Family

So...Family. One of those words I feel is hard to define. It's about as hard as "home". I think a lot about family, though, because by blood I don't have much of it, and my step-dad's family...doesn't feel like family to me. I adore them, but they're just not really "family" to me. So what is family? Family is those people who stick around no matter what. For me, family is those people who loved me at the deepest depression, and the people who loved me when I got out of the hospital. Family is those people who dealt with my crazy mood swings and bizarre behavior before we knew I was bipolar. My mother, who sacrificed so much of herself for my sake. While I was in elementary school, she drove 20 minutes away just so I could keep going to the best elementary school in town (despite only being able to afford a single room in the bad part of town). My sister Elsie, who has dealt with my ass since I was two years old. She's even lived with me. She is always there for me, and I would do anything for her. My sister Amy, I didn't even meet her until I was 13 or 14, but she's always treated me just like a sister would. I love her absolutely to death, and she doesn't know but she was one of the few people who was there for me when I got out of the hospital. My best friend Frank, who has dealt with the absolute worst of me. He's seen the worst of the worst, the lowest lows, and the craziest of the mania. He's still my best friend, despite all the shit I've put him through. Maybe I have my experiences to thank, but I don't define family as a blood relation. That blood relation is just a coincidence you choose to follow up with. Some people disagree and think it's all about blood, but in my life I've learned blood doesn't mean much.

Step two? Making sure those people who've earned the title of family, know how appreciated they are...

Looking Back

Here I am, in my favorite month. I have always loved December. It contains my favorite holiday: Yule. However, with the holidays surrounding me, it's hard not to think too much. So now I will attempt to put together everything in a semi-organized fashion.

The holidays are family time. Whether you have family or not, everyone knows that's what it's for. I used to have a family. I used to go over to my grandmother's every Christmas morning and she made the most amazing cinnamon rolls I've ever tasted to this day. We ate, then we opened presents, talked and played, then we had dinner. After dinner, we'd play poker and talk more, and it was just an amazing day where everyone was together. Actually, Thanksgiving was much the same. Only breakfast was usually breakfast burritos, biscuits, and things like that. Grandpa would watch the parade, football, whatever he felt like, I would run around with my cousins (they're all younger than I am so I was always designated to play with them and watch them) and occasionally talk with the adults. Come about 2 in the afternoon we would eat a large meal. We'd have pie and then just sit around and talk until the smaller kids went to bed. After they went to bed we'd have a family poker game and maybe snack on leftovers (Grandma could do amazing things with leftover rolls and turkey). I have so many memories of the holidays. I pretty much lived at my grandparents' house for the first years of my life.

"...the first years of my life." After my mother divorced my biological father (Steven), things started getting very awkward and very rocky. Steven and I had some spats and eventually I didn't see the rest of the family much. When I did, it was awkward, and if Steven was around it was downright unbearable. Anymore I couldn't honestly say who pulled away first, I felt like they chose Steven over me, but maybe they felt like I was leaving them because of Steven. Then my mother married my Dad, and we moved away. Being an hour and a half away did not help this situation any. My grandfather had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and a year after we moved I went back for a visit. That December, he died. Since then I've stopped calling my grandmother at all, much less on a regular basis. Only through the strange magic of Facebook have I connected with my family. So this is where I am now, trying to reconnect and not knowing how.

This leads me to my problem with the holidays. I have such fond memories, and I get so excited, but every year when the holidays roll around it's never with the family I grew up with, the food is never the same (now that Grandpa has died and Grandma has lost her sight, their amazing cooking has died out), things just aren't how I feel they should be. I'm always conflicted, feeling ungrateful or angsty. At the same time, I can't much help how I feel. This year, again, I am excited and hoping for the best, but I was sorely disappointed at Thanksgiving and hope Christmas turns out better. I ended my Thanksgiving in tears, and I feel no one deserves that on Christmas.

On a related note, this is all amplified by a very simple fact: it is December, and December marks colder weather, and colder weather marks my manic cycles. So, as a supplement to my confusion and upset, I am experiencing the general discomfort and restlessness that comes with mania. I will be honest right now with everyone who may possibly see this, the urges to self-harm are growing stronger by the day. I never realized before that the depressed urge to cut or burn is much less passionate than the manic urge. The mania brings this feeling of crawling out of my skin, like burning is the only thing that will keep me in myself. Like a nice searing pain is the only thing that will make being myself bearable, is the only thing that will calm me. Instead of just not feeling better, I literally feel like I may cease to exist if I don't hurt myself.

