It's been a while since I last typed an entry. I haven't really written a journal entry recently either. I've been pretty busy, I suppose. And as always, there has been just SO MUCH going on... too much for my head and my heart to really process, it feels like.

School is over... I failed the quarter. All of my classes. I failed.
I thought I could handle the three jobs and being a full-time student and I couldn't at all and I just stopped trying. I gave up.

And that feels... so crappy.

So I try not to think about it too much.

I do think about Hocking. About moving to Nelsonville. About the horses and having direction. About my new friends. About all of the emotional growth I've accomplished in my therapy sessions. About how, last night, for the first time in I cannot even tell you how long... I FELT love for my dad. And I hugged him and I told him. 'I love you".

And I know that nobody who could potentially read that will really know the significance of that. It will seem tiny. Because I shower my friends with "I love you"s. It has always been hard for me with Papa.

I haven't been sleeping as much as I should recently, because I keep hanging out with Bryon, and he's an incredible night owl. But hey, I woke up at 10 this morning, which is good. I'll work on getting back on a healthier sleeping schedule.

I HAVE been thinking about my missing persons. Haha. Missing persons. Hilarious.
I miss them. Still. Probably always. Does that mean I will never be whole again? I mean. You know, be the car that never quite runs the same again? The person that broke a leg and always walks with a slight limp even after their leg has healed?
Yeah. That's me. Broken. Damaged.
I wish I were beautifully broken. Perfectly imperfect.
And it is times like these I wish I remembered what it felt like to believe in a talk to God.

Do I want to go to The Radical Aliveness Seminar?
Am I ready for that?
http://www.richardmoss.com/index.php?p=Doc&r=The_Radical_Aliveness_Seminar
Ready this just now I cried. I cried because... Because I want all of those things. The returning to the Now. The revitalizing my relationships. The liberating my mind from created suffering. The enabling myself to live in joy and gratitude.
And I am scared I can't. Scared I'm too broken.
And I mean... to add to that stress... This is Richard Moss we're talking about. Not only is the man, like, famous. Beloved.
He is my dad's friend. Papa loves Richard. And Richard is amazing and life-changing and... and...
If I go to Richard... what if Richard doesn't like me? What if I don't live up to my father's beauty in Richard's eyes? What if I'm not my father's daughter?

And also.
I will cry. There is no way that I will not cry. And possibly scream and hit things. And resent the whole program.
It will be HARD. And I'm scared of that, too.
I'll be in this place far away from home with 24 people I don't know and Richard Moss. And when I have an anxiety attack during meditation, or whatever, I will have nowhere to run.

I have this desire to write something, right? But I don't know what to write about. It can be hard sometimes, because I always have so much going on in my head and in my heart.
And today. Today is an overload day. I have so much going on in my head and my heart that I can't sort any of it out, and as a result, I feel rather numb.

I started my day with work. It was a good day of work. I got an extra half-hour, which is like, almost four dollars. Awesome, right? And I got to process most of the time, which is my favorite thing to do. Way better than being stuck on soft lines with the grouches. I get to work by myself, sing in my little corner and just unpack boxes of seasonal items. Which is like... Christmas, you know? (Literally and figuratively. We actually do have Christmas items coming in right now, obviously, but even when it's not this close to the holiday, processing is always like Christmas. 'Cause you just open boxes and it's always a surprise. Okay, unless it's candles. You can always tell a candle box. But, the scent is always a surprise! Lol.) And then like, as I was leaving, I gave everyone hugs. And they were all, wow, isn't she chipper? And I really wasn't. But... I felt so pleasant about loving all of them and loving working with them and just getting to give them hugs.

I followed work with school. Which... is depressing, so I won't dwell on it much.
Ryan was all weird after class, just because he started seeing this other girl. And I was all, whatever, right? Because I don't care. Like, I told him I just wanted to be friends, so why would I care? But he was just all weird, and I care that he was all weird. But whatever. No real big deal. Just. Commenting on it because it was a part of my day, I guess. My very lame day.

So then I had my last therapy session with Brooke. And like. Whoa. Okay, last therapy session? But I'm not all whole and healed yet! But like, I can't see Brooke once I'm no longer a Ohio University student. Well, I'll live.

And like, I'll probably seek out another counselor at Hocking... unless I forget.

And, I'm just saying. Last therapy session. Like whoa.

