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.

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.

i am iron maiden...

False.

While I would like to believe that I embody qualities of Tony Stark, as in the ability to laugh in the face of danger and be phased by nothing, that is the absolute opposite of the truth. Case in point, sitting through Iron Man 3 was a nightmare. After wobbling through the parking lot, desperate to get to my car and on my way home, a panic attack ensued, leaving me so exhausted and shaky that I could barely drive.

Yep. The film was a bit too intense for this girl. Objectively, I believe that it is the best of the three when you look at character and plot development, as well as graphic quality. The film also had an actual bad guy who was legitimately frightening. Stark's other nemeses? Snore. Subjectively, not my favorite film, and one I probably will avoid in the future in favor of a Psych marathon or Captain America.

Second severe anxiety episode this weekend. Thank heaven for good friends who let you spill how you feel, who don't judge you for the crazy thoughts you share, and hug you tight so you feel safe.

Also, the puppies are seven days old as of this morning. Their eyes opened yesterday, and they are precious. I'll post some pictures as soon as I get my camera back from my sister -- can't believe she's graduating this week. It's a wee bit insane.

uncomfortable...

It's a pretty terrible feeling when you'd do anything to get out of your own skin.

Uncomfortable.

Awkward and uncomfortable.

The only thing that's been keeping me from falling apart today is that my new fosters need me. That and forcing myself to keep moving, despite the pain that's been nagging at me since last night.

I'm so tired. I'm so tired of constantly fighting the thoughts and feelings that tear at my insides. No matter what drugs I take, no matter how many counselors I talk to, things never seem to get better. I try and I try and I always find myself back at square one.

I feel as though there is no one to talk to. I know I have friends and family who will listen, but I worry that I'm a bother. I just say the same things over and over again -- mainly because the fight has never ended. It's the same fight with the same demons, and nothing ever seems to change.

People tell me that I've changed. That I'm doing better. Perhaps because I'm in the middle of it all, I don't see the change.

the me I was...

After a couple of hours spent trying to sleep, I've given up for the moment.

I keep thinking about who I used to be a few years (or even months) ago. In a lot of ways, I'm haunted by the image of the old me and wish desperately to go back to who that girl is. And at the same time, I'm just as disturbed by the pain I feel when I see all of the changes in my life.

The changes have been for good. I no longer starve myself. I no longer do a lot of things that were really quite bad for me. Yet I'm dissatisfied.

I look at myself in the mirror with contempt. I despise what I see -- the thickened waistline, the fuller hips and breasts, the presence of more me everywhere. I hate that.

I feel like I've completely lost control -- I can't go without eating anymore. I get so sick when I don't, most likely because of the years I spent keeping myself to under 1,000 calories per day, if I made it even close to that. I see pictures of myself from just last year and compare them to how I look now, and I want to cry.

I want to cry because I'm "not skinny."

How stupid is that? How ridiculous is it that I berate myself for every thing I put inside my mouth? Even as my brain says that I need to eat, and that eating is good for me, my brain also screams to stop because I'm FAT.

My diet isn't bad. I eat a lot of good foods, and I go for walks several times a day. That's about all I can do right now, as my body still gets worn out very quickly. I'm not complaining -- there have been times when all I could do was lie in bed and pray that the pain would go away. Walking is a joy. The pain I experience after a long walk is worth it, because I'm walking. And not a slow stroll walk either, but actually walking to have some sort of activity in my life.

Despite it all, my pants still get tighter. My shirts aren't baggy. There is more of me than there has been in years, and I have to force myself out of a panic when I feel myself starting to get hungry (also a new development -- in the past five years, I forgot how to feel hungry). I have to make myself be calm and remind my brain that if I don't eat, I'll get sicker.

I miss the old me. I know it's stupid. I know it's wrong. I know that weight isn't the important thing.

But I don't believe it. And I wish that I could go back.

on repeat...

You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head, and it just plays over and over again until you think you'll go crazy? Especially those songs where you only know some of the words, or no words at all, and it's a super catchy bridge part that no one cares about?

