Elephant in the Room
I wrote this after midnight and finished it today. It was edited with some pictures at nearly 11pm today.
I thought I was on the right path of figuring out how to make myself better. Instead I just feel even crazier.
I didn’t put gas in my truck because 1) it keeps rising and 2) I seriously thought I’d have enough to at least get to work. There was a police officer on the side of the road, and so I switched lanes (moving into the left lane) because I was told that you’re supposed to do it to be nice… or whatever. Anyway, he made his way into the right lane, and I eventually got behind him. Once his lights began flashing, I stopped and got back into the left lane – but my truck would BARELY go. It was really scary, and my anxiety was all over the place. I finally made it over to the side of the road, I think people at work thought it was funny whilst I just thought it was embarrassing. Thankfully they understood, right?
My youngest brother Patrick has a knife, and he was sharpening it. He doesn’t know what’s going on with me (how the heck am I supposed to tell an almost-ten-year old such a thing!?), and I tried to be okay with him wanting to talk about said knife and the blades and how you could easily hurt yourself if you’re not careful…
I can’t handle that. That was a huge no. I can’t handle hearing about any of those things, or even being around them right now because I’m so afraid I’ll hurt myself – and I won’t even know I did so until after. I’m currently suffering from some sort of disorientation thing, and it sucks.
I was told that I have Clinical Depression, and I could come back if I wanted to to get screened for which level of the depression thing that I have. So I agreed to. I didn’t know that there were levels of depression, and I also didn’t know that my past could have anything to do with it. Of course, there are a few other things. And my mom’s background and the disorders there are are a huge part of it, too.
However, I can’t seem to quit trying to please others. Pleasing others is what is hurting me constantly, and it’s just simply making everything so much worse.
But I agreed to watch them tonight – actually, I offered. I figured he and Carrie (my younger sister) would want to get away from the house. Carrie ended up getting a stomach ache, and she wanted to go home to our mom. Tomorrow I’m going to Walmart to buy some groceries and get my oil changed and to ‘exchange’ my returns – which is actually more like exchanging my returns for money on a gift card so I can buy different shirts, and then use the remaining portion on whatever I want if I don’t use it on clothes.
I need to quit trying to please people. Also, I’m extremely irritable, and smiling and/or laughing feels so surreal to me. I just want everything to be quiet, and dark, and if I was an adequate writer I would write a movie or the actions to a song for a music video… They don’t have any of those that don’t just seem fake and acted out and like said person has probably never really experienced before. They don’t seem real. I don’t know. I don’t really care for many things all that much anymore.
I have to force myself to do anything. And if I’m left alone to think – or even if I’m just left alone in general – then I’m going to think about myself and all of my problems and about how much I hate myself and about how ugly I think I am no matter what. I feel broken, and I can’t find all the pieces to put me back together. Or if I do find said pieces, then the tape doesn’t hold long enough; it’s not strong enough.
Sitting there on the side of the road (I think it’s called the shoulder?) made me realize exactly how I feel – you’re in a vehicle, and you can’t move because you ran out of gas. Yet, the rest of the world can continue to move without you. The world doesn’t necessarily need you in it; maybe it just wants you in it. But you don’t want to be wanted – you want to feel needed. And the world is going on without you – not giving you a second look, or maybe even a second chance. That’s what I feel like. It isn’t one of those, “oh, a lot of people your age get that” kind of thing. You’re practically a zombie just doing whatever you normally do, and it doesn’t matter how you feel because it still has to be done in the right way, and even the people who know about your depression and the way you feel don’t really want to talk about anything else unless it’s about how you’re depressed and going to get better.
And then, every time you’re finally one step forward, you’re actually a gazillion steps back. Anything can make you snap in a flash, no matter how big or small the situation.