Always Something

I don’t write much on this blog anymore. I have another blog where I write messages to my daughter that I want her to see later on, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to write this on that one. I guess it didn’t seem to match the overall theme.

I’ve battled depression for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if depression paints your memories with macabre-tinted glasses, but it’s definitely hard to think of a time in my life when I wasn’t like this.

Recently I have been so stressed and so overwhelmed that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have literally cried myself to sleep the last 4 nights in a row, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so stressed in my life.

Not too long ago I watched this show called “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” and one of the central themes was that the main character kept deluding herself into thinking she could make her life better by chasing after something else, that it was something about her circumstance that was ruining her life. But it was something inside all along.

I’m starting to feel that way, and it feels odd to me that I didn’t think about it sooner.

I know I have depression.

I know I have anxiety.

I am open to the possibility that I may have more underlying issues.

But even so, when I am entirely too overwhelmed and can’t function, I always tell myself, “As soon as this is all over, I’ll be so happy.”

But I never am.


In high school I was always stressed about friends. Relationships. Grades. Getting into a good college.

Then in college I was worried about more grades. Finding jobs.

After I got pregnant I got stressed about the baby. Finishing school.

Now I have to think about the stress of finding work. Of moving out. Putting together the means for the beginning of the rest of my life.

I feel no happiness anymore. I feel no excitement. I can’t remember the last time I felt excited about anything honestly.

I’m supposed to graduate from college in a month and I’m not excited. I’m supposed to go on a beach trip with friends in 2 months and I’m not excited in particular. I’m supposed to go to London and Paris in 4 months and I don’t think I’m excited.

For lack of a better description, in recent months I’ve somehow become emotionally dead inside. I have so many mood swings, I’m quick to laugh but quicker to cry. At this point if given the opportunity I don’t think I would hesitate for a second to jump off a bridge.

Something feels very wrong inside me. I feel no happiness. No love. No excitement. Only fear. Anxiety. Depression. Hurt.

I go through the motions of every day life but I am by no means living.

I tell myself that by next year I’ll be out of school and land a decent job and move out and be a happy functioning adult and I’ll make time for hobbies and be a PTA mom and learn to do some things I’ve always wanted to try.

But when I think about it, I’ve always done this. I’ve always been stressed. I’ve always told myself that the future is going to be better, and then it comes and I am still so overwhelmed with depression. I am both disgusted and taken aback with how little regard I’ve had for my own life lately.

The thought of suicide has always been appealing. Not “appealing” per se, but the thought has never not been an option in my mind. I need help. I am so desperate to feel something besides misery.

I don’t know why I took the time to write this out.

My original intent was to highlight the fact that depression isn’t something that you canĀ  work your way out of. It’s not something that is due to circumstance, necessarily. Circumstance can definitely aggravate the condition, but it is not the cause.

No matter my circumstances, I keep feelings this way. And I am drowning and I don’t know what to do but I am trying so hard to hold on.


It Was Only Just A Dream

“So I traveled back, down that road.
Will she come back? No one knows.
I realize, yeah, it was only just a dream.”

Just A Dream, Nelly

I had an interesting but mostly horrifying dream last night. It put me in this downtrodden, melancholy mood all day, and it’s been haunting me ever since.

– Begin Dream –

My boyfriend called me and asked me to meet him at the mall. He said it was an emergency. I was excited because I thought it was going to be my surprise baby shower.

When I got to the mall, I found my boyfriend sitting on a bench. For some reason the mall was dim, and the bench he was sitting on was in front of what looked like a shady nightclub. He looked tired and dirty. I sat next to him and asked him what was happening. He told me to turn around.

There I saw my best friend that had killed himself over a year ago, sitting next to me and smiling. I started screaming at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t calm down. I jumped and wrapped my arms around him to make sure he was really there. I could smell the cologne he always wore. I could feel the self-harm cut scars on his arms. I could feel him there, I could feel his soul.

I asked him so many questions. I wanted to know how it was possible that he was really there and I was in hysterics. He couldn’t stop smiling. He told me that his parents faked his death, so they could keep him home and abuse him, and that they had spent the last year and a half trying to “beat the gay out of him”. I was furious. They faked his death, they had a whole huge ceremony, they had a private family-only funeralĀ to hide the fact that there was no body.

