I'm not sure where I stand on matters of spirituality or the paranormal. I buy into it a little, and I've found myself on the approving side of New Age philosophy on occasion. I was all for hypnotherapy (which I view as half New Age-y, half actual science). I do believe in astrological signs as descriptors, with natal charts and the like, but not horoscopes. I think there are spirits among us, and I do believe some people have psychic abilities. I'm not deep into any of it, because I'm skeptical by nature and some that claim to be “psychics,” “mediums,” etc. are really just preying on and deceiving those who buy into it. There are more fakes out there than those with actual gifts. So I believe this stuff is real; I just don't believe it happens as often we'd like to think.
That said... For a long time, I've wanted to see a psychic. I've been apprehensive about it, though, and I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe I was afraid they'd see my apprehension as full-on skepticism, because I know they don't like to read skeptics. However, a few days ago, I asked on Facebook if anyone knew of a psychic in the area. So on suggestion, I ended up doing an email reading with a local psychic, and I asked her three questions.
Almost everything she said was right on. Then the inner skeptic came out, and I had to Google myself and find out just how much information about me was easily found on the internet. Everything out there comes from my personal blogs, none of which were viewed in that time period. Plus, although I told her my name, she called me by the wrong name in the email (it happens a lot – stupid last name that sounds like a first name). So she would have been Googling the wrong person. So... I think it was legit.
I'm not going to publish the whole thing here, but I'll summarize what she said.
I asked: “I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks, and I've been struggling to better understand the source so that I can heal. Would you have any insight on that?”
She said my anxiety mainly stems from pressure I put on myself and feeling like I'm not where I should be in my life. She also said she feels this is something I've gotten from my mother, and that I “may want to do some work concerning mom, really realizing that you two are separate and you have your own choices in life to make.” Now, I didn't tell her anything about my mother. Nothing. But that's accurate. With regard to my panic attacks, she said: “It seems like you have panic attacks when you are out of the house, or I see you driving in the car having one.” Um, yes. That happens. She feels like that has something to with a past life, and to remind myself what year it is to ease them. She also mentions she thinks I have a serotonin imbalance, and that's put me into a depression, which is exacerbating everything. And...yes, also true.
I asked: “I honestly don't know what to do with my education and career, and have been waiting for a long time to find myself passionate about something. When will I figure this out?”
She told me she felt I already had a degree, but to “finish [my] degree.” Which makes sense, because I've been dragging my feet on grad school and all. She sees me in teaching or psychology, and dealing with children (I know, right?). And that does match up with what I've been looking at. She also said: “Your passion isn't there, just because I think you talk yourself out of things before you can finish them, or realize that you can make them your own. Meaning when ever you choose something you think you are going to like, you then start focusing on the negative aspects of the career and that stops you from following through.” And yeah, I've struggled with not having passion for a long time, and yeah, I do exactly what she said. Basically she said I'm being too negative and “selling myself short,” and I have to work to overcome the depression and get involved with something.
I asked: “I'm also very lonely, and have been for a while. Will I find a partner anytime soon?”
She said she sees that I have a very small circle of friends, and I don't go out very often. And I need to change that (yes, I've been hearing that for a while). She thinks I've been “nursing a heartbreak” after a bad breakup, and we all know that's not exactly true. I'll probably think about that a little more and find something that fits, though. She said people are interested in me, but I “don't see [my] worth right now,” and I'm not “in the frame of mind to see them.” She sees me with a man who has brown, wavy hair (but of course cautions me not to just look for that in a partner), and encourages me to partake of internet dating. How about that?
She ended by saying that she thinks I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be right now, and she sees things changing for me around the new year, mainly concerning work. That will change my outlook and improve the course of my life.
Overall... Yeah. Very accurate. I'm tempted to get a more in-depth reading in-person sometime soon, as well. There you have it.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Day 85: Changes.
Well. I've got a bit to discuss.
First things first... I took the GRE last Friday. I wasn't sure I was going to keep my appointment (logistics of getting a ride), so I didn't start any “studying” until a week before. I'm usually not one to prepare for a standardized test. The night before I took the SAT, for example, I was out until 1:30AM...and I'm pretty sure I'd been drinking. Yeah, I was 16. Don't judge. I did fine on the test, by the way. This time, though, with having been out of the academic loop for a while, I figured it was a little more important to review.
My mother drove me up and dropped me off. I was anxious. Not about the test, but the environment. I don't know these people. I can't leave. And I was preoccupied, so I stepped on a crack in the sidewalk on my way into the building and rolled my ankle, because I'm just that awesome. But I hobbled in and took the test. Despite not finishing the last four questions on one of the quantitative sections, I actually finished the whole thing in well under the allowed time. My grandparents were picking me up, but I was done 45 minutes before they were coming, so I sat outside at the picnic table, trying not to focus on the fact that I was alone and there was no escape.
But I made it. And according to my preliminary scores, I did pretty well.
Next on the agenda was my partially-triumphant return to work. After I saw my psychiatrist, he suggested returning part-time to ease my way back into things. So I'm only working 20 hours for a few weeks. Work is... Well, pretty much the same. A couple new people, a couple that aren't there anymore... But the dynamics are no different than before I left. The only change now is that I get to hide in a room toward the back of the store with one or two other people. I don't see nearly as many customers, and I don't do a whole lot of interacting with the rest of my coworkers. And I think that's probably best for me right now. I get to be alone and get acclimated to being at work again.
I'm far more anxious driving to and from work than I am when I'm there. So that's...good, I guess. And driving has gotten much, much better. I can handle the distance to work. On Monday, I have to see my doctor a little further away, and that'll probably be a test. But that's the only thing I have to do that day, so I won't feel pressure to get back by a certain time or whatever. I'm getting there. I really am.
So where am I now? Well... I'm going to use the free time I have while I'm only working 20 hours to work on grad school applications and possibly finding a job in a field to which I'm more suited. I'm still not completely sure where I'm applying and what programs I'm looking at. So with as much research as I feel like I've done, I'm still in the researching stage. I have a vague idea of what I want. But I'm not sure “vague” is going to do it for me. So... I just need to keep looking. I want all the applications to be in by the time my GRE scores are reported, though. So I can't look forever.
I'm disillusioned when it comes to relationships at the moment. I have a theory that, for myself at least, it would only take one thing going right to cause a chain reaction of positive events that would turn my life around. And I believed it should start with a relationship. I thought, if I found someone who cared about me despite my faults, that would give me the confidence to meet more people, then get the job I want, the education I want... To just get out there and feel more comfortable with myself because I knew there was at least one person that accepted me just as I was, so it would be possible that others, in any context, could do the same. It still makes sense to me, but I'm not sure it's necessary.
I was relying on outside influences to...give me worth. Or something. And I think the approval of others is important; most humans do. And I want that approval. But I need to approve of myself first, and I'm not sure I do yet. I'm frustrated, given everything I've gone through over the past few months. I'm on the right path. I genuinely believe that. But I think I've been putting my priorities in the wrong order. What I want and what I need are two different things, and I've got to figure out what's what. And that may ultimately mean I shouldn't be in a relationship at all.
Mindfuck, right?
I've got more. But I'll save it for a new entry.
First things first... I took the GRE last Friday. I wasn't sure I was going to keep my appointment (logistics of getting a ride), so I didn't start any “studying” until a week before. I'm usually not one to prepare for a standardized test. The night before I took the SAT, for example, I was out until 1:30AM...and I'm pretty sure I'd been drinking. Yeah, I was 16. Don't judge. I did fine on the test, by the way. This time, though, with having been out of the academic loop for a while, I figured it was a little more important to review.
My mother drove me up and dropped me off. I was anxious. Not about the test, but the environment. I don't know these people. I can't leave. And I was preoccupied, so I stepped on a crack in the sidewalk on my way into the building and rolled my ankle, because I'm just that awesome. But I hobbled in and took the test. Despite not finishing the last four questions on one of the quantitative sections, I actually finished the whole thing in well under the allowed time. My grandparents were picking me up, but I was done 45 minutes before they were coming, so I sat outside at the picnic table, trying not to focus on the fact that I was alone and there was no escape.
But I made it. And according to my preliminary scores, I did pretty well.
Next on the agenda was my partially-triumphant return to work. After I saw my psychiatrist, he suggested returning part-time to ease my way back into things. So I'm only working 20 hours for a few weeks. Work is... Well, pretty much the same. A couple new people, a couple that aren't there anymore... But the dynamics are no different than before I left. The only change now is that I get to hide in a room toward the back of the store with one or two other people. I don't see nearly as many customers, and I don't do a whole lot of interacting with the rest of my coworkers. And I think that's probably best for me right now. I get to be alone and get acclimated to being at work again.
I'm far more anxious driving to and from work than I am when I'm there. So that's...good, I guess. And driving has gotten much, much better. I can handle the distance to work. On Monday, I have to see my doctor a little further away, and that'll probably be a test. But that's the only thing I have to do that day, so I won't feel pressure to get back by a certain time or whatever. I'm getting there. I really am.
So where am I now? Well... I'm going to use the free time I have while I'm only working 20 hours to work on grad school applications and possibly finding a job in a field to which I'm more suited. I'm still not completely sure where I'm applying and what programs I'm looking at. So with as much research as I feel like I've done, I'm still in the researching stage. I have a vague idea of what I want. But I'm not sure “vague” is going to do it for me. So... I just need to keep looking. I want all the applications to be in by the time my GRE scores are reported, though. So I can't look forever.
I'm disillusioned when it comes to relationships at the moment. I have a theory that, for myself at least, it would only take one thing going right to cause a chain reaction of positive events that would turn my life around. And I believed it should start with a relationship. I thought, if I found someone who cared about me despite my faults, that would give me the confidence to meet more people, then get the job I want, the education I want... To just get out there and feel more comfortable with myself because I knew there was at least one person that accepted me just as I was, so it would be possible that others, in any context, could do the same. It still makes sense to me, but I'm not sure it's necessary.
I was relying on outside influences to...give me worth. Or something. And I think the approval of others is important; most humans do. And I want that approval. But I need to approve of myself first, and I'm not sure I do yet. I'm frustrated, given everything I've gone through over the past few months. I'm on the right path. I genuinely believe that. But I think I've been putting my priorities in the wrong order. What I want and what I need are two different things, and I've got to figure out what's what. And that may ultimately mean I shouldn't be in a relationship at all.
Mindfuck, right?
I've got more. But I'll save it for a new entry.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Day 75: Intercourse.
Okay, this is back on the primary topic. I'm going to talk about...sex. Or, more accurately, the prelude to sex.
I'm now working with another therapist in the same office, along with the therapist I've been seeing over the past couple months. Both have mentioned that I exhibit characteristics of a trauma survivor, and the trust issues, feelings of inferiority, and fear of abandonment that accompany it. I don't really remember much before the age of 14 or so, so if that's indeed the case – that I've been through some extreme trauma – it's nothing that I can recall. And yes, I realize that's also a characteristic of a trauma survivor. But no one's searching for any repressed memories. If it's not there, it's not there. We're not going to dwell on it; we're just going to deal with the result.
I've considered that I might have trust issues. But then when I reflect upon how I relate to people, I've not found myself to be particularly distrustful. I'm just about as cynical as a person can be, but I'm also a pretty good judge of character and I analyze everyone from the second I meet them. And if someone's not worth trusting, I'll generally figure it out pretty quickly. I'm fair. Everyone is under the same microscope, and if I don't like what I see, I don't pursue something. I consider it healthy skepticism. I will say, however, that once someone loses my trust, it's one hell of an uphill battle to earn it back. So I'm not sure I agree that I have issues there. Or maybe I just have a narrow view of what “trust” means, and my willingness to trust doesn't play as big a role as I think it does unless reciprocation is considered.