I cried. I'm bad at goodbyes and whatnot. And it probably seems unremarkable that I cried, since like, I cry all the time, right? But not in there. I did everything I damn well could to not cry in there. But I cried today.
And since it was my last session, Brooke gave me some "tools" to help me to help myself. And like, there's only so much she, or her tools can do, I know that. It's like, up to me and whatnot. And it's all very emotional and very confusing and I don't have it in me to elaborate right now. But I should probably mention that I definitely need to work on my communication skills. Because like, Brooke gave me some feedback at the end of the session (which was basically that she's proud of me, that I HAVE made some emotional progress and whatnot) and then asked me for feedback, and I told her that I didn't feel like the whole thing had been a waste of time, that I always looked forward to our sessions, even though sometimes I would leave very confused and frustrated with myself. And she said she was surprised by that, because the feedback she had been interpreting from my, I don't know, I guess lack of communicationg(?) was that I was frustrated with her and the process and that I didn't really want to be there. But I was all, 'Why would I come, if I don't want to be here?"

The last thing I told Brooke was that I love her. And I do.

 

Anyway. So then I came home and I took a nap, since I'm going to be up late tonight to watch the meteor shower, but I still have work early in the morning tomorrow. Yay for that. Well, definitely yay for the hours. But three days of truck in a row is kinda like... suck.

And then I watched Grey's Anatomy with my dad. And now I'm going to go curl my hair so that I look all pretty for the guests that aren't going to come over to my house tonight to play fun games and watch meteors in the sky with me tonight. I'm considering a little buzz. I mean, possibly a bad plan since I have work in the morning. But then again, it will totally put me to sleep, which is good. I feel like... well. Like attempting to celebrate that I am still standing. But I don't really feel in a celebratory mood. I am so... meh. And I have this thing about "meh". I really, really, really don't like it. I have a bad history with "meh". "Meh" broke my damned heart. And now I'm just screwed and the only thing I have to celebrate is that I'm still standing, still breathing, at the end of every day. What the fuck, right? And somehow, people think I'm chipper. That I'm a naturally happy person. I repeat. What the fuck.

I don't really know what I'm talking about any more. Like I said. Too much going on in my head and my heart for sorting anything out.

Because I kinda wanna mention this kid that I'm all wrapped up in and spend all my time thinking about when I'm not missing people I can't have. And I kinda wanna mention my dream about Brent. I'm still dreaming about Brent- about touching him... hugging him... so vividly I wake up and feel as though it's a memory, and not just a dream- a year later. Over a year since all the trouble even began. When I have so many other things to be thankful for. So many other people in my life worth appreciating, and I probably am so stupid and to not be appreciating them more, because I miss these people. I shouldn't let them impact me so much. But I keep doing it. I see him. I see someone I so much as RELATE to him. And I have a panic attack. Seriously. I want to say "Enough already!" But I can't. I ache to talk to him. To just see him smile.

 

But BIlly. I can make Billy smile. I do make Billy smile. And Billy makes me smile. Brooke asked me how I feel about Billy. And I told her that I love him and then searched for more words- words that could even begin to describe how I feel about him. She suggested that I make it a point to communicate my feelings to him. And I was like, but I do!

Dude. What if I don't? And so I want, so much, to call him right now and tell him. But he's not the only one on my mind. As much as I want to call him, I want to call Jessika, too. I would call her first. I would tell her... I would try to tell her, what she means to me. Maybe that's why I failed? Because she didn't know what she meant to me?

Okay, pause. Frustration venting time.
Brooke says one of my protective measusres, when I feel bad about something I did, is to blame the other person. When I'm not blaming myself, I am being defensive and looking at what the other person did wrong. I'm like, "yeah, I did this, but they did THIS."
But like. How do you get to an in-between. When something hurts, you look for somewhere to lay the blame. And as horrible as it is to lay it on, say, Jessika, for example. It's equally as horrible to lay it on myself. So. What do I do?

Oh god. Here comes the crying. This always happens when I'm frustrated. Ugh. (You know, typing is SO much faster than writing, adn I really like it. Maybe I ought to blog more? It does seem to be helping with the flow of expression of my feelings. But. I like my journals. I like having all of that expression in my writing, in colors and on pages with doodles... it's just not the same. And sometimes I want both. But like, that's a lot of work! Lol.)