I changed from tears of happiness and confusion to tears of injustice and outrage. I wanted to kill them. I was planning on killing them. He kept telling me to calm down because it’s all over and they can’t hurt him anymore. I didn’t know what to say, so he just kept hugging me, and I just kept crying and hugging him right back.

– End Dream –

I woke up crying. I felt so much pain. I wanted him there with me. During my first few moments of consciousness, I forgot that it was a dream and I thought I had just discovered something horrible and that I had to save him. But no, it was just a dream.

Bobby is really gone. I will never see him again no matter how much I want to. I’ll never feel his warmth or see his smile, I’ll never sing with him again, or listen to him play the piano. I’ll never get to introduce my daughter to him. He’s gone in every sense except my memories.

I love him so much. There was so much pain. And it all came rushing back when I woke up, like it was the first time I heard that he died. In that short dream, he came back to me.

But it was just a dream.

Just A Little Shame

I recently made a new post on my second blog.

I talked about my weekend at the beach with my boyfriend and his family and how I accidentally peed my pants. Not one of my finer moments. I actually share that blog on Facebook for my family and friends, so they can see how I’m doing because for some reason a lot of people feel awkward when they wanna ask me how I’m doing.

After reading and proofreading and rereading the post again, I realized something. I can tell the world I peed my pants and not feel a thing. I genuinely don’t care who knows or if anyone wants to talk about it.

But then,

This weekend while I was at the beach with my boyfriend, we went into a souvenir shop. There were tacky shirts all over the walls, and there were these 2 matching shirts that said This Guy Loves His Girlfriend and This Girl Loves Her Boyfriend. He got really excited when he saw them and he wanted us to get them and wear them together the next day. But for some reason, I was kind of eye-rolling at them in my mind. I smiled and told him that if he likes them I wouldn’t mind wearing them with him, but he could tell that I wasn’t very enthusiastic so he let it go.

For some reason I can’t stop thinking about that. He’s tried to get shirts like that before but I never really went for it. Personally I guess I don’t really care, but I don’t really know why I’m not that into it. We hold hands everywhere we go, we hug and kiss in public, it’s clear to everyone that we’re happy together and in love. I guess it’s just kind of an “actions speak louder than words” thing. But now I realize, my actions weren’t very loving. Buying a $5 shirt that expresses my love for him that would make him happy wasn’t too much to ask. He always does so much for me. He’s always so loving towards me. He really does anything and everything for me.

I made him a shirt about 2 years ago. It’s a black shirt that I painted a strange smiley face on. The fabric paint has cracked significantly since then, and it’s a bit too small for him now. But you know what? He still wears it. All the time. Because it makes him happy because I made it for him. And I always feel touched when I see him wear it even though it looks just plain odd now.

In relationships, it’s really the little things that count. Holding hands while dipping our feet in the ocean, getting up at 1 in the morning to eat cold pizza, cuddling in bed and falling asleep while watching Friends. It’s nothing crazy or extravagant, but the happiness is incomparable. I wish all weekends — all days — could be like that. It was one of the best weekends of my life.

Now I just wish we had gotten those shirts.

The Dynamic Duo

AKA my parents.

My parents have been together for over 20 years. They’ve known each other since they were born, grew up as neighbors, were best friends for a long time, didn’t start to date until their 20’s, had me in their late 20’s, had my brother in their early 30’s, got married in their early 40’s, and are still happily together to this day.

They have an average relationship dynamic. My mom talks a lot, my dad doesn’t say much, but together they just kind of complement each other.

Every week is the same routine. Dad picks mom up from work, they get home, mom makes dinner while dad watches TV in the kitchen and helps her if she asks, They clean the kitchen, go upstairs and take showers, talk for a while, and go to bed. On weekends, they watch TV until midnight or a little later while eating fish balls and drinking wine.

A little over a year ago my mom got a job that requires her to travel a few times a year. So far she’s gone 5 times. She’s gone now, and it always goes the same:

Dad gets home earlier than usual since he doesn’t have to pick up mom. Instead of hibernating in the kitchen, he checks on me and my brother. He asks us about our days and asks if we want to eat anything. Today he took me to Taco Bell for dinner. He doesn’t usually do these things because he knows our mom does, and he usually only talks to us if we’re in the room he’s in. He makes sure we’re fed, he talks to us, and he tells us to go to bed at night. Not exactly following in my mom’s footsteps, but he’s definitely more involved than he is when she’s home.

