02242012
Isn’t it funny the times writing just calls to you? I laid in bed last night trying to fall asleep and all of the sudden I could do nothing but think about how long it has been since I sat down and really wrote something. Something that is not a social history of a child, or an IEP goal, or a lesson plan. Somehow, I always get called back to writing.
My pop-pop passed away on February 6th, right before my 24th birthday. He had been in and out of the hospital, first with pneumonia around Christmas time, then with blood pressure issues and gout. He was starting to finally go in the right direction - get a new hip, take care of his medical issues. I was in my living room, sitting next to my mother on the couch, watching the bachelor. Funny how something so devastating can come out of such a simple evening. First the phone call from my great aunt that he lived with. Then the initial shock - no, this can’t be happening. Not him…I think I repeated that over and over again in order to make myself believe that my life could not take a turn like this. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me. And then the realization, watching everything around me become fuzzy, hearing the gut wrenching cry that came from my mother when she found out that she lost her father. I will never forget the sounds of pure pain that escaped from my mother.
I think the initial days after were all just like acting out a scene in a movie. Not that I did not feel real sadness, of course I did. But wakes and funerals, so many people expressing their sorrow and their apologies. So raw and fresh in my mind, seeing my grandfather in a coffin, the smell of the funeral home - fresh roses. And the agony of saying goodbye one last time to a man that I considered the only one I could truly trust for a majority of my life.
And yet still, almost three weeks since he passed, my head has still not wrapped itself around the concept that he is not here. My birthday was the day after the funeral. We all went out to dinner, and there was a person missing. A week later, Jennifer’s wedding, the picture of her grandmother sitting on the table where she would have been if she were still alive. The realization that at my wedding one day, pop’s picture would be in a similar spot. He never got to see me get my driver’s license, get married, graduate with my masters, have children, see my brother graduate high school in june. All things I so took for granted a month ago. I thought he would always be here. And then reality and mortality snuck up on me and told me that every moment is precious. Maybe I needed a reminder.
I strongly believe that he is going to be there for all of these events. He is going to guide me through my education, through my career. When I get up the courage to take my road test for the 4th time, he’ll be sitting in the backseat giving me the calm that I need. He is going to guide me to find my husband, and he is going to hold my children before they come to the earth one day.
Now, I will get ready to go to dinner with my friends for my birthday. The dinner we were supposed to do the Friday I ended up saying goodbye to my pop-pop. And I will smile, and laugh, and have a good time. Because that is what he wants me to do.
04192010
it is interesting how my last year at new paltz has been so haphazard, quite like my first one. if i could title this year it would be something to the effect of the year that i lived with the painfully dumb and drunken wannabe club kids and the friends who turned out to be satan’s love children with the annoying kid in class who always feels the need to speak at unnecessary moments. or the year that sundays, tuesdays, thursdays, fridays, saturdays, and the occasional but equally painful mondays and wednesdays were spent dreading the night time because my earplugs (having to buy earplugs was bad enough by the way) that block out thirty decibels worth of noise could not drown out the downright shitty top forty sing along’s going on outside of my door mixed with the sound of ping pong balls bouncing off of every surface available. One of my personal favorites is the year i had to deal with extremely small people (physically and mentally) far too much for my liking. there’s always the good old standby, the year i had to listen to people whose normal tone is screaming, as well as the good old circle talking liars who i befriended last year but all of the sudden there was that oh so joyous explanation of “we think it’s better for our friendship if we don’t live together next year”, not to mention the LYING, and the “not living with katie and sam is the best decision i’ve ever made”, oh and the L-Y-I-N-G. currently it is all of that plus the year that my senior thesis TOOK OVER MY BRAIN. seriously, i swear my senior thesis is some sort of alien that has implanted a microchip in my brain THAT WON’T LET ME FOCUS ON ANYTHING BUT AUTISM. actually, that’s not so unusual for me.
by the way, i strongly believe that writing a senior thesis is a process that inspires instant disdain for everyone around you (even more than usual). i have frequently felt the need to add APA citations to this. that can’t be healthy. oh, i’m on new meds, i’m sure no one can tell that by reading all of my angst-ridden descriptions of my year, but i am doing quite well on them. my love/hate relationship with modern medicine is leaning in the direction of love; not only do i feel like i walked out of the cave of endless doom and right into a bright sunshiny day, but i SLEEP at night. well, that is when i do not have to listen to the shit head army marching on outside of my room. SERIOUSLY CAN PEOPLE JUST TALK IN A LOWER TONE?!!?!
in any case, i am extremely tired, mostly because katie and i woke up at around 4AM this morning and worked on our thesis. i’m on page 22, still no real end in sight. my sleeping pill is kicking in and as much as i absolutely adore writing, i like the feeling of my bed a shit ton more.
