Have you ever felt lost inside so unloved within that you almost die? —Shinedown, Stranger Inside

I listened to that at work today, and it resonated inside my brainpan as depressing lyrics often do. That struck a chord in me because that was true for me for a long time. I felt unloved when I looked in a mirror. I felt unloved with my own family. I felt unloved in my own skin…and it was killing me from the inside.

I guess one day I woke up and realized my self doubts were not just bringing me down, they were like vines, clinging and choking me until I didn’t know which way was up. I thought my self esteem would always be low, that I would never amount to anything other than a waste of space.

I was wrong. I was also wrong about once it got to a point where it was good, that it would always be good. I was mega wrong about that. For me, it’s a constant battle. I have to continously monitor against negativity. I mean continously, too. It is easier to just lay down and let the negative thoughts aka “demons” swarm over me.

Let me tell you, I’m not the kind of person who does things the easy. Just ask my roommate.

I think I know what’s triggering all this anxiety; being found attractive and being attracted to someone.   I have to find a way to disarm the anxiety.  I have to find a way to please myself and not worry about other people.  It would be wonderful to be emotionally mature and be able to do the give and take that normal, loving people do.  I am trying, I swear to God, I am. 

It’s always been easy for people to take advantage of me by saying, “If you don’t do this or that for me, I won’t be your friend.”  I have yearned for acceptance and love my whole life, so I compromised and did it.   Over and over again. I just didn’t want to lose any friends.   As I grew older, I said “Screw it! I don’t want people in my life.”

I want to please people so that they’ll like me and not abandon me.  Remember that about me. It’ll be very important later on.

Yeah, I know. I’m not the only person that’s been chewed up and spit out like a used piece of gum.   People react in different ways.  Mine is withdrawing into a shell until I feel as if I can deal with the issue. Other people get mad.  To each their own.

I decided not to IM that individual anymore.   I’m just too anxious to talk with him.  I like to talk to him, but I’m obsessing about it.   I see him post in group, but he’s not on.  Makes me wonder if he doesn’t want to or if I said something wrong….   I over think and over analyze.  I love to talk to him and I continuously worry if I’m going to make our on-line friendship go down the crapper. Let me make this clear:  I don’t want a “relationship” with him,  I just want to be his friend.  I am so worried that I’ll screw things up.  I have in the past,  two times for sure.

I know there is about a thousand reasons for him to not be on..all of them not involving me. It’s best to just not IM him anymore.  I’m not that conceited to believe he is avoiding me,  it’s the anxiety that bothers me. Not him, not me…the anxiety.  I don’t want that eggshell feeling again.   It bothers me that someone I do not know from Adam is bringing forth vulnerability in me.  I do not know him.  I am never going to “know” him.  Nor am I the kind of person who goes and seeks their love interest.

I think I’m going to quit the group too. I really can’t afford to get attached—to pixels on a screen– and it’s quite pathetic to grow some affection for someone on the East Coast.   I don’t know why I do it.  It’s a compulsion for me.   It’s not safer, really,  only gives the illusion of safety.

I sense a potential problem and I’m going to nip it in the bud.    Maybe a hidden part of me does want something from him.   Maybe I’m lying to myself.  Maybe I took the flirting too seriously, maybe…  I did. Maybe I let myself be too visible to him. Maybe I let myself be too intimate with him and all this panic is a warning.

I’m so messed up.

“Love comes to those who still hope even though they’ve been disappointed, to those who still believe even though they’ve been betrayed, to those who still love even though they’ve been hurt before.”

I like this quote. Don’t know who wrote it, or I’d give them credit, but it’s inspirational. It made me smile and think and try to regain a sense of hope.

I struggle with depression and anxiety. I am quite throughly neurotic. I do have some OCD behaviors, I am not perfect. I whine, I bitch, I go on an emotional rampage from time to time. I complain. I sink so low in my own self doubt that I can’t see the sun.

