Nights Like This

Nights like this I remember why "Dawn's Lament" is the song from the Buffy musical episode that I most relate to. Short thought it may be, it's been my anthem for nearly two years.

Nights like this I try to run away from the world, just to see if anyone chases after me to bring me back. Or even to see if they notice. Then, I suddenly realize that if I counted my friends based on that, I wouldn't have any.

Nights like this I seem to have myself convinced that if I curl myself into a tight enough ball, I'll physically implode and cease to exist. Because I already feel like I don't in the eyes of others.

Nights like this I can't manage to find a good reason to get up in the morning other than sheer obligation.

Nights like this I want to quit life. Not quit living. Just quit life. I'll hole up in my room and cease to be a functioning member of society. I'll be depressed and anxious in my solitude. Maybe after a while of that I'd want to quit living. I suppose it would depend on whether anyone tries to break down the barrier I've built up around myself.

Nights like this I don't even care that I'm depressed and anxious. No one else seems to.

Nights like this all I feel is alone. And I've been hurt by so many of the people around me that I'm no longer brave enough to attempt reaching out to anyone.

Nights like this a small part of me wants to explode at everyone who's hurt me the last two years. But I'm not brave enough. So I'm overcome with pain and implode instead.

Nights like this I wish I could just quit. Because then I wouldn't have to deal with the new pain that arises each day. I could just be overwhelmed by everything that's already happened.

Nights like this I try to figure out why it is that the only people whose attentions and opinions matter to me are the people who've treated me the worst.

Nights like this I remember that most stereotypes originate in truth, and some stereotypes are almost entirely true.
Nights like this I don't want to talk about what's bothering me. Or try to describe how I'm feeling. But I do want someone to say something. To ask why I disappeared or didn't show or couldn't stop crying or whatever.

Nights like this I can't wait to be done at Concordia so that I can move somewhere and completely isolate myself rather than trying to make "friends" only to be hurt by most of them in the long run.

Nights like this I still wonder if the people I see on a day-to-day basis would even notice if I wasn't here tomorrow?

Nights like this I want to find a way to make people feel eternally guilty for the pain I feel because of them.

Nights like this I just wish I felt loved by the people I'm around every day.

Nights like this I want to scream that the top of my lungs knowing that people will either be deaf to it all, ignore me, or jump to my rescue only to turn away when they discover that my cry for help wasn't as dire as they thought.

Nights like this I say "I quit' so many times, only to know that I'm not there yet. But nights like this, I wish I was.

Sick of Hurting

Everything hurts. Emotionally, at least. Absolutely everything. There are days that I can suppress it enough to be stable. Moments, occasionally minutes and hours, that I'm actually happy. But not very often. Happiness that lasts more than a moment appears only a handful of times each month. The rest of the time? It just hurts.

It hurts that no one seems to quite fully accept my double major. My friends don't. My adviser doesn't. My professors don't. Heck, I'm not even sure my parents fully understand it at this point. I used to be on the fence between math and music. But I've really come to discover that my passion lies in music. My heart lies in music. And all I want is to direct a choir of my own. Because the only times when I've really been happy this semester are when I've been in choir. Especially the days I got to conduct. I beamed. I loved practicing conducting. And I loved being up in front of a choir helping them to make music. Most of the world doesn't understand that, though. Most of the time when I state both of my majors, people only pay attention to the math part. Because the world needs more math teachers, especially female math teachers. I'll be sure to find a job. But my heart isn't in it anymore. My heart is in music. Yet, I feel like music people look down on me for the double major. That they think I've already given up on music or that I'm not dedicated enough to music because I have the second major. So, in essence, they pay more attention to the math part too. Only a handful of people fully recognize the music part.

It hurts feeling like a failure all the time. I feel like a failure at music education. Because I have the math ed degree. Because I'm nowhere near as good a conductor as my peers. Because I'm not as involved in ACDA as I should be. Because I'm not outgoing enough. Because I don't spend all my time in the music building. Because I don't fit in with the music ed majors. Much less the non-ed music majors. I feel like a failure at math education. Because I'm not passionate enough. Because my math ed professor consistently makes it clear to the class that we'll never be good enough for him. Because my focus has been on music ed for the last 3.5 years. I feel like a failure as a person. Because I care more about myself than anyone else right now. Because I can't just fake being happy all the time. Much less fake being happy. Because my peers rarely express that they believe in me. Or even notice my existence.