(Morris, 2010)
03172010
so i’m back on my anti-depressants. aka, i still feel pretty much the same way but now i can put a funny twist on it. i have also kept myself quite busy the past two days. i have learned how to crochet, which has helped me relax and forget everything that has been going on, even if it is just temporary. today i did some reading and some work for my thesis, which felt good because i had not been feeling inspired to do work at all, not even interested in researching autism, which is odd for me. now i feel like i get can back into the groove of it again and get some of it done before i am thrown back into everything that is stressful in my life; people and classes.
i spent $250 on scrapbooking supplies the other day. retail therapy, as i like to call it. it felt good to have the money and just be able to go and get the stuff that i typically just look at for months instead of buying it because of my anxiety. i have anxiety over everything apparently. but i bought lots of beautiful, fun stuff and i cannot wait to start using it. maybe i’ll bring all of my stuff outside tomorrow and work out there. considering it’s feeling like spring, i’ve really been trying to take advantage of it by spending as much time outside as i can. or on my back porch. either way, the weather is a mood lifter. feels good.
i’ve really been thinking about what things are going to be like next year when i’m living at home. katie is my best friend, and being away from her constantly is going to be difficult, we’ve really learned how to be extremely dependent on each other so distance is going to be difficult. the worry and anxiety of it is creeping up on me slowly but surely.
there are about nine weeks until i graduate college.
03142010
so in an ideal world, right now, i would be on spring break. well yes, i am on spring break, but i would literally be somewhere that warrants the title ‘spring break’. not my living room in my house on a rainy night where the cravings to hurt myself are almost unquenchable, but somewhere with my friends doing something nice like i wanted to do.
so instead i am here, and fine, i can live with that. what i can’t live with is that i was not invited because of my apparent social awkwardness and weight issues. i’m sorry jeff fucking fonda, i did not realize that i was supposed to be living my life to please your fucking qualifications. i’m sorry i don’t hang out in your fucking crack den while you and your low life friends snort coke off the coffee table and take bong hits and swigs of cheap flavored vodka while listening to shitty music and watching you play little boy video games. if that what qualifies me as a functioning socially capable person, i would rather be whatever i am.
it is hurtful to know that people purposefully left me out of something and invited everyone else under the fucking sun on this trip. i wasn’t even the last resort. i wasn’t a resort at all, not even an option. that’s how disgusting i am apparently, that’s what i deserve.
and janine? thank you janine, as if my self-esteem and confidence isn’t low enough on a daily fucking basis, now i have to deal with the fact that your boyfriend targets every one of my insecurities and makes fun of them, excludes me from group activities, and tells his friends that he HATES me! HATES ME. he hates me, and you sat in front of me, lied to my fucking face about everything, said that he just wonders why i don’t hang out as much, and is just indifferent towards me. and you know what is even worse? i believed you, i believed every word out of your fucking mouth because you’re supposed to be my friend, you’re not supposed to allow your boyfriend to speak so harshly and cruelly of me, but you know what? you did, and not only did you allow it without defending me, but you laughed. you laughed along with his jokes about me, about my social capabilities, about my weight, about whatever else he has to say about me. does that sit well with you janine, are you feeling any guilt at all, whatsoever? or is it okay, is this just the way you treat people? i just don’t know anymore janine, because every fucking time that you turned around and told me how much you loved me, how good of friends we are, and how you would never turn your back on me, i believed you, but look where that has gotten me. i can’t sleep, i can’t live a normal fucking life because my anxiety has gotten the best of me, once again. i will be going through a million doctors and a million diagnoses until i am on something that allows me to breathe again, to think clearly, to sleep, to not cut open my fucking skin in order to feel something other than the absolute numbness and hurt that you have left me with.
i wish danielle would just realize what she has done is wrong. i pretty much have nothing else to say, other than that. she would be a really good person, a really successful human being if she would just realize what a bitch she is and admit it. that’s how much i care.
not to mention, i’m still 22 years old, still no kiss, no boyfriend, no nothing and it’s fucking killing me on the inside that my 15 year old brother is going to get there before me. i am crawling out of my skin at the fact that at 22 years old i have never even had a guy interested in me, and why? because of my weight. i hate myself. i honest to god, in this moment in time, hate myself. i am fighting everything right now to not hurt myself, and i have been trying everything lately to get the thought of not living anymore out of my fucking mind. i’m not brave enough to do that anyway, but i hate that it’s even still an option in my mind, i hate that it even crosses my mind. i just want to scream and get out of my fucking mind for a little while, just a little while so that maybe without me constantly self-destructing my life will come together.
i’m not on a beach, i’m not on a cruise, i’m not in some exotic place, or in an artsy town, or a theme park. i am in my living room, living through my self-loathing, barely holding on to the last ounce of sanity that i have. what are you doing?
