i've been careless with a delicate man.
our voice studio had a masterclass this wednesday. i wasn't prepared, i had performance anxiety, i have perfectionist issues-- there were so many factors. but i messed up. gloriously, perhaps. definitely an unforgettable performance. i had tried to relieve my anxiety beforehand by joking with three of the boys in my studio. we made lewd noises whenever someone sang something beautiful. we rubbed each other's backs and made shady side comments. i had to pee about seven times. i thought it would work. but still i messed up so badly that my teacher, sensing my discomfort and perhaps even my self-hatred, came onto the stage and said, don't worry. nobody's perfect. this was just a fluke. i wrinkled my nose, sighed deeply, went to get my things and leave. my masterclass-mates swarmed around me. only the three boys, since the other girls left. they chorused, you did great, it wasn't bad, at least you kept going, don't be so hard on yourself. i rolled my eyes. as i began to walk away, two of them called after me, telling me to feel better! and assuring me that it was still amazing!
the quiet one, the tallest one, the youngest one. he was headed for the dorms, which were in the direction i was headed, so he came with me. nobody did it perfectly, he said. and most of us didn't know the words either. i grunted. i don't want to see our voice teacher on the way home, i began to mumble, realizing that we went the same way. wanna come to my dorm? i agreed. i had been there before. i met his roommate. and besides, we're buddies, and we had already had one heart to heart conversation about how fucked up our families are and whatnot. so i went.
i put my head on the desk in his room and tried to explain why i was so upset with myself, as he changed out of his clothes behind me. i think the reason i had a hard time getting the words out is because i was trying to not turn around and watch him in various states of undress. which, of course, i wanted to. luckily for me, he stopped in the middle of changing his clothes (the stage after taking off the first outfit and right before putting on the second) and sat down nearby.
i don't know what i'm trying to say. i think you do; take your time. um, it's just like there's two versions of myself. there's the perfect version and then there's me. and every once in a while, when i'm not blocking her from getting out, she comes out and it's fucking amazing and everyone's like holy shit. and then the rest of the time, it's me. and everyone is kind of like, oh. you're fucking insane, basically. so yeah.
most people hear this and they give me some spiel about self-esteem. (see: former supervisor, friends, etc.etc.) he actually understood what i was saying. not just sympathizing, but actually empathizing. he told me about hypnotherapy and how he had tried it, and it worked for him. he said he could get a free session for me. i'll think about it. or, to be honest, i'll think about thinking about it. he shrugged, resumed changing his clothes. which apparently, simply entailed putting a pair of pants on. then climbed into his bed. when i say climbed, i mean it. he's like a giant and his bed is like, three and a half feet off the floor.
i knew he was tired and was only really just trying to make sure i didn't hate myself as much as i had been after the performance, so i told him he didn't have to babysit me and he could take a nap if he wanted to. i didn't need him to leave the dorm, just to get into it. i don't want to sleep, i want to cuddle. oh. hmm. i rolled the chair to the side of his bed and tentatively offered him my right hand to hold. how's that? close, but not quite, he said as he held it. inside, i'm telling myself, you don't want to lose more guy friends to the awkward middle space. or worse, to have another friend that you have this weird sexual undercurrent with. (i have this bad habit of collecting guys that i'm more than friends with but less than relationship quality, and most of my guy friends end up turning into this eventually. it's really bad.) so i think it over and finally i'm like, okay, i want to but i won't let anything happen.
so i end up cuddling with this kid, who we'll call arizona, due to the fact that he's hot and dry, humor-wise. the whole time, i'm really trying to keep myself in control and not do anything misleading. (that is, more misleading than climbing into his bed and getting under a blanket with him.) it got really hot, really fast. temperature wise. and also, because the longer i stayed there, the closer we got. right when that last mental barrier was about to collapse, in walked the roommate. it was perfect. mostly because i was still fully dressed. that's a first for me. and also because i hadn't made out with him, like i wanted to. which is also a first for me, i usually just let my body go where it wants to.
anyway, i left not long after that. i saw him yesterday. it was even weirder than the whole cuddling situation because-- remember that weird sexual undercurrent i was trying to avoid? it's totally there now. there's all this wicked sexual tension between the two of us. (similar to the tension between puck and i, but different. with that one, the intensity is from the unspoken agreement to not do anything. with this one, there is no such agreement.) it's funny because my friend had asked me before spring break if the two of us were going out because she was getting some cute love vibes. she wasn't in yesterday. but if she had been, she would have noticed all the side-glancing and avoiding physical contact that was going on.
