Poem to Me

Please forgive me
I've been so broken
Please forgive me
For the words I've spoken

I don't know how
To prevent your cry
I don't know how
To not live a lie

Con vs Pro

I hear someone say recently, "You say it's the worst it can get, but then it always gets worse. It can always get worse."

All I could think was, "I truly hope the worst is behind me."

Worst moments:
1 - When I almost lost Grey.
2 - When I was sure suicidal ideation was going to beat Purple after all - "suicidal panic attack" as I named the only one I've experienced.
3 - When I fully realized mom would never again hold me as I cried.
4 - When I couldn't see Indigo in the hospital because I was underage. Even though I was the final trigger.
5 - When I did see Indigo in the hospital.
6 - When Emerald was lost downtown, late at night, and all I could do was wait on Blue to help.
7 - When I had a second extreme panic attack at school. The first, at 7, was confusing. The second was, at 13, frustrating, embarrassing and the beginning of the end of public school.
8 - When I realized what a homicidal, suicidal mess Purple was, by reading a collection of poems written at 12. Would never attempt but the fact that such dark thoughts existed? That terrified me.
9 - When I was born.
10 - When Indigo moved out. And I couldn't no longer turn to them to give and receive support.
11 - When I couldn't see where Indigo and Emerald were in the shelter. I couldn't see their beds so I couldn't sleep.

Best moments:
1 - When Burgundy was born.
2 - When Burgundy was the winning factor Purple had over the "suicidal panic attack".
3 - When Burgundy made me smile in spite of the remaining migraine.
4 - When I gained a real Father, 26 days before I turned eleven.
5 - When I spoke to my Father in the language of my heart, at 19 years old.
6 - When I joked around with Blue as we shopped.
7 - When I reunited with my "soulmate/other half"
8 - When I laughed at Grey's stubborn consumption of almonds, despite their allergy.
9 - When I hung out with my pair of lovelies even though I was tired. 2.5 & 4 years old still makes me smile.
10 - When I followed my lovelies up with more fun. And partied through a torn ligament in my just relocated knee.
11 - When Indigo came back.
12 - When Indigo came home.
13 - When Emerald hugged me as I sobbed, at 17. Almost as good as mom.
14 - When Emerald, Indigo and I promised to be there for each other.
15 - When I realized, at 21.5, the day I almost died was 10.75 months ago. I'm close to being a year survivor. The anniversary isn't known for sure. But my guess is late May to mid June.

So yes, bad things happen. But along with the negative that can come, positive definitely will accompany it. It may even outweigh it.

The worst may not be behind me. But I know the best is out there too. Both ways, present and future the best is waiting to even it out. And then one day give a surplus.

And no matter how worse it gets, my previous worst have prepared me to face it all unafraid that it will win. It won't win because I have been trained not to lose. Or even think I could lose.

Mental Health in Media

Our first media series will be analyzing how mental health is represented to the mass public.

I'm using "Mental Health in Film". There is a list on Wikipedia. I will watch the movies and discuss the accuracy, glamouization, romanticization or ignorance each film protrays.

Disclaimer: My professional diagnoses at the moment: Bipolar II (a less severe form of Bipolar I) Chronic Depression, Suicidal, Social Anxiety, Insomnia, Anxiety and Panic Disorder.
My personal suspicions: PTSD, leaning towards a range of Personality Disorders, Food Discomfort, Depersonalization Disorder, ADHD, leaning toward the Autism Spectrum, Phobias, Selective Mutism.

If you want more information on my disorders and my opinion on them, there are numerous post about just that. In particular:
Unique-ly in the Way - all disorders
Hypomania & HSP - Bipolar II & Anxiety
ARFID - Food Discomfort
Suicidal Ideation - Suicidal
Fighting Through - Social Anxiety
Throw Back Thursday - Selective Mutism
Sleep - Insomnia
Painful Memory, Useful Memory - Panic Disorder
Kristy, Are You Doing Okay? - PTSD
Paradoxical - a few disorders mentioned

I will only discuss things with content that suits my taste. I may leave out an important example because I'm not comfortable with it. After movies, I'll decide between TV and books.

P.S. Sorry I got it in a few minutes late.

Eras

Throw Back Thursday

Mom Era: 0 - 8 years old

This was a stressful era. Mom was sick. I was sick.

But the leader of the era was always around. She explained things to me. Things most people wouldn't think to explain to a child. Things most people would think was beyond a child. Things most people would think damaging for a child.

I couldnt tell her my secrets. I didn't want to upset her with my worries. Somehow, she seemed to know them anyway.

Mom held my hand as I had my MRI.

Aunt Era: 8 - 13 years old

This was a quiet era. It built underground and erupted suddenly towards the end.

The leader wasn't always available. She was tired from working and caring for us. She was busy. She was overwhelmed.

I fought her over my secrets. I wanted her to worry over them. I wanted them to matter. I wanted to matter.

She loved me through the worst times.

Blue Era: 14 - 16 years old

This was a quick era. It took longer to adjust to than it actually lasted. It shocked me when it ended.

The leader was unsure. He had a lot of concerns. He was in charge of so many people's happiness. He didn't talk to me as much as he had during the other eras.

I denied him my secrets. I denied access into the pieces the eras had created. I didn't want him to know about the scars I'd gained while he wasn't the leader.

He asked for a blanket when I was cold during my MRI.

Lost Era: 16 - 20 years old

This was a random era. Nothing was set in stone. No goal seemed within reach, even just getting through.