I struggle against the sense of my own inadequacies of self and talent, of being to drag out my thoughts and polish them up to offer people hope, of not being alone, of being able to connect to others. It’s hard. I kind of think of depression as a thick, vicous tarry substance that holds me immobile, while the dark thoughts keep sticking to me.

My real life, slow. My online life? Taking off. I seem to be very popular. Ok, so maybe not on this blog, but my fellow roleplayers love me. I love nerdboys; they are so sweet. No, I really do. If I ever met one in real life, we’d have conversations worth having. Like….Superman is so over-rated…and what is Comic Book Man’s real name. (Louis Lane, so I’ve heard.)

Even if they like polar bear punching or taking Silver Age comic blurbs out of context. Well, I guess that’s not sweet. That’s comedy gold, people. And I love me some comedy gold.

As far as comics, it’s sooo sooo hard to keep up on what’s going on. I’d love to buy comics, and the guilt would drive me mad if I downloaded them, but the economy going the way it’s going…well, I can’t afford to right now. So I live vicariously through people like Chris.

How sad, huh?

But other than the economy, life’s pretty good. I have about a thousand books in my house to read, I have my trusty ol’ Xbox, and of course, my computer.

And you, my reader, to torment with vague posts.

For prospective parents.  The “man” makes you go through testing to drive a car.  Why not get tested before being able to be in charge of nurturing a life?

Octu-mom, I’m sorry, needs some psych help and to have her kids taken away. And the fertility doctor should be investigated.  If not have his license taken away or suspended. 

Actually, I’m not sorry. There is no way she can afford to take for fourteen children, emotionally and financially. It’s just not possible for one (Ok, two…counting her mother) person to care for so many young children.

It’s a sad situation, all the way around. Hey, I understand wanting a baby, but in a interview, she made it sound like having children filled something in her. That’s NO reason to have children. At least my cousin, who has ten of her own, can feed and shelter them with no public assistance.

Start rant: TO ALL THE PEOPLE ON WELFARE; STOP HAVING CHILDREN. GO GET A SHOT, OR THE PILL, OR STOP HAVING RELATIONS. STOP POPPING OUT CHILDREN THAT LIVE IN POVERTY. BE A RESPONSIBLE ADULT. End rant.

Before I go off the deep end, I’ll close this post with an appropriate quote: There’s too many people making too many problems…and not enough love to go around.

Yes, it’s from a song. Betcha can’t guess which one.

Err. This isn’t a post about a crudtacular pop band. It’s about a panic attack at work. Oh boy.

Had one at work. At a office “Christmas” party in a small room with twenty co-workers. If you could call a raffle a party….

Anyway, I just felt so crowded by people. The room was spinning and people were getting louder and louder. I made some snipy comments…when all I really wanted to do was get under the table and vanish. My panic attacks usually include heavy breathing, but there have been times I felt as if I were having a heart attack. I also have PTSD, Agoraphobia, and Social Anxiety Disorder…Whee!

Some of my co-workers looked at me like I was a freak. Yeah, I am, but I’m a person too.

I confided in my supervisor later, and told her that I was sorry for any misconstrued comments, and she said that she understood. Let’s hope she does.

This is where I’d say that it sucks to be me, but it doesn’t. I still love me…for the most part….panic attacks and all.

Be the change you wish to see in the world–Gandhi.

I believe I’ve posted this quote before. I’ve always liked the quote but now that I have had time to contemplate and analyze it, I’m not sure I do anymore. Yeah, I do tend to think ideas to a pulp.

There are too many people that want to be the change they see in the world. That is to say, there are too many different “factions” of humankind that want to mold the earth in their image.

Religious folk want everyone under their particular banner, believing and acting as their beliefs dictate. Countries are lining up to be the next Superpower, so they may take over influence the world. PUSHY, militaristic feminists that say men aree bad and inferior. PUSHY gay and lesbians who deliberately force their opinions on others, or try to “recruit”. Ninety-nine point five percent of GL do not wish to foist their lifestyle off on the impressionable and vulnerable…but there are some that do.