i feel bad because i know i don't understand emotions and even though he probably understands that, it's like, really likely that anything emotional wouldn't end well. at the same time, i feel weird because it's not like normally, where i'm the one reeling in a potential catch. he's the one who started it. i've been haunted by his perfectly timed forehead kiss. the gentle rise and fall of his chest. the lazy way his fingers ran up and down my sides. his heady scent. the rhythm of his heartbeat. everything, i guess. really fucking sucks. i keep asking myself, what am i doing? what's wrong with me? i can tell from the hyper-awareness of each other that he's probably thinking about it as much as i am. (or am i projecting? holy shit, i'm overthinking this.)
i'm pretty sure, from past experiences with my brain, that i'll like him now and then after i've successfully gotten him to like me too, i'll stop liking him because he likes me. or i'll like him as long as he doesn't like me and because of this, allow myself to get close to him physically, while still maintaining a safe emotional distance. does any of this make sense? i really can't even fucking tell. my brain isn't the right state for this.
honestly.
3.27.2015
3.22.2015
i'm having a hard time.
i'm actually quoting my younger self here, which i'm sure she'd be pleased by. i am having a hard time, though. i'm very frustrated. i was doing a fairly decent job of eating relatively normally until spring break started this past monday. being stuck at home with my mother-- god, am i beating a dead horse? don't you guys understand how stressful this house is by now? it was absolute hell. basically launched me headfirst, mouth wide open, into a week long b/p cycle. the intensity of which leads me to call it BingeFest 2015. (there was a BingeFest 2013, as well as a BingeFest 2014. there was also a BingeFest 2010. these are periods of time where i'm just irritated and angry and generally not pleasant to be around. also, i'm b/p-ing with the intensity of an olympian.)
yesterday, my sister and i woke up to my mother's literal stomping upstairs and yelling at us about fuck knows what. this led my normally softspoken sister-- no, wait, this is a lie. my sister is outspoken as hell. either way, my sister basically said, shut up, go away, i'm sleeping, you're a dick. but that was just kind of the icing on the cake of shit that she's been baking all week. or really, maybe, this morning was the icing. i woke up, climbed out of bed and went to open my blinds (which is actually a big fucking deal, since i've been so crippled by stress/fear/self-hatred that i haven't left the house since the twelfth). she probably heard me moving, because five seconds later she sent me a horrid text about getting a job. not that getting a job is horrid; i'd love to. but being constantly bitched at for any and everything really wears one down.
and yes, i know, the other alternative was leaving home. but let's look at the options, okay? there aren't many people i can turn to in case i need to get away from my house quickly. there's basically waterbear, who i can't see because she just got out of inpatient and i'm obviously still too fucked in the head to be of any use. in fact, i'd probably make things worse. there's banana, who would totally be willing to help, if not for the fact that her life is currently in the shitter as well, and i'm not going to pile my crap on top of hers. she isn't a beast of burden, so i won't treat her as such. the other people are mostly guys, who really just want to sleep with me and (let's face it) i'm not really interested in losing my virginity to any of them. the remainder are girls who would probably force me to talk about my problems and/or lecture me on the importance of things that aren't important at all. so i stayed home.
i mean, i know (objectively) things aren't as bad as they could be. i'm not cutting, although i carry my razor around in my wallet like a rabbit's foot or four leaf clover. i haven't cried, or shown any lack of emotional self-control, which is also a bonus. also, i've kept things tidy around here. i'm not sleeping much (i only got 2.5 hours last night), but i am still sleeping. i don't know how long that will last, but for now, any sleep is comforting. i haven't had any of my usual horrid lucid nightmares in a while. and i've been able to read and play video games all week.
subjectively, though, i'm just very upset with myself. for starters, letting my mother get to me enough to launch me into a week-long b/p cycle. that's shit. i didn't get the highest grade in a few of my classes on these midterms we had. i may have been in the top percentile but that doesn't mean anything. (the saying here is anything less than success is failure.) i haven't been exercising as much as i'd like.