Inferiority? Yeah, I've got that. Fear of abandonment? Sure. My biggest obstacle when it comes to getting close to people is the perception that I always care more than the other party. I care more, I invest more, I feel more. Their impact on me is greater than my impact on them. It's the feeling that I'm disposable, forgettable...an afterthought. I avoid getting close to people because they can never seem to give at the level I want. I know it sounds strange coming from someone like me, since I rarely articulate my feelings to anyone or hug them or do any of those silly little things to let them know I'm thinking of them. I don't do direct displays of affection because I'm awkward. And because of that, I've cultivated a reputation for being a little cold and aloof and...well, kind of a bitch. But all of the emotionality is under the surface, and maybe I get burned because I can't quite ever share it when I really should, when it would bring me one step closer to really finding someone to give as much as I'd like.
Today in therapy we discussed the issue of “fakeness,” and how much I hate it. And we discussed change and how difficult I build it up to be. Often I have trouble discerning whether any change I may undergo is actual growth or if it's disingenuous to who I am. If I were to decide tomorrow that I was going to be a tactile, affectionate person who would sit people down and tell them what they mean to me... Is that me tapping into another part of myself, and learning to embrace that maybe that's something I want? Or am I doing it because other people expect that, and without it I won't be seen as an emotional, caring person who is capable of making deep connections? I want to believe it's not necessary for me to be outwardly sappy in order for someone to take me and my desire for emotional intimacy seriously, and I've been operating with that in mind. But it's hard not to question it when I'm... Well, where I am.
My therapist thinks I should have sex. Not, like, go out and do it tonight. But make significant steps toward being able to accept and enjoy physical intimacy, or even to accept and enjoy the idea that another person may want to be physically intimate with me. Because I have trouble with that. And with that, we're getting into a bunch of things... Being insecure about my looks, worrying that my inexperience will cause my partner to be disappointed... Not wanting to be a project for anyone. Nobody wants that. I get that we're all evolving (or at least we should be), but I'm so far behind my peers where this stuff is concerned. Anyone who gets involved with me is entering into a process. It'll require time and patience and support – more than in a typical relationship. Those things are not at the top of the priority list of the average 20-something male. I hear the voices in my head saying cliché things, like, “If he's the right guy, it won't matter.” Okay, maybe. But I'm not looking for Mr. Right. I'm beyond idealizing the situation. I'm over that. I've made my lists and painted all the perfect pictures in my head, and that's not reality. Things don't happen like that. Mr. Right Now is going to need to be okay with all of this, and that's where I get stuck.
There are other voices in my head saying I haven't been “out there” enough, haven't met enough people to know it's impossible. That I'm making assumptions. And maybe that's true, too. But all the insecurity feeds into that and keeps me from really trying as hard as I could. It's an evil cycle.
There's so much going on in my life (despite my incredible level of boredom). This stuff has been put on the back burner, because there are more immediate issues. But the pain is still there. And this may be the only time you'll catch me saying it...but it does hurt. It hurts a lot.
I walk the line between being completely unapologetic about who I am and what I have or haven't done...and feeling a little bit of shame for it. Until I reconcile that, I'm going be exactly where I am right now. Stuck.
I'm now working with another therapist in the same office, along with the therapist I've been seeing over the past couple months. Both have mentioned that I exhibit characteristics of a trauma survivor, and the trust issues, feelings of inferiority, and fear of abandonment that accompany it. I don't really remember much before the age of 14 or so, so if that's indeed the case – that I've been through some extreme trauma – it's nothing that I can recall. And yes, I realize that's also a characteristic of a trauma survivor. But no one's searching for any repressed memories. If it's not there, it's not there. We're not going to dwell on it; we're just going to deal with the result.
I've considered that I might have trust issues. But then when I reflect upon how I relate to people, I've not found myself to be particularly distrustful. I'm just about as cynical as a person can be, but I'm also a pretty good judge of character and I analyze everyone from the second I meet them. And if someone's not worth trusting, I'll generally figure it out pretty quickly. I'm fair. Everyone is under the same microscope, and if I don't like what I see, I don't pursue something. I consider it healthy skepticism. I will say, however, that once someone loses my trust, it's one hell of an uphill battle to earn it back. So I'm not sure I agree that I have issues there. Or maybe I just have a narrow view of what “trust” means, and my willingness to trust doesn't play as big a role as I think it does unless reciprocation is considered.
Inferiority? Yeah, I've got that. Fear of abandonment? Sure. My biggest obstacle when it comes to getting close to people is the perception that I always care more than the other party. I care more, I invest more, I feel more. Their impact on me is greater than my impact on them. It's the feeling that I'm disposable, forgettable...an afterthought. I avoid getting close to people because they can never seem to give at the level I want. I know it sounds strange coming from someone like me, since I rarely articulate my feelings to anyone or hug them or do any of those silly little things to let them know I'm thinking of them. I don't do direct displays of affection because I'm awkward. And because of that, I've cultivated a reputation for being a little cold and aloof and...well, kind of a bitch. But all of the emotionality is under the surface, and maybe I get burned because I can't quite ever share it when I really should, when it would bring me one step closer to really finding someone to give as much as I'd like.
Today in therapy we discussed the issue of “fakeness,” and how much I hate it. And we discussed change and how difficult I build it up to be. Often I have trouble discerning whether any change I may undergo is actual growth or if it's disingenuous to who I am. If I were to decide tomorrow that I was going to be a tactile, affectionate person who would sit people down and tell them what they mean to me... Is that me tapping into another part of myself, and learning to embrace that maybe that's something I want? Or am I doing it because other people expect that, and without it I won't be seen as an emotional, caring person who is capable of making deep connections? I want to believe it's not necessary for me to be outwardly sappy in order for someone to take me and my desire for emotional intimacy seriously, and I've been operating with that in mind. But it's hard not to question it when I'm... Well, where I am.
My therapist thinks I should have sex. Not, like, go out and do it tonight. But make significant steps toward being able to accept and enjoy physical intimacy, or even to accept and enjoy the idea that another person may want to be physically intimate with me. Because I have trouble with that. And with that, we're getting into a bunch of things... Being insecure about my looks, worrying that my inexperience will cause my partner to be disappointed... Not wanting to be a project for anyone. Nobody wants that. I get that we're all evolving (or at least we should be), but I'm so far behind my peers where this stuff is concerned. Anyone who gets involved with me is entering into a process. It'll require time and patience and support – more than in a typical relationship. Those things are not at the top of the priority list of the average 20-something male. I hear the voices in my head saying cliché things, like, “If he's the right guy, it won't matter.” Okay, maybe. But I'm not looking for Mr. Right. I'm beyond idealizing the situation. I'm over that. I've made my lists and painted all the perfect pictures in my head, and that's not reality. Things don't happen like that. Mr. Right Now is going to need to be okay with all of this, and that's where I get stuck.
There are other voices in my head saying I haven't been “out there” enough, haven't met enough people to know it's impossible. That I'm making assumptions. And maybe that's true, too. But all the insecurity feeds into that and keeps me from really trying as hard as I could. It's an evil cycle.
There's so much going on in my life (despite my incredible level of boredom). This stuff has been put on the back burner, because there are more immediate issues. But the pain is still there. And this may be the only time you'll catch me saying it...but it does hurt. It hurts a lot.
I walk the line between being completely unapologetic about who I am and what I have or haven't done...and feeling a little bit of shame for it. Until I reconcile that, I'm going be exactly where I am right now. Stuck.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Day 66: Trying.
And to continue from last night's entry...
At the end of my Day 36 entry, I mentioned the work situation – how I was looking for something else, and I'd gotten interviews. I did have the phone interview, which lead to an in-person interview. And I did go (thanks to an awesome friend who went out of his way to give me a ride). It went well. They liked me. I had a second phone interview with another person at the company, and I expressed that I did need health insurance. She said she was unsure whether there was any benefit structure in place currently (it's a very small company), but last she knew it was being worked on, and she would mention it to the owner. And that was the last I heard from them. They called all my references, did a background check... Then it was over. I never followed up, because I was pretty sure they just didn't have the benefits to offer and they knew I wouldn't accept the job. The other job... After canceling the interview twice, they continued to pursue me. But I wasn't going to make it, so I stopped responding.
But the important part here is that I proved to myself exactly what I set out to prove: I can get something else. I found two companies that were interested in me, as I am (I gave them full disclosure on my anxiety, and both were fine with it). I didn't get a job out of it, but it wasn't because of any personal fault (er...outside of not being able to drive to an interview at that point, but I don't consider that an essential part of my personality or anything). Is it frustrating to have gone through the process for nothing tangible to come of it? Sure. But I've been there before. And this time it felt different.
I'm still schedule to take the GRE on the 16th. I may postpone it, because I'm feeling enough pressure to be ready to go back to work on the 19th. Plus I procrastinated on the studying, and I realized the other night that I'm completely math inept now, and I don't know if I can fully refresh myself in two weeks. I may see if I can schedule it for the last day in September so I can still get the discount (it was half price). I've been doing more looking at grad schools, and even debating going back full-time as a graduate assistant. If I can pay off my credit card and my car in the next year, and get a cheap apartment with a roommate closer to the school (most likely UConn, maybe back to UHart – I don't want to go that far, and no other schools around here offer anything close to what I want), I may be able to make it on the grad assistant salary. Maybe. It's less than half what I make now. I've lived on that before, with the bills I have now, but throw rent and utilities into the mix and... I don't know. I need to think more.
And since I feel like I've been ignoring the initial point of this blog and project...
I'm having a terrible time meeting people. I still have a month left of my Match.com subscription, but I've been uninterested in even trying to wade through the profiles and find someone even remotely attractive to me. I've met a couple on OkCupid, but it's been virtually impossible for anyone to keep communicating with me, apparently. Going over a week between inane messages won't work for me. And I went out on a limb and gave a guy my number after only talking for a couple hours. We texted the rest of the night, and a couple hours the next night, and I must have said something wrong, because I never heard from him again. I posted an ad on CraigsList, and I was corresponding with a couple pretty cool people for about two weeks...who then completely stopped replying. So in some sense, I've been trying a little. And not getting anything out of it.
Do people know that I'm not happy with myself right now? Is this truly a case of putting out the wrong vibe without knowing I'm doing it? I mean... I've been very upfront with all of these people. I tell them what I'm going through, and they're fine with it, and we never mention it again. Sure, maybe it's in the back of their minds, and they're wondering just how much it influences the personality I'm showing them. And that's justified. There is an influence, but I'm not convinced it's all that great. Nor is it any different than one, two, five years ago, because this isn't a new thing for me. Just a little more apparent. I don't know... Usually I'm screwing myself by not putting myself out there. But it always happens that, when I do, I get disappointed. It's a vicious cycle.
I'm sure I could babble more... But I'll stop here. And try to be more regular with updating.
At the end of my Day 36 entry, I mentioned the work situation – how I was looking for something else, and I'd gotten interviews. I did have the phone interview, which lead to an in-person interview. And I did go (thanks to an awesome friend who went out of his way to give me a ride). It went well. They liked me. I had a second phone interview with another person at the company, and I expressed that I did need health insurance. She said she was unsure whether there was any benefit structure in place currently (it's a very small company), but last she knew it was being worked on, and she would mention it to the owner. And that was the last I heard from them. They called all my references, did a background check... Then it was over. I never followed up, because I was pretty sure they just didn't have the benefits to offer and they knew I wouldn't accept the job. The other job... After canceling the interview twice, they continued to pursue me. But I wasn't going to make it, so I stopped responding.
But the important part here is that I proved to myself exactly what I set out to prove: I can get something else. I found two companies that were interested in me, as I am (I gave them full disclosure on my anxiety, and both were fine with it). I didn't get a job out of it, but it wasn't because of any personal fault (er...outside of not being able to drive to an interview at that point, but I don't consider that an essential part of my personality or anything). Is it frustrating to have gone through the process for nothing tangible to come of it? Sure. But I've been there before. And this time it felt different.