It hurts feeling like no matter hard I try, I will never have a group of friends at Concordia. I tried to have music friends. I still have one or two really good ones. But I don't fit in. I'm almost never invited to be a part of things. I'm rarely acknowledge when I invite myself along. I know I distanced myself after Garrett. And I've been working my butt off lately to try to find a way in. But to no avail. It's like I'm not a good enough music person to be a part of the group. Because have different musical opinions than what I should in a huge variety of ways. Or maybe it's just that I don't like to drink enough. Either way, I'll never fit in. I've tried having math friends. It almost works, sometimes. But I don't understand half the humor that happens. And I'm not philosophical enough to participate in conversation. And sometimes when I try to participate, they turn their noses up at me. I have a few good math friends. Who don't make my brain hurt. Who accept me for me. Who make an effort to include me. And they're some of the truest friends I have here. But when things include the larger group, I no longer fit in. And then, for the only time in my life, I feel like the naive, dumb blond. I'm not going to have much for any friends next year. Sure, I have a few underclassmen that I can spend some time with. But I still don't fit in with their larger group. And they aren't integral parts of my support system. It hurts feeling like all I have is the handful of people that make up my support system and a couple of other shallower friends. But it's going to hurt more next year when the support system is gone and I'm all alone.

It hurts that the love and encouragement I receive from friends and family at home has come to mean nothing. It's like I've heard it so many times that I've become immune to it. And having friends and family at home doesn't change the fact that I feel like I have no one at Concordia. So on nights like tonight when I just need to cling to someone and cry and say everything that's been on my mind for months, I find myself alone. Because I need the physical presence. But having someone from home come here would only make matters worse. Because it would only widen the gap between me and the people at Concordia that I so desperately want to have as friends. Real friends.

It hurts that I don't know how to talk to my parents anymore. Because it generally only makes me feel worse. Because it's generally either a lecture or pure worry. And I can't handle either.

It hurts that I've lost my faith. That I can't step into any church or see  even a Bible verse in passing without bursting into tears. That the one thing that's supposed to bring comfort only makes me hurt more. That I don't even know why it hurts so much.

It hurts feeling like I can't openly express my hurt. Because I stopped having friends about the time that I started crying through classes and vocalizing how crappy I always felt. Because no one wants to be around someone who can't at least pretend to be happy all the time. So on nights that I feel depressed and really just need to be able to talk things out, I'm just alone. And I curl into a ball and cling to myself. Because that's the only thing I know how to cling to. It's no wonder that I've begun to have panic attacks about not being able to maintain my composure around people. There are a few that I can just let everything out with. But even when those people are there but other people are around too, I have a panic attack.

It hurts. Friends hurt. School hurts. Life hurts. And I don't even have time to deal with it. To figure out why it hurts. To fix it so it doesn't hurt anymore. Because I don't know how to express my hurt. To my friends. To my professors. To anyone. So I just have to keep going in life and attempt to deal with the hurt or ignore it. Which is probably why I have nights like tonight. Where it hurts so bad that I can't stand it anymore. Where I just sob until I can't anymore. Where I try to find something to cling to and find nothing. Because I don't have the time to deal with anything. I used to wish I could run away from the world and hide from both it and my problems. These days I wish I could run away from the world so I could take the time to work out my problems. But no one will let me do that. And I can't handle it all at once. So I fall apart. I self-destruct. I stop caring about the basic things. Like eating. Like sleeping. Like hygiene. Because as long as I feel awful emotionally, I may as well feel awful physically. People actually take notice of that.

An Outsider Looking In

I've had a couple of really awful weeks mentally and emotionally. During this time I've come to a few realizations.

1. I still can't handle being in the same room with Garrett. I don't know why. But I can't. I get super depressed. And then I have a panic attack. Fun stuff.

2. That fear of being in large groups of people part of social anxiety? Finally getting to me. I used to be able to sit through a class in tears. I can't anymore. I've had too many panic attacks in the last two weeks. All of which were at least partially caused by me freaking out about not being able to pull myself together around people. I mean, I can handle it around my parents and around a select group of friends. But anyone else? Panic. And then the attacks get worse the more people I'm around. I don't know what I'm going to do when I have a panic attack and can't remove myself from being around a large group of people.