The leader didn't exist. There was nothing to lead. Life just passed by. School, friends, entertainment on and on without a plan. And even when it did gain a plan, the approach was haphazard.

I ran away from my secrets. I forgot they existed. When their whispers grew to shouts, I ignored the pain. I ignored them and so they controlled me.

It was the darkest era.

Purple Era: 20 years old

This era is open. It doesn't have many things written yet. The things it has are mostly bad.

The leader is me. I'm finally at the helm. I don't know how to grow up. I doubt I ever will achieve the level I had hoped for. I have confidence that this era will last for quite some time.

I'm slowly remembering my secrets. I'm facing them head on. They are just facts or thoughts. I am the person whose life depends on continuing the fight.

I couldn't ask for a blanket. I couldn't squeeze comfort into my hands. I did, however, prepare for the shot. I prepared for the potential anxiety attack. I prepared for the loneliness and longing. I cheered on and supported my physically and mentally weak state. I got through my MRI on my own.

P.S. I'm going to attempt blogging all week. I had my last day of work today and decided to write on the topic that's been on my mind since Friday.

Unique-ly in the Way?

I thought I finally knew who I was and how I fit in my world. However, I don't.

I'm pretty sure who I am. I don't change very much. Never have. And while I don't always know the right words to describe it all, I can feel the truth. But I don't fit where I had begun to suspect I did.

I try to help. Then, I find out that people don't see it like that. My help is denied or incorrect. My help actually spurs multiple new routes people have to take around me.

▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪

I take personality and mental disorder quizzes in my spare time. My personality is locked and I like who I am. But how do other people process me? What does the test have to say about the way I think?

I have a high chance of bipolar - that makes sense considering my bipolar II diagnosis.

I have a high chance of food addiction/detachment - that makes sense considering I starve myself out of disinterest and disgust.

I have a high chance of depression - that makes sense considering my chronic depression diagnosis.

I have a high chance of PTSD - that makes sense considering my parents messy divorce and my mom's slow decay of 4 years.

I have a high chance of anxiety - that makes sense considering my generalized anxiety disorder.

I have a high chance of insomnia - that makes sense considering without medication I only sleep eventually and I wake up from anxiety nightmares tired every morning.

I have a high chance of social anxiety - that makes sense considering how much people scare me and my GAD.

I have a high chance of cell phone/Internet/TV addiction - that makes sense considering being without a screen or worse a connection have entered my nightmares.

I have a high chance of being suicidal - that makes sense considering how many suicidal ideations I have in a week.

I have a medium chance of autism spectrum disorder - that makes sense considering how much human interaction confuses and frustrates me.

I have a medium chance of every personality disorder there is - that makes sense considering I hate being with people, I dwell on myself all the time, and I do random things I don't even plan.

I have a medium chance of ADHD - that makes sense considering how many tabs my brain as open in any given moment but also considering how unwilling I am to move.

I have a medium chance of chocolate addiction - that makes sense considering I never forget about chocolate but sometimes I forget it interest me.

I have a medium chance of ED - that makes sense considering I have an unhealthy relationship with food, I dislike all thighs but had an affectionate acceptance of my body for 18.5 years until my hatred of food and chewing took the better of me.

I have a medium chance of depersonalization disorder - that makes sense considering how far away my body feels at times.

I have a low chance of BPD - that makes sense considering my bipolar II diagnosis. It's possible to have both but I most likely don't.

I have a low chance of anger - that makes sense considering I accept people's negative emotions as my fault and never theirs.

I have a low chance of psychopath & sociopath - that makes sense considering I believe there are 8 billion people higher than me, including possible unfeeling people.

▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪

So why do I open a bunch of these stupid, unpredictable tests at 5 am and take them over the course of 3 weeks? Why do I rehash the results on a long blog entry starting at 23:30 - 1:00 am on a night have I haven't taken my sleep aid and need to up early for an intense day?

Because they remind me of what I already know. They remind me of the person I am and love, even when others make me doubt myself. While the list may make it seem like I have some incredible life ruining flaws, it highlights the ones I couldn't stomach having. What's a little depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, suicide when compared to psychopath, anger, depersonalization?

I don't fit nicely in my world. I never have. I've been in the way since I was less than 1 year old. I'll continue to upset the lives of people I love and my own.

But I know who I am. I know I'll get in the way in new and exciting ways. I know that I'll run away to fictional worlds because they don't question what makes me who I am and label it as wrong.

I don't mind being unsure of how my medical team will help with with all my needs. Being unsure if I want the help, especially when I'm not doing my best to assist their assistance. Being unable to face all the things I need to at once: my deep-seated fear of driving, my knee pains, my back spasms, my lack of excerise, my lack of appetite, my possible neurological problems that cause seizures at the random age of 20, my increasing depression, my increasing anxiety, and weakening control and mental strength. I don't mind any of those things.

I don't mind as long as I continue to be sure of who I am. Even if I dislike being unique, different, special, left out. Because those things don't matter as long as I can accept myself.

My unique-ly in the way self. I am after all a work of art.

P.S. this was a major rant and didn't really have a point at the beginning. I do feel much better though.

Hypomania & HSP

The problem with hypomania is knowing that eventually it will wear off.