I'm still schedule to take the GRE on the 16th. I may postpone it, because I'm feeling enough pressure to be ready to go back to work on the 19th. Plus I procrastinated on the studying, and I realized the other night that I'm completely math inept now, and I don't know if I can fully refresh myself in two weeks. I may see if I can schedule it for the last day in September so I can still get the discount (it was half price). I've been doing more looking at grad schools, and even debating going back full-time as a graduate assistant. If I can pay off my credit card and my car in the next year, and get a cheap apartment with a roommate closer to the school (most likely UConn, maybe back to UHart – I don't want to go that far, and no other schools around here offer anything close to what I want), I may be able to make it on the grad assistant salary. Maybe. It's less than half what I make now. I've lived on that before, with the bills I have now, but throw rent and utilities into the mix and... I don't know. I need to think more.
And since I feel like I've been ignoring the initial point of this blog and project...
I'm having a terrible time meeting people. I still have a month left of my Match.com subscription, but I've been uninterested in even trying to wade through the profiles and find someone even remotely attractive to me. I've met a couple on OkCupid, but it's been virtually impossible for anyone to keep communicating with me, apparently. Going over a week between inane messages won't work for me. And I went out on a limb and gave a guy my number after only talking for a couple hours. We texted the rest of the night, and a couple hours the next night, and I must have said something wrong, because I never heard from him again. I posted an ad on CraigsList, and I was corresponding with a couple pretty cool people for about two weeks...who then completely stopped replying. So in some sense, I've been trying a little. And not getting anything out of it.
Do people know that I'm not happy with myself right now? Is this truly a case of putting out the wrong vibe without knowing I'm doing it? I mean... I've been very upfront with all of these people. I tell them what I'm going through, and they're fine with it, and we never mention it again. Sure, maybe it's in the back of their minds, and they're wondering just how much it influences the personality I'm showing them. And that's justified. There is an influence, but I'm not convinced it's all that great. Nor is it any different than one, two, five years ago, because this isn't a new thing for me. Just a little more apparent. I don't know... Usually I'm screwing myself by not putting myself out there. But it always happens that, when I do, I get disappointed. It's a vicious cycle.
I'm sure I could babble more... But I'll stop here. And try to be more regular with updating.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Day 65: Empty.
Yeah, it's been almost a month since my last entry. I've become terrible at keeping up with this. I feel even more guilty because this is supposed to be a six month project. I suppose a lot, and yet nothing at all, has happened.
I'm still not at work. Now scheduled to go back September 19. The past few weeks have been busy (not for me, but for others around me), and I haven't been able to get to therapy as much as I think is necessary. My psychiatrist agreed, and gave me the extra month. Overall, I'm just...okay. I guess that's better than bad, but I'm still not pleased with it.
My mother and I have had our share of clashes recently. She had been planning her annual vacation to New Hampshire, and I wasn't exactly thrilled about being completely alone for the duration, but I told her to do whatever she wanted. Initially she was going to have my grandparents stay here, but then my grandmother ended up in the hospital. So I was on my own. I tried to get a therapy appointment before she left, and what I ended up with was a 2PM on the day she was leaving. Her plan was to leave at noon. I asked, nicely, if she could come with me to the appointment and then leave for New Hampshire after. She said no. She couldn't put her vacation off for that small amount of time to help me. I was furious. So I was already not pleased that I'd be even more alone than usual for five days, but she was leaving me alone and upset. In the end, I was fine. But the way she acted didn't sit well with me.
This past week, there was some confusion about my therapy appointment. First I thought it was Tuesday at 2:15. So I asked my mother if she could leave work a little early to come with me. She wasn't happy about it, but she did it. Then my therapist contacted me around 1 and said she made a mistake, and the opening was Wednesday. I called my mother, who was on her way home...and she yelled at me. It wasn't my fault. It was just a mistake. She ended up going back to work and then leaving early Wednesday. But she was, again, really angry and put out. And I get it. I know she doesn't like taking the time off. But I am asking you for help. I do not have anyone else. Look at it from my perspective.
Even worse was that she told me she was lying to her boss about why she was leaving. When she said that, I hung up on her and started to cry. That was so patently offensive to me. Like she was trying to hide it. Like I was some kind of embarassment. When she got home, she explained that she just didn't want people at work knowing her business. But then she also told me this was the last time she would lie for me, like I'm a criminal she's done protecting or something. Which made me feel awesome.
I'm having issues with all people lately. I realized today that, after spending the past three months either alone or in one-on-one situations, I've unlearned proper socialization. I've never been awesome with that, and I've had times when it really felt like a chore to be around other people. But I'm at the point now where I just...don't want to. Whenever I'm invited somewhere, I ask the question, “Who is it hurting if I don't show up?” I'm comfortable laying in my bed watching TV, and chances are no one's going to miss me. So really...why go through the effort? I realize, consciously, that it actually is hurting me. But obviously knowing that something is bad for me has never stopped me from doing (or not doing) it before. Just ask my scale. I'm frustrated with how inconsistent people are, and how much I genuinely desire to find people who are more reliable, but haven't been able to. I'm realizing, after spending a lot of years trying to avoid it, that I do want people to pay attention to me. I want to matter to someone – or a few someones. And spending all this time alone with my thoughts, not feeling like I have much of a support system, is impacting my concept of self-worth.
I know it should start with me. I know I need to believe I'm worth it before anyone else will. And the thing is... Most of the time I do. But like any human being, I need reinforcement. And that's been so hard to find lately.
I said at the beginning of this project that I needed to find love within myself before I could find it with another person. I'm obviously not there yet.
There's more to say, but I'll write a new entry tomorrow.
I'm still not at work. Now scheduled to go back September 19. The past few weeks have been busy (not for me, but for others around me), and I haven't been able to get to therapy as much as I think is necessary. My psychiatrist agreed, and gave me the extra month. Overall, I'm just...okay. I guess that's better than bad, but I'm still not pleased with it.
My mother and I have had our share of clashes recently. She had been planning her annual vacation to New Hampshire, and I wasn't exactly thrilled about being completely alone for the duration, but I told her to do whatever she wanted. Initially she was going to have my grandparents stay here, but then my grandmother ended up in the hospital. So I was on my own. I tried to get a therapy appointment before she left, and what I ended up with was a 2PM on the day she was leaving. Her plan was to leave at noon. I asked, nicely, if she could come with me to the appointment and then leave for New Hampshire after. She said no. She couldn't put her vacation off for that small amount of time to help me. I was furious. So I was already not pleased that I'd be even more alone than usual for five days, but she was leaving me alone and upset. In the end, I was fine. But the way she acted didn't sit well with me.
This past week, there was some confusion about my therapy appointment. First I thought it was Tuesday at 2:15. So I asked my mother if she could leave work a little early to come with me. She wasn't happy about it, but she did it. Then my therapist contacted me around 1 and said she made a mistake, and the opening was Wednesday. I called my mother, who was on her way home...and she yelled at me. It wasn't my fault. It was just a mistake. She ended up going back to work and then leaving early Wednesday. But she was, again, really angry and put out. And I get it. I know she doesn't like taking the time off. But I am asking you for help. I do not have anyone else. Look at it from my perspective.
Even worse was that she told me she was lying to her boss about why she was leaving. When she said that, I hung up on her and started to cry. That was so patently offensive to me. Like she was trying to hide it. Like I was some kind of embarassment. When she got home, she explained that she just didn't want people at work knowing her business. But then she also told me this was the last time she would lie for me, like I'm a criminal she's done protecting or something. Which made me feel awesome.
I'm having issues with all people lately. I realized today that, after spending the past three months either alone or in one-on-one situations, I've unlearned proper socialization. I've never been awesome with that, and I've had times when it really felt like a chore to be around other people. But I'm at the point now where I just...don't want to. Whenever I'm invited somewhere, I ask the question, “Who is it hurting if I don't show up?” I'm comfortable laying in my bed watching TV, and chances are no one's going to miss me. So really...why go through the effort? I realize, consciously, that it actually is hurting me. But obviously knowing that something is bad for me has never stopped me from doing (or not doing) it before. Just ask my scale. I'm frustrated with how inconsistent people are, and how much I genuinely desire to find people who are more reliable, but haven't been able to. I'm realizing, after spending a lot of years trying to avoid it, that I do want people to pay attention to me. I want to matter to someone – or a few someones. And spending all this time alone with my thoughts, not feeling like I have much of a support system, is impacting my concept of self-worth.
I know it should start with me. I know I need to believe I'm worth it before anyone else will. And the thing is... Most of the time I do. But like any human being, I need reinforcement. And that's been so hard to find lately.
I said at the beginning of this project that I needed to find love within myself before I could find it with another person. I'm obviously not there yet.
There's more to say, but I'll write a new entry tomorrow.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Day 36: Opportunity.
I've been grappling with a lot lately.
I'm coming up on two weeks left until I'm supposed to go back to work. And if that's going to happen, I have a metric ton of work to do in that short period of time. I don't see it happening. I know it'll sound like a load of excuses, but I have reasons for why I can't seem to make any progress.
First of all... Between my ability (or inability) to get a ride and her schedule, I haven't been able to see my therapist as much as I think I need to. She's always said that if I need to see her at a time that may be outside her hours, I can call her and we can work something out, but I really really hate doing that. It's the whole...not wanting to ask for help and not wanting to inconvenience people thing. Which I know I need to get over, but I just... I don't want to be that person.
Secondly... When a lot of my issue has become about being alone, where do I find myself most of the time? Alone. My mother works two jobs, and lately she's been going off with her friends all weekend, to the casino or whatever, too. She's almost never here. She makes all these plans and never has free time where she's willing to help me, by coming out with me while I drive somewhere, or even just bringing me out. And when she's free, she's too tired. Today I did go out on my own for a little while, just around town. I went to the grocery store and the post office, then tried to drive for a bit with no destination. I lasted twenty minutes, and I was really anxious the whole time. When my mother got home from work, I told her about it, and her response was, “You really need to get over this soon, you know.” Like it's a switch I can flip. That's always how she treats it.
And finally... Medication. I'm at 75mg of Zoloft on my way to 100mg, but I also just started my period. So I've been anxious the past few days from the PMS, and now I know the next three will be the same way. It's certainly not at the level it has been in the past, but it's there, and I'm going to get more anxious over the first two or three days after the dosage increase. I'm still going to increase tonight and see what happens, but I can't go too fast. I wasted a lot of time at 50mg waiting for my psychiatrist appointment, because I didn't want to increase and then have him give me something different, just to go through the tapering down process and start over. And I've given myself 10 days at 75mg, which is a safe amount of time. I'm starting to think I'll need to add Xanax in, and I hate Xanax with the burning passion of a thousand suns, but I'm running out of time... I don't like feeling like that.
Yet somehow, in the midst of all this, I've decided now is a completely appropriate time to look for a new job. I'm not going to lie and say I love my job, because I don't. I'm not going to get into specifics, but I'm not comfortable there, and there is no doubt in my mind that my current issues were and are exacerbated by being at or considering going back to work. I'm still not sure what I want to do, but I know there has to be something out there that won't make me feel like this. As much as I typically shun the idea of commitment, I want to find something I can do for a long time. Even if it isn't necessarily what comes to mind when I eventually have the epiphany that I know will come (yeah...right), I'm willing to settle somewhere. But I want it to mean something to me, and to the people I work with. Something beyond a paycheck. And I don't have that now.
I ended up with two interviews, one via phone and the other in-person. At this point, I highly doubt I'll be able to make it to the in-person interview. I was telling my mother what the jobs were, and that I got interviews, and she asked me why I was even bothering, since I knew I wasn't in any position to take a new job. And why did I? Because I needed to prove to myself that there was something else out there. I needed to prove to myself that there were other companies that would be interested in me. Even if I didn't get the job, they were interested enough to want to learn more about me. And it had everything to do with the effort I put into my cover letters. In one (it was an administrative assistant position at a psychologist's office), I even mentioned my struggles with anxiety, and argued that it gave me a unique ability to empathize with the clients I would be dealing with on a daily basis. I took an imperfection, turned it into a positive, and someone was okay with it. So maybe I won't make it to the interview. But it still feels good to know there's hope, even with all I'm going through.
