Feeling Blech

This is the shittiest I have felt yet since I have been sick.

Did I mention I have been sick?

My stomach is also killing me.

It hurts to talk.

I am tired but can't sleep.

Overanalyzing

I haven't had time to write.
I have too much to write that I don't even know where to begin.

These are both excuses which I am using to explain why I have not written since before I ended up in a psychiatric hospital. Yes, my last entry was before I ended up in the hospital.

So much has happened so fast that I don't even know where to begin. But it doesn't really matter. I can't write everything in one day, and as much as I like to share my life with others this journal is for me, so if my writing is all jumbled up and out of chronological order. Tough. =)

Right now at this very moment I am happy. I am very happy. No, not manic happy. Just truly happy. I just came back from yoga class and my body feels good. I feel awake and energized, not tired and lethargic. I am sitting here writing, getting my thoughts out and I am learning to let go of all the countless thoughts that are the death of me.

Yes. I have figured it out, although I already knew it all along. My tendency to overanalyze EVERYTHING is the ultimate impediment to my happiness. Sometimes its okay to overanalyze. But I overanalyze to the point where I overanalyze why I overanalyze and the reasons why I overanalyze that which I overanalyze. Yes. I was overanalyzing the future so much that I feared for the day my cat would die. Every sad thing that happened in my life I would overanalyze to the point that I would get extremely depressed. I would overanalyze every stressful thing to the point that I would get extremely stressed out. My only two classes right now are yoga and bodyworks, and I was still super stressed out. Its not my life that is/was so stressful, its the way I was coping with it. Or, wasn't coping with it. And I am learning to cope.

I used to think that they would just give me a magic pill and I would be better,and that there just was no pill for me. That I was just messed up, and there was nothing that could be done. Now I realize the answer. Medication can help, but I also need to learn to help myself. Everything is mental, you can even learn to control things like pain. The physical is not a completely separate entity from the mental. They are connected. I just need to learn how to control it better.

Like how I just overanalyzed the way I am?

Yes. Its okay though sometimes. Sometimes you just have to get it out. Which is why writing can be so therapeutic. If you just let it out, then you can give it a rest, and it can stop "spinning" in your mind.

This is enough for this entry. I will write more later.

I love everyone who has helped me so much. This process has really made it clear to me who my real friends are, who the people who matter are, and know that I am always here for every one of you too.

Love,
Irene

Peace

I am both emotionally and physically exhausted, however at this very moment I feel at peace with the world.

I really appreciate everyone who has been there for me. Even the little things count, and its been really nice to feel like people care.

Thank you.

Alone

I'm trying to write simply because I don't know what else to do.

I feel like I can't put my feelings into words. Words simply aren't powerful enough to describe how I am feeling.

Borderline Personality Disorder.

I now think I have that too.

Yes, in this journal I will reveal to you all of my flaws.

It's almost like I lead two lives. Multiple lives? People know me in very different ways. Sometimes I laugh at the people who think I'm such an intelligent, capable, funny, caring, happy person.

It's funny that even some of the people closest to me still don't really know me. Yes, I feel like I constantly hide a large part of who I am. I hide what I don't like about myself. I hide what I am ashamed of. I hide what I don't want people to see. Because ultimately I just want to be liked and accepted, and I have this terrible fear that if people really knew everything about me they wouldn't like me. But the funny thing is, even the few who do know almost, if not everything about me.. when they tell me they accept me for who I am, and that they like me for who I am, I simply don't believe it. I am convinced that they are lying to me, or perhaps just pitying me, or trying to be a good person by just being nice to me. How could they possibly like me? I don't like me. I hate me, and I have a hard time understanding certain differences in opinions.

Sometimes I'm so convinced that certain people couldn't possibly like me that I decide to dislike them first. I tell myself, "it's not that they don't like me, it's that I don't like them." I constantly push people away, I push and push and push and eventually they leave. Yes, they all leave, because ultimately we are all completely alone in this world. At the end of the day, we are alone with no one else but ourselves to fend for our self in this twisted world.

