- but it's all the same old stuff -- that I decided I'd skip writing it down. Often I've looked at a blank screen or gazed at the lines of empty paper, fingers poised for typing or pen a millimeter from the page.

Nothing.

Honestly, I've been afraid. I've been afraid of judgement, afraid of rejection. I've been terrified of the "I told you so"s and the "you have to do it this way"s that might crop up -- might being the key word. How am I to know what people will think or say or do? And why should that get in the way of living?

It's so much easier to tell someone else to be brave -- to keep trying -- to never give up -- to remember that he or she is worth it. 

It's a lot harder to tell those things to yourself, let alone follow through and change.

when it hits you...

I can't say I didn't sleep last night, because if I'm dreaming, I'm most likely asleep. I can say, though, that I am quite possibly the most insecure person I know.

Really. All of the nightmares I had last night were incredibly eye-opening. I am so, so, so insecure that it's ridiculous. 

Insecure and self-absorbed. 

Bug.

...

Lately when I think about writing, I feel sick. Then again, that's how I feel when I think about most things.

I'm often ready to bolt into the nearest restroom because my stomach turns and twists so much. I'm always (not an exaggeration) on the verge of tears. I can't sleep.

The worst thing is that my happiness for other people's joy is tinged with a deep pain. It isn't jealousy; I know how jealousy feels -- mean and angry and bitter. This is different. It's more like a quiet, aching sorrow, one that I don't want the happy person to know about because I don't want to detract from his/her joy.

And yet, I sometimes wish they knew, just so they could give me a hug and a job to do so I can help bring about their special days. It's better when I'm working, especially when I'm working for others.

It'll get better. Honestly, it only can get better from this.

I'm lucky, really. Lucky that this is happening: I'll be more aware of others' feelings. I'm learning to be more forgiving. I'm learning to take care of myself for me, not to please someone else. I'm understanding that what I want is just as important as what someone else wants (although I still often do not have opinions, which some of my friends mistake for not sticking up for what I want -- sometimes, I just don't care what we're doing because I'm with people, which means I'm not alone). I'm getting better at telling people the truth regardless of the consequences. I'm practicing asking for help.

I'm growing.

Funny, how I forget that growing physically comes with pain, too -- joints enlarging, muscles stretching, bones lengthening -- keeping me awake when I was little as my body changed into the 5' 2" person I am now. Why should mental, emotional, and spiritual growth be any different?

Perhaps because the pain, for me, is enhanced by other things in my life, such as the long-time struggle with depression, and the more recent appearance of quite severe anxiety. And part of it is my personality: two of my friends were talking to me last night, and they reminded me quite firmly that my loyalty to others has often placed me as less important -- that it's time to stop taking the backseat. And they're right -- while being loyal isn't a bad thing, strengths can easily be weaknesses if used the wrong way.

I'm lucky in friendship. Lucky that I have people in my life who care about me, and who stick with me no matter what's going on in my life. I'm lucky that I have people who celebrate my successes, and who lift me up when I've hit the ground.

Georgie's just lucky, I guess.

sigh...

I feel so fat.

Now, hear me out, hear me out.

I honestly have gained weight in the last six months. I've been trying to do more to manage it. Eat better (or eat in general), get more sleep, drink lots of water. The hardest part for me has been exercise.

Not for lack of trying. It's not that I don't exercise. It's that when I do, I end up stuck on my couch for two or three days because of the pain that follows.

Take today, for example. I had plans to clean the entire house from top to bottom, you know, to get it ready for when Chels comes home tomorrow. I had plans to bake cookies for her and Jeff, to welcome her home. I was going to go out for another half hour of interval training.

Nope.

I can barely walk -- I can barely even sit down.

And so, I'm sitting in my too tight jeans on the couch, doing homework while watching Cake Boss (because it's freakin' amazing how they make those cakes and I love it), trying not to curse myself and everything else out of frustration.

Because cursing doesn't help anything.

Does anyone have any ideas about how to get some exercise that doesn't leave me useless for days? Here's what I've tried so far:
yoga (yeah -- even that hurts -- :P )
walking
interval training
water aerobics
dance (of many kinds)

I'm going to try and bake cookies now. Yay!

breaking...

Really.

It's the only word I can use to describe the way my life appears right now.

Nothing is working out. No matter where I turn or what I attempt, things fall apart. Often it's not my fault.

Like the fact that the IRS doesn't recognize my social security/address combination, and so there is now an issue with my financial aid. It clearly states my address and social security number on my tax return -- figure it out, government. Oh, wait -- that's too much to ask, isn't it?

Like the fact that I suddenly went from registered for ECON 110 to being 106th on the wait list and I'm a SENIOR.

Like the fact that I have to take ECON 110 at all.

Like the fact that I'm completely alone at home this week because my room mate is out of town in Disneyland, on a vacation that I thought I was going on as well. I'm still not sure why he broke up with me. At least I didn't buy a plane ticket.