I'm going to spend the next few days really looking for telecommuting options. I know that'll be difficult, since there are so many scams out there. I need to be on an actual company's payroll, and to have benefits, but just be allowed to work from home. There are a million contract jobs out there for telecommuters, but I can't do that. I've been thinking about doing freelance writing for a while, but I can't get private health insurance on my own if I go that route. And I need it. This whole thing frustrates me because I'm capable of working, and being incredibly productive. Just, apparently, not...at work. So if anyone reading this has any ideas, please let me know. I may try to contact a staffing agency for the disabled (an old coworker of mine is a recruiter for one) and see what they can do.
My next therapy appointment is Tuesday. And since I keep finding myself needing to let things out, that'll be...really important. I guess I have to keep working on the meds and the driving and see how things go. And try not to beat myself up for things I can't help.
So much easier said than done.
I'm coming up on two weeks left until I'm supposed to go back to work. And if that's going to happen, I have a metric ton of work to do in that short period of time. I don't see it happening. I know it'll sound like a load of excuses, but I have reasons for why I can't seem to make any progress.
First of all... Between my ability (or inability) to get a ride and her schedule, I haven't been able to see my therapist as much as I think I need to. She's always said that if I need to see her at a time that may be outside her hours, I can call her and we can work something out, but I really really hate doing that. It's the whole...not wanting to ask for help and not wanting to inconvenience people thing. Which I know I need to get over, but I just... I don't want to be that person.
Secondly... When a lot of my issue has become about being alone, where do I find myself most of the time? Alone. My mother works two jobs, and lately she's been going off with her friends all weekend, to the casino or whatever, too. She's almost never here. She makes all these plans and never has free time where she's willing to help me, by coming out with me while I drive somewhere, or even just bringing me out. And when she's free, she's too tired. Today I did go out on my own for a little while, just around town. I went to the grocery store and the post office, then tried to drive for a bit with no destination. I lasted twenty minutes, and I was really anxious the whole time. When my mother got home from work, I told her about it, and her response was, “You really need to get over this soon, you know.” Like it's a switch I can flip. That's always how she treats it.
And finally... Medication. I'm at 75mg of Zoloft on my way to 100mg, but I also just started my period. So I've been anxious the past few days from the PMS, and now I know the next three will be the same way. It's certainly not at the level it has been in the past, but it's there, and I'm going to get more anxious over the first two or three days after the dosage increase. I'm still going to increase tonight and see what happens, but I can't go too fast. I wasted a lot of time at 50mg waiting for my psychiatrist appointment, because I didn't want to increase and then have him give me something different, just to go through the tapering down process and start over. And I've given myself 10 days at 75mg, which is a safe amount of time. I'm starting to think I'll need to add Xanax in, and I hate Xanax with the burning passion of a thousand suns, but I'm running out of time... I don't like feeling like that.
Yet somehow, in the midst of all this, I've decided now is a completely appropriate time to look for a new job. I'm not going to lie and say I love my job, because I don't. I'm not going to get into specifics, but I'm not comfortable there, and there is no doubt in my mind that my current issues were and are exacerbated by being at or considering going back to work. I'm still not sure what I want to do, but I know there has to be something out there that won't make me feel like this. As much as I typically shun the idea of commitment, I want to find something I can do for a long time. Even if it isn't necessarily what comes to mind when I eventually have the epiphany that I know will come (yeah...right), I'm willing to settle somewhere. But I want it to mean something to me, and to the people I work with. Something beyond a paycheck. And I don't have that now.
I ended up with two interviews, one via phone and the other in-person. At this point, I highly doubt I'll be able to make it to the in-person interview. I was telling my mother what the jobs were, and that I got interviews, and she asked me why I was even bothering, since I knew I wasn't in any position to take a new job. And why did I? Because I needed to prove to myself that there was something else out there. I needed to prove to myself that there were other companies that would be interested in me. Even if I didn't get the job, they were interested enough to want to learn more about me. And it had everything to do with the effort I put into my cover letters. In one (it was an administrative assistant position at a psychologist's office), I even mentioned my struggles with anxiety, and argued that it gave me a unique ability to empathize with the clients I would be dealing with on a daily basis. I took an imperfection, turned it into a positive, and someone was okay with it. So maybe I won't make it to the interview. But it still feels good to know there's hope, even with all I'm going through.
I'm going to spend the next few days really looking for telecommuting options. I know that'll be difficult, since there are so many scams out there. I need to be on an actual company's payroll, and to have benefits, but just be allowed to work from home. There are a million contract jobs out there for telecommuters, but I can't do that. I've been thinking about doing freelance writing for a while, but I can't get private health insurance on my own if I go that route. And I need it. This whole thing frustrates me because I'm capable of working, and being incredibly productive. Just, apparently, not...at work. So if anyone reading this has any ideas, please let me know. I may try to contact a staffing agency for the disabled (an old coworker of mine is a recruiter for one) and see what they can do.
My next therapy appointment is Tuesday. And since I keep finding myself needing to let things out, that'll be...really important. I guess I have to keep working on the meds and the driving and see how things go. And try not to beat myself up for things I can't help.
So much easier said than done.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Day 26: Readiness.
This is a concept with which I struggle. No matter how many skills I have or how mentally prepared I think I am, I'm never ready. Never.
I'm not sure an an anxious person ever is, really. We spend too much time on "what if" and "maybe" to be fully prepared. We know the possibilities, but after all the cogitation on what we would do in any of those situations, and our already racing minds, any assuredness we may have had disappears. And we always come up with some other outlandish potential outcome just before we're about to do whatever it is, so we don't have adequate time to evaluate it. Not that it matters, since things rarely play out in real life as they do in our heads, despite how imaginative we think we are.
I've been debating the readiness issue (with myself, of course) over the past couple weeks. Am I ready to try and drive? Am I ready to go back to work? Am I ready to pick a grad school? Am I ready for a relationship? Am I emotionally ready to handle all negative things without falling apart? Am I ready for anything - anything at all - or am I going to end up stagnant because I can't figure out a way to prepare myself to take the next step in my life?
I know I'm fragile right now. So it makes some degree of sense to be questioning all this at the moment. I'm ready for change consciously, but I'm also quite aware that this is not the time to change anything. Pushing me outside my comfort zone now would inevitably lead to disaster. But it even feels like thinking about changing, readying myself for change, is too overwhelming. I know I have to eventually, and this would seem like an appropriate time. But that's entirely too much stress.
Maybe this is something that confounds me because I don't know what I'm getting ready for. I haven't the slightest idea what I want to do with my life, nor do I really know what it is that's best for me at this juncture. I know what people tell me is best for me, but I'm also aware that they're...most likely wrong. Very few people really understand me, so their "advice" is rather pointless. There are a lot of things I need to decide for myself. Someday. But I'm not prepared.
I can say with certainty, however, that I've always been ready for someone or something to come along and change my perspective - for the better. Lots of things happen that make me even more frustrated, more angry with whatever supreme force controls the universe. I would be beyond ready for something to temper the cynicism, take away the indecision, show me the right path. I know I shouldn't be relying on anyone but myself to change how I look at things, but if I could have done that on my own, wouldn't I have done it already?
Maybe I'm not ready because I'm waiting for an epiphany. Maybe I'm not ready because nothing has spoken to me just yet. But I know, without question, that I'm ready to listen.
I'm not sure an an anxious person ever is, really. We spend too much time on "what if" and "maybe" to be fully prepared. We know the possibilities, but after all the cogitation on what we would do in any of those situations, and our already racing minds, any assuredness we may have had disappears. And we always come up with some other outlandish potential outcome just before we're about to do whatever it is, so we don't have adequate time to evaluate it. Not that it matters, since things rarely play out in real life as they do in our heads, despite how imaginative we think we are.
I've been debating the readiness issue (with myself, of course) over the past couple weeks. Am I ready to try and drive? Am I ready to go back to work? Am I ready to pick a grad school? Am I ready for a relationship? Am I emotionally ready to handle all negative things without falling apart? Am I ready for anything - anything at all - or am I going to end up stagnant because I can't figure out a way to prepare myself to take the next step in my life?
I know I'm fragile right now. So it makes some degree of sense to be questioning all this at the moment. I'm ready for change consciously, but I'm also quite aware that this is not the time to change anything. Pushing me outside my comfort zone now would inevitably lead to disaster. But it even feels like thinking about changing, readying myself for change, is too overwhelming. I know I have to eventually, and this would seem like an appropriate time. But that's entirely too much stress.
Maybe this is something that confounds me because I don't know what I'm getting ready for. I haven't the slightest idea what I want to do with my life, nor do I really know what it is that's best for me at this juncture. I know what people tell me is best for me, but I'm also aware that they're...most likely wrong. Very few people really understand me, so their "advice" is rather pointless. There are a lot of things I need to decide for myself. Someday. But I'm not prepared.
I can say with certainty, however, that I've always been ready for someone or something to come along and change my perspective - for the better. Lots of things happen that make me even more frustrated, more angry with whatever supreme force controls the universe. I would be beyond ready for something to temper the cynicism, take away the indecision, show me the right path. I know I shouldn't be relying on anyone but myself to change how I look at things, but if I could have done that on my own, wouldn't I have done it already?
Maybe I'm not ready because I'm waiting for an epiphany. Maybe I'm not ready because nothing has spoken to me just yet. But I know, without question, that I'm ready to listen.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Day 22: Time.
It's been a few days. A somewhat busy few days.
Monday was my appointment with the psychiatrist. It went well. He said it sounds like I'm on the right path, and to increase my Zoloft and continue with therapy. I told him about the agoraphobia (which is slowly getting better), and he granted me another month off from work to recover, and we would re-assess everything at my next appointment on August 18, or sooner if I felt it necessary. I got word this morning from the insurance company that my disability claim was approved through August 21. It's good news, but the guilt of not being at work still lingers, and not beating myself up over it is very difficult.
Tuesday was my first hypnotherapy session. I didn't relax as much as I wanted to, and I definitely wasn't in a trance-type state. But my therapist says it generally takes three sessions to get there if it's something you haven't done before, so that made me feel better. Her schedule is weird for the next week, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to get there next. She said if I needed to see her, we could work something out. We'll see.
Today was the first time in five days that I didn't go out. Monday after my appointment, my mother and I went grocery shopping. We were there for quite a while, and I actually did pretty well. I was anxious before we left the house that morning, but it wore off, and I didn't feel like I'd lost my resolve until about three hours in. Thankfully we were already on the way home by then. Tuesday was therapy. Wednesday I had my first meal at a restaurant in almost two months, which was something that had made me nervous to even think about for a long time. And last night, I did some more shopping. Of course, I didn't do any of this alone. I may have to face that tomorrow when I go to a social event, potentially on my own. But that all depends on how I feel right before it's time to go.
I've been thinking about time lately. In the past year or so, I've become keenly aware of my age. My body is beginning to fail me (a subject for a different entry). I'm watching my friends get married, have kids, turn 30...or 40. I've realized people born in 1995 are driving now. And the real kicker is that I'll sometimes make what's meant to be a throwaway comment, then pause and reflect and realize it's something my mother would say. I've had to face it: I'm old. Maybe not chronologically, but I feel like the world has changed a great deal in the 28 years I've been on it. Technology has advanced more quickly than ever before, and we've sort of all...grown up faster. More responsibility, more stress, more drama. So here's your wake-up call, Millenials: You're aging. Start stocking up on hair dye, wrinkle cream, and Viagra. You're gonna need it.
