Log: Apr 13 (Mon)

Apr 13 (Mon): Work 10:00a – 6:00p, Chores Meditation 7p-9p @Meditation Center

Sunset from last night

Sunset from last night

This morning, “Peter” and I had no ingredients to make breakfast so we got prepped for work and then ate out for breakfast. I had gotten up on time and showered quickly, amazingly. That’s how I know without doubt that I’m still in the infatuation stage — I’m still jumping out of bed in the morning when with him. I’m motivated. I don’t look forward to when that bubble pops.

Anyway, so I made it to work by 10a, and I actually managed to resolve a big issue I’d been working on for a while now. I finally found a contact in another state who was able to tell which coordinate system the points had been plotted using, and discovered my coordinates were missing a digit. That’s why I couldn’t figure out what coordinate system I had in front of me. There is no possible way I could have figured it out on my own. The last digits of the Easting were all cut off! One of my coworkers was able to locate a map that had the rest of the digits on it, so tomorrow I’ll be able to convert them all from that coordinate system to UTM. Before a week or two ago, I didn’t even know that different coordinate systems existed. WhyTF are there so damn bloody many different coordinate systems being used, anyway?! That makes no sense. Pick a couple and stick with ’em, eh?!

Anyway. So I was tired for work, and my intestines were still upset from the dairy last night, but I was halfway productive, so that’s good. I stayed a bit later than I’d meant to — I try to leave by a certain time so I’m not biking home home in the dusk. I passed by the Meditation Center just before the time when it starts, so I looked all around for a safe-feeling place to lock up my bicycle but found none. So I carried my bike up anyway and rested it outside for a minute while I went in to say hi to my friend, Shelly. I haven’t seen her in a little while. It turned out to be her birthday! The teacher happened to be standing nearby as I explained why I was going to leave, and he told me that it would be fine to bring my bicycle in with me!!

So I joined tonight’s Meditation group after all. I am so glad that I did. It was difficult at times. We were told we’d sit in silence for 40 minutes but that he would say the Koan sometime in there. So I had no direction for my mind at the beginning. Then the Koan was given to us but I didn’t like it. It went something like this:

Two friends are out walking. One friend says to the other, “How do you express the Truth without using words and without using silence?” The friend replies, “I remember the kind of September when the days were slow and oh so mellow.”

This is a heavily translated version of a very old Koan. He removed the Chinese popular culture reference and inserted song lyrics from a musical. I won’t take the time to explain all of the reasons, but it was interesting. Anyway. I didn’t like this Koan. I didn’t know it was a pop culture reference at the time.

Then the setting sun happened to shine a single sunbeam right toward my left hand, so I turned my arm so that it was lighting up the palm of my hand until it eventually dimmed and disappeared. The orangey glow actually helped me to connect with the Koan and think about things differently. I won’t go into all of the inner processes; with the Koan, I am not always sure I like hearing about how other people experienced it. It is always so different than what I experienced.

The Teacher’s talk afterward was mind-blowing for me. He talked about memory and memories and present moment experience and how we view the world. You’d have had to have been there. It was pretty trippy. He presented the thought that we are never really experiencing the present moment. Everything we cognitively experience is a memory. By the time we know what we have seen, the eyes have already seen it.

For example, let’s use the time I burned my hand on a skillet at “Peter’s” apartment and instantly moved my hand away from the heat, and thus managed to throw the egg a short way across the kitchen floor. The hand moving away from the heat is the present moment response but we’re not cognitively in control of that. By the time I realized the pain and realized the raw egg on the floor and my empty hand, it was already a memory. Every single thing we recognize having seen or heard, felt (physically or emotionally), smelled, etc, is a memory. We can have a sensation and respond physically or emotionally to the stimulus without realizing it, and that’s the present moment. But by the time we recognize what’s going on, it’s a memory.

He made a reference to an old idea of there being 17 moments of memories in a single snap of the fingers.

We discussed more than just that. There was a lot of significance placed on the positives of memory and how it forms our responses in the present times, and more things. But alas, I am tired and it’s very late and I have to get up early tomorrow. AFTERward, I talked with Shelly for a while outside of the building, and then I biked home and ate some canned salmon with lettuce and some lemon juice. That’s all and I’m not hungry.