Of course I know my dad cares about us, but he’s just a man of few words. When my mom is out, he tries to take care of the house in his own way.

Even though she’s not there, he still stays in the kitchen. I think it’s probably out of habit. He doesn’t say anything but I know he misses her. When he plays on his iPad, I see him occasionally checking her Facebook, maybe hoping she posted a picture or updated what she’s doing. My dad usually goes to sleep around 9 PM, but for some reason he stays up an hour or two later whenever she’s gone. He usually sleeps at the time she sleeps when she’s home. For what reason, I don’t know. Whenever she’s gone, he sleeps with the lights on. For what reason, again, I don’t know.

My mom is more open about her missing us. She texts all day, she calls in her free time. She asks how my dad’s doing and what he’s doing and she tells me to tell him goodnight because she knows that he likes to leave his phone downstairs at night because he doesn’t like it bothering him at night. And she tells me to be aware of him at night, and to check on him because, even though it’s really rare, he’ll wake up screaming in the middle of the night sometimes. It happens probably less than 5 times a year, but she still tells me to make sure he’s okay.

As a psychology student, I’m very concerned as to why my father has occasional night terrors since they’re highly uncommon in adulthood, but that’s not my point. My point is that even though there’s such a small small small small small percent chance of something happening to my father, she still tells me to make sure he’s okay. And since my mom is gone, my dad sleeps with the lights on. Sometimes he even arranges the pillows on her side and hugs them. What this tells me is that my mom comforts him.

He barely talks to his own kids, but he talks to her. He has no reason to be in the kitchen sitting on those hard stools all evening purely besides keeping my mom company. He can’t sleep with the light off when she’s not there. When I was younger, I always took my father’s silence as apathy. My brother takes after him, so I took my brother as an apathetic person as well. But it’s not true. It took me a long time to realize that just because someone doesn’t show love in the same way as me doesn’t mean that the love isn’t there.

Love is shown in so many different ways.

They always say that people tend to fall in love with people similar to their parents. I do think I’m dating a guy a lot like my father.

My boyfriend is hardworking. He’s kind. He doesn’t say much, but he always listens, and he always remembers even when I don’t think he does. I always make grand gestures like baking him cookies or cupcakes or drawing him pictures or writing him letters, but that’s how I show my love. He shows his by sending me an occasional “Whacha up to?” in the middle of the day. He shows his love by sending me funny pictures he found on the internet that he thinks will make me laugh. He shows his love by texting me a good morning as soon as he wakes up and a good night right before bed. They’re all subtle things, but they all mean I love you.

Every relationship is different, but that doesn’t make them any less wonderful than the other.

New Blog!

Hello friends~

As you should know, I’m pregnant. I decided I want to separate church and state — keep this blog for my opinions and views and certain life events and make another blog about motherhood. You can check it out here, though there’s not much to it yet at this point.

Just to update, I had a gender reveal party this past weekend with some close friends and family. My boyfriend and I filled a box with pink balloons, we took everyone to the field in the backyard, and opened the box to show everyone we’re expecting a baby girl. So exciting!

Beforehand, everyone was always asking me if I wanted a boy or a girl. Honestly I didn’t really care, though I had a slight bias because all of my symptoms showed I would have a girl and it turns out I am. (Low-to-normal appetite, forward sticking stomach, skin glow all show signs of pregnancy with a girl.)

I’ve been so relieved since the reveal. I found out the gender 3 weeks ago, and since then I had been having to tiptoe around pronouns which was PAINFULLY difficult. (I accidentally slipped a “she” or a “her” out and ruined it for 4 different friends… #shame)

Anyways, I hope you’ll check out my new blog and stick with my on my journey through parenthood. If not that’s cool too, you do you.

Put A Little Love In Your Heart

Sometimes I feel bad for making so many personal posts, but then I remember that this is my personal blog and I can write whatever I want.

Let me start this post by telling a story.

Yesterday was my sugar bun’s birthday wheeee. I didn’t get to see him because we’re both out of town, but I found out he got a car for his birthday, which is some exciting stuff.