I'd feel better about getting older if I didn't feel like I'd wasted so much time. And please - don't tell me I'm not. I'm doing it right now. I could think of a dozen more productive things I could be doing right now. I've perfected the art of procrastination over the course of my life. I am excellent at wasting time. I'm even more excellent at feeling guilty about it, but then not changing the behavior.
It's been more of an issue to me since I've been sitting around at home. I mean, I've always had issues with thinking I'm so far behind my peers - that I haven't accomplished enough, and that I don't even have the direction or motivation to accomplish anything. But after spending six weeks stuck in the house, more or less, I've realized just how long six weeks is. I've realized what could be done in six weeks, and how little I'm actually doing. I've lived through approximately 244 six-week periods. How many of those have I spent just like this? I'm not sure I want to know.
I don't want to go into a bunch of cliches here, about making every moment matter or...something. Mostly because I think every moment already does matter, and that doesn't mean it needs to be full of dramatic searches for meaning or what have you. We often learn the most about ourselves when we're not actively trying to do so. But eventually we all realize there's something we're not doing. We're not working the right job, we're not in the right relationship, whatever it happens to be. And we realize, when it comes to changing those things, time is against us. Time is against all of us. There are no exceptions. It's up to us to change how we react to that inevitability.
I'm starting small. I want to not waste the next month. I want to be able to say I didn't just recover - I improved. I want to use time to my advantage for once instead of feeling like its victim. And I hope that can set the tone for this entire process.
Monday was my appointment with the psychiatrist. It went well. He said it sounds like I'm on the right path, and to increase my Zoloft and continue with therapy. I told him about the agoraphobia (which is slowly getting better), and he granted me another month off from work to recover, and we would re-assess everything at my next appointment on August 18, or sooner if I felt it necessary. I got word this morning from the insurance company that my disability claim was approved through August 21. It's good news, but the guilt of not being at work still lingers, and not beating myself up over it is very difficult.
Tuesday was my first hypnotherapy session. I didn't relax as much as I wanted to, and I definitely wasn't in a trance-type state. But my therapist says it generally takes three sessions to get there if it's something you haven't done before, so that made me feel better. Her schedule is weird for the next week, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to get there next. She said if I needed to see her, we could work something out. We'll see.
Today was the first time in five days that I didn't go out. Monday after my appointment, my mother and I went grocery shopping. We were there for quite a while, and I actually did pretty well. I was anxious before we left the house that morning, but it wore off, and I didn't feel like I'd lost my resolve until about three hours in. Thankfully we were already on the way home by then. Tuesday was therapy. Wednesday I had my first meal at a restaurant in almost two months, which was something that had made me nervous to even think about for a long time. And last night, I did some more shopping. Of course, I didn't do any of this alone. I may have to face that tomorrow when I go to a social event, potentially on my own. But that all depends on how I feel right before it's time to go.
I've been thinking about time lately. In the past year or so, I've become keenly aware of my age. My body is beginning to fail me (a subject for a different entry). I'm watching my friends get married, have kids, turn 30...or 40. I've realized people born in 1995 are driving now. And the real kicker is that I'll sometimes make what's meant to be a throwaway comment, then pause and reflect and realize it's something my mother would say. I've had to face it: I'm old. Maybe not chronologically, but I feel like the world has changed a great deal in the 28 years I've been on it. Technology has advanced more quickly than ever before, and we've sort of all...grown up faster. More responsibility, more stress, more drama. So here's your wake-up call, Millenials: You're aging. Start stocking up on hair dye, wrinkle cream, and Viagra. You're gonna need it.
I'd feel better about getting older if I didn't feel like I'd wasted so much time. And please - don't tell me I'm not. I'm doing it right now. I could think of a dozen more productive things I could be doing right now. I've perfected the art of procrastination over the course of my life. I am excellent at wasting time. I'm even more excellent at feeling guilty about it, but then not changing the behavior.
It's been more of an issue to me since I've been sitting around at home. I mean, I've always had issues with thinking I'm so far behind my peers - that I haven't accomplished enough, and that I don't even have the direction or motivation to accomplish anything. But after spending six weeks stuck in the house, more or less, I've realized just how long six weeks is. I've realized what could be done in six weeks, and how little I'm actually doing. I've lived through approximately 244 six-week periods. How many of those have I spent just like this? I'm not sure I want to know.
I don't want to go into a bunch of cliches here, about making every moment matter or...something. Mostly because I think every moment already does matter, and that doesn't mean it needs to be full of dramatic searches for meaning or what have you. We often learn the most about ourselves when we're not actively trying to do so. But eventually we all realize there's something we're not doing. We're not working the right job, we're not in the right relationship, whatever it happens to be. And we realize, when it comes to changing those things, time is against us. Time is against all of us. There are no exceptions. It's up to us to change how we react to that inevitability.
I'm starting small. I want to not waste the next month. I want to be able to say I didn't just recover - I improved. I want to use time to my advantage for once instead of feeling like its victim. And I hope that can set the tone for this entire process.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Day 14: Attachment.
Had another therapy session the other day. We didn't get into the hypnosis yet, because other things keep coming up that I need to talk about. But next week, it'll definitely happen.
My mother brought me to the appointment, so I introduced her to my therapist. And that, of course, brought on discussion of our relationship. I've known for quite some time that it's not exactly healthy. It's not completely unhealthy, either. It's functional, and I can safely say we don't hate one another. So, y'know...that's a plus, right? Nonetheless, we got to talking about attachment. And I have a pretty significant background in psychology, so the concept is not unfamiliar to me. She theorized that I'm insecurely attached, and that may have something to do with my current view on relationships.
I try to fight the stereotype of the only child. I was never "spoiled," neither with attention nor material things. At least not by my parents. I spent the majority of my childhood with my grandparents, since both my parents worked full-time. My grandmother taught me how to read and write. We watched her "stories" every afternoon, played cards, put together puzzles... We'd go on walks to the park, or she'd give me pointers on gardening in the back yard. She didn't work; she didn't even drive. I was her entertainment as much as she was mine. I don't remember too much of anything before, say, 12 or so, and she passed away when I was 14. But I do know her style of caring was different from that of my parents, and the transition probably wasn't all that easy.
Right, back to the spoiling... My grandmother may very well have given me more attention that my parents could at that point. But I don't know that I can call classify it as the spoiling amount. And as material possessions go, I never had the fanciest clothes or the newest toys. I started working when I was 15. I paid for my own first car. That was not exactly the norm in my hometown. What typical only child traits did I actually get? The sheltering. I never rode a bus to school. My mother drove me until I was 16 and able to drive myself. I never had a curfew, but I was 22 before I was allowed to leave the house after 8PM. I'm 28 now, and I still think she's perturbed if she finds out I take a shower when she's not home (slip and fall danger, y'know).
But I also very much got the "no, I'll do it myself!" complex. No, you may not open that jar for me; I'll do it myself. No, you may not pay for my dinner; I'll do it myself. It's the struggle for independence that most only children have. When you grow up around so many adults, all of whom are there (in the ideal situation, at least) to assist you at a moment's notice, sometimes you feel useless. If everyone does this for me, what do I do? Will I ever have to do it? Something in all this makes me think well-adjusted only children are difficult to find. They're either incredibly dependent because no one forced them to learn those skills, or they fought so hard to stand on their own that they've become detached or reckless. (A little developmental psychology is always fun.)
I'm a little on both sides of that fence, I think. I'll freely admit there are things I don't know how to do because I haven't had to do them yet. Like...live on my own. But on the other hand, it's something I want to do. Badly. Do I question my ability to handle it? Certainly do. But I realize I need to do it for myself and make my own mistakes. I understand the importance of being able to take care of myself, and to a certain extent, I accomplish that (current situation aside). But I wonder if I'm more in the "detached or reckless" category, because I really do have issues with feeling like I need someone. And the issue is that I don't want to. Even now, with the stuff I'm going through, part of me thinks that it's gotten this extreme because I tried so hard to do it on my own and not ask for help. I know "no man is an island" or whatever, but sometimes I'd really prefer this woman was.
Despite having been "out there" in the dating world for a while, it was actually fairly recently that I realized I may, in fact, be missing out by not being in a relationship. I maintained a pretty firm stance prior to that: If it happens, great. If it doesn't, also great. Now...it's a little different. I do want it. I do want someone. But that's still at odds with the structure I'd prefer within a relationship: No marriage. No kids. No joint bank accounts. As few things of "ours" as possible. I want to be able to get up and walk away if things don't work. I'm willing, in theory, to commit to a long-term relationship, but the formalities, in my eyes, don't make the bond any stronger or any more valid. I suppose the bottom line is...I don't want to lose myself in someone else. I don't want to have to consult someone else when I make life decisions. I'll allow for influence, but I don't want control. I want something balanced. And because I've never actually been in a situation that I could point to as being one way or the other, I've both idealized the middle ground and simultaneously determined it can't possibly exist without some kind of compromise. And I'm an only child, so I don't know how to do that.
I've always thought that, even though I've never been in a relationship of my own, I'm pretty well-versed on the ins and outs of that sort of thing. I've watched everyone around me make mistakes. I've seen what does and doesn't work, and I've observed interpersonal interactions between so many different types of people. You'd be amazed what you can learn by just listening. I know everything is totally different when it's someone else, but I'd still say I've gathered a decent amount of knowledge, and enough to say what it is I want. But now I'm starting to wonder if maybe that was all subconsciously determined for me beforehand, and all I've really learned is how to express it.
If anyone can tell me how to retrieve repressed memories, now would be the time.
My mother brought me to the appointment, so I introduced her to my therapist. And that, of course, brought on discussion of our relationship. I've known for quite some time that it's not exactly healthy. It's not completely unhealthy, either. It's functional, and I can safely say we don't hate one another. So, y'know...that's a plus, right? Nonetheless, we got to talking about attachment. And I have a pretty significant background in psychology, so the concept is not unfamiliar to me. She theorized that I'm insecurely attached, and that may have something to do with my current view on relationships.
I try to fight the stereotype of the only child. I was never "spoiled," neither with attention nor material things. At least not by my parents. I spent the majority of my childhood with my grandparents, since both my parents worked full-time. My grandmother taught me how to read and write. We watched her "stories" every afternoon, played cards, put together puzzles... We'd go on walks to the park, or she'd give me pointers on gardening in the back yard. She didn't work; she didn't even drive. I was her entertainment as much as she was mine. I don't remember too much of anything before, say, 12 or so, and she passed away when I was 14. But I do know her style of caring was different from that of my parents, and the transition probably wasn't all that easy.
Right, back to the spoiling... My grandmother may very well have given me more attention that my parents could at that point. But I don't know that I can call classify it as the spoiling amount. And as material possessions go, I never had the fanciest clothes or the newest toys. I started working when I was 15. I paid for my own first car. That was not exactly the norm in my hometown. What typical only child traits did I actually get? The sheltering. I never rode a bus to school. My mother drove me until I was 16 and able to drive myself. I never had a curfew, but I was 22 before I was allowed to leave the house after 8PM. I'm 28 now, and I still think she's perturbed if she finds out I take a shower when she's not home (slip and fall danger, y'know).
But I also very much got the "no, I'll do it myself!" complex. No, you may not open that jar for me; I'll do it myself. No, you may not pay for my dinner; I'll do it myself. It's the struggle for independence that most only children have. When you grow up around so many adults, all of whom are there (in the ideal situation, at least) to assist you at a moment's notice, sometimes you feel useless. If everyone does this for me, what do I do? Will I ever have to do it? Something in all this makes me think well-adjusted only children are difficult to find. They're either incredibly dependent because no one forced them to learn those skills, or they fought so hard to stand on their own that they've become detached or reckless. (A little developmental psychology is always fun.)