So there it is. I'm not sure what I'll do about all this, I don't think there really is anything to do, but at least it's out.

So it goes...

What am I to do with all this silence?

I am writing because I need to. Not because I have anything to write about, not because there's something I'm just dying to get out, but because I don't know how to really write anymore. No matter what I do for inspiration it is just gone. Words don't flow out of me like they used to. I am no longer a poet, and I am barely a writer. The things that used to inspire me have no affect. Self improvement...fantastic...but now what? What am I to do with this horrible stop in the flow? What am I supposed to do about this inability to write anything I can be proud of? Hopefully, I can just keep writing and I will see it return. Maybe some of what I come up with will make it's way here. Sadly, nothing I've done very recently is worthy of anything past the trash can. Here's hoping.

Growing.

I try to work on so many different things at once, and it never quite works out. I feel so scattered and restless lately. I dance my days away, and I wish I were on stage, but do I ever do anything about that desire? Of course not. On the bright side, however, I am certainly doing something about my desire to become a nurse. In the last few weeks it has occurred to me that my next goal is to really stick to something. I am going to stick to school. I am going to break down that wall I always hit. It is going to happen, and I will reach my goals. Now, I'm not exactly sure how to make it happen, but I plan on working pretty damn hard to figure it out.

In other news, I'm finally liking who I am. I would like to continue on this path and just get better and better. I'm becoming even more calm, more tolerant, and mentally a lot stronger. It happens so gradually, but it is so worth it.

Ever-changing

Something I pride myself on is that I am not afraid of change. I mean, obviously I take time to adjust and certain changes are more uncomfortable than others, but I do not run scared. I constantly TRY to change for the better, because I know there is no such thing as perfection, and let's be honest: I started at the bottom. So now I'm trying to find the (physical..I already have the mental) motivation to enact some changes. I'm trying to figure out what my resources are so I can pull them together and use them. I have this sudden drive to succeed. For the first time in a very long time, I've also felt like I can succeed. I feel the ability/strength/will in me.

I have big plans for myself, for my life. And I'm actually really excited. I absolutely love my need for change, because I'm excited and motivated, and I'm not scared at all. Not even of failure. Because there is not such thing. Not in life. Life success is something you continually work for, not something you pass or fail at. Have I failed at individual tasks through life? Of course. Have I failed at living? Certainly not, and I don't plan to.

I have more to say on this and other subjects, all related to changes I am making, but I prefer not to give away everything at once.

Normalcy

Normalcy is not for me. I'm just not good at it. I only hope it won't get in the way of the things I hope to accomplish. I don't want to blend in, it just doesn't appeal to me. It's not exactly that I want to be famous, or be stared at or anything like that, I just hate being everyone else. This is not how I've always been, it's something I've grown to realize. I remember when I was younger, I used to try so hard to be just like everyone else. I was never very good at it, and it made it even harder to make friends when I was little. I used to always try to like what my classmates liked and wear what they wore and whatnot, hoping it would make life a little easier. They never bought the act and I was never very good at it. A fantastic liar who can't even pretend to be normal. Anyway, I've at least come to terms with that and learned to not want to be normal, but I still wonder if it messes things up for me. What if that interferes with the life I want for myself?

Basically, right now I'm in school and I feel like I'm starting to fail again because I've been sick for over a week and didn't make it to class for so long. I really hope I can make this up and at least pass my classes. Hopefully I can see a counselor soon and we can talk about what I want and where I'm going and how to get there. I don't know, but I'm worried, I'm nervous, I'm downright scared.

Can't find the words...

It is an odd experience to look back through one's past...especially from their own perspective at the time. Maybe I'm alone on this one, but when I look back, I see it through my eyes now, not then. So looking back at how I felt then is always strange. I find it's a very quick and obvious way to see how much I've changed. I worry that I don't write as much as I used to and then another year or two from now I won't have the same insight I can now.

Actually, what worries me even more is that I barely write at all anymore. In general. No poetry, that used to flow so easily. I haven't even added to my book in weeks. I suppose that's to be expected when one isn't depressed anymore, but it was always that one talent of mine. I never felt particularly good at anything else, and now that's gone, too....

