so far, so good...

4 days into the new year and it's been good...

...my bedroom is reorganized, with only a small-ish mountain of clothes to put back into the dresser...
...my last full semester of college is scheduled and my graduation application has been submitted (yikes)...
...I've seen Saving Mr. Banks and had Chik-fil-A (if heaven were a sandwich)...
...I've been to an amazing art exhibit and had an incredibly delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant for which I was not allowed to pay (which is a lot easier for me to allow than it used to be)...
...the mystery of Sherlock's two year disappearance is still frustratingly unsolved, as Steven Moffat will not ever give an inch when it comes to satisfying fans' curiosity...
..my articles are appearing online and I only have six left to finish by Monday...
...I've had good, long, honest late night talks with people I care about, and I've laughed and cried and felt alive...
...I've been hugged -- close and tight and long -- it's amazing what an honest hug will do.

A part of me still aches. That frustrates me. It frustrates me because despite all of the good things that I have, I feel desperately out of control. I feel frightened and alone and sad and helpless -- so full of feelings that I'm empty. I say that a lot, but it's the only way I can describe it.

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to feel so terrified and sad.

My wish for moments of happiness does come true, and frequently. All of the things that I've done and seen this week were happy moments; more than moments, some of them were hours. Hours of time where I could get out of the emptiness and really feel alive again, instead of being trapped in this seemingly endless state of feeling too much of nothing good.

Truly, I feel helpless. I feel so in need of help that I worry that I'm needy. I don't like needy people. I don't want to be a needy person. I want to be strong and independent and comfortable in my own skin. Right now (and for a long time) I've wanted out of my skin and into something...different. I've never been totally confident. Who is, right? But I've been better than I am now.

Hopefully, good things will keep happening. And they will -- they haven't stopped so far. What I really hope is that I'll be okay enough to see the good things, and not push them away because I'm too scared to do anything. I hope I don't do that.

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.

quiet...

I'm too tired to talk.

People ask me if I want to talk, how they can help. It's exhausting. Talking, that is.

All I can do is cry.

It's not a silent kind of quiet. It's the sitting curled up in corners and chairs, tears streaming down my cheeks and sniffling to keep my nose from running. People ask if I'm okay, if they see me -- no. I'm not. Do you want to talk?

Can't.

I can't bear the advice anymore. I can't bear the lists of how hard things are for other people (you think I don't know that life is hard for everyone? you think I don't feel trapped because I can't help other people more?) and how it seems to become a competition for who has it worse. I know your life is hard. I get it. Why did you ask if I want to talk, anyway?

I can't bear the criticism -- I'm so afraid of it that I can't speak. I can't even take the encouragement. I can't handle the "chin up," the "buck up," the "grow up and get over it."

Nothing's changing. I'm doing everything I know to do, and some things I don't know to do (if that even makes sense). Nothing's changing.

I can't bear the torrent of emotions that will break out of me if I speak. I can't cry that hard for that long -- I don't have time. I don't have the desire. It won't change anything.

I'm not brave. I'm not special. I'm not important. I'm not different from any other person -- I get that.

It'd be nice, though, if someone just didn't say anything. Didn't expect me to say anything. Just for a little while. If we could just both be quiet.

so sad...

Today has been kind of a sad day. I woke up feeling like little pieces of glass had been wedged into my heart and were moving slowly through my veins -- kid you not, it's a real feeling. Your whole body hurts and shakes, and it's worst in your chest, like something has shattered -- and the little shattered bits are radiating out through your arms and legs and toes and fingers. Even your ears hurt.

Because it was such a sad morning, I was grateful for my friend Thomas. He took me to brunch at Denny's, because there was Hobbit food on the menu (and because he said he misses me, and that it's stupid that we're so busy with school). What better than Hobbit food to make you smile? It was such a laugh, the whole time -- I've know him for over a year, but there are so many things I've learned about him since we started spending time together this semester. He's probably one of the most talented, sincere people I've met in my life. I don't think he's afraid of anything. Visiting and laughing with him made some of the blues go away for a little while, for which I was happy. He took me to a dance concert at the college afterwards, and we had a good time watching all of the talented people perform.