I had a very up day Sunday. I giggled, I shrieked, I ate, I laughed, I lived. But come Monday, things were bothersome again. Fast forward to Wednesday, and I'm bemoaning my existence (after therapy of course. My worst moments through the week always seem to come within 40 hours of saying "have a good week" to my therapist.) I woke up Thursday surprised I survived the night and somewhat (as much as possible) optimistic about a day to recover slowly. Until I cried at work. From then out it was over. The misery was cemented.

I'm feeling a little better today. Breathing isn't as difficult. Thinking isn't as painful. Walking is a little less hard.

But still I'm not quite well. I'm recalling past comments and hearing them in the worst way.

"How can you keep track of everything in that notebook? I would get so confused." - "You're not normal. Your behavior isn't normal. You are an enigma always to be alone and never understood." Different. Right, I can't get away from that. I'm told I'm supposed to embrace my uniqueness and not be so utterly destroyed when I'm sent off world again. Because my emotional responses, which are out of my control, are wrong as well.

"You take up a lot of room in the fridge for one person." - "You take up too much room in the house." Smaller. Right, it's my first priority in life. I'll work on that despite the progress of even having food in the fridge.

"You don't feel up to it? You don't care about me." Or "You don't agree with me? You think my perspective is wrong, even though I have more authority in the matter?" - "Your emotions rule you. You can't vlbe self-sacrificing." Or "You can't possibly have a solid opinion based on your perspective. You just want to oppose me!" Selfish. Right, I don't sacrifice enough just staying alive so other people can avoid that added stress. I am unfeeling while doing my best to make everyone happy with what little energy or real interest I have. I should definitely be able to find a way to agree with things I don't believe I can do or I don't believe are right.

It's a constant struggle. I know people mean well. I know I lean toward paranoia personality disorder. But that's the thing. I'm already bent to think that people are out to get me. And then I hear at least 1 negative thing every day from the outside. I hear negative things on repeat from the inside. I wish I could trust the outside to give me time to digest the previous comments.

Why can't the up days last longer?

I'm just in the way. Of people I love. Of myself. And I'm not sure how much I can ignore anymore. I'm not sure if I'll be able to survive every day when my worst fear is be achieved every day. And pointed out.

I just want to quit.

Lethargic

I'm tired.

That's it. I'm just plain tired.

It's the end of the school year meaning it's a super busy and important time for me.
I have class projects to complete.
I have to finish working with one child and mentally prepare for the other.
I have to figure out what classes I still need for whatever it is I want to do in child care.
I have to sign up for classes after that.
I have to decide how much to work next semester.
I have to rearrange my room.
I have to figure out how to handle my mental and physical condition, especially my avoidant eating habits.
I have to get my license because life is too hectic to traipse 5 towns on foot.
I have to say goodbye to the dark months and prepare for the mega bright ones.

Wow, my mind was overwhelmed but putting it in writing gives it clarity. There's so much to be done.

I'm more than tired. I'll admit it, I'm scared. I'm scared of most of these things individually and I'm scared of what they signify all togethet. I have to take care of myself. Even more than the last decade. For the last decade, I've let myself get away with doing the bare minimum requirements and all that caused was a major build up of wotk. If I want to progress at all, I have to take multiple steps almost simultaneously. In vague, blurry synchronization.

P.S. there were 40 things on my to do list when I woke up and I got it down to 37. Yay me.

ARFID

Mental Health Awareness week was 12 days ago.

It's been a month of mental health for me. I started blogging again. I've been writing quotes and short recounts of pain. I went to a forum yesterday called "Breaking the Silence." It was nice to hear stories from others and to hear the enthusiasm for gaining understa5fnding on mental health.

I have come to accept two more disorders. I still have to talk to my doctors but I can pretty safely say I have Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder and Nightmare Disorder.

I avoid eating. I tell myself I can eat later. I restrict the foods I eat. I have about 50 safe foods so I'm better off than most people with the disorder. I have foods I have trouble looking at, even think about. My throat will start closing up and I get anxious.

But I make myself get food when I can. I force myself to eat just a little more. I'm trying to figure out what foods I can always eat. 100% safe foods. My physician told me not to go under 120. I don't know what's going to happen if I do. Right now that's 1 pound away. A 1 pound buffer, if you will. Can I keep from losing that safety net?

I was really worried about my weight from 6-9 y/o. I was in the 60s for about 2.5 years. I was terrified I'd never gain weight. That I would look gross. That I wouldn't grow correctly. That I wouldn't be average height or weight. I was used to being average.

I remember going shopping with my mom. I would choose foods that looked good to me. She'd ask about things I usually ate and I'd say no.

One memory from 2nd grade haunts me.

Mom: Purple Owl, get your backpack and come to the dining room.

Purple Owl looks at her backpack and sighs. School, again.

Purple Owl: Here I am. Do I have to go?

Mom: Yes. Here's your lunch.

Purple Owl takes the bag and opens it. Ew, a sandwich, fruit, and juice box.

Purple Owl: I don't want this.

Mom: Purple Owl, you need to eat.

Purple Owl: But I can't eat this.

Mom: Do you have your lunch ticket?

Purple Owl nods.

Mom: You can take the lunch and then you'll have two choices.

Purple Owl: But what if I don't want either?

Sisters: Mom, we're ready.

Mom, packing her bag: Okay girls. We'll be right there. Purple Owl, you have to eat something. We talked about this. You want to gain weight. You promised you'd eat lunch everyday.

Purple Owl's eyes light up.

Purple Owl: I want a Slim Fast.

Mom: They’re for weight loss or management. It's for adults. You don't need it.