An Abundance of Thoughts

I have way too much to say tonight. I probably won't be able to organize all of it, but that's probably not necessary anyway. I have been thinking too much, writing too much, discussing too much, and reading too much. What I have been reading, if you are wondering, is a few things: the Tao Te Ching, Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake, and, of all things, the Holy Bible (NIV). Now needless to say, the first and last books in that list greatly conflict with each other, but that is really the point of my study. They are similar in that I can only take them in small doses, but this is for different reasons. As for as the Tao Te Ching goes, each passage takes a vast amount of brain power to read and re-read and attempt to comprehend. As for the Bible, well, I just get annoyed with it after too long. It is far too nonsensical and contradictory. I have many enjoyable works of fiction that make far more sense and have consistent stories. However, I am not here to critique some old book. Moving on....Timequake is just a brilliant work by one of my favorite authors and is often humorous, and oddly thought-provoking. I like to think Vonnegut did this on purpose.

Anyhow, I had forgotten how very much I loved the Tao Te Ching. Many of the passages (after multiple readings and time to really contemplate their meaning) make sense to me, they click with me. With my life changing so much at once, I believe this rediscovery will be very good for me. I feel like I'm in the middle of discovering myself in a way I couldn't have if I hadn't made that change moving to Utah for a while, if I hadn't lived such a different life for a while. I let myself be a free spirit, the way I need to be, and I went with the flow, trying not to stress or struggle with life. I allowed my restlessness to steer me. I drank too much, I slept too much, I was irresponsible. I didn't even have to drive myself anywhere because I couldn't drive my car. I learned to worry about things just as much as needed, I learned to not overthink so much. I learned to only give the concern each situation warranted. I learned to not be so closed off to people, while still keeping a distance for my own comfort. I realize that home wasn't necessarily bad for me, I just needed to learn to be away from home, I needed the experiences waiting for me two states away. I needed every strange and catastrophic event. I needed every summer storm and every drunken night. I needed the summer with that family, those friends. And I have come home better for it.

I am going back to school in a week, and instead of dreading it, I am excited. I look forward to learning. I look forward to new people. I look forward to being a college student. I look forward to having a life. Before I left home, I didn't really have a life, just an occasional illusion. I have my own life and I am my own person, and I'm so looking forward to it.

Memory

There is someone I have missed a great deal lately, and I wish I knew how to deal with it. Someone takes their own life and it's even more impossible to grieve than it already was. Why did he have to go? Why didn't I get to say goodbye? Why didn't anybody?

Death fascinates me.

Here I am. I am moved and getting used to life in a new state. It's incredibly surreal. Tonight, I'm missing my little sister. I've always felt like she's my own daughter. It's so strange not seeing her every day. Not waking up to the sounds of her laughter, her playing, even her crying. I even miss that heartbreaking cry. What is it about a baby that can give the heartless someone to love? Give the lonely company. How do they do that? No matter the mood, she could make me smile. When she would cry, she would reach for me and I could make her laugh. There is no laugh as beautiful as the laugh of my little Ariadne. I haven't heard her laugh in days.

The worst part? It makes me need my best friend. My Lovely. Someone who's hundreds of miles away.

Life in general

So, it has been a while for me. Life has been so hectic. I've been doing nothing but packing to move to Utah and really get this started. My best friend and sister will be here in a mere 6 days, at which time we will put the finishing touches on my room, have one last day to enjoy the bay, and then on the 28th we will load ourselves into my car and make our way to [a suburb of] SLC. It should only take about 10 hours, considering we'll be switching off driving duties and only stopping for the essentials. We'll be arriving on a Thursday evening, following which we will have a nice weekend before she goes to Oregon with her family. While they're gone (for about a week) I will be hanging out with her friends and looking for a job. I'll also be going to Pride in SLC, which I'm obscenely excited about. After all this time trying to get comfortable with my sexuality, I will finally be in an environment where I can be completely myself. I mean, I'm pretty "out" already, but there I don't have to tone it down for the family. I don't have to worry about hearing that my mother will never get grand kids or that I'll never get married. I feel like who I am is suppressed here. I can't be pierced and loud. I have to hide my sexuality, which is a huge part of me. My mother still thinks I have never been with anyone. Oblivious to a 2-year relationship. Oblivious to every relationship.

I'm rambling now. There was actually another point to this entry: Religion.

I discuss religion quite often, as I feel it is a huge part of my life. Lately, it has helped me a lot through everything, and on a daily basis helps me keep a hold on who I really am. My problem is this: lately I come across a lot of very passionate Christians who play the victim, are willfully ignorant, and put on a holier-than-thou attitude. I will always accept people no matter their race, religion, sexuality, gender identity, etc. Always. The problem is, I fear I am forming a negative opinion about an entire group because I keep coming across these types. I worry that I am becoming wary of all Christians because of those I continue to come across with negative attitudes. I hate being that person. I don't like making judgements about people right away unless it's an energy I feel coming from them, as that's something I've learned to trust in over the years.