Coming home, the sad aches began again. I tried doing homework, and couldn't focus. I tried writing for work, but no words made sense. I tried cleaning, organizing, even sleeping -- nothing.

Finally, I gave up. I went to Target and bought my favorite frozen pizza and some peanut butter cup ice cream. I bought season 7 of Psych through Amazon.com, threw on some sweats, let down my hair, got a plate of pizza, and pulled out my new shimmery, light pink nail polish. And I've been sitting at my computer since 7:45 this evening, watching ridiculous episodes and making my nails look pretty.

I feel a little better. The sad aches are still there, but they're a bit numbed now. I've got good memories of breakfast with Thomas, new funny lines to quote from Shawn and Gus, and pretty fingers.

Part of my brain is yelling at me for wasting the weekend, doing no homework and getting no work assignments completed. Another part of my brain is smiling.

Hopefully my heart will start smiling more, too.

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.

counter attack...

I keep finding a thought spinning around in my head.

"Wow. Look how much you've lost this year."

In some ways, it's kind of true. I have lost a lot. Often it seems that every time I turn around, some big, awful thing happens that leaves me feeling as though I've been decked across the face. 

I've lost important, meaningful things. I've lost a lot of my freedom that comes from living on my own and having a car at my disposal all of the time. I've lost opportunities, I've lost time, I've lost money. And worst of all, I've lost people I never dreamed I would lose -- or prayed and begged the Lord to let them stay.

But amidst all of that gone-ness, there are so many things I've gained. I've gained new friendships, new opportunities, new responsibilities, new dreams, new knowledge, and maybe even new wisdom. I've gained a better understanding of the Atonement, and I've gained a greater sense of the Holy Spirit's whisperings. I've gained patience and compassion, strength and resolve. Well -- maybe less in the patience department, but more than I had before.

I feel as though I'm closer to my family and to God than I've ever been in my whole life, and that's after all of the mistakes I made.

Admittedly, I'd like to give in to the anger that keeps working it's way into my heart. I'd like to curse and cry and scream and let the whole world know how much my heart is hurting -- but I won't. I don't need to.

There are bigger, more important things in this life. I'm holding out for them.

i never understood...

I always knew that breaking up was hard to do, and I thought I had a pretty good understanding of how it feels. There have been times in my life when I had to let go of people I really cared a lot about, a couple of them being guys I almost dated. One I even had to run from, because staying was too dangerous.

It isn't until now, however, that I think I actually understand what it's like to lose the companionship of someone you love more than anything in the whole world.

It sucks.

Now that I know what it's like, I ache for those who are going through similar situations that I am. One friend went through a break up earlier this year, and she still isn't quite over it. She's been holding on, hoping that things would get back together (I, unfortunately, am in the same boat, just in a different sort of way -- every experience is very different, another thing I'm learning). He, on the other hand, has moved on and is dating someone else.

I saw the update on the Internet and my heart broke for her. How it must hurt her to see that he's done and has found someone else to make him happy, while she's still stuck with the pain of losing him, and the future she thought she would have.

I think I understand that better now.

That's one of the things that is the hardest for me, really: that the future I thought was going to happen isn't happening. I thought I had found someone to share my life with, someone to whom I could give everything and be sure that he'd still be there tomorrow.

The day I see him move on will be a hard day -- I like to pretend I'm good at moving on. I'm not. I hold on to things I shouldn't, and I hope for things that probably won't happen -- at least not with the person in question. I'm loyal to people I love, even after they're long gone. People I haven't spoken to in years, who have really hurt me (even the one really abusive guy) -- I still miss them, even though I know I shouldn't.

I wish I couldn't love. Then things wouldn't hurt so much.

But love makes life worth living.

...

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.

just putting it out there...

Why am I so stupid?

a weird kind of luck...

I do most of my thinking, worrying, and crying at the office.