I'm a little on both sides of that fence, I think. I'll freely admit there are things I don't know how to do because I haven't had to do them yet. Like...live on my own. But on the other hand, it's something I want to do. Badly. Do I question my ability to handle it? Certainly do. But I realize I need to do it for myself and make my own mistakes. I understand the importance of being able to take care of myself, and to a certain extent, I accomplish that (current situation aside). But I wonder if I'm more in the "detached or reckless" category, because I really do have issues with feeling like I need someone. And the issue is that I don't want to. Even now, with the stuff I'm going through, part of me thinks that it's gotten this extreme because I tried so hard to do it on my own and not ask for help. I know "no man is an island" or whatever, but sometimes I'd really prefer this woman was.
Despite having been "out there" in the dating world for a while, it was actually fairly recently that I realized I may, in fact, be missing out by not being in a relationship. I maintained a pretty firm stance prior to that: If it happens, great. If it doesn't, also great. Now...it's a little different. I do want it. I do want someone. But that's still at odds with the structure I'd prefer within a relationship: No marriage. No kids. No joint bank accounts. As few things of "ours" as possible. I want to be able to get up and walk away if things don't work. I'm willing, in theory, to commit to a long-term relationship, but the formalities, in my eyes, don't make the bond any stronger or any more valid. I suppose the bottom line is...I don't want to lose myself in someone else. I don't want to have to consult someone else when I make life decisions. I'll allow for influence, but I don't want control. I want something balanced. And because I've never actually been in a situation that I could point to as being one way or the other, I've both idealized the middle ground and simultaneously determined it can't possibly exist without some kind of compromise. And I'm an only child, so I don't know how to do that.
I've always thought that, even though I've never been in a relationship of my own, I'm pretty well-versed on the ins and outs of that sort of thing. I've watched everyone around me make mistakes. I've seen what does and doesn't work, and I've observed interpersonal interactions between so many different types of people. You'd be amazed what you can learn by just listening. I know everything is totally different when it's someone else, but I'd still say I've gathered a decent amount of knowledge, and enough to say what it is I want. But now I'm starting to wonder if maybe that was all subconsciously determined for me beforehand, and all I've really learned is how to express it.
If anyone can tell me how to retrieve repressed memories, now would be the time.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Day 10: Agoraphobia.
I had my second therapy session on Thursday. We haven't graduated to the hypnotherapy yet; I've thought it necessary to do a little traditional talk therapy first, mainly because I haven't really been able to talk to another human being that isn't my mother or grandparents in over a month. My next appointment is Tuesday afternoon and we'll start the hypnosis then. I'm trying to convince myself I'm susceptible (15% of people aren't, and they're mainly introverts...like me), because I really want this to work for me. I'm going into it open-minded and hopeful, so that's got to count for something.
My main focus right now is the fact that I'm bordering on agoraphobic. In the past month, I've only gone out for appointments and a couple times for groceries. And going out alone has been pretty much out of the question. I've been too anxious to drive, and the idea of trying to drive then getting stuck somewhere and not being able to get back is too much for me. Someone has to be with me or I don't feel right. It's funny, though, that when I'm actually having a panic attack, I want people to leave me alone. Like...I want them in the same building, but not in the same room, I guess.
I've taken small steps lately. On Wednesday, I had to go to the post office. No one was home (another thing with which I'm still not completely comfortable). The post office is a half mile from my house. So I said to myself, "Okay...I have to go. I guess I'm gonna go now." And I went. Then when I parked the car, my gas light came on. After I finished my business there, I proceeded to the gas station, two miles in the other direction. I did it and I didn't freak out. But I was still nervous, and I don't know how much further I could have gone before the freak out occurred.
I told my therapist, who had just finished telling the insurance company I was agoraphobic and therefore unprepared to return to work (still true; being able to go somewhere alone for fifteen minutes for the first time in a month isn't exactly huge progress). She was proud of me, and asked what enabled me to do it. All I could say was that I just...got up and did it without really thinking about it. And I was feeling good that day, and it didn't seem like it would be as bad as it usually is. I didn't really have an answer. It just...happened.
Friday night, my dear feline was out of food, and I needed some snacks. So I went to the grocery store, one mile from my house. I shopped as quickly as I could, since I was still nervous, then went right home. The whole trip lasted twenty minutes. I'm doing it. Slowly. But I'm doing it.
(And yes, it's frustrating as hell to have been completely independent and not at all worried about stuff like this a couple months ago, feeling like someone flipped a switch and turned me into a different person. In case anyone was wondering.)
I have an appointment with my primary care doctor this week and with my psychiatrist next week. I'm not sure I'll be able to make the drives myself, but I have no one to bring me. I'm going to attempt to change the appointment with my primary to a day my mother can drive me. But I absolutely cannot change the psychiatrist appointment. I'm on a deadline for paperwork (psychiatric evaluation) that technically already passed, but the insurance company is giving me a break. My mother said she would take the day off, but she's been complaining about not having enough money to pay our property taxes...
It's times like this that make me a little sad that I don't have a someone to help me out. I'm stubborn and I don't really like to rely on anyone, and that's hardly the main goal of a relationship. But it'd be really nice to say I could ask someone other than my mother to drive me to an appointment. And they'd be happy to do it, instead of mumbling under their breath about the inconvenience, because they know how important it is.
I'm not asking for much.
My main focus right now is the fact that I'm bordering on agoraphobic. In the past month, I've only gone out for appointments and a couple times for groceries. And going out alone has been pretty much out of the question. I've been too anxious to drive, and the idea of trying to drive then getting stuck somewhere and not being able to get back is too much for me. Someone has to be with me or I don't feel right. It's funny, though, that when I'm actually having a panic attack, I want people to leave me alone. Like...I want them in the same building, but not in the same room, I guess.
I've taken small steps lately. On Wednesday, I had to go to the post office. No one was home (another thing with which I'm still not completely comfortable). The post office is a half mile from my house. So I said to myself, "Okay...I have to go. I guess I'm gonna go now." And I went. Then when I parked the car, my gas light came on. After I finished my business there, I proceeded to the gas station, two miles in the other direction. I did it and I didn't freak out. But I was still nervous, and I don't know how much further I could have gone before the freak out occurred.
I told my therapist, who had just finished telling the insurance company I was agoraphobic and therefore unprepared to return to work (still true; being able to go somewhere alone for fifteen minutes for the first time in a month isn't exactly huge progress). She was proud of me, and asked what enabled me to do it. All I could say was that I just...got up and did it without really thinking about it. And I was feeling good that day, and it didn't seem like it would be as bad as it usually is. I didn't really have an answer. It just...happened.
Friday night, my dear feline was out of food, and I needed some snacks. So I went to the grocery store, one mile from my house. I shopped as quickly as I could, since I was still nervous, then went right home. The whole trip lasted twenty minutes. I'm doing it. Slowly. But I'm doing it.
(And yes, it's frustrating as hell to have been completely independent and not at all worried about stuff like this a couple months ago, feeling like someone flipped a switch and turned me into a different person. In case anyone was wondering.)
I have an appointment with my primary care doctor this week and with my psychiatrist next week. I'm not sure I'll be able to make the drives myself, but I have no one to bring me. I'm going to attempt to change the appointment with my primary to a day my mother can drive me. But I absolutely cannot change the psychiatrist appointment. I'm on a deadline for paperwork (psychiatric evaluation) that technically already passed, but the insurance company is giving me a break. My mother said she would take the day off, but she's been complaining about not having enough money to pay our property taxes...
It's times like this that make me a little sad that I don't have a someone to help me out. I'm stubborn and I don't really like to rely on anyone, and that's hardly the main goal of a relationship. But it'd be really nice to say I could ask someone other than my mother to drive me to an appointment. And they'd be happy to do it, instead of mumbling under their breath about the inconvenience, because they know how important it is.
I'm not asking for much.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Day 6: The Meet Market.
In the midst of having all this time on my hands, I signed up for another three months of torture on Match.com. I've been a little more active than usual, making it a goal to initiate contact with at least two new people every week, even if I'm not really interested in them. If they say something in their profile that I think is interesting, I'll send them a message to say, "Hey, I think that's interesting." I don't get a lot of replies, but, y'know...maybe eventually.
I know it's considered bad form to cite yourself, but I'm going to. It's also a very lazy way of making an entry, which I'll freely admit. This is from my personal blog, written in March, and some people have probably already read it. But I genuinely had Match.com and its subscribers in mind when I was writing it, and now I'm reminded very clearly of just how annoying it all can be.
I still mean that. All of it. And it still makes me want to try a matchmaker. Of course, it would be just like me to make someone else do all the work. And that's not really in the spirit of what I'm trying to accomplish here.
I think what I find most frustrating, in line with my lazily quoted previous rant, is that I can't find "my kind" of people. I'll try to fight the idea that I have a type, but I most definitely do, and I still haven't been able to track them down with any regularity. Sure, I can create as many custom searches as I want. But it still just...isn't right.
Does this mean I'll have to meet people...by leaving the house?
I know it's considered bad form to cite yourself, but I'm going to. It's also a very lazy way of making an entry, which I'll freely admit. This is from my personal blog, written in March, and some people have probably already read it. But I genuinely had Match.com and its subscribers in mind when I was writing it, and now I'm reminded very clearly of just how annoying it all can be.
I make no secret of it: I'm an online dating veteran. I'm on multiple sites and have been for multiple years. Given that admission, it should come as no surprise that I have very little luck in such endeavors. I've made a few friends (who are awesome, and no, I don't lie about how we met), but nothing's stuck romantically so far. Is it frustrating? Well...yes. Very much so. But I'm not exactly a social person, and have such a difficult time meeting people in the real world... So I continue. More passively these days, but I continue.
I'm not pleased with the selection, honestly. It's just like a trip to the mall. This one's too expensive, this one doesn't fit, this one requires installation... But it's just like me to find something wrong, even in the context of superficial analysis and relative anonymity.
I really want dating sites to start sorting matches into three categories, just for the bitter folks:
"People you would never date, but will inevitably pursue you most aggressively." This is reserved for everyone twice your age, who never learned to type properly, who likes "Jersey Shore" unironically and models their life after it, or calls you "mami" in their first message. These are the people whose profiles you bypass because you can't even get through the headline without cringing. They will comprise most of your activity on the site, because you'll have to respond to them to say you're not interested.
"People who would never date you, but are here to keep your ego in check." Don't get too cocky and start thinking you're too good for this online dating thing. See these guys? They're good-looking, smart, funny, and successful...and they want nothing to do with you! Go ahead, keep window shopping, eat some more chocolate, and hug your cat a little tighter. These men will not date you.
"Seriously, you've both been on this site for five years. Just fuck already." You're not really attracted to him and he's not really attracted to you, but you're both still here because you're lonely. Get your average selves together, have an average time, culminating in some average sex, then begin an average relationship, because that's all either of you are ever going to get. So either give Grandpa over there a shot and hope he doesn't break a hip, keep pining for Mr. Perfect while you cry into a party-sized bag of potato chips, or settle for the guy who might be...sort of attractive...if you squint a little...and disregard the fact that all he's talked about is his crazy ex-wife. It's destiny, you idiot. Destiny!
Sure, they already list percentages of potential compatibility. But we don't assess ourselves fairly when it comes to stuff like that, and we often have a narrow view of what's acceptable when it comes to others and what we think would be good for us. In fact, we're often wrong. It's not about the black and white or multiple choice questions that provide the numbers; that's all misleading. You have to read people in their own words. Y'know, if you can be certain you're speaking the same language.
I want my online dating sites to be smarter than that. Seriously. Tell me who I'm supposed to settle for.
I still mean that. All of it. And it still makes me want to try a matchmaker. Of course, it would be just like me to make someone else do all the work. And that's not really in the spirit of what I'm trying to accomplish here.
I think what I find most frustrating, in line with my lazily quoted previous rant, is that I can't find "my kind" of people. I'll try to fight the idea that I have a type, but I most definitely do, and I still haven't been able to track them down with any regularity. Sure, I can create as many custom searches as I want. But it still just...isn't right.
