Hello again imaginary friends! No, I'm not dead, just been busy and distracted and such. When last I wrote I mentioned that I was going to meet up with my online boyfriend for the first time, and that trip was amazing, the best spring break of my life. I'm serious, it's amazing how well he and I get along, it's like I lucked into my own personal fairytale. And since I'm all about the anonymity, we'll give my real-life handsome prince the code name Charming. Because he is, Charming is just too sweet, he's the most amazing man that I've ever met, that I could have ever dreamed up. He's clever, goofy, kind, he's got a huge heart and we have everything in common. He's everything that I ever could have dreamed for in a partner, my best friend that I'm hopelessly in love with.
My mom and my shrink suggested that I take the summer off from school to, uh, decompress I guess would be a good word for it, so I ended up spending the summer down south with Charming and his family. Aside from being a bit hotter than I'm used to, it was an amazing summer. We got to spend so much time together, I got to know his parents and his sister's family a little better, and I got the fun of being Auntie to all his nieces and nephews. I love kids, and these kids are unnaturally cute, so that was a lot of fun. And best of all I got to spend each night falling asleep in Charming's arms. When summer did end and I headed back home, I wasn't quite prepared for how visceral the loss of his presence would be. Rationally I was certain that I'd be fine: we would still talk on Skype every day, and we were already making plans for him to move up north to join me this next spring, so I'd been so certain that while I'd miss snuggling with him, I'd be fine until we had a chance to see each other again. But as we said our goodbyes at the airport and the security line put more and more distance between us, I just felt this hollow ache well up in my chest. After four months of waking up every morning to his smiling face, I'd grown a little addicted to the warmth of his hugs, the smell of his shirts, the taste of his kisses. I managed to make it through a few months without him--our all day Skype conversations help quite a bit with that--and just recently got back from visiting him again for a week. My parents agreed to pay for my plane ticket as my christmas present. And now he and I are both pretty much counting down the time until he has thing arranged to allow him to move up here. Just a few more months, and then we'll never have to go though this withdrawal again. I know that Charming is only my first boyfriend, and that we've only been together for about 15 months, but we're both certain that we're in this for the distance. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but him, and we both feel like lottery winners: against all odds and separated by 1000 miles, we somehow managed to find our soul mates.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Things Fall Apart
Hello again, been awhile. Way back in October I mentioned that I'd started talking with a guy that I'd met on a dating site and since then things have gone remarkably well, we're dating now, though technically we haven't met up in person yet. We'll be doing that for the first time in a little over a week, I'm driving down to spend spring break with him and I'm really looking forward to it. In the interest of advocating safety when meeting up with someone that you've met online, I will mention that my mother is coming along with me. While I know that he's an amazing guy and not a creeper or potential predator, it appeases her paranoia if I have someone along, and in truth it is generally better to take precautions when meeting up with someone for the first time that you've only known online. Even though 99.9% of the people out there are genuinely decent, there is still that tiny chance of finding the psycho that you read about in occasional news headlines or see depicted on murder mystery tv shows. Though personally I tend to think the chances of something like that happening are no better than they would be if you got picked up in a bar or club or wherever you might meet guys in real life. Anyway, other good news since I last wrote, I passed all my classes from fall term.
Which, unfortunately, brings me to the bad news: I've had another break down. I haven't read over my old posts, so I don't remember how much I've mentioned, but I was having some trouble getting an extension on my financial aid to help me finish school since last summer. I finally got things straightened out in January, but that's where things got tricky. An unfortunate thing about depression is that it sometimes crops up even after you get past the stressful stuff. Once my problem finally got fixed and all the adrenaline from the stress went away, I kind of crashed and needed to take time for my body to recover. Now if I was smart I would have taken winter term off to recooperate and make sure I could keep my head on straight, but I was so wound up with the need to keep up this image of the "healthy and functional" person that I stupidly tried to push through and let myself get overwhelmed. Again. And to make matters worse, the courses that I'd signed up for for winter term were the worst possible ones for me -- they were all bac-core instead of the psych classes that could keep me focused, all online (which messes with my head because there is literally a written record of your every activity, what you do or don't do and when), and all essay and participation based instead of test-based grades. I am an excellent test taker, something that is actually fairly unusual in people with social anxiety, but essays totally freak me out. I'm a good writer, but I'm a very slow writer who has an incredibly difficult time getting started, not to mention the fact that I get so unnerved by the idea of someone reading what I write that I literally have to leave the room when they read it or I start to get a panic attack. Between the depression and the anxiety (not to mention problems with my medication), my brain effectively shut down and I got majorly screwed this term.
