16 posts tagged “personal”

How prophetic the title of my last entry was.

Love lies bleeding in my hand.

    Since about May, I've lost 20 pounds. I've still got a lot of work to do, but a lot of people would say that losing that much weight is a very big accomplishment.
    Well, not me. It's really disheartening to me to say this, but I don't see any difference in me at all. I can't fit into jeans that are the next size down yet, I don't see any difference in any part of my body, I can't buy smaller shirts...heck, I can't see a difference in my face. All I see is a number on the scale, but absolutely nothing positive that comes from that number being so much lower than it was before...and it sucks.
    I try really hard not to be down in the dumps, but it's really disappointing to think that I'm finally smaller than I've been in almost five years, and I have no benefits to reap from it. I'm not going to stop working on it, but I just keep thinking, how much more until I can actually do something that shows the difference? 10 more pounds? 20 more? This blows.
    Jon says he notices a difference, but clearly it's not enough that I can do anything with it. I guess I'll just try to lose 10 more and see what happens...
    Again: I'm definitely happy that I've lost that much weight, but it's depressing that I have nothing to show for all the work I've done.

So, I was on the phone with Jon today telling him about my wonderful adventure at the store:

Me: OK, so I'm at Sears, and we're about to leave...my parents and I...
Jon: Yeah...
Me: And I see these three guys...and they're just SLIMY. You ever see someone and just go, "UGH."
Jon: Yeah, at least once.
Me: Well, that's how I felt. They looked like they smelled, they were ugly, and just...blah. Well, I walk by them, and my Mom just pulls me over and whispers, "MARISA. DID YOU SEE THAT?" And I say, "No..." and she tells me, "All three of those guys just turned around and looked at your ass."
Jon: I see. (Jon's typical response.)
Me: I was so disgusted and embarrassed, I just wanted to sit down somewhere, but I couldn't...so I ran to the car.
Jon: Yeah, I had something like that happen. My Mom, Sean (his younger brother), and I were in Sears, and I wanted to go to E.B. games, so as I'm walking out, my Mom tells me that the cashier was looking at me.
Me: Oh. Heh.
Jon: Yeah, she was pretty hot...not slimy or anything like that, had nice hair, and you know--
Me: ...well, uhm, I have work I have to do, and I don't wanna keep you on the phone any longer, OK?
Jon: OK...

I don't know whether or not it's okay to be as upset right now as I really am. The reason why I told him the story was because it was funny -- I mean, these guys were at least TWICE my age, and I had absolutely no interest in them -- PERIOD. He tells me about a girl HE THOUGHT WAS PRETTY. I felt like saying "Geez, just dump me now why don't you?"

He's not a dumb guy. I mean, he has to realize how badly that came out. The problem is, we're supposed to be going bowling tomorrow, and I know that I'll probably have a good time, but right now I'm just so hurt I don't want to see him. Am I over-reacting or am I justified in being hurt?

P.S: He's almost 19.

This is my list of everything I have to do, tomorrow:

1. Call the doctor's office and check that my paperwork has been sent to my address. - Done. They did not mail it on Saturday...they are mailing it today. WHAT?
   
2. Mail said paperwork to the university ASAP. -- Must be overnighted. DAMMIT.
   
3. Call the Wellness Center at the university and double check the due date. WHY WOULDN'T MY PARENTS LISTEN TO ME WHEN I SAID WE NEEDED TO DO ALL OF THIS EARLIER. GAH.  Done.
   
4. Call the Financial Aid office at the university and check that my MPN and Stafford Loan paperwork has been received. - DONE!
   
5. Call the university's main switchboard and ask if the meal plan paperwork needs to be mailed as well. - Done. Needs to be mailed to the office of Accounting and Finance. DONE!
   
6. Call my uncle and talk to him about driving lessons. - Called, left a message. DONE!
   
7. Call the university and ask about their policy for students wanting to transfer into the school. -Will do later. Not as important as the other things right now.
   

...Chris may transfer to my university in the second semester. :)

He's really questioning everything right now -- life, school, work -- and he's become completely apathetic. He said he doesn't want a job, he doesn't want to go to school, he doesn't even want to live at this point I don't think. I think part of it is just because he's very emotional and sensitive like I am (very anxious, nervous, especially in new situations...on top of other issues that I won't write here) which makes him think he may not be able to do it, and I think part of him just needs some support. I'm not sure if he's going to the college he chose for any reason other than that some of his pushy "friends" told him to apply there.