OH! I had eaten a lot of caramel cashews at the Meditation center!! Shelly had brought a ton of them in for her birthday. She’d made them herself and used coconut milk instead of sweetened condensed milk, and so I was able to eat them! They were so good. I had a ton. No wonder a small dinner was satisfactory. Anyway. Then I didn’t feel comfortable vacuuming because my uncle was watching a movie upstairs and my aunt was talking on the phone long-distance downstairs. So I sat on the couch and watched the rest of the movie with my uncle. I hadn’t done that in a very long time (although partly because he had been getting upset with me whenever I hung in front of a TV screen). Today’s Mood Ranking: 5-6

The first poem I ever wrote & hiding in the woods

In early elementary school, we were learning about analogies and such in class. Our assignment was to write what people were “like”. Mine made my mom cry her eyes out, although I didn’t learn that for years. She said it was 100% accurate:

My mom is like the ocean, sometimes stormy and sometimes calm.
My brother is like a teapot, always huffing and puffing and letting off steam.
My dad is like a twig in the river, always going with the flow.
And I am like a deer lost in the forest, who must learn to take care of myself.

There’s a lot I want to say about the last line, but I keep deleting what I write. So I’ll just say that without question, this is how I felt for all of childhood. Anything else I want to say will be for a different day.

Ruby Tiger Moth

Ruby Tiger Moth

EDIT: I was thinking about this poem because of a conversation on blahpolar’s page, which had me thinking about the few people who keep encouraging me to go off of my meds, and how much I’ve argued for staying on my meds (when really, of course I want off of them, but). And it had me thinking that I’ve been depressed for far more of my life than non-depressed. I wasn’t terribly depressed in elementary school, but I was definitely melancholy/sad. The woods and the rain and the caterpillars were my friends. I had built a fort in the woods near my house, and would hide there.

My proudest times were when unsuspecting walkers would walk the trail past me and never know I was there. The most anxious was when their loose dogs would always sniff me out, and sometimes get the people’s attention. At the same time, I liked the visiting dogs. They knew, you know.

Later, my path to the hiding spot became too worn, because these two particular neighbor dogs kept visiting me and they always came up the same way. I would walk around and around in the woods to try and get them used to a different path and throw “people” off, but no. I couldn’t hide there then, because it felt too exposed due to the dogs’ path.

I spent a lot of time there. I know I sometimes wrote sad poems out there. I don’t really remember what else I did. Probably I day dreamed most of the time. That’s what I did most of my childhood anyway, was daydream.

I day dreamed so deeply that people could be talking directly to me and I’d be completely unaware. They could say my name and everything and I would still be lost somewhere in my head.

The book I most identify with is “House of Stairs” by William Sleator (not the plot itself, just a particular character was Was Me Back Then). I hadn’t read the book until middle school, but I knew immediately. If you read that, you’ll know exactly where I was mentally and ashamedly, even what my daydreams were about. I made my high school counselor read that. I don’t think she understood. On the other hand, she kept asking me if I’d had any childhood abuse and I kept saying no, because at the time, I didn’t know it was considered abuse. But I still don’t think she understood the point I was trying to make about my character in that book.

This is so horrible to admit, because my parents are so full of love and they’re great, but yet I was quite sad as a child– that’s how I’ll excuse this: But I used to fog up my window in the back seat and write “help me” signs to the other cars. Sometimes I would press my palm up by the words. Nobody ever responded. At some point, I realized my words would be backwards for the other people, but writing backwards got no response, either. Just as well.

Actually, I spent a ton of time hiding under my bed and also behind a particular couch. No more details.

Roller coaster day (Journal#054)

I cannot tell you how close I was to cutting tonight. I actually spent a while here writing a post about it, but in the end, I just couldn’t press “publish” because I admitted such embarrassing things.

I’m hiding the rest behind a “read more” button: Continue reading

Not my most “up” day, perhaps. (Journal#052)

I cracked open my laptop tonight to see if writing a post would help me feel better. I may have had an anxiety attack a little bit ago. I’m not sure. Tears were involved. I’m actually not much of a cryer so it’s always a big deal to me when I cry. It means something is off, either my blood sugar, menstruation, or a bit of an anxiety attack.