3. I'm no longer afraid of teaching in my own music classroom. I'm afraid of socializing with my colleagues. Of that networking that's so important to music education. Because otherwise you're entirely alone. Well guess what? I am alone. I have tried for the last two years to make friends with other music majors. And I still don't feel part of the group most days. The other night I went to an ACDA election meeting. And I was the only person there who isn't graduating who was never even nominated for a position. The exact same thing happened to me last year. And the year before. Sure, sophomore year I had a position on the ACDA board. but it was a pity position. A "We have 4 positions open and 5 people showed up to elections, and we don't want you to be the only person who showed up who doesn't wind up on the board, so we're going to invent a position for you to have." position. That, honestly, I didn't really want. I wasn't ready for it. Hence I basically failed at it the entire second half of that year. I don't even know if I would have wanted a position after that point. But being the only person who doesn't get nominated, that hurts. It's a blow to my already-shallow confidence as a music education major. And it only adds to the reasons that I feel like I don't have friends among music majors.

4. I feel like I don't fit in among my music friends. I have one good friend. But that's it. I am entirely convinced that my presence is only tolerated because I have that one friend, and everyone loves that person. When I am around them, I'm just simply there. I can rarely find anything to add to the conversation, am often received negatively when I do speak up, and am rarely brought into the conversation when I've been sitting in silence. I'm almost never invited to do things with the group. And usually when I am it's a pity invite when people have been planning something for a long time and feel bad that I'm sitting there with them talking about it and was never invited. And I'm still trying to figure out what feels worse: the days that happens and I get the pity invite or the days that happens and I'm still not invited. Though it kind of depends on who the pity invite comes from.

5. I am entirely fed with not fitting in. It's the story of my life. Throughout the last 5 years of elementary school, I didn't have friends. I never fit in with most of the people in my classes in junior high. High school I had some good friends, but still never found that place where I fit. Especially in choir. I had maybe a handful of real friends in choir in my entire high school choir experience. And after almost four years of college, I still don't know where I fit. freshman year, I didn't necessarily make an effort to make a lot of friends. I wish I could go back to those days. Sophomore year I fell into a group of friends associated with new roommates. The group blew up, and I found myself in between two factions. I spent more time with one, and realized that I didn't quite fit there. Though I at least have three others from that group (we called ourselves a tetris piece) is the closest thing I have to a group of friends at this point. They still generally make an effort to invite me to spend time with them, at least. They're the only ones who do that on a consistent basis. But sophomore year, when things got tense with them and people in the larger faction of the group, I discovered music people on choir tour. So I started hanging out with them. And hung out with them the first half of last year. And then I fought with Garrett, had to distance myself from him, and as a result distanced myself from all my music friends because they were all still friends with him. I have yet to find a group that I fit in with since then. Because once you distance yourself from people, there's no going back. Or maybe I never really fit in at all. And yet, for some stupid reason, I keep trying. I try to convince myself that it's all in my head. That I do fit. That people do actually care. And I try to bring myself back into the group. To make an effort. Only to feel like an outsider looking in even when I'm on the inside. Over the past few days I've purposely separated myself. Because at least I can delude myself into believing that being an outsider looking in is my own choice. Or maybe because it just lets me run away from the fact that when I'm on the inside is when I feel hurt and when I have panic attacks. At least when I avoid I can function enough to be barely social and to do things like homework.