Depression is an evil disease. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking and pulls you down until you feel like you can't breathe. I've barely been able to sleep during the last few nights, and spent most of this morning curled up in the fetal position sobbing because I just felt so completely hopeless and out of control. And it's even worse in my case, because like many people with social anxiety I have this perfectionist streak that messes with my head to the point that I have a lot of trouble asking for help; there's this warped idea that I need to be in control, that I can't let people see when I'm falling apart. So I suffer by myself, hiding my problems from the people that I care about because I can't let them see me be weak or burden them with my problems. I have still been seeing my doctor, so I'm getting the help that I need, but I haven't worked up the nerve to let anybody else in. I finally got enough control of myself today to try and get some help from someone at school, the woman in disability services who helped me earlier this year. And yes, this is a disability, it is an ongoing problem that continually interferes with my life and my very ability to function. While some people are fortunate enough to recover after a single bout of depression, I seem to be one of the chronic sufferers who will be dealing with this for the rest of my life. Now that I've finally gotten myself to admit the severity of my problems and deal with the fallout at school, I just have to steel my nerve and let my parents in on what's been happening with me. That's the hardest part.
Unless you've suffered serious depression and actually felt that utter despair that completely destroys your ability to function, it's really hard to understand how things get so out of control. My mother has worked so hard to help me get things back on track that all she's going to think about is that I've thrown away all of her effort. That's why it's so hard to talk about, other people have a hard time separating their own feelings from the situation and take it very personally when someone in their life hits that low. It's hard for them to remember that this is an illness, a problem with the brain chemistry and other contributing factors, and not an innate fault or laziness in the sufferer. It's so hard to tell someone that you're falling apart when you know that their reaction will only make you feel worse, will make you feel guilty for being sick.
And I'm crying again just thinking about it, so I think that'll be all for today. I do intend to start posting more frequently than I have been though, I seemed to be doing so much better when I had this outlet.
Which, unfortunately, brings me to the bad news: I've had another break down. I haven't read over my old posts, so I don't remember how much I've mentioned, but I was having some trouble getting an extension on my financial aid to help me finish school since last summer. I finally got things straightened out in January, but that's where things got tricky. An unfortunate thing about depression is that it sometimes crops up even after you get past the stressful stuff. Once my problem finally got fixed and all the adrenaline from the stress went away, I kind of crashed and needed to take time for my body to recover. Now if I was smart I would have taken winter term off to recooperate and make sure I could keep my head on straight, but I was so wound up with the need to keep up this image of the "healthy and functional" person that I stupidly tried to push through and let myself get overwhelmed. Again. And to make matters worse, the courses that I'd signed up for for winter term were the worst possible ones for me -- they were all bac-core instead of the psych classes that could keep me focused, all online (which messes with my head because there is literally a written record of your every activity, what you do or don't do and when), and all essay and participation based instead of test-based grades. I am an excellent test taker, something that is actually fairly unusual in people with social anxiety, but essays totally freak me out. I'm a good writer, but I'm a very slow writer who has an incredibly difficult time getting started, not to mention the fact that I get so unnerved by the idea of someone reading what I write that I literally have to leave the room when they read it or I start to get a panic attack. Between the depression and the anxiety (not to mention problems with my medication), my brain effectively shut down and I got majorly screwed this term.
Depression is an evil disease. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking and pulls you down until you feel like you can't breathe. I've barely been able to sleep during the last few nights, and spent most of this morning curled up in the fetal position sobbing because I just felt so completely hopeless and out of control. And it's even worse in my case, because like many people with social anxiety I have this perfectionist streak that messes with my head to the point that I have a lot of trouble asking for help; there's this warped idea that I need to be in control, that I can't let people see when I'm falling apart. So I suffer by myself, hiding my problems from the people that I care about because I can't let them see me be weak or burden them with my problems. I have still been seeing my doctor, so I'm getting the help that I need, but I haven't worked up the nerve to let anybody else in. I finally got enough control of myself today to try and get some help from someone at school, the woman in disability services who helped me earlier this year. And yes, this is a disability, it is an ongoing problem that continually interferes with my life and my very ability to function. While some people are fortunate enough to recover after a single bout of depression, I seem to be one of the chronic sufferers who will be dealing with this for the rest of my life. Now that I've finally gotten myself to admit the severity of my problems and deal with the fallout at school, I just have to steel my nerve and let my parents in on what's been happening with me. That's the hardest part.
Unless you've suffered serious depression and actually felt that utter despair that completely destroys your ability to function, it's really hard to understand how things get so out of control. My mother has worked so hard to help me get things back on track that all she's going to think about is that I've thrown away all of her effort. That's why it's so hard to talk about, other people have a hard time separating their own feelings from the situation and take it very personally when someone in their life hits that low. It's hard for them to remember that this is an illness, a problem with the brain chemistry and other contributing factors, and not an innate fault or laziness in the sufferer. It's so hard to tell someone that you're falling apart when you know that their reaction will only make you feel worse, will make you feel guilty for being sick.