03082010
everything was perfect. my 22nd birthday was amazing and i couldn’t have asked for more. i had the best friends in the entire world, ones who i knew were going to be my friends for life. they had even convinced me to stay and get an apartment with them next year instead of going home. i rearranged my plans in order to stay, deciding on doing an online program and working here.
and then they decided to kick katie and i out of their plans. they didn’t want to live with us anymore. it happened all so suddenly, with the oh so typical, we still want to be friends, that is why we’re doing this. living together will destroy the friendship, don’t ya know?
no. i don’t know really. thank you for the mindfuck, and thank you especially for ruining my last semester of college. also, it’s really nice to know that her boyfriend hates me, makes fun of my social skills and my weight behind my back to all of his friends, and she sits by and laughs. meanwhile, the other one decided that this whole situation is somehow my fault, that because i decided to leave after their decision, i’m the one who left katie with no place to live.
go fuck yourself. all of you. i am done with this place.
01172010
i want to be able to breathe again. a deep, relieving breath of fresh air. without anxiety, without dread, without nerves, without having to take a deep breath to hold back tears. i don’t know how to put what has happened within the past month or so into words. it’s really hard to think about it and it’s even harder to wrap my mind around writing about it.
i got arrested. no, i am not kidding. yes, i was handcuffed. yes i was in a cell for about twenty minutes. yes, i did do something wrong. i tried to steal two headbands from claires, in the mall. why? i don’t know. that’s something i still cannot answer, something that is haunting me to this very second and will continue to haunt me for a very long time. i have a court date in two days. since it happened i have been a mess. who am i kidding? i was a mess prior to it happening, being arrested just added to it. not knowing why i did what i did added to it even more. not crying about it, almost losing my job, yeah, that added to it quite a bit. when i was laughing and joking with cops, while being handcuffed to a pole in the precinct, i really and sincerely freaked myself out. my emotions have been…well, i don’t know where they’ve been.
and then the other night was tom’s birthday. i don’t drink, ever. the last time i drank and got drunk was in august. AUGUST. five months. and then tom’s 21st birthday came. yes, i have been quite depressed. yes, i had definitely been talking to katie about it. i realized after a little while in the bar that if i kept drinking i could drown out the thoughts. the insecurities, the pain, the hurt. and after a while i knew i could make it all go away. just keep drinking, drinking, drinking. vodka, rum, jagermeister, anything i could get my hands on. i ended up in a bathroom. the floor of a public bathroom, covered in my own vomit, not knowing how it had happened. i ended up blacking out very severely, having my friends and complete strangers take care of me. i ended up nearly dying on that bathroom floor. nearly dying and wishing that i had.
i guess katie called my mom, and i guess i told her that was okay. my mom and dad had to come get me. i got in the car i guess. i don’t really remember. all i do really remember is begging them to let me die. just please, please let me go. i can’t do it anymore, i really can’t. cue everyone telling me how much they care about me and how stupid i am to want to die. cue my best friend holding my head in her lap, telling me everything was okay, telling my mom i had been depressed. cue me getting home getting thrown in the shower and somehow making it to my bed.
so like i said. i don’t know what is going on with me. why i am doing things so out of character. everyone keeps telling me how much they care, how much everyone around me cares, why can’t i feel it? why do i constantly feel like people don’t care.
what. is. wrong. with. me?
12132009
another semester coming to a close. in two days i will be making my departure from the shit hole that i live in to my home. i will be home for a month and i will be working, doing overnight trips with eden and working crisis respite. i will be getting credit for this work in order for me to graduate on time. i have been working miracles in the past few weeks.
there’s not much to say concerning this semester. well, aside from the fact that if i did not live with katie, dan, and janine i would not be living at all. the other four girls are pretty much the most irritating group of people i have come across in my twenty-one years on this earth. not only are they completely immature, but they are rude, inconsiderate, disgusting, and everything that is associated with all of those words. they drink four out of seven nights of the week, one girl even throws up four out of seven nights of the week. hello future alcoholics, it’s been quite a pleasure to witness your problem and laugh at you for being stupid.
i have dealt with being kept up all night before my internship. i have dealt with really bad attitudes. i have dealt with a girl who just LOVES to hear her own voice and as a result of that issue she is constantly screaming, singing off key, and telling other people what to do (which, by the way, FUCK OFF SARAH, YOU’RE FUCKING ANNOYING). i have also dealt with the issues of my good friends, boyfriends coming and going, not wanting to date at all, classes being near impossible, and all of the other fun stuff that goes along with a semester in college.
so after this month i will be starting my last semester in new paltz. thank god. i cannot stand the undergraduate life anymore. i would rather be dropped in the middle of the highway with no way of getting off of it than spend anymore time here.
however, i do not know how i will live without katie, dan, and janine. how i will cope with not being able to come back from class and rant and rave about what we have to do and how we don’t have enough time to do it, or talk about how dumb the people we live with are. or just sit around and procrastinate, which we do quite professionally i believe.
oh, and i’m writing a thesis next semester. YIKES.