Today I've had a phrase stuck in my head that won't go away.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm sitting here on my bedroom floor in the far corner, thinking about the current mantra my mind has chosen for itself and wondering where in the world it came from. Out of nowhere, unexpected. BAM.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm half tempted to go look up some really terrible, obnoxious song to replace the phrase my brain is spinning like ticker tape across my mental eye. But all I can think of is "Friday," and that song is a bit too awful for my liking.

Funny. I don't know what I don't want to do anymore.

who would've thought...

I have a reputation for being against all the things boys and girls do when they like each other (or just being against liking anyone in general). I also have a reputation for saying things like, "dating is stupid," "I will never be in a relationship," "no more boys for friends," and the like. Just two weeks ago, multiple declarations in favor of independence and vehement protestations against dating and friendships with men were the norm.

I have a right to change my mind, don't I?

Who would have guessed that me, scaredy-cat Georgie, would actually like spending time with a guy? Would actually reciprocate affection? Would look forward to seeing someone, rather than dread it? Sure, we don't know each other super well yet, but who cares? That's the point of dating!

Honestly, though. Who would have thought? Not me, for sure.

Welcome, 2013. Let's see how this thing goes.

opposites...

What the heck, people? What the heck?

I really, really don't like feeling like this. It's almost worse than it ever has been, not because I'm as low as I used to be, but because I now have something to compare it to. Two years ago, happiness was something that I didn't get to experience. Then it gradually entered my life, little by little, experience after experience.

There were still sad times -- but not like this. It hasn't been like this in a long time. Not this constant, nagging, irritating sadness that sucks the energy right out of me and leaves me staring at the walls wondering. I used to be able to force it back, to change it from bad to good, to change the way I was thinking until I didn't feel sad anymore. I could focus on the good things and feel genuinely happy.

Now it's back to the nonstop badgering in the back of my head, pushing through the barriers in my mind and breaking down the methods of thought I've been trying to learn. It's almost like an obsession, thoughts that keep forming and creeping their way to the forefront of my mind, compulsive and unbidden. It's getting harder and harder to control.

I hate this. I don't understand it. I don't know how I can be so brimming with thoughts and emotions that I feel empty. It's as though I feel so much that I feel nothing. There's pain and paralysis. There's anger and apathy. There's confidence and confusion. Everything. Nothing. All at the same time.

How can you be full and empty at the same time? How can you feel so much and feel so little?

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?

why am I not like that?

.
It's very hard for me to let things go. It's hard for me to stop thinking, and to focus on one thing at a time. It's hard not to immediately react with fear, not to give up before I get started, to see anything between 85 and 94 percent as a good thing, to believe myself as anything other than potential failure.

It's hard to accept a compliment. Saying thank you is easy, but really accepting it is so, so hard. Like this one, "There isn't anything you can't do! Seriously, if I've ever met anyone who could do anything she wanted to do, anyone who could never fail, it's you." I almost burst into tears. The girl who said it meant it. And what if she were to find out what I'm really like--what would she say then?

It's hard for me to get started on something I'm afraid to do. I have a sort of psychological block that makes it difficult to begin something I'm scared I'll fail. I mean, why try if you're going to fail, right? Wasted time, wasted effort, wasted memory on the laptop disk, wasted paper, wasted ink. Yeah, yeah, it isn't a waste if you learned something. I'm just describing the block, and how I think, and what I'm trying to get over. But it's hard. Like these papers that are due tomorrow. Yes, four papers, due tomorrow. 3 are done now. Or done enough (I don't have a clue what my professor wants, the evaluation he gave me completely contradicts the parameters of the assignment outlined in the syllabus). I really like one of the papers, I like another, and the third I halfway like. I'll fix it tomorrow. As for the fourth, I just have no ideas. That will also get done tomorrow.

It's hard for me to see the good things in life, even when I try. So many people I know are struggling with things, but they're smiling and happy and making other people smile. They're not focused on the hard things, they're focused on the good and happy things. I try, I really do. Sometimes it makes everything worse. It doesn't make sense, I know. That's why I keep trying.