To be honest, I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I suppose I'll be back with more on the subject eventually.

Home

I have never really had a home. I've never much felt at home. My entire life has just been a lot of moving around and always feeling like something was missing. Something has always been missing. There's never been any place I actually wanted to stay. Nowhere I would sit and think and know that I was where I should be. My entire life, people have come and gone. Nothing is ever solid in my life.

Well now I know what's solid. I know where I belong, and I know who is going to stick around. I know who my family is. There is a group of people waiting to accept me with open arms who still embraced me this weekend with all the love they did way back when, before I was this crazy messed up girl.

It is such an amazing feeling. So few are lucky enough to know what home really is, what home really means.

Goodbyes

I have been thinking a lot about goodbyes. I've had a lot of them in my life recently. From the day I got out of the hospital, to the approaching goodbyes to my home (friends, family, etc).

This thought process started specifically with recovery. It all started in the hospital. I will never forget the people I met in there. Nor will I likely ever see them again. My life, however, wouldn't be the same without them. Tracey, sweetest woman I think I've ever met. I don't know why she was there and I don't want to know. She was just so sweet. Obviously doing so much better. Robert, of course. He was a terribly sweet guy. All I wanted to do half the time was hug him, but that wasn't allowed or anything. There were others, and they will all stick out in my mind for many many years to come. I wouldn't be surprised if my roommate was the last thing I end up holding on to as my memory fades in old age. I only wish I had connected with her sooner.
Then there was IOP. Connections made in IOP are like nothing you'll ever experience. You're all in there, talking, experiencing the same feelings. You watch each other have good days and bad days, you watch each other improve. You discuss things you've never told anyone before, and never will again outside of those walls. You connect with people on a completely new level in IOP, and nothing can ever duplicate that.
This of course brings me to the actual goodbyes. In the hospital, it's tough to get a proper goodbye. Everyone's really preoccupied with themselves, no one notices you're gone until dinner or even evening check-in. It's nothing especially upsetting, just a little sad when you realize how much you miss everyone, even if they were only in your life for a week. When I left IOP, I felt a little jipped in my goodbyes. I didn't really build any lasting friendships, just these strange intense acquaintances? Such a strange phenomenon. I haven't spoken with anyone from IOP in a very long time. Last week, I said goodbye to my CBT group. They had all also wandered into my life in an uncommon way. We all bonded over depression, anger, and the inability to take care of ourselves. Then I had to say goodbye. Everyone wished me the best of luck, and I wondered when I'd see any of them again.
Next week, I am saying goodbye to my DBT group and my therapist. It will be bittersweet. I know I'll be okay without them, but I will still miss them. All of them.

Of course as my therapist says, these things can stir up all kinds of past issues, so I'm also going over in my mind all the other goodbyes I've never really been able to complete. Everything I miss and everything I didn't get closure on. The worst part is probably just that I never will. But I have to be okay with that.

A new chapter in my life is starting, and I wouldn't be here without everything behind me. However, I cannot start on this new adventure without letting go of everything before it. I know I can, and I know I'll be okay.

Letting Go

So much on my mind. First and foremost, I'm trying so hard to get writing again. I realized that I just have to set the pen on the page and write until sometimes happens. Maybe I'll end up with a ridiculous paragraph, maybe I'll end up with a brilliant story. I just have to try. It's not about success or failure, it's about trying. Letting go of that has been a huge help. It's finally happening. I'm finally writing again. There is no better feeling.

I've also been thinking a lot about relationships. In general. My relationships. Past, present, and future. I've been thinking about what I contribute, and what I need in return. Who's best suited for me and who is poisonous for me. It can be difficult because I naturally try to please people. I'm a giver. I've always had awful self-esteem. I've stayed in a lot of bad situations because I've wanted to keep the other person happy. Sometimes, you just have to look after yourself. With my nature, I have to surround myself with people who appreciate how much I give and who give back accordingly. From here on out, I accept nothing less.

I trust the Universe will bring to me what I need.

Giving Up

What takes people to the point where they give up?

I don't understand it. I don't get how it happens. I don't understand how my sister can be so strong. I love her so much.

I can't wait to be in Utah.