Purple Owl: You've let me have some before. And if the serving size is for adults, it's different for children.

Mom: You promise to drink it?

Purple Owl bobs her head up and down.

Purple Owl: Yes. It's yummy.

Mom: And you're not taking it just to be like me?

Purple Owl shakes her head and entire body.

Purple Owl: No. It makes me hungry but it's also filling. I want to drink it.

Mom: Okay you can take it. Put the lunch bag in the fridge. Maybe you'll have it as a snack.

Purple Owl opens the pantry and chooses a chocolate Slim Fast. She makes room for it in her school bag. Purple Owl puts the lunch in the fridge. She wrinkles her nose. Not eating that today.

She skips to the living room and joins her family.

The lunch lady asked me three times if that's all I had for lunch. I think she thought my mom was neglectful, forcing me to diet, or unaware of dietary needs. She didn't know that my mom just wanted me to eat something, anything. She didn't know that I fought for the Slim Fast.

As for Nightmare Disorder, I thought everyone had nightmares, especially children. I blamed it on an overactive imagination and any intense movie or story. I didn't know that 1 to 3 bad dreams a night was a problem. I didn't know that remembering dreams for years was odd.

I have about 6 recurring dreams that started at some point in childhood or adolescence. A few years will go by between them. And each time they come back, it's like I'm welcoming an old friend. As I squeeze myself into a ball and wrap up in my blankets, I feel slightly comforted recalling the details. At least my dreams always have my back. They always want to visit.

Is that a normal way to relax from nightmares? Well it's my way. And it's not like I can go talk to someone about my bad dream in the middle of the night. Talk about my fear of going back to bed. Talk about my fear of what my brain is going to think up next.

I know about these disorders now. I'll work to get more information on them. I'll work to understand what they mean for me. And I can work with my doctors and others to find ways to face them head on. And that's a better place than I was in before.

Worst Day of 2015 - 10/14/15

So far this year I've dislocated my knee, had a reaction to medication, dreamt I was assaulted, and had a major withdrawal.

But today was the worst day of the year.

So yesterday I slept in by accident. And then I laid in bed for more than 2 hours, not wanting to live, let alone think about school projects. I had an okay day, once again not accomplishing or eating all I wanted to. And then, I had to spend time with people. People I love but don't understand me. By the end of day, I was wondering if I'm the weirdest person on the planet or an alien. I'm different and a waste.

Anyway, I was up until 1am getting ready for school. Then my meds and night routine. And off to bed.

I woke up at 5:30 am to a hazy version of my repeat assault dream. I got down from bed and started my morning routine. Drinking water I hate to start my metabolism and prepare for the heat. Eating though I don't want to. Packing food I won't want to eat. Getting my bags ready for a school day and project I don't want to go through. Trying to find clothes that fit the temperature throughout the day and my body that's wasting itself away.

I got to the bus stop, 85% convinced today would be good. Had a nice enough conversation with a guy about what time the bus was coming. And started listening to my beautiful music. The bus came. I got on.

Three minutes into the ride, I realized I couldn't do it and closed my eyes. (My sleep aid was probably still kicking in.) Music, breathing, and waiting for my stop.

Off the bus now, I went across the street and put more money on my card. Trying not to think about my account amount. Sitting, waiting, and reminding myself to breath. When the bus finally came, I sat down and immediately closed my eyes. I got off soon enough, my knee hurting form the harsh stop.

Up to my classroom, not caring about stares for mouthing and gesturing along to my music. Smiling at my teacher and sitting in the classroom with 5 other people. Putting out water and tea I didn’t want to drink but would force myself to. My headphones stayed on. My music is my lifeline, my central gravity. I did some class reading. Decided to get my grades before class, like everyone else.

Class was good as usual. My teacher is wonderful. Only problem being students not majoring in child development complaining about the discussion topic. I shouldn't let it bother me but it does. (Like everything.)

Realized after class that I really should follow through with asking my 1st teacher for the last thing I needed in my 2nd class' first aid kit. "It's just borrowing." "She's a really nice person." "The fact that you failed to obtain this one thing isn't going to ruin her opinion of you." She didn't have it. Slightly stressed (about a project I didn't care about yesterday). But talking to her made me happy. She's a nice part of my day.

Off to my next class. Started a waffle sandwich because I hadn't eaten in 2.5 hours. Forced myself to eat half. Very worried about this 20/300 point project. (If you're going to do something, you have to do it right. Right?) And then, we don't even start with it. But that's alright. My teacher is fun to listen to and very informative. My tablemates are engaging. The grading waited until the end of class.

Then I realized I didn't plan how I was get home. Found 2 buses with the least walking. (Knee hurts, after all. Want to just cut it off. And wearing full length jeans in 90+ degree weather.) But it wasn't coming for 50 minutes. Waited on campus. Music. Continued reading. Started doing my hair to do something with my hands (even though I don't believe in doing hair in public. It's amazing what you get over when you're out of energy to care). Off campus to my bus stop with my hair 70% done. Waited 20 minutes mainly in the sun. Worried my phone may die. (40% scares me while I'm out of the house.)

1st bus was 15 minutes late. Rode listening to music trying not to panic about missing my 2nd bus. Trying to convince myself to get off at my stop and not ride until wherever. (After all, I had work.)

But the 2nd bus was also late. So it was okay. Waiting in the sun, drinking juice and chewing jum. (I'm developing an oral fixation.) I got on the bus, glad I put more money on my card than I had originally planned. Once on the bus, I realized I was sweating too much (minor withdrawal and overheating). I didn't have much left.