The cause of my distress is because I found out he got a car from Facebook. On his mom’s page. She posted the pictures really late at night, but it was bright in the pictures, so I kind of had a moment of “…Oh… So I guess he didn’t feel the need to tell me about this…”

It kind of stung, since getting your first car is usually an important and exciting milestone in a person’s life and it was kind of like, oh, he didn’t feel like sharing. I talked to him for like 3 or 4 hours today and he didn’t feel like bringing that up.

(Still not at my main point yet.)

So of course I kind of got upset and I texted him congratulating him on the car, and asking why he didn’t think to mention it to me.

(Here’s my point.)

Whenever I get into a spat with my boyfriend though, or whenever something in the less-than-positive range happens, the same thought always crosses my mind: Maybe I should break up with him.

Not because I don’t like him. Not because I don’t think he likes me. But because I don’t think he deserves what I put him through sometimes. When I’m whiny or bitter or anything of the nature, I always think, “Well this is a really petty topic when you think about it… He doesn’t deserve the shit I’m giving him.”

The main point I’m trying to make it that I never feel like I’m worthy of anything.

I never think I’m worth love, worth respect, worth anyone’s time or efforts.

When I was younger, I was bullied a lot for being ugly. At lunch time everyday, I would look at the deemed “beautiful” girls in my class and look at my food. I would think “Food gives energy. Energy helps you live. Why should I eat this food then? I’m not beautiful. I don’t deserve to live. What do I need this energy for? Why should I eat this food?”

Just saying, but my boyfriend takes a lot of shit from me. A lot. I suffer from depression, along with the occasional anxiety/panic attack. I spend some nights up crying, I have incredible insomnia. But whenever I’m having a bitch fit, he just takes it, and he tries to calm me down, and whenever I feel like breaking up with him it’s because I don’t think I deserve his kindness and all his hard efforts.

I was going through a particularly bad spell one night. I really wanted to break up with him, and all I could think about was killing myself. There was a lot of sobbing and wheezing and altogether unpleasantness. I told him that we should break up, and he said to me, “Why do you think you can decide what’s best for me? I know what’s best for me, and I want you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Why can’t you just accept my love and be happy with me?”

I honestly don’t know. I don’t know why, but… I don’t know.

There’s a quote that goes, “We take the love we think we deserve” or something along those lines. Maybe that’s not quite true, because I know that my boyfriend goes through more than he should putting up with me and I know I don’t deserve that.

The past left me with these ugly wounds. I have an extreme abandonment complex, an inferiority complex, and an “Is she prettier than me?” complex. I’m emotionally over-reactive. I’m over-defensive because I’m always waiting for an attack. I’m the biggest clinger and pusher you will ever meet, perfectly at the same time.

His words calmed me that night. They made me think, Hey, here I am throwing the biggest fit of my life, and he still wants to be with me. I’ve tossed him around every which way, and he still wants to be with me. It’s either he’s fifty shades of crazy, or he really loves me. But hopefully both.

I try really hard not to be that person. I try really hard to be a good person for my friends, so that I can feel I deserve them. Hopefully one day I’ll know that I do.

Questioning My Orientation

Not my sexual orientation, my college orientation.

As I’ve said before, I’m going to Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University (a.k.a. Virginia Tech) in the fall. It’s been the school I’ve wanted to go to since freshman year. It’s big, it’s beautiful, it has the best food system in the state, and it’s famous for its academics and research facilities.

Obviously when I got my acceptance letter I was pretty psyched (which is a pun because I’m a psych(ology) major). I was really excited for the freshman orientation too, getting to know the campus and meet and make new friends.

I thought new student orientation would be fantastic, and get me even more pumped for school in less than a month. But it actually did the opposite.

First of all, I almost threw up on the 4 hour drive there because I get incredibly car sick, so I know that going home and back is gonna be a bitch for the next 4-5 years.

Second, the people were way too preppy. So I have these 2 cousins that I love and adore more than anyone. We’re almost exactly alike personality wise, and we generally have the same tastes in life. For some reason, they don’t like Tech. They never have. They told me that it looked kind of off to them, and that “there’s a certain type of people that go there…” I never understood what they meant, but after orientation, I knew. And I should’ve listened to them.