Chaos

I've been wondering lately why I'm so chaotic. It doesn't work out logically at all, of course. I mean...aren't humans supposed to shy away from chaos? I used to just think I craved dysfunction because of my upbringing, but it's not like that. It's more than that. It's actual chaos. When I go for the bad boy/girl, it's not to fix them, it's so I can live it with them. I always have to be doing something a little crazy. My mind always goes a million miles a minute. Of course I wonder about it all day and NOW when I finally get to really write about it I can't find any of the words...

I mean...I actually happen to believe that naturally things are in order. They may turn to chaos or seem chaotic, but essentially the universe needs balance and order. For some reason, however, I am a living example to the contrary! Now how my behaviors managed to be the exact opposite of my beliefs, I don't know. The point is, I want to get to the bottom of my chaos. Really understand it. I just want to...get it...I want to understand. In theory I want to stop it, but....sometimes it's just entertaining.

Possibility

I've been thinking about so much recently. Things very much beyond myself. I find myself with a theory on everything, and I'm always anxious to share. I feel like I'm talking everyone's ears off. I've been participating heavily in philosophical and spiritual conversations. There's been a lot of talk of love and possibility and whatnot.

At this point, I have a lot of options stretched out in front of me. I only hope I'll make the right choices and end up where I should be.

Clogged

I am so nervous. I feel like a complete wreck. I'm worried about my health. Physically. I've spend all this time so worried about the depression, and now I've got all of these other issues. What is it about the universe that causes such a negative pile up? Maybe I'm clogged. I should see about some energy work, some cleansing.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

The point is I'm trying to get moving. I'm trying to push through. I've got a month before the move.

Restlessness

I'm experiencing such a strong feeling of restlessness. I want to do something, but I'm not sure of what. I want to write, but I don't know what to say. I want to go somewhere, but I don't know where I would go. I haven't been sleeping much, my thoughts have been all over the place, and I've been pretty tired. My body would appear to be revolting against me. I'm waiting for something to happen, but I'm not really sure what. Always waiting for something...

I guess the point is to make things happen. That's what I want my life to be about, anyway. I want to make things happen. I don't want to sit around and watch my entire life. I'm not sure what the cause was for this disconnection, much less the restlessness.

I don't think I'm making sense anymore.

Revisited

I have a habit of getting stuck on music. Songs, albums, or even a single artist's entire discography. It doesn't matter if it's something I only first heard yesterday, or something I've had for 10 years. I'm always revisiting music. Especially things I grew up with, things that have strong memories for me.

It's important to mention that most strong memories I have stored are negative. This leads me to a habit I have of constantly being drawn to things that I dislike or are bad for me. This ranges from the simplest of things, like listening to songs that annoy me, to bigger things, like staying in destructive relationships. I'm not sure what exactly is behind it. Maybe it's some sick subconscious ploy to prove to myself (and others?) that I can handle it. Maybe it's low self-esteem, I can't tell how low my self-esteem is anymore, I just know it's a lot better than it once was. Maybe it's simple masochism. It's entirely possible I simply enjoy being tortured. It's a well-known fact that I enjoy physical pain, maybe I enjoy the emotional disturbances, also. Lord knows (good) writers are generally miserable people.

I suppose I'll eventually figure out what my problem is, exactly. Until then I can only speculate and attempt at some semblance of normalcy. Maybe I just need to find a different community. Surround myself with people who think more like I do. Who knows.

Prologue

During my stay in the hospital, it occurred to me. Life comes in doses. In the hospital, the day is broken up by med distribution and meals. That is your day. Now, outside, I realize life everywhere is much the same. I wake up, have breakfast, and take my morning meds. I don't have mid-morning, noon, and afternoon meds anymore. I still have evening and nighttime meds. The time in between is still well scheduled, however. One has to work, run errands, eat, etc. On a larger scale, we have weeks...one will say they've had a good week or a bad week...it's the same with months and even years. Bad times, those are just the bad doses...that's your nasty cough syrup, the Zoloft you hate admitting you take, or the Ritalin you can't seem to shake. The good times, that's the Nyquil so you can sleep well, the Depakote that keeps you sane, the multivitamin that keeps you strong. It's all just doses. It's all bound to happen, and it's all bound to pass.

So that's my life. That's where I am and where I'm coming from. I'm about to embark on one of the biggest journeys a person ever goes on: the one to adulthood. In the upcoming months I'll be preparing to start a career and move away, I'll be putting an entire state between myself and my parents, in fact. This chapter is ending and a new one is coming in the story of my life.

And this time, I'll have it written down.