I know it's a long shot, but if I can help a friend, I'll do it. He's got the GPA (3.9 -- I hate him), the class rank (valedictorian), the SAT score, and the AP scores (he's the one I told you about who got a 5 on the Calculus BC exam) -- for the school not to take him as a transfer is a strike against them. Whatever happens, I just hope he ends up in one piece. He needs a friend...and not one of those fake ones who finds his sadness funny and cute. On top of that, I'm one of those people who believes that your environment really does determine how you feel...his college for what may be one semester only is in the city, mine is in a very rural area and it's very calming. I think maybe he needs that.

I'm just feeling absolutely overwhelmed. I want my paperwork IN and DONE, I want my room assignment, I want my class schedule (which I will need to fix...oh my god, MORE WORK), and I want my move-in date. JUST LET IT BE OVER.

...oh, and I have to write that 750 word essay. IT NEVER ENDS.

    It's all just gotten out of hand, again. I woke up today to the smell of marijuana in the house, and the sound of men in the house. I was too afraid even to go take a shower because I didn't know what was going to happen. I just stayed in my room for hours, waiting for a time when I could get out. Finally, I did, and resolved that I needed to get out of the house, since when I called Mom about it, she gave me the same dippy, apathetic response: "I'm here at work. What do you want me to do?"
    It's not so much that she can't do anything at work, it's that when she's home, she still doesn't do anything. She doesn't have an excuse for that.
    Well, seeing how I don't have a job that gets me out of the house, I did the only thing I could...I called Jon, hoping that maybe I could just stay with him for a few hours, just until my parents got home. I knew Carly, Ginger, Tom, and whomever else they had managed to get into the house could probably hear me, so I tried to be as cryptic as I could, hoping he'd get the hint.

    "Hey."
    "Hey."
    "You sound funny."
    "Yeah...I just got a piece of bologna to eat."
    "Oh. Well, hey...uhm, do you think we could hang out today? Preferably at your house..."
    "..."
    "...like, sooner rather than later? I'm sorry, I know it's all short notice..."
    "What's wrong?"
    "I don't want to talk about it on the phone right now..."
    "Oh...well, you can't come over..."
    "Oh...." This is when I started to cry.
    "What's wrong?"
    "...nothing, thanks anyway. Bye."

    I know it's not his fault, but I just wish I had someone I could depend on. When the chips are down, when things are really bad, he can't help me, and I've realized that. I think that's why I've feel so agonizingly lonely every once in a while...sure, anyone can help you when things are going well...but the people who help you when things are bad are the people who truly care about you.

    I am alone. I wish I wasn't, but I am.

    There's no reason to tell him anything that happens anymore. I could tell him that my house was burning down or that there was someone in the house who could really hurt me (and that part is no an exaggeration...I'm not kidding when I say most of the time, I do not feel safe in my own home), and he couldn't help me.
    
    It just seems like it's never his fault...I feel like if it were the other way around, I would do everything in my power to help him, but it seems like he won't do the same.

     I am alone. I cannot depend on him to help me, to give me support when things are getting genuinely bad, or even to understand how scared or upset I am when I am panicked. I do not have that, and I've realized that it's time to stop acting like I do have it.

    I am alone. And that's all there is to it.

    Now to try to fall back asleep so I don't have to deal with this...

    I'm way too drained to blog about anything right now. Over the past three days, I've had my life turned upside down because of the re-emergence of another person in my life (I will talk about it later), and Jon is not happy about it (I will write about it later), and I'm not too sure how to respond either (I will write about it later). All I can say is that it would make for a fascinating story, if I ever had the courage and maturity to write it all out.
    I've been stabbed three times in my arms, with round four coming up on Monday. It's actually much funnier than it sounds.
    As of right now, though, I'm packing. I have to be at the University by 1 PM tomorrow for exams, class registrations, and welcoming, which I'm sure will include flogging of some kind. I'm nervous but excited all at once, but really, all I want to do right now is breathe, relax, and maybe write some emails to my former teachers about how I'm doing. Two of them in particular were very adamant about my keeping in contact with them.
    I've really been through the wringer, a trial by fire almost, in all aspects: emotionally I've gone through darn near every feeling one can experience over the last three days, mentally I've been tested to the edge of my sanity (and beyond), and physically all of this stress has caused me to have two panic attacks, one of which ended in me vomiting and having other adverse physical reactions for about a half hour. It's been rough to say the least.
    Once I get through this orientation, I promise to write about it. Promise. :)

