hypocrisy

Hi,

Today I looked through everything I posted yesterday. Later in the day a rush of guilt came over me.

I can't apply the things that I posted to myself.

I will defend people with mental illnesses passionately. I do not believe that it is due to character flaws. I believe people who suffer from these conditions should receive compassion and support.

Unless that person is me.

I've been trying to find out the reason why I hate myself so damn much. I know how irrational my beliefs are, but I can't get past them. I know it's not benefiting anybody. Here's an example of something Toar and I might discuss:

Toar: What is the purpose of you feeling guilty all the time?

Me: *long pause*........That I learn from mistakes....to ensure that I don't do anything wrong?

Toar: What have you done wrong to warrant that guilt?

Me: *long pause again*.....well, the whole suicide attempt thing.....and the fact that I wasted class afloat....and the fact that I developed an ED and depression when I have so many advantages....

Toar: What thoughts bring about feelings of depression?

Me: Umm....hopelessness?.....Guilt? Oh shit I see where this is going. Yes I know, this whole thing is cyclical...

Toar: Yeah you've got it....do I even need to say anything?

I get therapy. I speak therapy. I know the right answers. Why can't I believe that they're true?

I'm sorry for this whiney post everyone. It was a weird day today. I felt less zombie-like this morning. My seroquel dose it being reduced so that could cause it, but more than likely it's a placebo effect. Too soon to make a difference.

However, today I felt different. More emotional? Bah. Not exactly. More....conscious I'd say.

Consciousness...

I was able to do a couple chores today. Funny, this morning I was going nuts because I had nothing that I wanted to wear. Then I realized I hadn't done laundry in 2 weeks. The small mountain in the corner of my bedroom should have alerted me to this fact, but no.

Anyways, I knew I needed to get out of my apartment for a bit and get some "fresh air". Really I just wanted to walk - I find that if I walk I can think clearly. Anyways, I walked through the market to go on my usual route around the river.

The market was full of people. People munching on beaver tails. People chatting on patios. Some women around my age gushing over window displays. Little kids getting balloon animals. They were enjoying each others company. They were having fun.

I don't know what fun is.

On a couple of occasions I've been asked questions of this nature: "If you could create the best day of your life, where anything is possible, you're past is all behind you, what would you do? What would it look like?" and "Describe the last time you remember feeling really happy".

I didn't know what to say. Can most people answer these questions?

Don't get me wrong, there are things that I enjoy. I like bike riding (sometimes), spending time with my animals (almost always), spending time with people (on occasion).

But a perfect day? Meh. Going skydiving? Traveling to Asia? Becoming a rock star overnight (HAH!)?

Nothing really excites me - and realizing that makes me feel worse. I feel so guilty because if I wanted to I could make some sort of dream happen. True, I do have a dream to become a social worker...but social work isn't enough. It's a rewarding career that's for sure. However, you need something else in your life that will bring you happiness and joy.

I can appear candid and happy go lucky. I'm always joking and exhibiting little quirks that make me seem like a happy, albeit odd, person.

Here's my big secret: It's a mask. Yes I am an oddball with a decent sense of humour, but I am likely not "letting loose" so to speak when I do it. I feel I must contain those emotions, manage them. Then I won't do anything wrong, anything stupid.

Basically, I'm not allowed to be a typical 20 year old.

Many people who know me know that I don't drink/do drugs. It's funny - I am a huge supporter of legalization or at least decriminalization of illicit drugs, and I don't (well at least I think I don't) sit on a moral high horse looking down at my substance lovin' friends.

Though many would call this a healthy choice, I know many of my reasons for doing so are not. True, right now I'm on so many medications that playing around with drugs or alcohol could land me a trip to seizure-ville, not a place I want to be. There's also the memory of being a kid and being on morphine (after an eye surgery) and being frightened of my inability to make my body work as it should.

Drinking takes away the inhibitions you have while sober. It's called liquid courage for a reason. My immediate thoughts are "nope, no - I worked hard to build these walls around me and I ain't taking them down!". I'm too scared of doing something stupid.

My parents may have felt proud about my lack of rebellion. However, as a teenager I "acted in" instead of acting out. Funny, I actually had a counselor recommend sneaking out and getting wasted on the weekends. Never happened - I stayed at home and watched a documentary about world war II.

So I couldn't answer the first question - how about the second?

I believe I was a happy kid, but what made me happy then isn't exactly applicable now. The past 5 years I can't really remember much joy and excitement. I'm actually scared to show that I'm happy - trying not to smile or laugh out loud. I purse my lips and force my face to be straight. I used to actually cover my face with my hand when I laughed or smiled- but people told me how weird it was so I got self conscious and stopped.

I'm trying to think.

I spent time with friends and enjoyed that. Parties make me even more aware of my own social awkwardness so no happy there. Class Afloat? Some moments....

- The day we arrived in Vigo, Spain I remember being happy. I had just passed my lines test (the ropes that hold the sails- all have names and what not...had to memorize them). It was a huge weight off my back, as I didn't think I would be able to do it and then would have to spend the evening memorizing lines so I could leave to go on shore. I sucked at seamanship - I hated it. As someone so afraid of being wrong, and as someone who is somewhat (really) deficient in the visual spacial intelligence- I sucked. On a ship, you paid when you sucked. Grabbing or neglecting the wrong line could have disastrous consequences. Ship mates would yell angrily. Afterwords they told us not to take it personally. Hah. Telling me not to take someone yelling at me personally is like hitting someone repeatedly with a hammer and telling them not to scream. I once made the mistake of thinking one line could be simply released - it couldn't.

Man, I'm crying a little now remembering this incident. It was years ago - probably all forgotten. But I'm still so, so ashamed. This probably also seems like meaningless drivel to all of you. Anyways, by letting this line go, it made a boom (large metally thing under the sail.....if it drops it will go "boom") drop. A girl got rope burn. I'm not even sure if everyone knew it was me - which is scary cause now I imagine them reading this and thinking "It was YOU?" and hating me.

Cause I hate myself for it.

Anyways - WAY off on a tangent. My happy memory. So I get to go on shore. I am relieved of the pressure of passing that test and I found some people to willingly let me in their group *we had to have a group of four). I don't even remember what we did, but I remember skipping down the dock with a new friend singing a weird song about a cucumber.

See? even my good memories have all that baggage.

I hate to go off like this, especially after being bright sunshine and roses for the past few days. I've had so many people offer their support whenever I need it. I thank you all for that, and it would probably be a good idea for me to take you up on those offers.

But I probably won't. I won't let myself be that vulnerable. I'd rather cry alone then get tears and snot all over someones shirt.

Ok, are you all morose now? Most likely. Now please, go and look for cute animal pictures.

I'm going to go lie near Phoebe and just listen to her purr.

Peace, Love and Veggies,

Alex