i had the thought today that living in my house is a lot like living in a neighborhood with a serial killer on the loose. it's this constant fear, watching over your shoulder and wondering what the hell is going to happen. maybe that sounds a little extreme. perhaps it's more running through like a mine field without a map. you never know where the next land mine is or if something's suddenly going to explode. it's not you that's the problem. it's your surroundings, basically. that's how i feel.
so i'm having a hard time. or at least, i've been having a hard time. i don't plan to anymore. i don't have time to waste b/p-ing. or feeling emotions. haha. i talked on the phone with my friend last night and hearing the amount of self-loathing in his voice was a lot like hearing myself talking to myself. i can't control my environment. but i can control myself. and i don't plan on letting this shit get to me anymore. give it a week, though, and i'll probably be like fuck my life blahblahblah. so it goes.
you know how it is.
honestly.
yesterday, my sister and i woke up to my mother's literal stomping upstairs and yelling at us about fuck knows what. this led my normally softspoken sister-- no, wait, this is a lie. my sister is outspoken as hell. either way, my sister basically said, shut up, go away, i'm sleeping, you're a dick. but that was just kind of the icing on the cake of shit that she's been baking all week. or really, maybe, this morning was the icing. i woke up, climbed out of bed and went to open my blinds (which is actually a big fucking deal, since i've been so crippled by stress/fear/self-hatred that i haven't left the house since the twelfth). she probably heard me moving, because five seconds later she sent me a horrid text about getting a job. not that getting a job is horrid; i'd love to. but being constantly bitched at for any and everything really wears one down.
and yes, i know, the other alternative was leaving home. but let's look at the options, okay? there aren't many people i can turn to in case i need to get away from my house quickly. there's basically waterbear, who i can't see because she just got out of inpatient and i'm obviously still too fucked in the head to be of any use. in fact, i'd probably make things worse. there's banana, who would totally be willing to help, if not for the fact that her life is currently in the shitter as well, and i'm not going to pile my crap on top of hers. she isn't a beast of burden, so i won't treat her as such. the other people are mostly guys, who really just want to sleep with me and (let's face it) i'm not really interested in losing my virginity to any of them. the remainder are girls who would probably force me to talk about my problems and/or lecture me on the importance of things that aren't important at all. so i stayed home.
i mean, i know (objectively) things aren't as bad as they could be. i'm not cutting, although i carry my razor around in my wallet like a rabbit's foot or four leaf clover. i haven't cried, or shown any lack of emotional self-control, which is also a bonus. also, i've kept things tidy around here. i'm not sleeping much (i only got 2.5 hours last night), but i am still sleeping. i don't know how long that will last, but for now, any sleep is comforting. i haven't had any of my usual horrid lucid nightmares in a while. and i've been able to read and play video games all week.
subjectively, though, i'm just very upset with myself. for starters, letting my mother get to me enough to launch me into a week-long b/p cycle. that's shit. i didn't get the highest grade in a few of my classes on these midterms we had. i may have been in the top percentile but that doesn't mean anything. (the saying here is anything less than success is failure.) i haven't been exercising as much as i'd like.
i had the thought today that living in my house is a lot like living in a neighborhood with a serial killer on the loose. it's this constant fear, watching over your shoulder and wondering what the hell is going to happen. maybe that sounds a little extreme. perhaps it's more running through like a mine field without a map. you never know where the next land mine is or if something's suddenly going to explode. it's not you that's the problem. it's your surroundings, basically. that's how i feel.
so i'm having a hard time. or at least, i've been having a hard time. i don't plan to anymore. i don't have time to waste b/p-ing. or feeling emotions. haha. i talked on the phone with my friend last night and hearing the amount of self-loathing in his voice was a lot like hearing myself talking to myself. i can't control my environment. but i can control myself. and i don't plan on letting this shit get to me anymore. give it a week, though, and i'll probably be like fuck my life blahblahblah. so it goes.
you know how it is.
honestly.