    Still haven't heard anything on the job front. Seeing how my sisters have this tendency to tell people I don't live here if they call for me (they've done it with my friends, with people from the university, and goodness knows who else), I may have to take matters into my own hands on Saturday while they're still asleep.
    I really hate living like this. I'm sick of the house being filled with the smell of marijuana, I'm sick of having nowhere to go, and I'm sick of having to lie about everything that happens while my parents aren't here under fear of getting hurt -- my sisters have threatened physical harm on me, and have threatened to put drugs in my food. Suffice it to say, I've lost about five pounds in the last week, and I haven't been sleeping. I can't tell my parents, because they don't do anything. Case in point: Ginger, about two weeks ago, broke into my room and broke my computer -- I had to do a fresh reinstall of everything, and my headphones still don't work because she damaged where they need to be plugged in. Mom swore she'd be punished, but the next day she got to go out to a party. When I said something about it, I got yelled at and was told "not to worry about others' punishments." You know what, I'm the only one who does care. My parents are either too tired, too apathetic, or too irresponsible to do anything about their own children...and it's a real burden to my heart. I can't stop them, I can't keep lying about it, and if I tell the truth, I could get seriously hurt. It's like I have no parents...and I miss the days when I did, sorely.
    The only choice I have right now is to become independent, by one means or another...it's the main reason why I'm trying so hard to get a job -- it's my only legitimate means of a (temporary) escape. I have no family members I could go to (especially since all of my paperwork for the university comes to this address), I can't stay with Jon, and again, I don't have the means to move out on my own. I wish I could just fall asleep and wake up in August when it's time to leave for college...I'll never have to call my family, I'll never even have to see them until December.
    And, just like some kind of weird miracle, my cousin called up. He's in Maryland on a random holiday, so it looks like I'm going to be able to do something to get out of here, after all...
    I'm listening to Queen. Whenever I'm in a really bad mood about my home life, this song makes me feel a million times better. It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay...

Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard every day of my life
I work till I ache my bones
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -
I get down on my knees
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord - somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me - somebody to love?

(He works hard)

Everyday - I try and I try and I try -
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm goin' crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe
Yeah - yeah yeah yeah

Oh Lord
Somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat
I'm ok, I'm alright
Ain't gonna face no defeat
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
 

    I know that having a diploma wouldn't change anything by magic, but I certainly expected more of myself at this point in my life.
    Here I am, eighteen years old, out of school, with no job, no car, no license, and trapped in a house full of dysfunction, and physically destroyed. I haven't been this sad in a while, and I know it's going to level me physically as well as mentally and emotionally.
    What gets me the most is that Carly and Ginger have been able to go out more often and have more money than I do. Ginger broke into my room by picking the lock and damaged my computer. Mom promised she would get grounded, and guess what? She got to go out yesterday, and was given money. I never got those kinds of breaks when I was 13. Ever.
    Carly's obsessing over her current boyfriend, who I honestly believe sells drugs. I'm sorry, but if you have lots of money to spare, are entirely too young to know as much as you do about drugs and violence, and you convince my sister that a romantic evening at your house would include shrooms? Yeah...I'm thinking not.
     He gives Carly a lot of money and buys her things (which are really the only things you need to do to be Carly's boyfriend), and it's really getting on my nerves since she's been sharing the money with Ginger and flaunting everything she has from him. I guess in a way I'm kind of jealous...I wish I had that kind of independence, but even though I feel like I've worked for it, I don't have it. And because of her and Ginger's actions earlier in the year, I can't become that independent. It's a messed up Catch-22, and I feel like I can't escape.
    So, of course, all I've been doing lately is eating...and then throwing it up because I gained so much weight. I can't stand it. I just wish I could take the time to get away from this situation and get myself together, but I can't do that. I don't have the luxury.
    I feel so sad and empty right now. I don't even want to talk to anyone. It doesn't matter, does it? This is my life, it's how it's been for years. I just hope one day I hit a point where I can't care anymore. I hate crying and I hate feeling like I should try...they've done nothing so far.