So here goes my exploration. First of all, Saturday. Saturday, I did what I’d intended to do. I rested. I napped. I rested some more. I think I did chores that evening. Sunday, I spent most of it with “Joe”. We watched tons more episodes of Star Trek TNG and we went on a walk. I’ll admit to you guys that we may have snuggled on the sofa while watching. All G-rated, but his arms were definitely around me and my head was resting on his chest and I didn’t want to ever move again. Ever. Complete. Bliss. If I could freeze those moments in time and just let the rest of my life play out like that, I would. Nothing more and nothing less.

This might sound positive but it is not. I don’t know if I’ll be able to put to words. something extremely important and desperate. something that does not deserve to live in me but it is there and will rear its head whenever and however it damn well pleases.


Desperation. Forgive me, I may offend as I try to type this. I don’t know what I’ll say or how this is going to come out.

All I can do is say PTSD. How else could I possibly describe it.

In my second year of college, I was starting my mental breakdown. It went on through the whole year, getting progressively worse the entire time.

There came a time when I consciously realized the desperation that had grown within me. At lunch, I would sit with a group of people in the cafeteria. I would sit with them. I would stare at them. I would try to memorize them and their presence with me and their company. I was desperate. I would not go for food any longer; every second spent getting food was a second not spent with them. I would begin to cry when one of them would have to leave to go back and study, attend class, etc. The loneliness.

It got to where I would begin to cry preemptively. Lunch would have just begun and I would burst into tears because I knew they would all have to leave shortly. I cannot put this into words strongly enough to convey. I would have done anything. What did I have to lose anymore by that point? I was desperate for company and did not attain it.

But also, I could not. Because even if someone tried to spend a moment with me, I was wracked with the loneliness and knowledge that they’d be leaving shortly.

THERE IS A WAY IN WHICH COMPANY WORSENS IT. It gives me that taste again. It gives me something to miss again. In many ways, it is easiest and best to be alone. Because otherwise, this neurotic part of me can rise again.

Well it did today. Tonight, I was so lonely I cried. And I wanted a hug. And I wanted company. And I don’t want to be alone right now.

The higher the high, the more painful the fall. I have had this now for over a decade. How did it subside long enough for me to date and marry? I don’t understand.

I thought, perhaps tonight I was triggered because I had just finished filling out a psychiatric history form for a psychiatrist I am finally going to see. But I did perhaps an overly-thorough job of going back all the way to the first time I was diagnosed with anything, and going forward from there, which means I did give a quick mention to that year of college and the time following.

Will this loneliness-I-would-kill-for-companionship feeling go away? Please, please let there be some way of letting this feeling die once and for all.

It’s a loop, too. It fuels itself. Because guess what keeps people away quite easily? Being neurotic. So my desperation for you, once I can no longer hide it, will be the very thing that keeps you away, fueling my desire to sacrifice any and all aspects of myself for companionship.

And, once it is in full swing, this is not something that will leave my head. I will not be able to think of anything else during the 24hr day. I mean this literally. It’s never occurred to me before now, but perhaps there is some OCD in there as well. As is, these are reasons I do not trust myself and I think I am dangerous to others (because I HAVE gone through times when I would say and do anything. Lie. Be someone different. Set aside anything Real for just one moment of time with someone). But I wonder now, if I were to consider it anymore as nothing more than an intrusive thought, maybe I could treat it as such. It feels more Real and more Tangible and more Controlling than that, but maybe, just maybe that’s all it is now. I wonder if I can think of it that way. I wish to God[] I could be normal and have normal, healthy relationships.

[[P.S. I was still in tears when I cracked open my laptop to try and explore this topic here, but before I started this post, I read all of the beautiful, so kind comments on my previous posts. ❤ ❤ I didn’t feel as lonely then. Thank you, everybody! ❤ ]]

Cannot. Sleep. (Journal#039)

It’s 5:11 a.m. and I cannot sleep. I’ve been trying since around 1 a.m. It’s ironic, because I had even set aside a really complicated sketch I was working on for the sake of sleep.