3.09.2015
the way things are (and the way they should be).
i'm trying very hard to swim, to keep my head above water. i replay genius next door by regina spektor, reminding myself that if i just hold in my breath until i come back up, if i just hold my breath until i think everything through... the perfection i've been handling my schedule with this semester is starting to slip. i need to tighten up. i'm giving myself too much rope. if i don't stop, i'm going to drown. sink or swim, they say.
i'm noticing my energy shift as the weather rises. not that the two are connected usually. i can have high energy in the winter as well. but for some reason, the sunlight is wreaking havoc with my brain. it's lighting up like a christmas tree on fire. i know it is because i'm holding eye contact too long. i like that i'm aware of it right now, though. i can still make good decisions. i just need to keep reminding myself, don't drink, don't drink, don't drink. as my energy spikes, my impulse control plummets. and so the story goes.
i'm doing yoga. that's supposed to help, theoretically. but all it's doing for me is making me comfortable in solitude. then, in comparison, when i'm around people, my anxiety begins to spike. sitting in class today, eyes closed, as a classmate played a piece he composed, i felt my muscles tense with every unexpected note. my teacher noticed the nervous twitch of my feet. my classmate noticed me fidgeting with my hands. sitting still is hard enough, without my eyes being closed and people watching me. yoga is failing me. but at least my flexibility is increasing.
i'm avoiding people again. i'm pretending to seek them out, so that they can't say i'm avoiding them. but when the time comes for me to actually be where they'd like me to be, i disappear. i can't handle people. at least, not all people. i have a new friend, a sophomore who's probably got a case of mild depression. he's an amazing singer. his voice made me have a fan girl moment. he's a nice kid. but he doesn't feel like college is right for him and yet he's basically stuck. he hates it. really. so he doesn't go to classes and he doesn't talk to people. he stays shut up inside his dorm room. he has very few friends. i'm glad to at least say i'm one of them. but i don't like seeing people unhappy. and his relationship with his family sounds like crap. i can relate. we bonded over the insanity of our mothers. (and finally, my mother is useful to me in a social context.)
i'm going to start scheduling myself more. tighter schedule, less room for improvisation. space for unexpected things of course, but not too much. i'm going to start breathing. i notice that i hold my breath. that's probably not helping with my anxiousness. i only remember to breathe after my lungs begin to shrivel and my heart beats on the door of my chest, telling me inhale, you dumb bitch! inhale! and so i do. and i'm going to stop pretending to seek people out. that's a huge waste of time in my schedule. i'm going to help this kid too, because i have a savior complex, and i can't stand to see someone in trouble.
i have to do things properly. i keep fucking up.
honestly.
i'm noticing my energy shift as the weather rises. not that the two are connected usually. i can have high energy in the winter as well. but for some reason, the sunlight is wreaking havoc with my brain. it's lighting up like a christmas tree on fire. i know it is because i'm holding eye contact too long. i like that i'm aware of it right now, though. i can still make good decisions. i just need to keep reminding myself, don't drink, don't drink, don't drink. as my energy spikes, my impulse control plummets. and so the story goes.
i'm doing yoga. that's supposed to help, theoretically. but all it's doing for me is making me comfortable in solitude. then, in comparison, when i'm around people, my anxiety begins to spike. sitting in class today, eyes closed, as a classmate played a piece he composed, i felt my muscles tense with every unexpected note. my teacher noticed the nervous twitch of my feet. my classmate noticed me fidgeting with my hands. sitting still is hard enough, without my eyes being closed and people watching me. yoga is failing me. but at least my flexibility is increasing.
i'm avoiding people again. i'm pretending to seek them out, so that they can't say i'm avoiding them. but when the time comes for me to actually be where they'd like me to be, i disappear. i can't handle people. at least, not all people. i have a new friend, a sophomore who's probably got a case of mild depression. he's an amazing singer. his voice made me have a fan girl moment. he's a nice kid. but he doesn't feel like college is right for him and yet he's basically stuck. he hates it. really. so he doesn't go to classes and he doesn't talk to people. he stays shut up inside his dorm room. he has very few friends. i'm glad to at least say i'm one of them. but i don't like seeing people unhappy. and his relationship with his family sounds like crap. i can relate. we bonded over the insanity of our mothers. (and finally, my mother is useful to me in a social context.)
i'm going to start scheduling myself more. tighter schedule, less room for improvisation. space for unexpected things of course, but not too much. i'm going to start breathing. i notice that i hold my breath. that's probably not helping with my anxiousness. i only remember to breathe after my lungs begin to shrivel and my heart beats on the door of my chest, telling me inhale, you dumb bitch! inhale! and so i do. and i'm going to stop pretending to seek people out. that's a huge waste of time in my schedule. i'm going to help this kid too, because i have a savior complex, and i can't stand to see someone in trouble.
i have to do things properly. i keep fucking up.
honestly.
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