And I'm crying again just thinking about it, so I think that'll be all for today. I do intend to start posting more frequently than I have been though, I seemed to be doing so much better when I had this outlet.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sex and Intimacy
One of my textbooks talks about something that really rings true for me, so I thought I would share it. That is, the difference between sex and erotic love, two things which seem to get very tangled in modern society in my experience. Now I will start by saying flat out: yes, I am a virgin, and no, I don't think there is anything wrong with that. For me, the idea of sleeping with someone is an act of intense intimacy, an opening up and exposing the vulnerability of oneself to someone whom you feel exceptionally close to. Sex - the act itself - consists purely with physical gratification. Now I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with that - everyone has bodily needs to attend to, it's just part of being human. My problem is that people seem to interpose the two; if they want that intense feeling of connection to another person they think that they can achieve it with plain sex, but it doesn't work that way. Real, genuine intimacy takes time and patience, as well as a commitment to one another. Sex only satiates the physical need, not the emotional one, so using sex as a way to try and reach that intimacy never works. Unfortunately, too many people seem to think that it does and end up disappointed. Maybe if people looked at sleeping together less as "having a good time" and more as "making love" it would hold more meaning for them. Anyway, that's just what I think.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Awkward Subject Matter
Hello again, imaginary friends! Since my last posting I have started up at school again, and classes are going well. Except for one thing that's a little annoying: I am getting very tired of reading about Freud. *Warning, contains subject matter relating to sex* It's getting ridiculous! All of my textbooks start out with the basic "this is the scientific method", "this is how you do an experiment", "these are the different types of studies" stuff as well as a little basic history of each of the fields. The next section covers Freud, so I have to read all the same stuff about him over and over again in 3 different books, all at the same time. Now, he was an interesting enough guy with some ... creative ... ideas, but most of his more specific concepts and causes just seem to come out of left field. Like he claims that when little girls realize that they have a different anatomy than boys, they suffer penis envy because they want something between their legs too. (Forgive me if this comes out a bit muddled, I'm sleepy and may not be remembering it perfectly) Because Mommy gave birth to them, it must be her fault for not providing them with this particular appendage, so they get mad at her, and because Daddy has one he must know the secret of how to get one. Therefore Daddy becomes sexually desirable, and because Mommy has Daddy, the little girls identify with Mommy. Eventually the little girls somehow rationalize that sex can give them a baby, which is something that comes out from between their legs, so a baby is close enough to a penis to sate their envy. (WTF?) And because poop is elongated and comes out from between your legs, somehow that also roughly equates to penis. So baby = penis = poop, especially in dreams. I think this man was dropped on his head as a child. Sorry, I just had to rant about the strangeness to someone, and while I'm quite difficult to offend, my family is weird about what is okay to talk about and what isn't, so I can't really rant to them.
On a less eccentric note, I have again forced myself to be brave and move forward into the social realms, this time in the form on online dating. I revisited a site I'd tried in the past - this time actually aware of my problems with social phobia - and I've actually managed to hit it off with a guy that I found there. He doesn't actually live anywhere near me, about 15-20 hours away by car maybe, so there's no pressure to meet up before I'm ready, which is nice. So far he seems like a really sweet guy, and when I find his letters in my inbox I get a little giddy feeling in my stomach even though we've only been writing each other for a week now. I'm very aware that I have a tendency to start crushing on nearly any guy that shows me a little attention, but all the same it's cool to feel like I'm actually connecting with someone in a way that has some romantic potential down the road. I've liked certain guys in the past and even been on a couple of dates (I asked, not them), but it's a very new feeling to have someone responding positively like this. Maybe this will go somewhere and maybe it won't, but I'm definitely moving in the right direction and it feels wonderful.
On a less eccentric note, I have again forced myself to be brave and move forward into the social realms, this time in the form on online dating. I revisited a site I'd tried in the past - this time actually aware of my problems with social phobia - and I've actually managed to hit it off with a guy that I found there. He doesn't actually live anywhere near me, about 15-20 hours away by car maybe, so there's no pressure to meet up before I'm ready, which is nice. So far he seems like a really sweet guy, and when I find his letters in my inbox I get a little giddy feeling in my stomach even though we've only been writing each other for a week now. I'm very aware that I have a tendency to start crushing on nearly any guy that shows me a little attention, but all the same it's cool to feel like I'm actually connecting with someone in a way that has some romantic potential down the road. I've liked certain guys in the past and even been on a couple of dates (I asked, not them), but it's a very new feeling to have someone responding positively like this. Maybe this will go somewhere and maybe it won't, but I'm definitely moving in the right direction and it feels wonderful.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Waiting for School
Hello again to the imaginary people who read my blog! An update from my last post, my stories have now been read by nearly 2,000 people, 56 countries, all six populated continents. YAY! And several people love them! It makes me so happy!