Too many people want too much change–in their favor, to deny rights to those that are different or poorer, to try to make others conform. From my experience, coerced anything is not worth squat. In my kinder moments, I almost believe that abrasive people who use their [insert political or faith platform] point of view, truly want to help people. But then, a sneaking suspicion that they are loud-mouth bullies jabs me in my mental gut and back to reality.

I’ve got a better quote: Be part of the change that saves the world, put aside differences and just work on issues that matter.

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”–Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Yes, I took two days off of work this week. It does the soul and mind good to get away from the ol’ grindstone once in awhile. And besides, I always wanted an excuse to use that quote. FBDO isn’t my favorite movie, but it’s still a good flick with what I would call heart and warmth.

Let me go off on a tangent.

Telemarketers annoy me. Telemarkerters who have a “private name/private number” immediately get put on my “it” list because not only are they calling me at …oh…around dinner time, they don’t have the guts and/or courtesy to let the me (the callee) know who’s calling.

Take, for instance, today:

The phone rang. No identifying number or anything. I ususally don’t pick up on calls like that, but I did today. I guess I wasn’t thinking. Dumb me. Hey, I left my brain at work where it belongs.

I heard a woman say: “Is there a Mr. or Mrs. Peterson here?” Ahhhh…the typical telemarketer’s ‘pick up’ line. Nothing is sweeter… Feel the sarcasm here, people, and roll with it.

I replied, “There is no one here by that name.” Technically, it’s true. I’m a Ms. Peterson–at any rate, I knew it was a salesperson and didn’t want to deal with it. So I hung up. I expect most people to honor my desire not to engage in conversation. Looking back, I probably should have added…”Have a good day, good-bye” to that. But oh well, hindsight is 20-20. As the mysterious “they” say.

The phone rang again…barely a second after I hung up. It was the woman again, ranting against my hanging up…”How dare you be so rude…blah blah…”

CLICK. Seriously, I don’t need to be yelled at by some lady I’ll never meet. And to be honest, I won’t put up with being screamed at. Period. Plus, I didn’t feel like starting a phone feud, because I was getting angry. That’s why I hung up on her again.

For a minute, I wish I had the rocket launcher from the Halo games to blow up my phone. I would have loved to have seen the silver and black chunks that was my phone fly all over the place. As well as the blackened hole in the floor of my house. I guess that’s another item to be added to my X-mas list. I’m sure to get it because I’ve been an awfully good girl this year.

THE PHONE RANG AGAIN. This time, I didn’t pick it up. Just turned off the ringer. I just had a feeling it was her.

Look, I hate being rude, but darn it, telemarketers bug the perdition INTO me. And lady, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I was inpolite. Next time, I’ll do as I did above and not answer the phone–thereby saving us both face.

I have an anxiety disorder.  Doesn’t take away my value as a human. Doesn’t mean I’m entitled to special treatment either, except a better
understanding of my “pecularities”.**

Every time I hear someone say: “Just get over your panic attacks’, I want to do something physical involving their face and my fist. But hey, I’m a civilized person (more or less) and antics like that are better left to sociopaths toting huge guns.

It isn’t easy. With me, a panic attack starts with a light sweating, then my chest becomes like a heavy weight until I am sure I must die.

Here’s what I think: nononono please just gogogogogo away.dontwanttodie thisisjusttooMUCHforme. lemmebreathe.  You get the idea.  It isn’t only in my head, it causes physical discomfort, and it isn’t a difficulty that is easy to overcome.  It is a real problem.  It doesn’t even mean I’m totally nuts.

Or does it?  Nyah.

How I deal with anxiety is simply to write. Or crawl under the covers of my bed.  Or to take a nip or ten of a warm butt-kicking liquor.

**My pecularities being a fear/loathing of all these things:

A fear of winding, harrowing roads.
Slugs.
Lying.
Crowds of people.
Heights.