A sort of mob-mentality was happening all day. There was a lot of cheering, a lot of screaming, a LOT of jumping and clapping and dancing. It was just extremely loud in general. And lord knows I hate loud. Also, for some reason there’s this foolish feud between Tech and the University of Virginia. Everyone at Tech hates UVA for reasons unknown to me, even though the UVA kids couldn’t care less. Even on the Facebook page for my class, 90% of it is UVA bashing, and it’s all very petty and immature and makes everyone seem like assholes. They continuously bring up, but I acknowledge it as just a joke and believe that we shouldn’t let the action of a few individuals bring us to hate the school as a whole.

In essence, 50% of the day was used doing loud things, 40% bashing UVA, 5% playing games, and 5% actually learning about academics and the school.

Third, there’s such a big focus on sports. Tech is famous for their football (I think). A lot of the day was used to talk about the sports and teams and whatnot. This was of no interest to me, since I have no interest in sports. I’ve never seen a game on TV, never went to a football game in high school, never anything. Going to a school where the sports teams are so famous may not be favorable for my social life. Tech even just opened a new gym, which is a 10 minute walk from the other gym. So now they have 2 gyms. Instead of, you know, putting air conditioning in the dorms so I don’t melt to death every day, hell, let’s have another gym. One is never enough.

Fourth. I was excited because I knew that there were a lot of friendly and preppy people going there (my friends had very good experiences making friends during their orientations). So the entire time, I forced a smile and a handful of pep and put myself out there, to no avail. The other kids looked at me strangely and apathetically no matter how hard I tried to talk to people (and it was very hard and uncomfortable for me) and I still felt like the lonely little loser sitting in a corner during recess with no friends in elementary school. Even worse, I ate dinner by myself that night at a 2 person table. I put my backpack on the other chair and listened to my iPod with a book out so I didn’t look completely lame. I felt humiliated, and completely alone.

Fifth. I knew the campus would be big, but I didn’t know it would be really friggin humongously ginormous. It takes me 20 minutes just to walk from my dorm to my first class on Mondays. I don’t even know where any of the other buildings my classes are. It’s great that they separated the campus by sections (dorm area, food area, general classes area, etc) but it’s still too massive for me. I think I’ll have to leave an hour early every day just to make sure I get to my classes on time. And Tech has this thing called the math emporium. I have to go off campus on my own time to take my math class online, and there are tutors available. This is my worst nightmare. Math is my absolute worst subject, and knowing that I don’t have a professor and that I have to do most of the learning by myself makes me want to throw up.

Sixth. I have no friends going there. I met 2 girls online from the Tech Facebook page, but I don’t really know-know them. I’m terrified that I’ll have to relive the horror of eating by myself all the time. Being an optimistic little trooper, I brought my new card game with me, thinking that I’d make new friends during the day with my chipper attitude and we’d be able to play in the dorms at night. Well, I had no friends. I didn’t even have a roommate because the girl that was supposed to stay with me decided to stay with her parents at the hotel near campus. I should’ve done that with my parents, but nope. I thought I would have friends to stay with. Instead, I was terrified because the hallway was so loud with a mix of voices and laughing and music and partying. There was knocking on the doors and banging and god knows what they were doing. All I know is that it is not a good idea putting boys and girls in the same building unsupervised. I brushed my teeth and called my boyfriend, and he had to stay on the phone talking and cooing me until I fell asleep because I was too scared to be alone. (I instructed him to hang up after 30 minutes of me not replying.) It didn’t help that I forgot my nightlight.

I know it’s not good to make such big judgments about my school after having been there for only a day and a half. This post was pretty much just me letting off some steam. I know I’ll learn where everything is in time. I know I’m a good student. I know I’ll make friends eventually. It’s just absolutely, horrifyingly, paralyzingly terrifying going in blind. The entire time I wished I had just listened to my mom and went to the school near home. I wouldn’t have to worry about the scary dorms, I’d have a big group of my friends still with me (including my boyfriend), I’d have to deal with a smaller campus, and I wouldn’t cost my family endless money on dorms and food.

I’m just terrified. I’m sure everyone feels this way, and I really want to be optimistic about it but I’m just really, really, really scared.