Monday, 03 February 2014 19:11

Losing Your Best Friend

So yeah about a week ago I had to "break up" with my best friend. She also has OCD and the two of us struggled to find a medium. We got along SO well, we could do anything together and it would feel perfect, videogames, art, just anything boring would be a blast. But in the past three or four months she responded less and less to my calls. She got upset with me more often. She told me she didn't like certain things I did, but that's just me. I don't know hoe to change those things. 

She invited me out to eat recently, but half way through our Panera her true reason for wanting to get together appeared. "I feel this isn't working," she told me bluntly (which I know is hard for her) "but I don't know what to do."

I totally understand her. I'd talked to her about my feelings earlier and it didn't go over so well. We both promised to change, but I felt I was the only one trying. I'm very extroverted, she's extremely introverted. During my panic attacks I need people, during hers she locks herself away. She just couldn't bring herself to overcome her OCD for me. I tried to overcome mine, but I'm not sure how well I did.

We agreed to try to talk less (sucumbing to her OCD tendancies of being alone), but for a whole week anger swelled in me. At her. At me. At OCD. I wrote countless letters to her, only to be shreaded. I wrote out paragraphs in imessage, but never sent them. I fllled a whole sketch book with people in the fetal position. I don't do well with this kind of stuff. Finally I called her. I said "This just won't work. I can't give you what you need and you can't give me what I need. I don't think we should be friends anymore." She barely seemed upset. "Do some crunches. Crunches will make you feel better." Where had my friend gone? So I felt I had done the right thing. 

I took down all the sketches she'd made of the two of us, all the pictures of us at the mall or laughing on the floor and the bobble head she'd given me. They just reminded me of her. I feel so pathetic. But I don't know what else to do than to put my feelings somewhere. So sorry if this was too melencholy. Maybe I need to smash some pumpkins. Haha... I'm so punny.

Published in Diary
Monday, 03 June 2013 12:56

Terrible

Ok so like I said in my status, I came home early to take my 4 kids to the library. We come around the corner and see a bus stopped and a crowd of people standing around, and there is this man laying on the ground a bent bicycle next to him. As soon as I seen this man I knew he was gone.  I instantly burst into tears, I have such a fear of death and dying mostly irrational I know but the foundation of all my panic attacks is feelings of death and dying. This was just too much. I cried for hours after this. I felt ridiculous my husband didn't understand he is like you didn't know that man. but to me seeing that brought up thoughts of every time I ve had one of my children cross without looking or get away from me in a parking lot all the what if's come to mind in someone like me and its terrible. I needed to go to church this weekend, so I go. The pastor is preaching about waiting until it's too late to repent and starts preaching about this man who died Friday. Oh and it all came back to me, so sad. A life just gone like that in the blink of an eye, its very real and very much a slap in the face as much as I think Im not dying Im not dying, we are. everyday. we are a little closer to our own demise. Ugh. Sorry to be so down today but man that was bad for me. I just want to focus on living my life and pray to God I have a good long life here in this world.. See my kids grow up, get married, have kids of their own. I want to be a grandma, I want to celebrate my 50th wedding anniversary. But you never know. YOu never know what tommorrow will bring.