My biggest fear has always been to end up hopelessly alone. I hate being alone. I hate being alone because when you're alone you're just spending time with yourself, and I hate myself. Why would I want to spend time with myself? If I have to be by myself, I try as hard as I can to simply find distractions from myself. Either that, or I just go into a fit of self-loathing and wallowing in self-pity.

And the funny thing is, it doesn't matter how many people are there for me, it doesn't matter how many friends I have, or whether I'm in a relationship or not, I always feel alone. I know it doesn't make sense, but I just permanently feel empty and alone.

In high school I used to have a lot of friends, I was surrounded by people who cared for and admired me. I probably even had people who wanted to be me. I had it all. A loving, caring family, great friends, good grades, awesome at music, and I was nice. I remember thinking, I had my life on a silver platter, and I didn't want it. I wanted to just throw it away. I was still miserable. No, I wasn't permanently miserable. Of course I enjoyed spending time with friends, so much so that at a certain time in my life I simply stopped coming home because I was constantly with friends. Then my parents started thinking I hated them... I decided I needed to be more fun so I became reckless, I was daring, and I was fun. I drove like a maniac, and I constantly shoplifted, and there was even that time I picked up a random person off the street and let them spend the night at my house. But still, for some reason it simply wasn't enough. So I decided to go to Boston. Maybe somewhere new, somewhere different. Maybe there would be my answer.

And at first, college was difficult. I had to remember that good friends aren't instantly made, and so for a while I felt alone until I met people I really jived with. I came prepared with an increased dosage of antidepressants, and felt ready to face new challenges. I put myself out there, was friendly, sociable, and pretended to be happy, and don't get me wrong sometimes I was happy. And again, I had numerous people who liked me, but deep down I still felt like everyone disliked me. I still felt utterly alone.

I learned the joys of alcohol, and turned to alcohol to try and fill the unfillable emptiness I felt inside of me. And I loved it. I could just forget about my life. I could just pretend that everything was okay, and the world seemed like a better place. But, it also had its downsides. I would black out, and not know what I did. I ended up in the hospital. I don't even remember what the guy's face I lost my virginity to looked like. I can't count the number of people I hooked up with, pretending that they cared about me, hoping that they cared about me. I was self-destructive. I would obsess over people that I knew didn't like me back, but I would still pretend and hope. And then there were people who did like me, but I didn't want THAT. A relationship with a caring, good person? Why would I want that? Why would I deserve such a thing. No, these people liked me, I couldn't let them stop liking me. I couldn't let them get to know me for who I really was. I had this terrible fear that if people got to know me better, they would stop liking me. And I needed to be liked. I desperately needed to be accepted and liked.

I learned about the joys of weed. I loved how it slowed down my thoughts, and I could find staring at a wall so entertaining. With weed, I didn't hate being with myself as much. I didn't feel constantly bored, like I normally do. And to my fascination, if I combined weed WITH alcohol, then I could really escape reality and be in a completely different world. A different world where things didn't matter, and only the present mattered. A world where I could be happy.

Did I mention I feel constantly bored? Yes, I get bored easily, even by other people. So even though I have this need for other people, few people are actually cool enough, or entertaining enough for me. But then in many of my interactions with other people, I find myself thinking "no, its not that they're not interesting, its me." I'M the one that's boring. I am the one who is so hopelessly utterly boring, why would anyone want to spend time with me? I bore myself, so why wouldn't I bore other people as well?

I still felt alone. I told myself, I just needed to find love. I just needed someone to love me who I could love back. Then everything would be okay and life would be grand. For me, finding love has always been a priority. I truly don't understand other people who aren't searching for it. How can you not be? I wanted to find that perfect person, who would make the world a happy place.