Unpause.

And I want to ask Kyle if he knows how much he means to me. I want to ask Mikayla. I want to ask Brent. I want to know that they all know how much they mean to me. If they don't know, I want to find a way to tell them.
But I especially want Billy to know.

ARGH. This is another frustration trigger for me. Second guessing my motivations with him. Because I expect something to be wrong with me. Because I expect to possibly hurt him.
But you know what? (I won't feel this way tomorrow) FUCK THAT.
I won't hurt him. I wouldn't do that. I love him. So what if I have a shit ton of baggage and possibly questionable motivations for feeling passionately for him. The thing is, I do feel passionately for him. So if it's partially because I'm screwed up, whatever. It doesn't make it less true, okay?

I just kinda want to spew explicit language right now. That's how I feel. SO. I. DON'T KNOW. And that's a sucky damned way to feel, okay? It's very frustrating and very confusing. And I'm all writing in circles and not making sense and whatnot. Whatever.

I have these moments, in my therapy sessions, when Brooke will say something that will make me think: Why am I here? And the answer is because I'm broken and sad. And the next question is: Why do I feel broken and sad? and the answer is always, I don't know how I got here. And that's very frustrating, but so then I address why I do go to therapy, and I think: Because I want to feel better. I want to feel like a better person, a whole and happy person.
And I get all tortured wondering why I feel I need therapy to do that. Whatever.

I would keep going with this, but IF anyone is coming to my meteor shower thing, they're gonna be here in like fifteen minutes. And I haven't curled my hair or put on clothes yet. Ugh.

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.

Everything that you think but don't feel does matter.

It's not as though it doesn't matter. People might say that logic and love do not go hand-in-hand... but that doesn't mean that they... (um, okay, as a metaphor,) never hold hands. It doesn't mean that the two hands of love and logic never hold on to one another.
So to speak.

And also, that doesn't make either hand weak or wrong or... unreal. Each hand is still there, I mean, after they let go of one another. Love doesn't mean less just because it began with or met with, at some point, logic. So they have to hold hands now and again. So what? I think that's okay.

I don't need a month off, right now.
Right now, what I need the most, is to be invested in my present. To be as in the now as  I can, as a part of my own life as I can be. Because I tend to not be. And I'd like to change that.

I'm sad because my relationship with Kyle is changing. We will break up. I will break us up. Because I am not in love with him. I love him... but not passionately. I love him in the way I love everyone, and not the way that I imagine I will love one truly special someone. I really tried to make it different, this time. He's been my boyfriend for something like seven months, and I really was committed. We had dreams of a future. He even proposed. But I've been frustrated with him recently. I feel like I'm asking him for a lot and he's just not responding. Not giving me the things that I ask for. I began to doubt that I deserved to ask for as much as a call if he would be late, or to talk about how I'm feeling, or for him to talk to my dad. But whether I deserve it or not, I realized that he can't give me the things I want. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to do it. Because what I am really asking for him to do is to fill the empty space that is left because I am not passionately in love with him. And he can't do that. And that is unfair.

The biggest reason that I love him is that he loves me. And ultimately, just being loved is an empty thing.
This is going to hurt me, and probably hurt him more.
And I feel like it is my fault because I didn't have a good... foundation... of me. I don't understand myself, or know myself, or love myself. And I don't really have the relationship that I think I might need to with God to create a foundation for me in life, to hold me up and steady me through all of this stuff that is wonderful even when it is hard. I feel like I fail because I lack those things.
Until I do, how can I fall in love? I don't know how falling in love works... but I imagine I need to be... healthy... of heart and mind, first.

I am so sorry for everything I've done, all the hurt I've caused. And not just because I hate the idea that those people are out there in the world hating me, and not just because I'm unhappy with being alienated. Because I've loved them all, in the ways I know how, and it was the best I could do. It wasn't worth nothing. It was worth everything to me.

An entry from my journal, February 26, 2009.

My anger protects me from feeling the deeper pain and sadness of whatever I am facing in my life, if only for a little while.

Not necessarily a wonderful thing or even the best. It just is what it is.

Well, singing, I guess.
I love to sing, and I find that music expresses and even dictates my moods the best.

Sometimes I wish that I could create, or draw, or dance, or play instruments, but I'm not particularly talented. I just really and truly love to sing and listen to music.