Like the fact that my presentation partner flaked out on me and I ended up doing almost all of the work. NEVER have I had such awful groups, EVER, like I have here at BYU. Seriously, I have never had a good group at this college. Of all places -- where we profess to be hardworking and honest and dependable. Guess it's one of those things that's easy to say, right?

Like the fact that my dad is getting sicker, and his company still makes him travel. HELLO. HE HAS CANCER. If you're reading this, dad's employer, I am NOT happy with you. Yeah. My dad's cancer is terminal. He's DYING. And you -- for the sake of the all-mighty dollar -- are making it worse.

Like the fact that my dad really is dying. How fast or how slow, I have no idea. Having that hanging over me all of the time is absolutely horrific.

Like the fact that my ex-fiance treats me like a girlfriend -- that, though, I have more control over. And let me tell you -- that will stop. So help me, it's going to stop.

Like the fact that no matter how well I eat, or how much I exercise, I'm still gaining weight.

Like the fact that no matter how often I pray, or count my blessings, or do nice things for other people, I cannot shake the anxiety and fear that threaten to envelop me every day.

Wow.

What a rant of negativity. Sorry about that -- I feel better though.

destruction...

What is it about us that makes us so violent?
Not in an every-single-person-in-the-world-is-going-to-buy-a-gun-and-kill-innocent-people kind of way, but in an oh-my-gosh-I-suck
kind of way.

Imagine. Imagine
every
single
mean,
cruel
lie you have ever told yourself as a
fist slamming against your soul.

Ouch.

I am not a violent person. I cried when I hit a bird while driving, and I cried harder when I saw a mother hit her little boy at the zoo. I can't kill spiders, both out of fear and out of sorrow for crushing them. I can't tell someone how I think because I'm afraid I'll hurt the person's feelings. I don't like conflict of any kind -- yet conflict has entrenched itself in my brain.

My soul is black and blue with lies.

Black and blue, splotched and scarred. A jumbled residue of impact over a decade.

It began one morning when I looked in the mirror and became aware of myself as flawed -- as imperfect. No longer the little angel who thought only about ponies and princes and puffy ball gowns. No longer daddy's princess and mommy's little helper.
It began one morning and it

never.


stopped.

I would say that mirrors are the culprit -- with no mirror, no reason to pick things apart. But it's
more than a mirror.

It's the mind.

The mind recognizing self as lesser,
seeing pictures and programs of better, of ideal.
Of perfect.

The mind believing those things -- believing the lies and accepting them as fact. The mind punching and smacking and hurting
the soul in which it resides.


The soul is strong -- so is the mind.
Battered, battered souls and shattered, shattered minds -- why?

Why are we so destructive? Why do we kill and kill what we are in favor of what we think we should be? Because think we should be may never be who we are -- or who we are meant to be.

all in the phrase...

Words. put the individuals together and form a phrase -- because even Words are stronger together.

The hardest thing...

How often has this phrase crossed my lips:
This is the hardest thing I've ever done...age 13, watching all of my best friends walk away...
This is the hardest thing I've ever done...age 15, suffering a nervous breakdown...
This is the hardest thing I've ever done...age 18, disappointment -- not good enough...
This is the hardest thing I've ever done...age 19, working through the scars of abuse...
This is the hardest thing I've ever done...age 20, "a mission is not for you"...

hardest things, hardest things, so many hardest things -- "this is the hardest thing I've ever done."
Words that fit the circumstance at the time.

I look back and shake my head,
those are not the hardest things.

my Words evolve and change according to the hardest things of the present. No --
not the hardest things anymore -- look how far you've come! Yes --
how far I've come against the next hardest thing.

This is the hardest thing I've ever done...until there is something harder placed in my way.

it's all in the time of the phrase.

lightheaded...

Everything I look at squiggles and wiggles before my eyes. The carpet. The wall. The door. The screen. Even my toes are squirming and twisting in a strange, motionless dance. Because they're not actually moving.

Perhaps I'm dehydrated. Perhaps I'm lacking nutrients that my body needs to function properly. Both of these are most likely accurate -- if I remember to eat, or have the will power to force myself, I haven't really been eating very well the past few days. And I cannot for the life of me remember to drink. The water bottle on my desk at work sits full and untouched for entire shifts, as does the one in my backpack, and the one on the kitchen table.

My head is full of air, like a balloon bouncing and jouncing on a string.

My heart is full of lead, like a weight on the floor of the ocean.

Honestly, I'm exhausted. I'm pushing through things, but nothing I'm doing has results like I want.

I can't focus enough to study -- I fill out the study guides, but I take in nothing. I can't get anything done at work --  I go to the office and sit at the desk, but I end up staring at the screen for hours, unaware that I'm doing nothing. I can't complete tasks at home -- I get halfway through a job, such as the dishes, but then have no energy to get them done.

There are so many questions in my head. What did I do wrong? What more could I have done? What should I do now? How can I fix this? Should I? Should I not? What? When? Where? Who? How?

Why?