But no one is perfect. I found someone to love, and I think I was simply so infatuated with the idea of love, I wanted to love so badly, that I jumped in headfirst without any hesitation. But did I really love? Could I really love? Am I even capable of love? No, what I really needed was someone to take care of me, someone to reassure me that I wasn't a terrible person. Someone to accept me for who I was. Someone to be good to me, and help my stop my self-destructive ways. And this person was good to me, and did care about me, and did love me, and did help me. But every single step of the way I tried to find ways to sabotage it. He couldn't possibly love me if I go abroad. He couldn't possibly love me if I like someone else. He couldn't possibly love me if I am miserably depressed. He couldn't possibly love me if I hate having sex, he couldn't possibly love me if I wished I were a man. And every step of the way I doubted him, and I tested him. How could he possibly love me. There was no way it was possible. None. Did I really love him? Or did I just need him. Was he just there, when I so desperately needed someone? Anyone? I simply needed to stop feeling so alone.

But I still felt alone.

I still feel alone.

I hate feeling alone.

I know I hurt people, and then I do feel intense guilt and remorse. Sometimes I feel like I just hurt everyone around me. I try to be a better person, but I just can't. I pretend to be a good person. But deep down I know that I'm not.

I am a horrible person, and no one can convince me otherwise.

I may regret posting this soon, but then again, I'm not even sure if anyone really reads this so it might not matter.

Current song: "Run" by Snow Patrol

Rollercoaster

I feel like I'm on an emotional rollercoaster.

Last night, I was so happy and hyper, I didn't accomplish anything. I went outside, and RAN to jumbo to get snacks, for no real reason.

I tried watching a tv show and couldn't even focus enough to pay attention to the show.

Then I stayed up until 6, and even though I was tired I couldn't sleep. I'm thinking I need to invest in some benadryl or something soon... I accidentally left it at home.

I did not sleep well at all, and I think I woke up a million times. I felt terrible this morning. Absolutely terrible. I wanted to go back to sleep hoping that I would feel better later, but I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking.

Repeating over and over again in my mind how much of a failure I am.

This morning..err afternoon, I knew it was nice outside, and yet I couldn't manage to make it outside to see the sun.

And then, I think I hit an ultimate low. I just started crying uncontrollably and didn't know why I was crying. I called Gali and just sat down on the grass right outside of Stratton crying. I had no idea why I was crying, but I just was.

Fortunately, Gali is a great friend and helped me get some dinner, since all I had eaten were sour patch kids and cookies all day. Maybe I should also invest in keeping some more nutritious food in my room as well.

I'm now at the library, feeling a little better, writing this entry.

I just spoke with Eric. I told him I'd really appreciate if he stopped making me feel like shit. To stop judging me, because he doesn't know what its like to be me. He said he couldn't help but judge me. I said I didn't think we should talk anymore because I only need positive people in my life right now and he is negatively affecting me emotionally. It just hurts to think that all those times he was "there" for me, all those times I confided in him, and he listened to me, he was really just judging me, thinking I was just a weak, pathetic, loser.

And maybe I am just a weak, pathetic, loser, but you don't need to fucking let me know you think that. I know I believe in being really honest, but believe it or not there is a gray area.

Fuck you.

"It's easier to be crazy than to get work done."

Fuck you.

Here I go again.

And here I go again.

My head hurts.
I feel tired, and yet I can't sleep.
I feel slightly nauseous.
I have butterflies in my stomach.
Although I'm not actually crying, my body feels as though it were.
I feel like I'm being pulled apart, my pieces scattered on the floor.

I know the sun is outside, I know I should go sit outside or something, and yet all I want to do is sit here. Just sit here.

Escape.

I want to escape.

I have tons of work to do. I have a midterm tomorrow, and while a part of me knows I SHOULD care, and a part of me recognizes that I will probably be regretting my actions soon, at the moment I don't care at all. It all just seems so silly and pointless.

I just want to continue laying here in my bed, melting into my bed, being one with my bed. Sinking.

I had a list of things I was supposed to do today, and once again I know I'm supposed to care, but I just don't.

I'm eating cookies again, trying to fill the emptiness inside of me.

I feel disgusted with myself.

I'm being self-destructive. I'm ruining my own life, I'm watching myself do it, and yet I just can't seem to stop doing it. There is no one else to blame. No one else, except myself. I'm a masochist.

My heart hurts. Did you know that your heart can physically hurt? Well I'm telling you, it can.

Current song: "Lover I don't have to Love" - Bright Eyes