Got off the bus. Saw my house and kept my eye on it as I tried to just get inside. Upstairs, in house, took apart my bags, and took a nap.

Woke up 3 times from a horrible food guilt related nightmare. I was having trouble breathing. Couldn't tell if it was physical or mental but it didn't matter. I was late for work. Got dressed on the coolest thing I could find, got water, and left.

I walked down the street singing my favorite calming and reassuring song. Tried to relax, turned the corner and fought a panic attack. Can't have an attack with a child (#1 fear). "Put it off."

Both of us were a little off so it wasn't as enjoyable as usual. As I walked home I told myself to just get home. It didn't work, completely.

Crying on the street has always been another big fear. And today it was realized. Twice.

Straight to the bathroom, ignoring my sister. Cleaned up, calmed down, went out and apologized. She understood. We sat together for a moment. I got a cold pack for my head and went to bed to lay down and relax. Up 30 minutes later, picked out comfortable clothes that make me feel less disgusted with my body. Cold shower, repacked my food and bag. And out I went.

I took my hair out as I walked. I changed my mind about having it up. ("So did I waste that energy earlier, the precious calories?") I smiled at an older lady because smiles are contagious and she has earned a right to joy by surviving life so long. (Is it narcissistic to think of my own smile as a gem? It's only because people tell my it's cute.)

And at this point I realized I was overreacting. Yeah the week, month, year (lifetime) hasn't been going according to plan. But moping isn't going to help. Worrying about my lack of energy (calories and patience), possible panic attacks, and bouts of misery isn't going to delay any of it.

Both my charge and I were more conversational. I enjoyed the time.

I had dinner with friends. (My excitement had been going back and forth all day.) I had fun.

I came home and got to be truly alone for the first time today. Peacefully and unstressed alone, favorite music and my phone.

Once people came home, there were moments I was unhappy with the conversations. But I was ready. Finally.

So yes, it was the worst day of this year. Yes, a couple of my biggest fears were realized or close to it. And yes, the bad part of the day takes up most of the space but I'm here.

And at the moment, don't mind being alive. What more can I ask for?

If I can make it through today, I can make it through any day.

10/15/15 update: wasn't so neutral about being alive most of the day. Woke up continuously for 3 hours with nightmares. Weak all day, physically and emotionally. I was so sure I would faint at some point. A period, 400 calories, and lots of walking will do that to you. But today (well, Friday morning at 0:31), I'm kinda liking existing. Hope I wake up feeling the same.

Snapshot of Purple Owl - 9/28/15

1) I love myself the most. I hate myself the most.
2) I had two invisible identical sisters when I was under 13. I knew they weren't real and I only thought of them when I was bored. I invented "Pink" at 4 y/o. "Periwinkle" was created at 7 y/o because "Pink's" personality wasn't for me anymore. I gave up on them when I was 9 y/o and reading all the time. The only time we all interacted was when I remembered them at 13. I did a craft project with my mirror sisters and their input. I showed them my new room and my organization system. I disliked being the 5th child. I disliked being without a partner. But it was my first attempt at creating characters so they are a fond memory.
3) Disorders:
Chronic Depression
Insomnia
Generalized Anxiety, Panic and Social Anxiety
4) Self Diagnosed:
ARFID
Nightmare Disorder
Cireadian Rhythm Sleep-Wake Disorder (desired sleep times 2-5 am & 2-5 pm)
Separation Anxiety Disorder (I hate being away from people I've deemed "safe")
5) Poser, Rebel, Determined to be Different:
Names hurt. And I wish I knew how to be "common." ... Well, not really. But it would be easier.
6) I get attached to people, places, and objects incredibly too fast. (Give me all the nouns. Lol)
7) I'm still afraid of driving.
8) There's an employee at my local Jack in the Box (fave fast food) who knows I order chocolate sauce in my root beer float. And I don't know if that makes me ashamed or proud. For now, proud.
9) Strange habits:
Fries in milkshakes (common right?)
Hot cheetos in icing
Chips in yogurt
Meat/Tomato Sauce over Steamed Broccoli
Apple & Cashews (like a Candy Apple, yum)
I can't go anywhere without an undershirt.
I always put the heaviest bag on my left side.
10) Childish Habits:
Hot milk before bed
Two security blankets - 1 for home, 1 for public
New clothing becomes a comfort for weeks.
New outerwear becomes a security source for months.
11) I love watching adaptations and parodies to see how the writers adjust stories and scenarios to fit their needs.
12) I feel most comfortable with children.
13) I want to write for a living but I don't think I'll ever be confident enough for that. So for now, I want to work with children and write for myself.
14) I love music. My favorite songwriter is Martin Johnson. My favorite voices are Steve Perry, Arnel Pineda, Jon Bon Jovi, Adam Levine, Kim Jonghyun and Lee Jinki. I pretty much love every "boy band" from Beatles to Seventeen.
15) I believe that, no matter what, one's goal should be to make others' day better.
16) 9/27 & 9/29 are my least favorite days.
The 27th reminds me of what I haven't accomplished.
The 29th makes me paranoid that I won't accomplish anything in the coming year and be back to the 27th.
17) Therefore, I determine that it doesn't matter how I feel waking up on the 28th, I will be happy with myself by the end of the day. I spend the day doing as much as I can, of what I need to and want to do. I force myself to think positively all day.
18) This is my last year as a late adolescent.
19) I dislike getting close to people. When I feel our relationship becoming stronger, I get scared. I'm afraid that I won't be someone they want. That my people will dislike who I really am. And that they'll all change their minds.
20) I hate myself the most. I love myself the most.