Does this mean I'll have to meet people...by leaving the house?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Day 2: Romance.
And now for my relationship history. Or lack thereof.
Some basics first. My orientation? Prepare for liberal citation of Wikipedia (just so anyone who may not be familiar can get an idea of what I'm talking about). I consider myself "heteroflexible." In terms of the Kinsey Scale, I'm a 1. I would never claim to be exclusively heterosexual; I think we fall in love with people and not bodies. I may be more Pansexual, but when it comes to attraction, I definitely prefer Cisgender males. This doesn't mean, however, that I couldn't or wouldn't imagine myself being in a romantic relationship with someone who identifies differently. I've been attracted to women before, and I would have absolutely no issue being with a Transgender or Genderqueer individual.
Now, here's the wrench: I also consider myself to be Asexual. I don't have sex. I don't do much of anything else, either, but that's the most important part of it. Getting deeper into this is more appropriate for a separate entry (which will happen). But yes, I do realize this is uncommon. And I'm not saying it'll never happen. I'm just saying that this is what suits me best at this moment in time. I'm actually very sex-positive; I know it can be a wonderful thing. And, well...it should be a wonderful thing. I don't think it's "gross" or "weird." It's somewhat akin to my distaste for asparagus. I don't want to eat it, so I don't. I don't want to have sex, so I don't. Easy enough.
So as I've covered, I've never been in a relationship. I've been in a couple fake ones, mostly with women. But no declared, confirmed, real relationships. I don't do a whole lot of dating. I find the majority of people in general rather unlikeable at first exposure. For every ten people who introduce themselves to me, I will find something instantly wrong with 8 of them, then I'll find something wrong with an additional person a little later. I only find 10% of the people I meet acceptable to continue interaction. It's harsh, I know. So obviously I admit to being very picky about with whom I spend my time, in whatever capacity. And this very clearly impacts my attempts to be in a relationship.
I'm not even sure I had my first crush until I was in my mid-teens. I was always friends with boys as a kid. I played Legos and Transformers with them, just like I played Barbies and My Little Ponies with my female friends. So even though I was quite aware of sex, what it was, and what it did by the time I was 7 or 8 (yes, really), it took me a really long time to think of males in different terms. And then when it came to the point where I had a crush, it was always on my best male friend at the time. Because I thought that's how it had to be. Even as an adolescent, I somehow felt the pressure of the "men and women can't just be friends" argument.
I didn't date in high school. At all. The closest I came was having a guy ask me to my junior prom. I made up an excuse as to why I couldn't go, then he may or may not have overheard me calling him ugly later that day. I'm fairly certain some people I went to school with thought, and still think, I'm a lesbian because they never saw me with a guy. Which is fine, really. In addition to not dating, I did everything I could to keep any interest I had in a guy under wraps. I'd tell my two or three best friends and hope they wouldn't spread it. Then I would avoid the guy at all costs. The one time the guy actually found out I liked him, I freaked out, got in my car, and left school for the day. I was a senior, so I could do that. But I was 18 years old, and the idea that someone knew I was interested in them as more than a friend was positively mortifying. In a lot of ways, that hasn't really changed. As recently as a couple months ago, I went through the same thing, and I was still just as terrified.
I'm not a social person. I don't drink, I don't like crowds, I don't like parties or bars or clubs... When you're in your late teens and early twenties, that's what you do to meet people, and I never really did that. Or you meet people at school. But I commuted, which automatically put me at a disadvantage. I spent two and a half years at Bay Path College, which was all-female. Then by the time I got to Hartford, I was considerably older than most of the people I had classes with, and I was too busy working to be concerned with making friends. So when I realized just how much I was missing in that area, I turned to internet dating.
Name a dating site. I'm either on it currently or I've been on it at some point in the past. I've paid money, and am paying money right now, for their "services." Do I consider it money well spent? Up to this point, absolutely not. Not even a little bit. I've had better luck on free sites, if you could call it "luck" at all. Here are some examples:
The Surprise Visitor: We exchanged a few emails, and then we started talking on the phone. For five or six hours at a time, a few nights a week. Everything was going really well, and we were going to actually get together. Then one night, he visited me at work - uninvited. We chatted awkwardly until my manager gave me the evil eye and I told him to leave. He said he'd call me. He never did. I emailed him asking what was wrong, and he told me he was "too busy." Just like that, after feeling like it was really going somewhere. Also of note? This was my first experience with online dating.
(This story has a twist, though. I saw him about six years later at a friend's birthday party; they knew each other from an activity they both did. He kept looking at me like he couldn't figure out how he knew me, but I recognized him instantly. This was during the short period of time where I actually partook of alcohol, and I got drunk and had to go to a different end of the bar so I wouldn't start a fight with him. No hard feelings. None at all.)
The Pre-Emptive Dumping: After exchanging a few messages, we agreed to make plans for coffee. I suggested a location. He replied that, all of a sudden, he "wasn't ready for a relationship," and "didn't think this would work out." The tone of the message was far too serious for the length of time we'd "known" each other. He was breaking up with me, and we hadn't even met.
The Last-Minute Ditching: We went on one date. It went well. We continued to talk, and things were going in a decidedly sexual direction. The night before we were supposed to have our second date, he told me he'd met someone else. Especially devastating because I had never so seriously considered that level of physical intimacy with someone, and that was what I got for it.
The Disappearing Act: I bucked my usual trend of talking to a guy for several weeks before meeting, and we met after just a few days. I knew he had his share of mental and emotional issues; we bonded over that. I was aware he was moody and unpredictable, and I really didn't care because we got along. We went on a date. It went well. We both said we'd do it again sometime. Then my calls went unanswered, his replies to my messages were short, and then he disappeared completely. A couple months later, I sent him an email to make sure he was still alive. His reply? "I'm fine; I just don't feel like seeing people right now." Lucky me.
The Reunion: I ended up corresponding with a guy I went to high school with after "meeting" online. He was a senior when I was a freshman, so we didn't really "know" one another; it was more like "knowing of" one another. But we eventually got together for coffee. Now, I'm not usually one for strict displays of decorum. But when one is in a quiet bookstore, I do not believe one should be speaking loudly about their sex life. I played along at the time, as I wouldn't have taken issue with the conversation in another setting. But speaking as someone who engages in many instances of TMI, things got way TMI way too fast. We've exchanged emails in passing since then, but he is...not someone I'd want to date.
These examples speak for themselves. This is what I've dealt with out in the dating world. There are no good stories because I have no good stories (with the exception of the couple of men I've met via online dating who have become my friends; there was no attempt to date, so I don't include those).
Not that I'm looking for a "prince," but the question here is... How many more frogs do I have to "kiss"? How much more patience do I have? Can I somehow get myself to believe it's all worth it?
Some basics first. My orientation? Prepare for liberal citation of Wikipedia (just so anyone who may not be familiar can get an idea of what I'm talking about). I consider myself "heteroflexible." In terms of the Kinsey Scale, I'm a 1. I would never claim to be exclusively heterosexual; I think we fall in love with people and not bodies. I may be more Pansexual, but when it comes to attraction, I definitely prefer Cisgender males. This doesn't mean, however, that I couldn't or wouldn't imagine myself being in a romantic relationship with someone who identifies differently. I've been attracted to women before, and I would have absolutely no issue being with a Transgender or Genderqueer individual.
Now, here's the wrench: I also consider myself to be Asexual. I don't have sex. I don't do much of anything else, either, but that's the most important part of it. Getting deeper into this is more appropriate for a separate entry (which will happen). But yes, I do realize this is uncommon. And I'm not saying it'll never happen. I'm just saying that this is what suits me best at this moment in time. I'm actually very sex-positive; I know it can be a wonderful thing. And, well...it should be a wonderful thing. I don't think it's "gross" or "weird." It's somewhat akin to my distaste for asparagus. I don't want to eat it, so I don't. I don't want to have sex, so I don't. Easy enough.
So as I've covered, I've never been in a relationship. I've been in a couple fake ones, mostly with women. But no declared, confirmed, real relationships. I don't do a whole lot of dating. I find the majority of people in general rather unlikeable at first exposure. For every ten people who introduce themselves to me, I will find something instantly wrong with 8 of them, then I'll find something wrong with an additional person a little later. I only find 10% of the people I meet acceptable to continue interaction. It's harsh, I know. So obviously I admit to being very picky about with whom I spend my time, in whatever capacity. And this very clearly impacts my attempts to be in a relationship.
I'm not even sure I had my first crush until I was in my mid-teens. I was always friends with boys as a kid. I played Legos and Transformers with them, just like I played Barbies and My Little Ponies with my female friends. So even though I was quite aware of sex, what it was, and what it did by the time I was 7 or 8 (yes, really), it took me a really long time to think of males in different terms. And then when it came to the point where I had a crush, it was always on my best male friend at the time. Because I thought that's how it had to be. Even as an adolescent, I somehow felt the pressure of the "men and women can't just be friends" argument.
I didn't date in high school. At all. The closest I came was having a guy ask me to my junior prom. I made up an excuse as to why I couldn't go, then he may or may not have overheard me calling him ugly later that day. I'm fairly certain some people I went to school with thought, and still think, I'm a lesbian because they never saw me with a guy. Which is fine, really. In addition to not dating, I did everything I could to keep any interest I had in a guy under wraps. I'd tell my two or three best friends and hope they wouldn't spread it. Then I would avoid the guy at all costs. The one time the guy actually found out I liked him, I freaked out, got in my car, and left school for the day. I was a senior, so I could do that. But I was 18 years old, and the idea that someone knew I was interested in them as more than a friend was positively mortifying. In a lot of ways, that hasn't really changed. As recently as a couple months ago, I went through the same thing, and I was still just as terrified.
I'm not a social person. I don't drink, I don't like crowds, I don't like parties or bars or clubs... When you're in your late teens and early twenties, that's what you do to meet people, and I never really did that. Or you meet people at school. But I commuted, which automatically put me at a disadvantage. I spent two and a half years at Bay Path College, which was all-female. Then by the time I got to Hartford, I was considerably older than most of the people I had classes with, and I was too busy working to be concerned with making friends. So when I realized just how much I was missing in that area, I turned to internet dating.
Name a dating site. I'm either on it currently or I've been on it at some point in the past. I've paid money, and am paying money right now, for their "services." Do I consider it money well spent? Up to this point, absolutely not. Not even a little bit. I've had better luck on free sites, if you could call it "luck" at all. Here are some examples:
The Surprise Visitor: We exchanged a few emails, and then we started talking on the phone. For five or six hours at a time, a few nights a week. Everything was going really well, and we were going to actually get together. Then one night, he visited me at work - uninvited. We chatted awkwardly until my manager gave me the evil eye and I told him to leave. He said he'd call me. He never did. I emailed him asking what was wrong, and he told me he was "too busy." Just like that, after feeling like it was really going somewhere. Also of note? This was my first experience with online dating.
(This story has a twist, though. I saw him about six years later at a friend's birthday party; they knew each other from an activity they both did. He kept looking at me like he couldn't figure out how he knew me, but I recognized him instantly. This was during the short period of time where I actually partook of alcohol, and I got drunk and had to go to a different end of the bar so I wouldn't start a fight with him. No hard feelings. None at all.)
The Pre-Emptive Dumping: After exchanging a few messages, we agreed to make plans for coffee. I suggested a location. He replied that, all of a sudden, he "wasn't ready for a relationship," and "didn't think this would work out." The tone of the message was far too serious for the length of time we'd "known" each other. He was breaking up with me, and we hadn't even met.
The Last-Minute Ditching: We went on one date. It went well. We continued to talk, and things were going in a decidedly sexual direction. The night before we were supposed to have our second date, he told me he'd met someone else. Especially devastating because I had never so seriously considered that level of physical intimacy with someone, and that was what I got for it.