There are so many good ways to be, and good things to be, and good ways to do, and good things to do. How do you apply them to your own life? How do you become who you're going to become when you don't know what you want to become? How do you become anything when you don't even like who you are?


.

disconnect...

Sometimes when I see a picture of myself I stare at it, amazed to see that I'm pretty. Then I look in the mirror and feel like crying.

Being without a voice makes me realize how much I talk on a day to day basis. It also makes me wonder how much of it is ever worth saying, and if I'm just wasting others' time.

No matter how hard I try to be a good primary teacher, I don't feel like I'm making any difference in the kids' lives. I can't get them to behave and they're probably not learning anything at all.

Suddenly men are paying attention to me a lot, not all of it in the "just friends" manner that I'm used to. While it's nice to have friends, it's not nice to be unsure all of the sudden about where all of this is going. I don't want to hurt anyone. Or be hurt, for that matter. Be careful what you wish for. Meh.

I worry too much and I sleep too little because of it. Even when I do "fall asleep" I'm still constantly aware of what's going on around me. The slightest sound or movement brings me jerking out of that place just between waking and dreams, the place where you're trapped between the real and the surreal.

Homework. Busywork, more like. Sick of it. Sick of tests. Sick of this thing called "learning" that really isn't. People don't learn this way. They learn by doing, not by being told what others learned or how someone else did something. Or at least that's how I learn. Like to learn...I don't know.

I never want to be the person who everyone at work hates to work with. I never want to be the manager or supervisor or employer who everyone secretly fears and dislikes. Why would anyone want to be that way? I don't understand why people with "power" use it to intimidate and threaten instead of to empower and educate.

That awkward moment when your mother is right: I am the most selfish person ever. She is right, really.

Sadness vs. Depression: sadness is like a stitch in your side after running very fast for a long time. You can keep living and handling things just fine until you reach a certain point, and then it starts to hurt. Depression, on the other is a constant pain, so constant that it becomes habit. It's a pain so deep that you may not even know it's there because you have nothing else to compare it to. Sadness is comparable. Depression is just heavy.

Every time I go for something I really want, I instantly feel total regret after starting the process. It's like I beat myself up for even daring to hope for something good to come of it. Why should good come to me? I'm no one special. And then after that thought I feel horribly guilty. Recipe for giving up.

My room is a disaster. I started to clean it. Then I sat down in the middle of the pile of clothes on my floor and cried.

Gosh, I am such a...ugh. Sick of this. Especially the crying part.

Water is underrated. Just saying.

look before you leap...

I'm sitting here mentally kicking myself (and breaking a few ribs). "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" the not so kind voice in my brain keeps saying. No, I couldn't. I never do. Why? Because, and I quote, I'm "too nice." Too nice, too helpful, too over enthusiastic, too grand in my thinking, too...you get the picture.

In the process of getting somewhere, I often forget that the actual process is indeed just that: a process. So I see these grand results in my imagination and get started on making that vision a reality. Then about halfway through the process, I realize, "Whoa...this is a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be..." By then I'm stuck though. No backing out, and not sure how to move forward.

See, oftentimes I don't think. I get myself into trouble with forming relationships (friendships, seeing as I've never had a romantic relationship), carrying out projects, and other various situations because I forget that there is always a mean to an end. This has happened a lot today. The term "look before you leap" is more like "you leaped and now you're stuck looking over your shoulder thinking 'shoot...I should have thought about this a little bit.'"

I should know better. Here's why: Once upon a time I was shown an absolutely terrifying video in a church lesson. A boy was standing on the edge of a dock jutting out into a pond. The water looked fine, greenish and calm like most ponds do. He jumped into the water with a huge splash. Cut to underwater camera shots of dark, murky, weed ridden and garbage infested horror as the boy got caught in the tangled mess below the surface.

And people wonder why I won't go into a pond, a lake, a river, or the ocean if it comes up past my knees...

The message of the video was that of the old saying "look before you leap". I was always confused by this because there were several camera shots showing the water's surface. It looked totally clear. You can't always see what's hiding in a pond, you know. Who knows what could be lurking in there? But I did get the message.