*21. This year reinforced my belief that the hardest and best thing is to be yourself. It was difficult to see myself through the disorders, medication, injuries, and obstacles. But I did. The most clearly I saw was 9/27 & 9/28. 19 year old Purple Owl, you were beautiful, inside and out. Let's see where my 21st year takes me.

Returning to My World

I don't trust words.

I love words so much. I love the way they look. I love how they’re sung. And I love what they mean. When their definition is black and white.

But when they can easily be confused or ignored, I don't like them anymore. And depending on which words you put before or after each one, you can mean something else entirely.

I learned what basic anorexia means the other day. It means a long-term lack of appetite. I've always tied it to anorexia nervosa, the eating disorder. It was disturbing to see anorexia listed in connection to suicidal ideation when I didn't know it existed. I'd never been aware that a lack of appetite was something to be aware of or tell the doctor.

I'm trying to get myself to eat. But I think my medication is adding to the slight lack of appetite I've had for years. I'll talk to my physician and psychologist. I need to go back to therapy and work on my feelings about my body actually working against survival.

Speaking of my physician, I have to get a new one again. I have to meet someone and tell them all about myself. If this was two months ago, I wouldn't care. But right now, I don't want to do it. Which is why I have yet to make an appointment.

In addition to going through the process of meeting someone new, I have to explain my knee situation. How am I going to tell a stranger I've given up and want to get surgery? I've only told one person in real life. How am I supposed to tell someone who doesn't know or understand me and my circumstances?

But still I'll do it. I'll get surgery if the timing is right and I'll have a clean slate soon. With my knee, my lack of appetite, and my mental state. And maybe, maybe if I work extra hard a clean slate with words.

Soon I'll use them in their black and white, as well as gray, forms. I'll stop waiting for people to read between the lines. I'll start saying the words that are hard to say.

I'm not going to hope that more people understand me because I've been hoping for a decade. And it hurts. I'll just trust the words to carry my meaning to their recipient. Any misunderstanding that happens after that is not my fault.

P.S. Sorry the post is all over the place. I just had a lot I haven't been able to say.

Update: Since I originally wrote this, I found out I can continue going to my old physician. I left that part in because it displays my thought process and fears.

Fighting Through

So I was miserable this morning. I didn't want to do anything.

It was probably because of how late I got to sleep, 4 am. And then I barely woke up in time for my physical therapy appointment.

I'm happy I'm not seriously depressed anymore. But I don't know if I can stand these random days of misery. How am I supposed to grow if I pause every few days?

But I shook it off. I did a hair mask, face mask, and body scrub. I feel renewed.

I finally started on an assignment that was due Wednesday.

I'm disappointed that I didn't turn my assignment in on time. I'm disappointed that I didn't blog twice this week.

Now if only I can get over my hatred of sleeping so I can wake up on time tomorrow.

But I do see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Goodnight, Owls!

P.S. Yes it's corny but that's the group's name :)

Throw Back Thursday

I've always been conflicted about school. I love learning and being around peers. But I was stressed about being assessed by teachers and tests. I was also stressed about my classmates and their problems.

I missed a lot of school because stress made me sick. I went to work and college classes with my adult family. Just to avoid school.

TBT:
I remember one time my oldest brother was going to take my sisters and I to school. I locked the door to my bedroom and put my hands behind me on the rungs of my bed. I figure if he couldn't get me, I wouldn't go to school. I don't remember what was that day's pain but he wasn't buying any aches. I don't know why I didn't want to go. And I felt bad for disobeying. But I couldn't see another way.

My brother took off the door knob. I begged him to let me stay home or go with him. But he said no to both. With our 17 year difference, it wasn't that hard for him to pick me up. I went to school. And just sat. I wasn't able to stay away from school but I could mentally remove myself.

Now that I'm older I realize how terrifying it would be to have an elementary student lock themselves in   room. Especially when they're clearly distraught.

I think I still do that sometimes. I get ill from stress. That's a fact. But sometimes I convince myself that I'm worse than I am. If I don't want to go somewhere, suddenly I'm broken. It's like I've mentally locked a door and wrapped my arms around a pillar. And then if I do get myself out, I'm not really there. When I'm shy, I talk too much. When I'm anxious, I don't talk at all.

But I know this now. I understand it more. And that's the first step to improvement.

P.S. I wrote 25,135 words for April Camp NaNoWriMo. It wasn't my first goal but my secondary goal was 25,000. So even if I could change it and win on the website, I'm considering myself a camp veteran now. I can't wait until the next camp

Sleep

The Schedule

~~~~~~~
Sunday - My Writing
Monday - Music
Tuesday - Poetry
Wednesday - Word or Woman
Thursday - Throw Back
Friday - Media
Saturday - Book Club
~~~~~~~

Any given day can be a musing day.

Today, or rather tonight, is for musing.

I hate sleeping.

I have to negotiate with myself to go to sleep. I know all that's waiting for me is my dreams. My subconscious isn't nice to me. I have anxiety dreams that are set to my real life. They make me anxious around the people who were in them.

I have peaceful dreams that show my life the way I want it. It's depressing to wake up from those dreams. And I have nightmares that are always life or death. I have to watch as my loved ones run for their lives. And sometimes the dreams are so real I feel the emotions when I wake up. They don’t settle until I see the person.