That may sound like the craziest, dumbest thing ever. But when you work where I do, meaning I work alone almost every single day for six or more hours at a time, tears just sort of come naturally.

In some ways, I'm lucky for that. No one to bother me. Nobody to judge or ask what's wrong. No need to hold it all back.

The downside? There's nothing to distract me.

when I went for a run because I could...

Some storms begin with a small drop of water falling from the sky -- a slow sparkling crystal descending from the clouds to land with a slight splattering spread on the pavement. A storm that appears gradually, misting the earth and blocking the sun with its fog.

But this storm began without shining crystals or pavement drops bleeding into one another to create a single shining slate of asphalt. This storm began in her heart.

She felt it before she heard it. A cold, hard stinging inside her chest; a sharp, tight pulsing in her brain.

It's going to rain.

Down from the sky-- barrage of hammers on the rooftop --
down from the clouds -- volley of bullets against the walls!

Down,
down,
down
down!

Out, out, out -- out into the rain.

Running...running. Bare feet against the pavement.
Running...running. Hair plastered to her cheeks.
Running...running. Clothes clinging as though naked.
Running...running. Skin screaming with the sting.

Run. Run. Run. Run. Repeating
in her mind, racing through the storm. Racing through the storm running from the rain through the rain to the rain
the rain the rain the rain

The rain.

Cold, biting, stinging rain -- rain that is alive.
Cold, biting, stinging rain.
Cold. Biting. Stinging.
Cold. Biting.
Cold.

Cold.


Cold.

She can feel it. Feel. the cold. the bite. the sting.

the life.

Time -- what time? No time -- running. running. raining.

Hair streaming, hands shaking, feet bleeding, lips speaking
words she cannot hear. Stumbling, tumbling, crumbling on the porch
wet
wet
wet
with rain.

The rain.

All she wants is rain.

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.

low...

I have not felt this horrible in years.

Not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say, not knowing where to turn -- not knowing -- I hate not knowing.

I feel lost.

Adrift in the dark with nothing but pain for company.

So this is heartbreak. This is real, true, hopeless heartbreak. It's nothing I've ever felt before, not even when I've been hurt in the past. This -- whatever this is -- this. Is unbearable.

I need a nap.

peace in the storm...

I hate you.

That's been running through my mind a lot today. Vicious and cruel, broken and empty -- there have been various tones of the sentiment.

All day, though, I've seen evidences of how much I am loved. I saw it a lot last night as well. Today I really felt it.

Though I've had my world turned upside down again and my heart wrenched from my chest, I'm okay. Life goes on. Not only does it go on, but it goes on happily, joyfully, with people who love and are in their turn lovable.

I've made serious mistakes. I've lost a lot, including the one person who meant the most to me in the entire world. But I have not lost my faith. Nor have I lost my Heavenly Father. If anything, I feel closer to him than I've felt in a long time. All day I've been comforted and sheltered from the turmoil raging inside my heart. There have been tears, yes. Tears, however, can often be as healing as a good laugh. At least they are for me.

I'm still angry. I'm still heart broken. I'm still confused and sad and scared.

But I'm not alone.

funny, what you remember...

and what can break your heart.

act in faith...

"Perhaps the greatest test of our faith and the most difficult part of prayer may be to recognize the answer that comes to us in a thought or a feeling, and then to accept or to act on the answer God chooses to give." -Rex D. Pinegar

I have learned a lot about the Lord in the last couple of days.

I've learned that even though I make mistakes and feel afraid to pray, I can go to the Lord and he will listen.
I've learned that the Lord will answer my prayers and alleviate heartache.
I've learned that a spirit of peace can fill my heart and mind, even when there are tears pouring down my face.
I've learned that the family I was placed in loves me very much, and that I am blessed to have them.
I've learned that the Lord answers the prayers of my parents on my behalf, and that they really are interested in me.
I've learned that the Lord lets me and others use their agency, and that he comforts those who are affected by the choices of others.
I've learned that forgiveness is more than a possibility for me, but a reality.