I guess I am too nervous about tomorrow. I’m flying out tomorrow, for my grandpa’s memorial.

  • I have issues with executive functioning, so packing is always an issue.
    • My mom did talk me through some of it over the phone earlier. But in truth, I only gathered some clothes so far. I couldn’t bring my mind to think about it.
  • I’m flying. Which brings up its own bag of worms (actually, I’d like a bag of worms).
    • My worst-ever panic attack occurred on an airplane.
      • It was before I had accepted any anti-anxiety medicines (STUPID!).
      • The flight attendants offered me oxygen.
    • Although before that happened, flying was my favorite thing to do and I dreamed of being a then-called stewardess, one panic attack can change all of that.
    • Now I always feel really pleased with myself if I make it through a flight without taking anxiety medicine. (Why do I torture myself with trying it?! I can go from handling it to being scared out of my pants in about 1 second flat.)
  • I’m just scared.
    • Of the change in routine, I guess.
    • Scared of the unknown.
    • Seeing people I don’t normally get to see.
    • Attending a memorial I haven’t mentally prepared for yet.
    • I never submitted any of my memories of him for the book they’re preparing. 😦
  • I’m getting up in 2 hours for a doctor appointment. I apparently decided, why make a normal appointment for half the price when I can instead wait to the last second before travel and see an urgent care doctor for extra$$$ for something that’s been bugging me for two months??!
    • Maybe after the appointment, I can finish packing and then NAP until my flight, since I’m obviously not going to get a whole lot of sleeping in between now and my appointment.

I’ve been down again lately. It feels like it’s gone on forever, but maybe I’m mistaken.

I don’t want to ever step foot back at work again. I’ve definitely got a “thing” about that place now.

My other contract is ending at the end of this month. Actually, that means my mom won’t let me nap tomorrow because she’ll insist I work on that contract… which would be the ethically correct thing to do. But I’m so scared about the fact that I can’t sleep. I didn’t do too badly on that contract, but the time period’s nearly over and there’s still like a day’s worth of work to do on it. Two days if I’m unproductive.

Please let me out of this job. I don’t want to ever go back. One of my aunts apparently told my mom that if I can make it through for another month or two, things will be all better. But OMFG WHY DO I HAVE TO MAKE IT THROUGH ONE OR TWO MORE MONTHS of it?! (2 reasons: One, the pay is better than most other jobs I could get, and two, I could opt for significantly cheaper health insurance through it)

I haven’t really written here that there’s been a helluva lot of inner turmoil at work. A helluva lot. It’s basically destroyed my home life. For the past however long it’s been, that’s what all the yelling and crap has been about – it’s all been work related. And when there wasn’t yelling, my uncle had stopped being able to talk with me or anything because he had to focus on contracts and all sorts of things he had to research. He didn’t tell me what was going on, and in fact did try to hide the yelling from me at first, but frankly when the walls shake from your voice, there’s no hiding it. That’s when I put in the earplugs and whatnot.

But I can’t take it. You’ve changed. I’m depressed. I’m scared of work, scared of the turmoil, scared of people resenting each other and doing things behind other people’s backs. Scared of the fact that one of them told several of the other employees what’s going on but I was still in the dark, as I was supposed to be (it really isn’t my business as an employee there). Sick. I’m just sick. I’m literally getting over my virus.

But I’m more than physically sick. I feel like all the light and all the hope of this life is just gone. Like I have nothing to look forward to again. Like every moment is a torment and I can’t feel rest and I can’t feel secure and I can’t feel loved. Listless and pointless.

But I’m glad I took Bailey to the dog park today. I needed the exercise (I had slept for virtually 4 days straight without a speck of exercise). But I feel so sick to my stomach right now. Bailey was very good with all of the different dogs and all of the people…except for her ability to sniff out each person who had treats. Silly food hog. It was cute, but I literally had to take her to the other side of the dog park because this really nice lady wouldn’t stop giving her treats! (Bailey has a fat-roll issue, for those wondering why that would be a problem. 😉 )

Don’t read on if you’re emetophobic or otherwise squeamish: Continue reading