Even though this is what sleep means to me, I still can't wake up. I lay in bed for half an hour to 2 hours telling myself why to get up. Telling myself that the pain that has settled into my bones isn't that bad. That life isn't that bad and I should go live it with the people I love. But I've found that most days my arguments don't matter. By the time I've convinced myself, everything and everyone has moved on.

Oh, how I hate sleeping!

It's 1 am and once again I'm lying in bed with all this noise and silence.
It’s 1 am and the world is paused except for me.
Why should I try to sleep?
Why should I wait until the nagging voice stops and the real nightmares begin?
Because I have responsibilities and appointments.
Because I'm ridiculed for complaining about lack of sleep when I "don't try hard enough."
But does it really matter when I fall asleep?
But will my body let me wake up when I want to?

"I'm a spoiled princess who detest existing. Isn't that a bit too selfish?
I will never become what's expect of me. I should push myself to do more.
Does anyone really need me around? They seem like they don't.
Yelling at myself is useless. I never listen."

How am I supposed to like sleep when the voice is so loud!!!

P.S. Sorry! Lack of sleep makes me cranky.

Life of an Anxiety Ridden Teen

I don't know if I have panic attacks anymore. I think I live in a perpetual state of panic. I'm not sure if breathing easy is even possible anymore.

I look out into the world and feel like I'm watching a movie. People move, talk and continue living. Completely detached from me. I'm in a bubble. I have no effect on the story. But every atom of the story has an effect on me.

I'm afraid to leave the house. I'm afraid of what might happen outside. I'm afraid I'll give up. I don't even feel like getting out of bed and talking to my family. I'm afraid they'll say one thing wrong and I'll fall down. And I don't even know what that one thing will be beforehand.

It's ridiculous I know. It's ridiculous to be scared of living. Life is beautiful. I just wish I didn't feel everything.

I was on the street yesterday, waiting for the bus. A young woman in a wheelchair came up behind me. "Do I let her on first? Do I get on first? What is supposed to happen?" All these questions ran through my mind but I couldn't just ask her to find out. I wanted to solve it myself. So I stayed where I was.

No.

She gets on first.

The bus driver told me to hold on. I stepped to the side. He put down the ramp. She got on and I watched her settle in, ashamed.

"Do they think I was unkind, inconsiderate, evil? Do they think I was oblivious? Am I selfish for thinking of getting on first? Does it matter that I forgot the procedure when I didn't offer to let her on?"

I got on the bus. And sat. Silently, lecturing myself for the whole bus ride. Wondering if anyone else saw. Wondering if they all hated me too.

I realized that no one saw it. And if they did, they weren't thinking about it anymore. It didn't matter.

But I need to make everyone's day better. I need them to have liked coming across me. I need them to be happy to have interacted with me.

I waved to the driver, desperately trying to make up for my blunder. I stepped off the bus and started the walk home. I wondered how everyone on the bus would end the day. I hoped it would be well. In spite of meeting me.

I walked past the people on the street. Listened to my music. And teared up. But I refused to cry. Just because I'm crazy doesn't mean I have to cry on the sidewalk. And I needed to get home and make my family's day better.

Now I'm at school. After being late to my doctor's appointment. Effectively ruining his day.

I tried to get everything across quickly. I tried to get out quickly. I tried to put his day back on track.

I got on the bus and tried to breathe. I debated which stop to get off at. I forced myself to stay on the bus until I get to school. Then, I forced myself get off so I wouldn't end up miles from schoool.

"Why do I have to convince myself to do things people do with no problem? Why do I have to remind myself of the rewards? Why do I still not want to do it after all that?"

Daily Motto

Forward, forward
Keep standing
Keep marching
Move on, move up
Do what you need to
Make others proud
Live life well
Be independent

- CoJa Brown

So I got to my department and looked at the benches in the shade. I couldn't sit in the shade. I was cold and would have shriveled up. So I sat on the ground in the sun. And got some strength back.

I got odd looks but I couldn't care. What's socially acceptable wasn't what I needed. It wouldn't help. I did what I wanted to, needed to. Even though it was weird.

That's what I do. I care so much about what people think of me, until I reach a point where it's impossible to care. Until it hurts to care at all.

P.S. I know it's not healthy to be so on edge all the time. My therapist mentioned it could ruin my nerves. But it's really difficult to talk myself out of being upset.

Also this post was a bit chaotic. Sorry about that.

Painful Memory, Useful Memory

So I was telling my therapist about my panic attacks the other day. She asked me when I had my first panic attack. That took me a moment because most of my childhood memories are laced with unease.

The first panic attack I remember having was at age 7.

Characters
Purple Owl (age 7)
Mom
Aunt
Office lady
Teacher
Classmates

Mom: We have to go.

Purple Owl: I can't leave. I haven't finished my project.

Aunt: You have to go to school and we have to go.

Purple Owl looks at the table and down at the floor.

Purple Owl: But my project's due. And I can't present it if it's not finished.

Aunt: Do you think...

Purple Owl looks back at the adults.

Mom: We do have some time. Purple Owl, let's finish your project.

Purple Owl jumps into her seat. She picks up the materials to work on her project. Aunt pours a cup of coffee. And Mom reads while helping Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: I'm done.

Mom: Great. Let's go.

Purple Owl takes her sweater from Mom and freezes.

Aunt (from the open front door): Purple Owl, what's wrong?