6. I'm actually still really mad at people for how little support I got last year with all I went through. Depression that's not stabilized? It sucks. When I don't have a support system where I need it most? It sucks worse. Because I can cry through entire class periods and I can completely withdraw from everything. And people don't take notice and/or don't take action until either they see me have a panic attack or until they think I'm suicidal. But when I've reached those points? Well, the panic attacks it depends. Though, in recent days and weeks, when I've had panic attacks because I can't pull it together? I think that's a result of all the times I wasn't able to pull it together in front of people, and they said nothing. And the fact that people have made little to no effort to invite me to spend time with them since all of my super depressed days last year. If I can't pretend to be happy around people, then I have no friends. So when I'm failing horribly at pretending to be happy around people, I panic. Only with music people, though. Imagine that. And the times I've been heading toward that suicidal road? Generally because I feel like the people around me don't care anymore. And the few friends I have at school aren't enough.
And I'm still really mad about the entire Garrett situation. I still hate him. First time I've said it that way in a long time. But I still really, really do. And I think I'm still mad at all of our mutual friends for never once admitting that I could be at least partly right. For never making an effort to pull me back in when I withdrew from them. Or even ask me why. Actually, I feel like no one even noticed. Which only adds to the fact that I feel that they were never actually my friends in the first place. And I keep trying to tell myself that I'm mad at Garrett and not mad at them. Because it's so much easier to be mad at him. But I think it's only ended up with me bottling everything up. And leaving me depressed and having panic attacks at 4am on a Sunday morning. With nowhere to turn. Because support from home doesn't help anymore. And I don't even know where to try getting support at school.

I just want to know what's wrong with me. In two years of counseling, I still don't think I've managed to figure out what the root problem is. Given, the more problems I find with myself, the less adequate I feel, so I don't even know if that would help. All I know is that I want to feel loved and accepted for who I am. And I want to feel truly part of a group. And I never really have. Every group I've ever been a part of, I've always felt like an outsider looking in to some degree. And I'm sick of it. I can't handle it anymore. But I don't know how to fix it.
And it doesn't help that I gave up on myself a long time ago. I really did. Because finding the problems makes me feel worse. And my motivation to deal with problems disappeared a long time ago. Long before I lost to motivation to do homework or eat or sleep or shower. But I've never told anyone that. Because I'm afraid if they knew, then they'd give up on me too. And then it would really be over.
But for now I'm going to attempt to sleep. And attempt to be okay when I get up. And attempt to make it through the day. And then we'll see if I'm in a stable enough mental state to start clinicals on Monday morning. Because every time I've been around large groups of people in the last three days, I either burst into tears or have a panic attack. So I don't know if I'll manage to handle clinicals on Monday. Not that I know what I'm going to do if I'm not. I guess I'll figure that out if/when it happens. And hope that my counseling appointment on Monday after clinicals does me a world of good.

Why I'm So Passive

I've been a passive person for as long as I can remember. I fear conflict. It makes me feel horrible. For years. I still feel physically sick when I think about small conflicts that happened when I was 3 years old, much less all the big ones that have happened since then.
And I'm told that it's not good to be passive. I guess I know I get walked all over all the time. And in the aftermath, I sometimes get frustrated. But it's better than the alternative.
The alternative is speaking my mind. Saying what I'm actually thinking. There are a small group of people that I feel comfortable doing that with. Because they don't judge me for what I'm saying. And if they think it's really dumb, they tell me nicely. Or they point out that I'm really crabby, but in a nice way.
Funny thing, I rarely ever speak my mind around most unless I'm really crabby. I think that, to an extent, crabbiness makes me lose all speaking inhibitions. So maybe that's why it bites me in the butt? But I can't even say that. Because on numerous occasions over the past couple of years, I've spoken my mind and lost friends over it. There are numerous people that I'm no longer friends with because I spoke up about what I thought. I spoke up about being worried about people. I spoke up about my own needs. I spoke up about what I really thought. And it backfired in huge ways.
The past three days I've woken up feeling horrible emotionally. Those low days that come with having depression. And it's been a stressful week. And things have happened early on in those days to make my already-depressed self feel worse. And I've expressed how I felt about things that happened. And was then belittled for feeling the way I felt. And it sent me imploding. It makes me feel worthless. Because, as I recently realized, my self-worth is entirely dependent on other people's opinions of me. I've finally learned to lean on other friends to help pull me out of a down-spiral as it begins. But even with friends to pull me out again, I don't feel any more encouraged to actually speak my mind. Because every time I speak my mind to anyone outside a select group of people, I am told that I won't be successful following my goals, that I'm worthless, or that I'm a horrible person for feeling the way I feel.
There are times that I want to be assertive. And then days like the last three days happen. And then I realize that either way I feel crappy, so I may as well be passive and feel less crappy than I do when I'm assertive.