Questions, questions, tormenting and reopening wounds -- "don't live in the past," "don't dwell on things," "don't ask why." I know. I know not to.

And I do it anyway.

Should I move on?

I'm eavesdropping on two people in at the end of the hallway. One I know from a music class two semesters ago. She said something that, while it doesn't relieve the pain and emptiness between my ears, speaks to my heart:

"If it's the right thing, then you'll still be here when the time is right."

If it's right, God will make it so. Whatever the right thing is, God's will shall be done. Keep living. Keep trying. Keep working. Keep studying. Keep doing.

One day at a time -- one minute, one hour, one day --
moving, moving, moving.
Moving towards God -- to His blessings.

So dizzy.

fill-in-the-blank...

"World's worst ___________________."

That's how I feel right now. World's worst you name it, that's how I feel.

Worst daughter.
Worst friend.
Worst student.
Worst employee.
Worst girlfriend.

Especially the worst girlfriend part.

But more the worst person in general.

It's probably not true, and probably stems from many factors. Like lack of sleep, intense worry about an exam tomorrow, a near panic attack during church this afternoon, the family gathering tonight, weaning off of medications.

I feel like a total jerk.

Also probably not true, but it doesn't lessen how badly I feel.

I really do feel like the worst person ever. And so, I think it's time for bed.

why do I feel like I failed...

I got a 3.7 for the semester. Two A's, an A-, and a B+.

First ever B+ at BYU. In a history class. I'm good at history and I got a B+.

My rational mind recognizes that I did a really good job, particularly given the circumstances of the past few months. I've never missed that much school in college, and I've never missed that much work. I had such a hard time doing my homework because I was so sick most of the time, and taking exams was a nightmare.

Oh, and I figured out why things were made harder: I went to the psychiatrist yesterday to ask him some questions about my medications that I was given for migraines and depression, and we discovered that the meds are causing short term memory problems. This also messes up long term memory, particularly with studying, because the short term never sticks long enough to become long term.

What.

So, in reality, I should be very happy with this semester. But for some reason, I feel like I totally failed.

That's dumb.

just got to write stuff down...

Every once in awhile, I feel so incredibly weak that I can't keep my head up. My limbs constantly shake, and I often can't control my fingers. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't make it so difficult to type or hold a pencil.

I really love Oreos. That's a bad thing, because Oreos are not good for me at all, but they taste so magnificent! Lots of food that isn't good for me tastes good, and seeing as how I've gained ten pounds since I started dating Adam, I should probably stop eating crap food.

Although, Adam keeps telling me I've lost weight and that I "feel skinnier," which doesn't make sense to me because I'm the one who sees myself in the mirror every single day. 

It's frustrating to have gained weight. I see these super thin girls all of the time, and I just ache inside to look like them. But no matter how much I exercise or eat well, I don't change. In some ways, it breaks my heart. Seriously -- it might sound super shallow and vain, and it probably is -- I can't seem to get past it.

Speaking of food, I made awesome Parmesan crusted chicken last night with lemon-pepper green beans for a side. Super good. So good that I didn't feel guilty for eating it.

Can I just say how much I enjoy the TV show Psych? "I'd rather show with a bear." Ha, Lassie kills me.

Last night I had a dream that there was a war going on between different races of rabbits. They had machine guns that shot carrot bullets, and were fighting over who was going to rule the world. It was weird. As in, super weird. Rabbits wearing camo and leather jackets with helmets and aviators, equipped with cabbage mortar guns and carrot shooters. Weird.

I'm so tired. I have no energy.

Being afraid is no fun. I'm constantly waiting for the ball to drop and for my life to change. The fairy tale is going to end and life is going to go back to normal. And it'll hurt. It's so hard to not be sure.

I'm thinking that I need a new phone. The one that I have is dying -- I mean, it's been almost three years since I got it. First phone, only phone. Heck, it takes five minutes to turn on if I shut if off for a little while. Old, old phone.

Yesterday, I made a candy poster for Adam to congratulate him for his scholarship that he go. He was awarded a $5,500 a year scholarship from the National Science Foundation because he's got such a good GPA and is majoring in mathematics. He's a smarty pants. And he liked the poster. It was so fun to make it for him. And he liked it. Lots.

I just don't want to be sad anymore.

falling apart...

So the doctor appointment fell through.

                        A pay raise also fell through.

                                            Going on vacation this summer fell through.

                                                                             Housing for summer fell through.

                                                                                                 And the engagement fell through.

But no worries. I have a great life.

I wrote a fairly decent 15 page paper in 8 hours.

I got 100% on my group presentation for Sociology.

I got assigned to review the entire Jimmy Stewart collection at work (talk about a summer project).

I was put in charge of the Cecil B. DeMille collection (over 1,000 boxes of material that need to be processed or catalogued and numbered, which I will be supervising -- talk about a summer AND fall project).

I have parents and sisters who call, text, and email me on a frequent basis to check on me and say hello.

I have an awesome room mate.

I have three wonderful dogs.

And I (still) have a great boyfriend.

Life's good.