I know the question is just about what our favorite form of expression is, but since I'm going to be posting in my blog, I might as well talk a bit about my day. It works nicely that way. It's interesting to me that this is the question of the day because I spent my evening learning about music. Some of the fundamentals.

I'm really excited about it and can't stop thinking about it, plus it's good practice to continue to repeat it. So even though my teacher left a while ago, I'm going to repeat it here, just to be practicing! (Maybe you'll learn something? Lol, probably not, this isn't going to make any sense, but I'll understand it, and that's what counts right now. Please excuse me.)

Those numbers stacked on top of each other at the beginning of the music? Those denote the beats per measure and what note "gets the beat". So if, (as in the music I practiced with tonight,) if it's a 3 over a 4, that means that there are three notes per measure and that the quarter note (1/4, get it?) gets the beat.

That little dot that occasionally appears after a note? It means that you add half of the value of the note to the note. So if the dot follows a quarter note, which gets one beat by itself, then the quarter note and dot together get a beat and a half. If it follows a half note, which gets two beats by itself, then the half note and dot together get three beats. And if it follows a whole note, which gets four beats by itself, then the whole note and dot together get six beats. And if it follows an eighth note, which gets a half-beat by itself, then the eighth note and dot together get three-fourths of a beat. See?

I learned how to count tonight!
And it has been a long time since I have worked for something like that and felt so accomplished afterward. (The application to college doesn't count. Lol.)

My thoughts, I think,
Are very complex,
A chain of many links
That must really vex
Anyone trying to decipher
My train of thought
As it meanders here,
Loops and twists throughout.
Such does my mind work,
Even now
It will lurk
In one place and you'll wonder how
When it zips off on another track
And I know
That there's certainly no lack
Of thoughts for my mind to tow.
And yet for all that contemplation,
(And who knows in what span of time,)
Up here in my own little nation,
I can't even seem to rhyme!

Last night I became more excited about my future than I have been in months! It was an absolutely remarkable feeling. I wish that I had taken the time to write about it then, because I would have been better able to express it. I've had a rather dull day today, and I wrote in my journal, catching up for a week, so as a result I'm feeling a bit down. I wrote about a few very sad things that have happened in the past ten days, which is how long I went without writing in my journal. Which is pretty incredible, really, because I'd usually write in it while I was feeling all crappy. Anyway. So I wrote about this sad stuff and got to feeling particularly sad, and I haven't bounced back yet.

But the truth is that I'm grieving right now. I'm not saying that I don't have things to be happy about. But in general I'm sad. I said this in my last entry, I know. There are a multitude of reasons for that, each one sitting on top of the last and smothering me further. I honestly ought to wonder how I smile each day or laugh. But I take it for granted that I am a naturally happy person. I'm happy from the inside out. Even when there are sad things going on, or I am in sad circumstances, there is usually something that I feel pleased about or gratified by. I'm really great at accepting things as they are (not always, I don't think, a good thing,) and "looking on the bright side".

Very recently, I lost my best friend. Not to death. This is worse. I lost him because he says he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. (Obviously, that's not WHY, it's just what he said. I will never know WHY, if there is a why. Possible he doesn't know why. Probably he is just confused. Possibly he just isn't sure how to respond to me anymore.) He walked away from me, slammed the doors, and then locked them. (Haha, who doesn't love metaphors?)
His name is Brent. I have known him for several years, and in that time our relationship spanned a great many things, withstood various tensions, and comforted me and brought me a great deal of joy. But the past eight months have been very difficult between the two of us. Explaining all of the things that have passed would take a very long time, would depress me, and is very complicated anyway. Suffice it to say that we both made mistakes and hurt one another. Also, I love him. I trusted and depended upon him. I asked him not to hurt me. And knowingly, he did anyway. I do not think that was exactly his intention. I do not think that he is a mean-hearted person. But I can't imagine that he didn't know how much I was hurting and how much I wanted to talk to him while he avoided me. Finally, I approached him when he couldn't really avoid me and asked him to call me that night. He made it clear that he didn't want to, but agreed to it anyway. That phone call effectively ended our relationship. It was over, really, before I had a chance to save it. Unfortunately, during the call, I really lost my cool.