    So, Jon and I went out yesterday (I will write about it later).

    I ate like crazy: takeout from a Chinese place, chick-fil-a, movie snacks...

    According to the scale, I've gained three pounds from it.

    WHAT.

    When I saw that on the scale last night, I relapsed. I had promised myself I wouldn't let myself do it again, but I panicked. In fact, it took everything in me not to run to the bathroom while we were in the mall. I just freaked out, and believe me, it scared the daylights out of me since I've never had a strong urge to do that. This is all starting to take root in my head, and I don't think it's going to get better until I have some down time. Unfortunately, I just don't have it right now. I'm scared to eat (since I know I'll put on weight if I don't throw it up, and I don't want to throw it up anymore), and I'm scared not to eat (since I know I'll just have to do it eventually and I'll put weight on).

    I've lost 13 pounds in the last month. Unfortunately, that's only 10 now thanks to yesterday.

    I think after graduation, I'm just going to take a few days to myself to breathe and decompress. I don't think I'll apply for a job until after that week. I need to fix myself before I go crazy.

    The last two days have been so emotional that nobody would believe me if I posted everything that happened. It truly sounds far too surreal when I go through it in my mind -- like something from a really bad soap opera, or any of those new TeenNick shows that aim to make 11 year olds into 23 year olds with their overly hormonal, overly emotional story lines. Or, more accurately, a Telenovela -- what? I know my roots.
    Our relationship finally hit the breaking point. It had been happening for a while now, and every time I mentioned that something was wrong, it was always temporarily smoothed over, no matter what it was. Regardless, I felt hurt and unwanted -- if you were in a relationship where it felt like you were doing everything in terms of securing things that were important, and when you mentioned how things were progressing, you got insulted, and the other person for one reason or another didn't want to do anything until you got tired of it, wouldn't you feel a little drained and lonely?
    It was all the time. I would always have to call him or message him -- the only time he ever seemed to talk to me of his own accord was either when he needed something, or if I had mentioned that I was really upset over the fact that he never talked to me. It was as if he was never motivated by an interest in my world or my life.
    On top of that, we have some basic needs that...well, need to be met. Those being getting jobs, securing transportation, and getting on top of this whole "college" thing. I have overtly been working at getting these things -- heck, you can go through my blog entries and find examples all over the place. When I mentioned I got a job, he insulted me. When I mentioned my attempts to find someone to teach me to drive, he would make fun of me. When I talked about my grades and the paperwork I had to do for college, you got it -- he made fun of me. And whenever I got up the nerve to say something back, he would get quiet and say that he hasn't made any progress. It felt like he wasn't even trying. It's just not a good relationship when one person is trying so hard to do things and the other person not only won't help, but also won't support the first person. It's painful.
    So finally, after one last straw, I wrote him a letter and broke it off. I tried calling, but he wouldn't pick up the phone. The hour long AIM conversation and the hour-long phone conversation that followed that was just painful beyond all belief. He wasn't sad, he was angry, and he let me have it. Chris and I were talking online during the whole thing -- and thanks to him, I didn't get mad and say something I knew I'd regret. I also didn't soften up just because I knew he was mad...I just let him pour it all out.
    When he said he wanted to be left alone, though, I didn't listen. I knew he was hurt, but I needed to make sure that we were on the same page. It took half of my cellphone minutes to do, but it worked. It came down to the fact that we still wanted to be in each other's lives and that Jon needed to pick up his stuff. If that doesn't spell out "the end", I don't know what does.
    He came over the next day and I escorted him upstairs where I had his things. I locked the door and we just sat there, looking at each other, saying absolutely nothing. Eventually, it started. We both just cried, barely able to mutter sentences, for about an hour. Jon kept looking at me like he wanted to say something, and every time I managed to stammer out a "you look like you want to tell me something...what is it", he would say just "nothing", and we would continue to cry, awkwardly holding hands, getting closer...occasionally kissing, almost out of the fact that we both knew it would be the last time. We were holding each other, each trying to console the other, but the sentiment was the same: this isn't right. But...it had to be done. Finally, Jon asked me what he wanted to ask: "Why?"