Though I remember the message, I don't apply it well to things that are not body of water related. Like, for example, real life. I keep jumping into things without examining the possible outcomes. I'm not saying I take huge risks, but I don't think. "Look before you leap" doesn't seem to have made it as a retrievable entry in the "command" section of my brain. Instead, I jump in head first and only after I'm at the bottom of the pond do I realize...maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

I guess I'm more of a leaper than a looker. Funny...I can't even swim.

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!

could be worse...

This post is stupid. Beware. But I'm doing it anyway.

Shattered. Devastated. On the upside of destroyed. Lost. Heartbroken. But despite it all, not surprised. Surprised at the pain, though. That does surprise me.

Dramatic and pathetic, I know that. But it's how I feel tonight. For example: 3 hours and 2 sleeping pills later, I still cannot sleep. I can't get it out of my head. I can't get it out of my heart. I can't stop thinking. And after a whole year of trying, I still can't let it go. Even though now I have no choice. I have to. But I can't.

It hasn't been the worst 9/11 ever. I'm thankful for that.

mind muddle...

I can't sleep. Surprise! Here's why:

First, I have a song stuck in my head that I learned way back in fifth grade (maybe 8 or 9 years ago [scary thought]). It's called "Two Little Boys". I remember most of the lyrics and have these gaps (the somethings) in sections:

"Two little boys had two little toys.
Each had a wooden horse.
Gaily they played each summer's day,
soldier boys of course.
One little chap he had a mishap--
broke off his horse's head.
Wept for his toy then cried with joy...something something something...
Did you think I would leave you crying
when there's room on my horse for two?
Climb up here, Jack, and don't be crying
I can go just as fast with two.
When we're grown up we'll both be soldiers...something something something...
Long years have past. War came at last.
Bravely they marched away.
Cannon roared loud and mid battle's crowd
wounded and dying Joe lay.
Then out from the ranks a horse passes by,
out from the ranks so blue.
Gallops away to where Joe lay,
and a voice rang loud and true:
Did you think I would leave you dying
when there's room on my horse for two?
Climb up here, Joe, and don't be sighing
he can go just as fast with two.
Now we're grown up and we're both soldiers...something something something..."

*sigh* Writing it out didn't have the result I hoped for. It's still going through my head over and over again, even though I'm playing other songs. Aaaannoying.

Second reason why I can't sleep: Aries. Always Aries. I don't even know why I miss him! I keep wondering what he's doing, and where he is, and if he's happy, and if he misses me as much as I miss him. I keep wondering if I made a mistake. I'm mad at myself for taking a chance on him when I knew I shouldn't. I'm mad that I miss him. But the worst part is that I wish he was around to hold me and to fix everything, because I can't seem to fix things on my own. That'd just make things worse, of course. Stupid girl.

Third reason why I can't sleep: there is another person that I miss, and I miss him in a very different way than I miss Aries.

Fourth reason: I have a final in the morning. I don't know why I'm nervous for this one. I was able to sleep perfectly fine the night before my math final. This one is just Psychology...I did really well on my midterm...Psychology just clicks for me...so why am I nervous?! Grr.

Fifth reason: There's a friend of mine who I am suddenly scared of. Not because he'd ever hurt me or do anything mean. He's not like that. No, it's because of something he said about a group of people. The words he used? "I despise them." "They disgust me." "I hate people like that." Hm...well, he has no idea that I used to be a part of that group of people. He doesn't need to know, either. But if he were to find out? I wonder how he'd react, and what would happen. That's what scares me.

Dreams are scary sometimes, too. I have lots of dreams every night. Some I remember better than others. One in particular I've had the past three nights. This dream leaves me feeling more exhausted than I was when I went to bed.

The mind is so powerful! Conscious, subconscious, unconscious...whatever. Brain = a very strong muscle, full of chemicals, thoughts, electricity, and all of the other stuff that goes on up there. Sometimes I wish there was an 'off' switch. But then maybe it'd make a person brain dead...not happy. I guess being unable to sleep is better than being brain dead.

I am so odd.