Okay, done with that. Today I'm going to rant a bit. Because I can, and someone has been getting under my skin. I mentioned a while ago that my housing plans with friends fell through because of my financial problems. As a result, one of the two 'friends' has stopped speaking to me, and I will no longer be able to visit the other once school starts because the annoyed one will not welcome me in her home. Now, I realize that I screwed up, I take full responsibility for that, but I think after 2 months she should get the hell over it. I reimbursed her for the money that she paid for the apartment application, I haven't done anything flakey to her in the past, and I was just as caught off guard by my sudden lack of funding as she was. I just don't get it, why does she still hate me so much? How is it that I'm just as lost with regard to female behavior as all the men I know are?
Okay, done with that. Today I'm going to rant a bit. Because I can, and someone has been getting under my skin. I mentioned a while ago that my housing plans with friends fell through because of my financial problems. As a result, one of the two 'friends' has stopped speaking to me, and I will no longer be able to visit the other once school starts because the annoyed one will not welcome me in her home. Now, I realize that I screwed up, I take full responsibility for that, but I think after 2 months she should get the hell over it. I reimbursed her for the money that she paid for the apartment application, I haven't done anything flakey to her in the past, and I was just as caught off guard by my sudden lack of funding as she was. I just don't get it, why does she still hate me so much? How is it that I'm just as lost with regard to female behavior as all the men I know are?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wahooo!!!!!!
Haven't updated here in a while. Passed my first psych class with an A-, and just wrapped up my second class as well, with 99.65%! I am feeling more at peace with myself than I have in my entire life, it is amazing. I am communicating with my parents, I am setting boundaries with my sister, I am interacting with the world around me, and I am even losing weight without even trying (no I'm not anorexic, I'm over 200 lbs at present).
And even better, I'm writing! Not here so much, obviously, but writing fiction. Mostly fanfiction to be frank, because I'm having trouble figuring out where to go with my own works, but it's proving to be excellent practice as well as a major ego boost. "How is it an ego boost" you ask? Simple, for the first time in my life, I have posted completed fiction works online at a site where they can be easily read. And people have read them, they like them! As of this moment my scribbles have been read by 89 people in 17 countries, across 5 continents!
This may not sound like a big deal, but I have never, ever let random strangers into the sporadic workings of my twisted mind before. The reason I'm not including this blog when I say that is that this is more upfront to me, I feel more in control of the impression that comes across. When I write fiction it isn't just my surface thoughts and opinions that come across, it's a deeper vulnerability, something that my mind has created without me being able to rationalize it. My opinions are usually logical; my imagination is anything but, and because of that I'm often afraid of getting a reaction along the lines of "that is what goes on in your head? FREAK!"
That's why this is so monumental for me, because I'm exposing my raw psyche to the world. At least that's how it feels. And because I've been getting a positive response I have been so incredibly motivated to continue. It's amazing! Anyway, that's all for now.
Oh, and in case anyone actually reads my blog and wants to read my fanfictions, you can find them at http://www.fanfiction.net/~lyeundu .
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
drained, but happily so
Been a couple of weeks. My psych class is going great, 2 A's and a B+ on tests with 2 more to go. Ended up dropping stats for now, to hard for a dull online class to hold my focus with so little free time. Been spending most of said free time reading Naruto manga online.
Edit: Deleted most of what I'd written here. I'd realized in hindsight the perils of blogging when I'm tired, that being that my internal filter seems to go out the window and I sometimes cross into subject matter that I'd rather not share with just anyone, things that my mother has described as "too much information". If I was keeping this blog completely anonymous, as had been my original intent, then I might say screw it and leave it in, but since I'm writing under the same username that I've associated with basically all of my internet activity, I've decided to keep some things reined in. Particularly now that the 10-year old that I'm tutoring also knows that username, there are certain lines that I don't want to cross if he should stumble across my page.
Edit: Deleted most of what I'd written here. I'd realized in hindsight the perils of blogging when I'm tired, that being that my internal filter seems to go out the window and I sometimes cross into subject matter that I'd rather not share with just anyone, things that my mother has described as "too much information". If I was keeping this blog completely anonymous, as had been my original intent, then I might say screw it and leave it in, but since I'm writing under the same username that I've associated with basically all of my internet activity, I've decided to keep some things reined in. Particularly now that the 10-year old that I'm tutoring also knows that username, there are certain lines that I don't want to cross if he should stumble across my page.
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