    "We're too different. This isn't going to work out. It's better like this."
    He just cried. I held him closer and just rubbed his back. There wasn't much more I could do at that point. I couldn't say "it's going to be okay", because I wasn't sure. I couldn't say "we're together", because I wasn't going to do it. Nothing was going to change. Getting back together would be a mistake at that point.
    We started talking about why we were splitting up, and it became even harder. I could tell that he recognized the truth in what I said, but didn't want for it to be spelled out in front of him.
    "You just always made me feel bad. You made me feel lonely."
    "I made you feel lonely?"
    "Yes...you never supported me, you never wanted to do things with me, you never wanted to talk to me...it drains you. It hurts. It made me feel isolated."
    "I never...never meant to do that. I cared about you so much."
    "You never showed it and you never acted like it."
    "Just because I didn't know how to show it doesn't mean I didn't care...if I did nothing else, know that I cared about you."
    "Well, it's hard to believe that when it felt like I was doing everything. It wasn't just for me, it was for both of us...and you never wanted to help. You always just cut me down."
    "I was trying. I may not have talked about it, or worked at it as hard as you did, but...I was trying."
    "It's like you didn't care, even though it was for the well being of both of us."
    "I just...haven't cared about anything. I just don't."
    Most people, especially women, would take that as the last straw. They would take it as a kiss-off, the moment where they'd hand him his bags and tell him to get out. I couldn't do it...something in his voice and the way he looked told me something was seriously wrong -- just what I had thought earlier. After our conversation the day before, I went online and looked up "apathy" online. Sure, I knew the textbook meaning, but this was something else. And after reading, I had an idea of what it was.
    I just held him close, rubbed his back, and said very softly, "Sweetheart...I need to tell you something. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, or think it's the pot calling the kettle black, but...I think you're depressed."
    He seemed a little taken aback. "From what?"
    "It's not always just...something sparks it, but I think so..."
    "I don't know, I just stopped caring. Even about things I knew were important...college, getting a license, a job...high school, even. I couldn't care anymore...starting about a year ago."
    "Wait. Wait. When last year."
    "...actually, about the time I started dating you."
    I started crying. "I ruined you...I just ruined you didn't I?"
    "No...you made me happy...actually, now that I think about it...it started even earlier than that."
    "When?"
    "I can't remember exactly."
    I wanted to help, and I had to figure it out. "Middle school?"
    "No, I cared then...I mean, I did it because I knew I'd get in trouble if I didn't, but..."
    "So...high school. Ninth grade?"
    "No, later than that."
    "OK, tenth grade then. Did something happen at school?"
    "I can't think of anything."
    "Even if it seems unrelated...can you think of anything?"
    "...no...no."
    "...Did anything happen at home around that time?"
    He got quiet, and then just choked on sobs. "Yes."
    "What?"
    He was crying so much. "That's around the time my grandmother died..."
    He never told me anything about his grandmother. "Were you close to her?"
    He was getting very emotional. "Yeah, I was...and I was at her funeral, we were there, and I felt...nothing! Absolutely nothing!"
    "Did you feel bad about that?"
    "Yes! I felt horrible because I couldn't...I couldn't feel anything!"
    I just held him. I didn't know what to say or do. He continued: "And I hate feeling like this..."
    I asked him, "how do you know you love me?" I know it sounds like an insensitive question, but I had to ask it: if he could feel nothing, how could he be sure if his feelings for me were genuine?
    "I feel things for you...you're one of the few things I think about..."
    And I believed him. I knew there was no way he could make up what he said -- he wasn't sugarcoating anything, and he wasn't trying to be poetic. I asked him the big question: "Will you let me help you?"
    He said with such resolve: "Yes...I hate being like this, I hate feeling like this..."
    "It's okay. We'll go together. I promise."
    And that was it. We just kept kissing each other, holding each other...

    This was all some kind of strange nightmarish blessing; because of it, I know that everything is going to be okay. It's going to be so hard, but nothing worthwhile in life is ever easy. I can say that with confidence and resolve. All of it -- this is going to work.