Purple Owl: I'm late. I can't go to school. I'm late.

Mom: You have to go to school. Now that your projects done, don't you want to show your teacher and friends?

Purple Owl: No. I'm late. I don't want to go. Can't I just spend the day with you?

Mom: No, Purple Owl. You have to go to school today. Your project looks nice. You'll get a good grade.

Purple Owl looks down.

Aunt: We have to go, Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: Okay.

She follows the adults out of the apartment and to the car. She gets into the backseat and stares out the window.

School is going to be terrible.

Mom: Purple Owl, we're there. Are all your things collected?

Purple Owl: Yes, mommy.

The adults look at each other.

Purple Owl stares at her school.

Aunt: Purple Owl, you have to get out dear.

Purple Owl: But...

Mom: You've missed too many days. I can't take you with me. And you have your project.

Purple Owl sighs and closes her eyes.

(Beat)

Aunt: Purple Owl?

Purple Owl: I'm going. Just a moment.

Purple Owl eases the door open. She picks up her backpack and lunch bag. She climbs out and leans over to get her project.

Mom: Have a good day, Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: You too, Mommy. Bye, Aunt.

Purple Owl walks to the office. She waves to her mom in the passenger seat. She pulls open the office door and hears the car drive off.

Office Lady: Hi.

Purple Owl: Good morning. Purple Owl, room 15.

Office Lady looks through the files. She writes on the card and hands it to Purple Owl.

Office Lady: Make sure to give this to your teacher.

She opens the gate for Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: I will. Have a good day.

Purple Owl puts the attendance sheet on her project and opens the door. Down the ramp and across the yard.

She passes the restroom. Then stops.

Purple Owl: Hmmm, I could use the bathroom. I don't need to. But maybe I should.

She takes two steps back and enters the restroom.

She sits down and puts her project next to her. Purple Owl leans her head back and takes a breath.

She's late. If she goes in, everyone will stare at her. The teacher will ask what happened. She'll disrupt the class and ruin everything.

Purple Owl lets out her breath. Her eyes widen and her fingers shake.

Ow!!!!!

She stares at her chest, confused about the pain.

She looks back at her project and sees the attendance sheet. Purple Owl picks it up and follows her name. Purple Owl... 8:45.

It’s been a few minutes. The restroom is a good enough excuse.

She closes her eyes again and tries to breathe. It's painful and difficult. The air won't go through. But she tries to breathe.

She looks at her project again and smiles warily. She worked hard on it. She should turn it in with pride.

But she can't. She can’t go to class. Her heart races and she stares at the bathroom wall.

Purple Owl pushes herself off the wall. She walks to the sink. She turns it on and wets paper towels. She wipes down her face and stares in the mirror.

Purple Owl: I can do this. It's just the door, teacher, and then my seat. Everyone in the class is my friend. They aren't scary.

She raises her eyebrows. Purple Owl in the mirror questions everything she said.

Purple Owl: I have to go. It will only get worse the longer I stay.

Purple Owl in mirror looks defiant. After a few moments, Purple Owl sticks her tongue out at her reflection and shrugs. She's not the one in charge.

She puts her backpack back on. She picks up her project and walks to the door. Purple Owl looks at the bathroom and shakes her head.

Purple Owl: Someone will find me if I stay here. I have the attendance sheet. I have to go.

She starts the walk to class. It seems so long. Her legs feel heavy. She gets to the door and takes a deep breath.

Purple Owl: Here it goes.

She opens the door. And as expected, her classmates and teacher turn to look. She walks up the aisle to her teacher. She hands her the sheet.

Purple Owl: I'm sorry I'm late.

Teacher looks at the clock.

Teacher: The attendance says you came 20 minutes ago. What happened?

Purple Owl: I was in the bathroom.

Teacher: For 20 minutes?

She nods.

Teacher: Okay. I'm glad to see your project. You'll present just before recess. Have a seat, Purple Owl.

Purple Owl goes to her seat and her guy best friend smiles at her.

Classmate: Why are you so late? Might as well not have come. I mean you never do anyway.

Guy Friend: Leave her alone.

The classmate huffs and looks away.

Purple Owl stares at her friend. Usually she's the one standing up for him.

Purple Owl: Thanks.

Guy Friend: You're welcome. You do it for me.

He looks at her.

Guy Friend: Are you okay, Purple Owl?

Purple Owl nods.

(Beat)

Guy Friend: Are you sure?

Teacher: No talking.

Guy Friend: Sorry.

He glances at Purple Owl and then looks at the student presenting.

Purple Owl feels a nudge. She looks up to the class and teacher staring at her. Guess it's her turn. She walks up and gives her presentation.

The bell rings as she finishes. She walks to the back of the room in a daze.

Her two best friends wait for her.

Girl friend: Are you okay?

Purple Owl nods.

Guy friend: For sure?

Purple Owl sighs. Her pain is gone. She can breathe. Purple Owl smiles.

Purple Owl: Yes, for sure. Let's go eat our snack so we can play.

Her friends follow her out.

Purple Owl talks to her friends while she eats. She laughs while she plays. And listens closely to the rest of class.

I filled out the conversations a bit. But the framework was the same. My first panic attack is burned into my memory. I wish I couldn't see Purple Owl falling apart in her elementary bathroom.

But I can. And it gives me understanding of the panic attacks I've had since. At 7, I didn't even know that phrase. But now it gives me relief. Relief to know I'm not alone or strange.