The Disappearing Act: I bucked my usual trend of talking to a guy for several weeks before meeting, and we met after just a few days. I knew he had his share of mental and emotional issues; we bonded over that. I was aware he was moody and unpredictable, and I really didn't care because we got along. We went on a date. It went well. We both said we'd do it again sometime. Then my calls went unanswered, his replies to my messages were short, and then he disappeared completely. A couple months later, I sent him an email to make sure he was still alive. His reply? "I'm fine; I just don't feel like seeing people right now." Lucky me.
The Reunion: I ended up corresponding with a guy I went to high school with after "meeting" online. He was a senior when I was a freshman, so we didn't really "know" one another; it was more like "knowing of" one another. But we eventually got together for coffee. Now, I'm not usually one for strict displays of decorum. But when one is in a quiet bookstore, I do not believe one should be speaking loudly about their sex life. I played along at the time, as I wouldn't have taken issue with the conversation in another setting. But speaking as someone who engages in many instances of TMI, things got way TMI way too fast. We've exchanged emails in passing since then, but he is...not someone I'd want to date.
These examples speak for themselves. This is what I've dealt with out in the dating world. There are no good stories because I have no good stories (with the exception of the couple of men I've met via online dating who have become my friends; there was no attempt to date, so I don't include those).
Not that I'm looking for a "prince," but the question here is... How many more frogs do I have to "kiss"? How much more patience do I have? Can I somehow get myself to believe it's all worth it?
Friday, July 1, 2011
Day 1: Therapy.
(Note: Please bear with me. The first couple entries may not seem to support the premise of this blog, but I can promise it's all a part of the process. They also may be quite lengthy, for which I do wholeheartedly apologize.)
I've struggled with anxiety since I was 17. I remember how it started.
Winter of my senior year of high school. I was planning to attend Boston University in the fall, and it was going to be the first time I'd been away from home for longer than a couple days. Like most incoming college freshmen, I was nervous about the impending change. But then, around the time I was finalizing my decision, I found out my parents were divorcing. My father had been unfaithful, and as soon as I graduated, he was planning on leaving to be with the other woman. My mother would be alone at home, looking for a different job so she could support herself, pay for my education, and acquire health insurance. Things were about to change. A lot.
Just before my birthday in January, I noticed changes in my behavior. I'd get very nervous for no reason. I'd be short of breath and my hands would shake. I'd feel restless, and I'd have to get up and do something. Usually I would clean. Being 17, I didn't think too much of it. Then I started having negative reactions to driving. I was working about ten miles from home at the time, and I'd be on my way to work after leaving school, then I'd begin to get dizzy halfway through my drive. My throat and chest would tighten and my mouth would become dry. As time went on, these sensations increased in severity. I was terrified to get in a car.
A few months later, I finally got up the nerve to mention it to my doctor. He diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and I began taking a low dose of Paxil. Things improved, and despite the reservations I had about leaving home for school, I moved to Boston that August. But I wasn't as well as I thought I was. The physical manifestations of my anxiety were under control, but socially, I was having a hard time. I was having difficulty relating to my new peers, and it didn't help knowing that things at home weren't going well, either. I couldn't handle being at BU, and I came home after just over a week.
I returned to my job and enrolled in community college the next semester. I transferred to two more schools, going part-time and working full-time, and I finally graduated from the University of Hartford in 2008. The Paxil got me through. I figured after the stress of college had ended, I would be able to go medication-free. I went through the hellish process of coming of an antidepressant (during the two weeks of withdrawals, I wished I was dead - seriously), and everything was fine. For a year.
Since then, I've relapsed twice. I've tried almost every antidepressant and anxiolytic out there, but I'm very sensitive to medications, and if there's a side effect, I'll get it. Especially if it's rare. Celexa, Prozac, Cymbalta, Effexor, Buspar, Ativan, Klonopin, Paxil again... Some of those made me feel worse. Some of them I wouldn't even take because I was afraid of feeling worse. I gave up. I just did the best I could to cope without chemical intervention. I tried therapy, and we hit a dead end when I refused to try any more medications. I went on with my life. The quality of said life was questionable, but I lived it.
Until about a month ago. I'd noticed my symptoms worsening slowly, and then I returned to work from a ten-day vacation and spent my entire first shift back having a panic attack. Prior to that, the driving anxiety had returned worse than before, the breathing problems were more present... Spending an entire day on the verge of a breakdown made me realize I needed to get help. Again.
I've been out of work since the beginning of June. I've been on Zoloft for just over three weeks, and it hasn't been a miracle cure, but I've had no negative effects. So I'm waiting the requisite six weeks to see just how much it'll help (if, indeed, it does). I'm still having a really hard time driving, and even leaving the house causes an immense amount of anxiety (which is why I've only been out four times in a month, just for appointments and to buy food). I don't feel ready to go back to work yet, but...well, that's a longer, much less related story.
I'm also back in therapy. I had my first session yesterday. I was lucky enough to find someone I genuinely think can help me (after one visit, she's already going to bat for me with my insurance company, on a holiday weekend). She's a marriage and family therapist, and also certified in hypnotherapy. I was most interested in exploring whether hypnosis could help combat the driving anxiety. But as events unfolded during the week between making the appointment and going to the session, I realized what was going on was...bigger than that. That particular manifestation of my anxiety is the one that frustrates and confounds me the most, and I certainly want to take care of it. But that's treating the symptom and not the cause.
I'm not happy with my life. I feel guilty every day that I could be doing more. I could be in a different place, with a different job, different people... I'm capable of more than I'm doing. And I've spent 28 years being lazy and being afraid of failure. I'm holding myself back. I have never been my own advocate; I've sat around and waited for other people to validate me. I can't do that anymore. And my hope is that, through a combination of approaches, I can determine what I need to do to help and improve myself.
This is just the beginning. Here's to an enlightening journey.
I've struggled with anxiety since I was 17. I remember how it started.
Winter of my senior year of high school. I was planning to attend Boston University in the fall, and it was going to be the first time I'd been away from home for longer than a couple days. Like most incoming college freshmen, I was nervous about the impending change. But then, around the time I was finalizing my decision, I found out my parents were divorcing. My father had been unfaithful, and as soon as I graduated, he was planning on leaving to be with the other woman. My mother would be alone at home, looking for a different job so she could support herself, pay for my education, and acquire health insurance. Things were about to change. A lot.
Just before my birthday in January, I noticed changes in my behavior. I'd get very nervous for no reason. I'd be short of breath and my hands would shake. I'd feel restless, and I'd have to get up and do something. Usually I would clean. Being 17, I didn't think too much of it. Then I started having negative reactions to driving. I was working about ten miles from home at the time, and I'd be on my way to work after leaving school, then I'd begin to get dizzy halfway through my drive. My throat and chest would tighten and my mouth would become dry. As time went on, these sensations increased in severity. I was terrified to get in a car.
A few months later, I finally got up the nerve to mention it to my doctor. He diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and I began taking a low dose of Paxil. Things improved, and despite the reservations I had about leaving home for school, I moved to Boston that August. But I wasn't as well as I thought I was. The physical manifestations of my anxiety were under control, but socially, I was having a hard time. I was having difficulty relating to my new peers, and it didn't help knowing that things at home weren't going well, either. I couldn't handle being at BU, and I came home after just over a week.
I returned to my job and enrolled in community college the next semester. I transferred to two more schools, going part-time and working full-time, and I finally graduated from the University of Hartford in 2008. The Paxil got me through. I figured after the stress of college had ended, I would be able to go medication-free. I went through the hellish process of coming of an antidepressant (during the two weeks of withdrawals, I wished I was dead - seriously), and everything was fine. For a year.
Since then, I've relapsed twice. I've tried almost every antidepressant and anxiolytic out there, but I'm very sensitive to medications, and if there's a side effect, I'll get it. Especially if it's rare. Celexa, Prozac, Cymbalta, Effexor, Buspar, Ativan, Klonopin, Paxil again... Some of those made me feel worse. Some of them I wouldn't even take because I was afraid of feeling worse. I gave up. I just did the best I could to cope without chemical intervention. I tried therapy, and we hit a dead end when I refused to try any more medications. I went on with my life. The quality of said life was questionable, but I lived it.
Until about a month ago. I'd noticed my symptoms worsening slowly, and then I returned to work from a ten-day vacation and spent my entire first shift back having a panic attack. Prior to that, the driving anxiety had returned worse than before, the breathing problems were more present... Spending an entire day on the verge of a breakdown made me realize I needed to get help. Again.
I've been out of work since the beginning of June. I've been on Zoloft for just over three weeks, and it hasn't been a miracle cure, but I've had no negative effects. So I'm waiting the requisite six weeks to see just how much it'll help (if, indeed, it does). I'm still having a really hard time driving, and even leaving the house causes an immense amount of anxiety (which is why I've only been out four times in a month, just for appointments and to buy food). I don't feel ready to go back to work yet, but...well, that's a longer, much less related story.
I'm also back in therapy. I had my first session yesterday. I was lucky enough to find someone I genuinely think can help me (after one visit, she's already going to bat for me with my insurance company, on a holiday weekend). She's a marriage and family therapist, and also certified in hypnotherapy. I was most interested in exploring whether hypnosis could help combat the driving anxiety. But as events unfolded during the week between making the appointment and going to the session, I realized what was going on was...bigger than that. That particular manifestation of my anxiety is the one that frustrates and confounds me the most, and I certainly want to take care of it. But that's treating the symptom and not the cause.
I'm not happy with my life. I feel guilty every day that I could be doing more. I could be in a different place, with a different job, different people... I'm capable of more than I'm doing. And I've spent 28 years being lazy and being afraid of failure. I'm holding myself back. I have never been my own advocate; I've sat around and waited for other people to validate me. I can't do that anymore. And my hope is that, through a combination of approaches, I can determine what I need to do to help and improve myself.
This is just the beginning. Here's to an enlightening journey.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Day 0: The Beginning.
I'm Heather. I'm 28 years old. And I have never been in a relationship.
I'm a little tired of being alone. No, I'm a lot tired of being alone. I want to change it.
I've been going through a lot lately, all of which will be chronicled as I go along. But this project was a last-minute machination; it came to me three or four days ago as I was sitting back and evaluating my life (as I've been wont to do lately). I've done a lot of serious thinking about what's making me unhappy right now, and what I might need to achieve in order to change that.
The ultimate goal? Find myself in my first ever romantic relationship by December 31, 2011. But it's more than that. It's figuring out what I want, what holds me back, and who it is I want to be, in and out of a relationship. It's soul-searching, and therapy, and there will be a lot of harsh realizations. But I've heard you can't truly love another person until you love yourself. So I plan on starting from the beginning, and taking anyone who reads this along with me on the journey.
I didn't decide to fully go through with this until a couple hours ago, so things aren't completely set up. But regardless of how rudimentary this may be, or how rocky the circumstances surrounding this project are, I'm entering into this with the hope that maybe, for once, I will hit a deadline.
Welcome to the party.
I'm a little tired of being alone. No, I'm a lot tired of being alone. I want to change it.
I've been going through a lot lately, all of which will be chronicled as I go along. But this project was a last-minute machination; it came to me three or four days ago as I was sitting back and evaluating my life (as I've been wont to do lately). I've done a lot of serious thinking about what's making me unhappy right now, and what I might need to achieve in order to change that.
The ultimate goal? Find myself in my first ever romantic relationship by December 31, 2011. But it's more than that. It's figuring out what I want, what holds me back, and who it is I want to be, in and out of a relationship. It's soul-searching, and therapy, and there will be a lot of harsh realizations. But I've heard you can't truly love another person until you love yourself. So I plan on starting from the beginning, and taking anyone who reads this along with me on the journey.
I didn't decide to fully go through with this until a couple hours ago, so things aren't completely set up. But regardless of how rudimentary this may be, or how rocky the circumstances surrounding this project are, I'm entering into this with the hope that maybe, for once, I will hit a deadline.
Welcome to the party.
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