It's so rare. I never yell. I yelled at him. I never cuss or call people names. I did both to him. I was hysterical. I needed him to hear me. He sounded so cold and mean and detached. I panicked when I sensed that I was losing before I'd begun. I thought that if I just talked to him and let him know how much I was hurting, he was hug me and  make it all better. But he wasn't doing that and I... I don't know. I guess I just emotionally exploded. I had a month of misery built up to spew back at him. So I did. I blamed and accused and abused him, asking why he didn't care enough, why, if it was true that he didn't want to talk to me, he couldn't have been humane, at least, and just come and told me. And I told him that I love him. I told him that it wasn't fair to keep me waiting and hurting. So he said, (in the coldest, most heartless, meanest voice I think I've ever heard, that absolutely broke me,) "Then stop waiting for me."

And that was that. To compound the pain a number of my other friendships are being affected by it- some of our friends feel the need to take sides, or are trying not to and feeling uncomfortable. Most of them are just plain frustrated and tired of hearing about our problems. I am sensitive and emotional, and also expressive. But now I feel that I need to keep my feelings and thoughts about this to myself. None of my friends want to hear my pain anymore nor see me cry nor comfort me nor tiptoe around awkward social situations when the two of us are in a room at the same time. And honestly, that hurts me too. But I have to keep it to myself, cry only when I'm alone in bed. I cry a lot. It's remarkable to me, really. About the silliest things. But if I get physicaly hurt badly at all, you know how I respond? I laugh.

So anyway. Grieving. And trying to be very determinedly happy despite how I feel. Last night I was doing a great job! Because last night I felt excited and accomplished.

I had yesterday off work, so, near the end of the school day I got all bundled up (I can't believe how cold it is out there!) and went over to the high school, where I not only visited a number of my teachers and friends, but, more importantly, filled out the form to request my transcripts. Then I came home and filled out the college application. I wasn't thinking too seriously about it... I was just doing it. Because I knew I should. But then I got to the part of the application where you put what major you want to apply to study. I was stuck. I hadn't thought about that in a long time.

As in... not since junior high when I actually had huge dreams and aspiration and an insatiable appetite for experience, learning, and adventure and a never-ending curiousity. In high school I kind of went lame. I was so focused on slowing down. Time went by too quickly and I just panicked and stressed because I didn't have any of it. Time, that is. But that's... a tangent, sorry.

So. I started looking at majors and considering what I want to do. I sat on that almost-completed application for HOURS! At first I was just looked for something idly. I figured, pick something approximate and worry about it later. But then I got to reading... (I'm compulsive about that, you see,) and before I knew it was thinking about it more intently. I wanted the right one. I got on my instant messengers. I talked to my friends. I chatted on and on about the possibilities in front of me, and they patiently listened, encouraged, and then told me I should be undecided. But I didn't want that. I just don't, and also, I know myself. I'm not exactly self-motivated, and if I go undecided and don't have something to be passionate about and work toward, I will keep my trend of just following the path that happens in front of me or that is easiest. And that's not what I want. Even if it's a pain in the ass to change my major I don't care how many times, I'll do it. I got excited at last. The possibilities! The different paths I was facing! Mine to choose. Exciting. New adventures. I wasn't seeing limitations in those moments. I imagined different major and minor combinations. I thought about what I want and tried to balance it with some amount of practicality.

I submitted the application with the major "Arts and Humanities Emphasis" which is not a real major, but was one of the selections on the application. I'll pick a real one after a year or something. But it's better than undecided, no? Okay, and, in case you needed the hint, the really cool thing that I just said was at the beginning of the first sentence of this paragragh. I SUBMITTED THE APPLICATION! I sent my transcripts, and I paid to have my ACT scores sent, too. I applied for college.

I'm late, and it's only one application to a community college... but it's a step. A step. It's important, and at this point, it's a big step. I'm not outside my comfort zone. No, I'm still firmly within it. But maybe after a year of community college I'll be ready and empowered to leap outside it.

I don't really feel that excitement right now. But I remember it from last night.
I can't wait to hear if I've been accepted! Hopefully I will be starting school in January.

P.S. I am no big fan of Hillary Duff. I don't really like big celebrity figure heads. But I have always loved this movie, and I honestly watch it when I'm feeling down and need some inspiration. It's... cheesy and very mockable. (Haha, and I always have fun with that!) But also very meaningful to me. I thought this song was appropriately applicable.