Published in Diary
Friday, 08 June 2012 05:00

History to Present

When I was a little kid, I didn't feel shy. I was always very reserved and soft-spoken, but I didn't feel any awkwardness. When I was six, another kid once asked me why I was so shy. I remember responding with, "I just don't have anything to say." So much of the time, I still feel that I'm not a shy person, and that I never have anything to add to a conversation. Back to history though. Growing up, I had so many opportunities. I was always doing so many extracurricular activities like dance and art classes, but my parents never, and I mean NEVER forced me to do anything I didn't want to. Little me learned that I never had to do anything that made me uncomfortable, and things started to get uncomfortable. The more I was told my voice was too quiet, the more I was called tiny, the more I was told I looked so young, the more I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to...the more anxiety seemed to plant its seeds. I went to private school until I was 14. Most of the kids there had known each other since at least second or third grade. The first half of the year at my new public school was fantastic. I had so much to learn, I was well-liked by most everyone, and I had my first boyfriend. The day he broke up with me was one of the first major turning point in my life. I learned what depression was. Other than school, I did not leave my house for two months. When I was at school, I was a ghost. My friends stopped calling, and I stopped caring. I lost interest in all the things I used to love. People started to see me differently. I was no longer the bright and happy girl. I was odd. To odd even for the outcasts. People would approach me, but quickly lose interest. And eventually, no one approached me. Even depressed, I was enthusiastic about my new appearance. I started wearing make-up, dying my hair, and dressing creatively. To others, I guess I looked as depressed as I acted. Needless to say, they were less enthusiastic than I. I can't really say what the next few years were like, because I don't remember much. I found new friends, and new hobbies that mostly included drugs and alcohol and boys. My only anxiety I remember back then came from wanting so badly to express myself creatively in ways my parents didn't approve of, and from school which became increasingly difficult. I started having health problems and eating disorders. School became a nightmare. I couldn't keep up with my friends, drugs, health problems, eating disorders, family problems, and school. I started having panic attacks. They would start the instant I laid out my homework on the table. My work wouldn't get completed, and I was terrified of going to class empty handed. I stopped going to class because I was always either sick or panicking about being empty handed. It was a vicious cycle. Whenever things got tough or uncomfortable, I would run away from them. I didn't have to deal with anything I didn't want to. The one thing that was always comfortable was relationships. I was always in one, never single for more than a week. They always ended in one of two ways; I got bored, or I had smothered them so much that someone ended the unhealthy relationship. The more I was in relationships, the less time I spent with friends or focusing on myself at all. When my significant other wanted space, I was terrified because I had no life outside of them. Another vicious cycle. I think that's when my social interaction got really uncomfortable. And of course, I never had to do anything that made me uncomfortable. All I cared about and thought about was my boyfriend. And who wants to hear someone blab on and on about their significant other? I tried to make friends, but no one stuck around for long. I was always the one initiating plans. I wasn't involved at school or work or anywhere for that matter, so I didn't have a place to connect to anyone. I went through periods of giving up. When I got to the point of feeling like a circus freak from how socially awkward I felt when I'd go to the grocery store, I'd throw myself into social situations like parties. (but never without Jack, Jim, or Jerry to help me endure the dreaded introductions and small talk.) It was magic! I'd wake up in the morning with pictures on my camera, and new friends. And it seemed to cost me no effort. Well most functioning people can't always spend time with Jack, Jim, or Jerry. I didn't feel comfortable when they weren't around. I tried to be a productive functioning member of society, but that included going out and talking to people. it seemed I had to choose; be a non-functioning lonely recluse, or be a non-functioning social drunk. The choice seemed logical enough to me....until of course, I hit that "rock bottom." This was no way to be. Surely, I thought, therapy will help me. Well it did, but only because I had fun learning about psychology and how awesomely screwed up I was, and it helped me to be a little less lonely. Someone not only listened to all my bullshit, but they gave me compliments too! Drugs didn't help much either. I was on them for depression, and they made me feel like shit. What was a 16 year old doing on Prozac anyway? So now, I'm 20 years old and I'm terrified of people. I've never had a job because I'm terrified of being interviewed. I avoid every day responsibilities that require me to talk to someone. I rarely approach strangers, no matter how badly I want to say something to them. I spend all of my time alone when I'm not at the doctors office. I spend hours every day on social networks wishing I had friends, doing the things I love. My personality is so confident, happy, and even social. So why can't I show it? When I'm faced with showing it, I turn into a spineless jellyfish. I'm suddenly unsure of myself. When I'm approached in public, my brain instinctively says "Oh God. Please go away." I don't really want the person to go away most of the time. The longer I have to stand there, the more ridiculous my thoughts become. The anxiety grows from "I'm nervous" to "I feel awkward" to "I wonder what she thinks of me." to "She probably thinks I'm an idiot." to "Brain, shut up and focus on the conversation" to "She can see that I'm nervous." My mouth becomes dry. My eyes dart around the room. I even say things I don't agree with just because they're more convenient at the time, and my brain is so busy racing that I don't have any room to think about how I actually feel about what's being said. And once I think the other person can sense my nervousness, any fraction of feeling content is demolished. Will this be the model for the rest of my life? Time will tell.

Published in Diary