I've learned that following promptings and holding on to peace is very, very difficult. Because life is not easy, and the fears and doubts creep in easily. Because loneliness sets in, and uncertainty clouds the mind.

Because what you want and what God says is best for you may not be the same thing.

iHurt...

Most of my posts have been quite depressing of late. And for that, I apologize.

I don't apologize for needing to write things down, though. For some reason this is the only medium I've found where I can truly confess how I feel and what I think. I have journals, loads of them -- and they're all blank. Writing in those is terrifying. I'm not really sure why. I think it might be because I really want the thoughts and feelings I have to be read by someone. Anyone. Because goodness knows it's hard enough for me to order a  hamburger, let alone say my feelings have been hurt.

iHurt.

I feel like that's my life anymore. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually -- every time I get close to finding peace and reassurance, something else goes wrong. Painfully wrong. A constant iHurt application.

Heartbreakingly wrong.

I'm so tired. I'm so tired of not knowing, of not having answers, of trying to move forward and being set back -- school, work, relationships -- and I'm tired of people thinking they know what I need. It's understandable, in a way. I never say what I need. Heck -- I don't even know what I need. But I do know that what people think I need is very different from what I think I need.

That's what I've been doing today. Evaluating my needs. Evaluating my desires. Which makes me feel incredibly selfish, and also powerful. And terrified.

My  heart hurts so much today. My body hurts.

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?

finally figured it out...

For the past couple of days I've been feeling awful. Awful because I don't feel anything. And I don't understand it.

I've thought about it, and I think I know one of the reasons why I don't feel anything, and why I feel awful about it.

Because when I feel something, and I try to talk about it with certain people, I get shut down.

Because when I express my feelings and thoughts, my problems "could be worse." They "aren't as bad as what happened to me yesterday." My feelings and thoughts are "lacking perspective," "missing the point."

Because when I try and ask for help, I'm "doing really well already."

Stop it.

Stop ignoring me.

Stop comparing my problems to yours or to other people's.

Stop disregarding the fact that there are things in my life that are painful, things that break and re-break my heart, things that I feel I have lost.

Stop treating me like I don't matter. Because I matter just as much as you do.

Stop telling me that you'll be there for me and then yelling at me, ignoring me, or belittling me when I come to you.

Just stop it.

Take me seriously. It's the least that you can do. Honestly, it's not like I ask for much -- it's not like I ask for anything. Ever.

Maybe all of this is selfish. And it kind of is. You know what, though? I spend so much of my time worrying about other people and helping them, so much so that my own issues, my homework, my life, gets neglected. Why? Because I care. I make time.

But really. I am doing the best that I can. My heart is broken. I am broken right now. And I'm doing the best I know how to fix it.

When are you going to realize that?

what I just realized...

dear Friend,

I told you last night that I don't want to go home.

"Why?"

"Everything in my life is back there. School. Work. Responsibility. People I'm scared of. I don't want to go back to all of it."

You reassured me about it all -- I appreciate that a lot.

I didn't tell you everything though.

Driving down the country lanes, stopping at random to take pictures of the sunset, taking turns choosing which direction to go at crossroads, telling stories about past adventures, dreaming about the future -- being together like that made me realize something.

"Home is where your heart is."

I've always brushed that aside as a silly cliche, one overused like "the grass is always greener." But you know something?

As cliche as these little sayings may be, they can be horribly true.

Which is also funny, because you said that this morning. When we said good-bye.

Perhaps I shouldn't say it. Perhaps I shouldn't think it. I wouldn't do those things if I could help it -- the thought came unbidden, unexpected -- they're random thoughts and you just happen to be in them.

And then, as usual, you're the one who voices the thoughts I don't say. Like we're on the same brain wave or something.

It's a little scary. And at the same time, it's not. It's comforting.

You still have my heart. Try as I might, I can't get it back. Because if you asked for it, I wouldn't hesitate in giving it to you forever.

I don't want to go home because you're not there.

At least I got to see you for a few days. You really don't know how much that meant to me.

all my love,
GKB