I feel like there are two parts of me. Like, I have two different minds. Not like, bipolar or whatever. But like… one me hates me and the other me hates that me. Like I can think all of my emotions out logically, and I know the proper response to things and I know the reasons behind things. I understand that my worries aren’t real.
But then I also worry. And that’s the other me. And I worry and I hate and I cry and it’s an endless cycle of worrying over things so much that I cry and then I hate myself for crying and worrying and making myself worry in the first place.
But like while I’m bawling my eyes out over nothing like a freaking two year old, there’s also my brain, who’s like Averi literally your sadness makes zero sense right now and you’re being stupid. Normal people would get over this. Normal people wouldn’t have had this concern in the first place.
There’s a way to explain it. Like my mind and my brain aren’t on the same page.
I just started therapy. I’ve had one session. It felt by the end of it, I was almost convinced he didn’t think anything was wrong with me. But that could just be my mind again. My brain knows he needs more sessions to understand exactly what is going through my mind. It’s hard to spill your guts to a stranger.
Like no shit, therapy is a will power thing, all about finding out what’s wrong in your brain and making yourself think other ways. But like is there an actual diagnosis or am I just sad? Part of me wants to have something wrong with me. Not because I WANT there to be something wrong with me, but because there already IS something wrong and I want to put a name to it and a diagnosis and a cure. I feel like if someone else can tell me exactly what’s wrong, they can help me fix it. Something beyond if you don’t want to be sad anymore just stop being sad. Which is basically the advice I get from TK when I confide in him. Not to say I don’t appreciate our talks, but I can see he doesn’t understand why I think the way I do. It’s okay. I don’t understand where he finds the energy to fake happiness until he feels happiness. I’m not even sure I understand what true happiness even feels like.
I can’t think of a time I’ve ever been purely happy…
I saw him on Monday and I have had the worst week since then. I thought this was turn it around time! I was so ready to start being confident and motivated and building up some actual power and it just all fell to crap. I think I’ve managed to cry every single day of the week. I’m so fucking exhausted with myself, I couldn’t even fully do my psycho-homework. I was supposed to make a conscious effort to praise myself this week. And I had a moment. I told someone who’s been making fun of me for a while to stop. Really, the robot thing has gotten old. I felt very proud when I was able to casually tell him that I don’t like being made fun of, stop calling me a robot. I had no idea how that sentence was going to turn out and I felt nervous saying it, but I did and I haven’t gotten the robot joke since then. Of course ‘then’ was yesterday morning. But it’s a start.
And Nick, I lied to you. But only a little bit! I know you’re reading this and I love you for it. But I actually haven’t read any of your posts this month. I know there were a lot. I can’t sleep tonight so I read all of them. I still didn’t comment on them because like I said, I was kind of telling the truth. I don’t ever have anything intelligent to say. I always think you write well and I love reading it. And I want to hang out with you! I miss you. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, and I live only a few doors down from you. I have to work practically all day tomorrow, but maybe I’ll come over and play video games like I did occasionally, what feels like forever ago.
I usually read your posts as soon as they come out, but I have just been traveling down a spiral of anxious procrastination in all that I do.
Which caused the most of my problems this week. I didn’t finish some products that I’m supposed to do. I’ve already gotten in trouble for doing it wrong, and now I haven’t done it at all. Can’t blame anyone. I was trying to make the new guy do it, but I didn’t realize it would take him the whole week to do the easy thing – and that he wouldn’t even finish that-, so he wouldn’t have the time to get to the hard thing. I want to blame him because I’m trying not to feel like a failure at life for everything, but even my brain knows this was my fault. I just didn’t want to do it and before I knew it, it was Friday and it was due and he hadn’t done it because he doesn’t really know how.
My mind thinks I’m a terrible teacher, and I suck at my job and I don’t deserve to give these products to anyone else. I should be the one that has to work on them until they are perfect.
My mind says the week was just full of a lack of communication and my failure to multitask. It was a trial week and there was error. I can do better next week.
Neither side will shut up though. I feel like a teenager listening to my parents fight over absolutely nothing for all of the pointless reasons but powerless to say anything because that’s just not who I was raised to be. And that’s what makes sense to me the least. Changing who I fundamentally am seems impossible. My mind doesn’t want it and my brain doesn’t believe in it. So where do I get the power from?
I think I’ve typed myself into enough tiredness that I can go to sleep now. The weight of my failures needed to be recorded somewhere so that I could stop going on and on about it in my head. That’s what I’ve started this blog for again. Venting and accountability. Hopefully I can do better next month.
My greatest disappointment today though, has to be the fact that I didn’t play “Wake Me Up When September Ends” on the last day of September even though I was building up to it the whole hour. I was just too distracted by the end of the hour. And now I have to wait until next year.
And I Lost the Game.