11142009
as i’m sitting in my room by myself i hear the typical weekend question from outside my door;
are you drinking tonight?
no, i’m not drinking tonight, in fact, i never feel like drinking anymore because it is repetitive and boring and i simply do not understand how one can do it most nights of the week and not get bored and disgusted with yourself.
then again, i have watched the polar express twice today, elf, the family stone, and i’m on the second time around of love actually. some people may see this as problematic. i see it as my day off.
let’s see who will throw up tonight, who will make a complete and utter fool of themselves, who will hurt themselves, be stupid, ugh, as long as it’s not me, it’s all good.
oh we have a cat. his name is oscar and the stupid girls i live with do not know how to take care of him. he now has worms. and they’re more concerned about whether or not they have worms. not the cat. them. it’s their fault that he has them to begin with. hate them.
bring on another saturday, i’m locking myself in my room.
10222009
i think a lot about autism. i think people think that i’m weird because i talk about it so much. i’m so consumed with the whole disability, i even do voluntary research on it whenever i can find the time. well, actually, right now i should be writing a paper on how to teach math to children with autism, but i am procrastinating. so what else is new? i’m so done with school and classes; i could work doing what i’m doing now and feel a million times more successful and accomplished than i do when i get a good (or a bad) grade. isn’t that funny?
i feel so good that i found my path in life. every day that i spent working with children with autism reinforces my love and passion for it, for those children, for those guys who i care for so, so much.
i watched one of them suffer today. something was wrong, whether it is an earache or suspected bipolar disorder, it is something and he was turning all shades of red and purple screaming and squeezing and tensing. it ripped my heart out, it still is when i think about it. it’s in these moments that i realize how much i truly and completely care about him, even though i have only known him for about a month or so. i don’t really remember what it was like without him and the other guys in my life, and i really don’t care to remember either.
i guess this is all slightly creepy, but i just don’t care anymore. i’m a passionate person. i need to surround myself with passionate people. and i think i’ve done that to an extent. this is everything to me, and i love telling people about autism because i want to tell people how truly amazing my life is because these kids, these teachers, these wonderful and caring and kind human beings, are in it. my heart just explodes whenever i think/talk about it.
is this what falling in love feels like?
10202009
i guess the thoughts running through my mind right now consist of this.
if only it were that easy.
if only it was that easy to get someone to go on a date with you. if only it was that easy for someone to see past my weight, my looks in general, and see who i really am underneath all of it. if only i was 110 pounds and had the perfect body. then maybe i would be a little bit better off.
if only it was as easy as ignoring them. if only it was as easy as saying, you know what, it’s their lives, let them screw it up. if only it was that easy. if only.
maybe i read to much into things. maybe i focus way too much on the things that i should not be worried about. or maybe i don’t worry enough about certain things.
is it really a crime that i am twenty-one years old and still haven’t had a first kiss, or gone on a date, or dated anyone, or even ever had a guy be semi-interested, let alone have sex? i’m obviously doing something wrong, but i can’t help but be as picky as i am, and i am so scared to put myself out on the line.
and when asked why i don’t know what to say - well, i do actually. i’m fat. i’m not attractive. people assume all of the general things that they do about fat people. i’m not worth much to guys except a good laugh, whether it’s by me being funny or at my expense. one time in 5th grade i told devin mcdonnell i liked him. it was valentines day. he laughed in my face and said that he didn’t like me back. i’m terribly scarred.
i have conceded to the fact that guys are never going to look past my ever so heavy (no pun intended) flaws. they won’t because it is the society that i exist in, and i guess i don’t blame them. i’m not beautiful, i’m not skinny, i’m the complete opposite. who wants to bring the ugly fat girl home to meet the family? surely not any of the guys i know. i’m disgusting to them. i might as well be invisible though i am so, terribly visible because of my flaws.
this is all of the stuff that i have learned to compartmentalize into a space in the very back of my mind, covered in this over-confident “i have more important things to worry about in my life than having a boyfriend/kisses/sex/love” attitude. there are layers and layers of that have built up since childhood, just to make myself feel a little bit better as i have watched all of my friends have first loves and first kisses, losing their virginity, cuddling, all of it. just to cover up the fact that i am at a complete loss as to what to do. yeah, lose weight, i know. i wish it was as easy as typing the words into my lame online journal.
but it’s not. nothing is ever going to be easy, and i certainly know that. today is just one of those days where i have been pushed to confront these long hidden feelings and i don’t know how much longer they can stay in that little area in the back of my mind that i have cleared out for them.
i wish they could see things through my eyes.
