The Manifesto of a Girl Too Sick and Too Tired to Handle Life.

I am such a precise set of contradictions that it’s hard for me to understand myself let alone expect others to understand what goes through my head.

I try so hard to be optimistic all of the time because that’s how I choose to view life, but sometimes everything hurts so fucking much that I can’t force myself to believe that everything is okay. It’s not. It’s not okay right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m thinking that everything will be terrible forever. No. I know that there are positive things in my life and that so many people have it way worse than I do, but the more I think about that, the more I hate myself for being upset. That just makes it worse.

I am tired. I am sick and I am tired and I am overloaded and I am breaking. At any given time I have a dozen different tracks of ideas whizzing through my head, and I can’t sort them all out right now. I’m horrible at taking care of myself, yet I know well how to take care of others. I allow people to rely on me, but when I get too overwhelmed, I shut down. I can’t handle other people’s emotions let alone my own right now, yet I know that I can’t run away from people without hurting them.

On the flipside, I need people in order to cope. I know that many of my friends are the same way which is why I can’t refuse them when they need me… but I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired and I can’t be what they need me to be. I become too stressed, and then I use other people in order to vent, essentially becoming what I’m running away from. The guilt starts to eat away at me, and I hate myself. I hate myself for running away from people who need me and I hate myself for burdening other people with my bullshit.

I over-analyze literally every single thing that happens to me when it comes to my interactions with people. I don’t ever want to make loved ones’ lives more difficult, but I can’t deal with everything on my own. I need someone to help me carry the things that weigh me down, but I can’t do so without the guilt and the worry that I’m pushing them away or making them too exhausted. I can feel when I’m pushing too much, and sometimes I know to back off, but other times I’m so selfish and so needy that I just don’t stop. I need that release–that comfort of talking to someone–so I keep talking even though I know it’s getting to be too much for the other person.

I am needy and clingy and dependent and I hate all of those words because they sting with negative connotation. I don’t want to associate myself with the words, but I can’t ignore the fact that I need people. I think I can handle things on my own, but at the end of the day I want so desperately for someone to hug me for a long time and tell me that things suck but I don’t have to ever be alone. I should know the last part, but I’m filled with so much doubt all of the time. I don’t think I can trust anyone when it comes to their staying around. I can trust that they won’t tell secrets, but I can never believe that they won’t leave. (Unless they literally take my hands and say, “I swear to God I will never leave you.” That’s something I really fucking need but can’t ask for.)

I believe in the power of love and the power of standing united and in talking and hugging and crying and sitting in silence and feeling another’s presence. I believe in people more than I believe in myself, and right now, that’s okay. My love for other people is what has the greatest ability to heal me, but I need at least some of that love to come back to me. I try to love selflessly, but I can’t. I give everything I have to others with the selfish hope that I will at least get a small part of them in return. I hate that about myself, too, but I can’t love in a half-assed fashion–all or nothing, take it or leave it. (Pleasepleaseplease don’t leave it.) And I want more than I can have right now. I need to take care of myself without waiting for other people to help me. I’m incapable of asking for help without feeling like a needy burden of an immature child, so I try to get other people to offer, which is so fucking ridiculous that it pains me to write it.

I need to be direct. This is what I need, and whether or not it’s selfish or unreasonable is not something I can explore right now:

1. A really long hug filled with the either verbally or implicitly expressed notion that I am loved.
2. Someone to tell me that they are never going to leave no matter how much I cry in front of them or how much I talk to them about the same ridiculous things.
3. Someone to say, “This all sucks. I hate that this is happening to you. Is there a way I can help you?”
4. Someone to say that they love me… with so much earnestness that I have to cry.
5. Someone to hold me while I cry without asking why or judging.

Most of the time I have a hard time accepting that people like me because I have such shitty self-esteem. I just want to feel really important in someone’s life, but I can’t actually think that I am on my own because I avoid egotism as much as I possibly can. I look to other people to give me self worth a lot of the time, and that’s awful. I want to feel like I make a difference in someone’s life–that they are legitimately happy to have met me and don’t want to imagine their life without me. And goddamn, that sounds so egotistical, but I need to feel like I matter. (There are reasons for this, but I can’t go into it now.)

I should stop relying on others, but I can’t. Not now.

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Hablando.

When I’m in a hurry, invariably there are ten things that must go wrong before I can leave the house.  Willow, get out of the office!  Willow!  Where’s my Spanish book?  Why isn’t the printer working?  Where did my makeup applicator go?  It’s a relentless stream of hurrying until I can manage to step out the door and run to my car.  Always running late, but hardly ever actually late.  Nina and I had said we would meet up between 8:30 and 9:00, and when she texted me it was 8:40.  Not late, right?

We had a great breakfast.  (I guess I should clarify that Nina was my Philosophy professor last semester, and it was the only class I actually enjoyed.)  It’s nice to have a conversation with an adult who takes me seriously.  Seeing as how I’m not getting much social time here at MU, this morning was a much-needed occasion.  (Plus I haven’t seen Nina in over a month, and I missed talking to her.)  We talked about a whole host of things, and varied conversations like that sustain me and give me much to think about.  Even with a sick and sluggish brain, I spent the majority of my trip to Marywood thinking.

Of course, I hit traffic on the way, and it was then I realized I had to pee.  Not just like a casual oh after class I’ll run to the bathroom.  No, this was oh sweet Jesus if I don’t get to Marywood within the next half hour I will have a new and embarrassing nickname.  Forget being late to class in a situation like this.  I did not expect to get a parking spot, because when you actually need something, it doesn’t happen.  Somehow I managed to get a spot in the last row, and the Jeep behind me was none too thrilled about my snag.  Walking was like tempting fate, and I thought that if I sneezed, Niagra would be falling.  (Since when do I have the bladder control of a new mother?)

I was power walking, and because I’m sick, my breathing was slightly raspy.  I was very close behind a guy not going quickly enough, so I slowed my pace, thinking, “Oh my God, what if he can hear me breathing.”

Well anyway, no new nickname, and so far my classes today have been decent.  Usually I’m self-conscious about speaking Spanish in a classroom, but when I’m sick and completely apathetic, I speak better.  I don’t spend so much time second guessing myself, and I let the thoughts just flow from brain to mouth with no interference.  Good when speaking Spanish, bad when speaking English.  There’s something to be said about monitoring your speech before it comes spilling out of your face, but hey.  To each her own.  I quite like being able to speak Spanish fluently, and I may never want to go back to being un-sick.  (Lies.)  I guess the experience is just teaching me that I can speak and therefore should have confidence about it.  I actually think in Spanish a lot of the time (truth), so why that doesn’t translate into speech is beyond me.

I better sort it out before I become a Spanish teacher, eh?

Anyway, my mom will be here soon.  She and I are going out to lunch because she got out of jury duty early.  I have off tomorrow, which is makin’ me happy in the pants.  (Lies.)  I still have to observe from 8:10 – 10:30, even though I’m probably not going to do education as an undergrad.  It seems like a waste, but I enjoy the experience… just not the getting up early.  I have one more class today, Special Ed, and then I get to go home.

Aaaaaaand I have to pee again.  Dammit, sick bladder.  Shut up.

Procrastination.

Because I have a Spanish composition to write, I decided to get a WordPress.  It’s logical, no?  It’s not that the composition is particularly hard to write, but rather that I’m sick and don’t feel like doing anything other than watch Storage Wars.  Tomorrow starts another lovely week at Marywood, and I’d much rather lie in bed and read.  Reading has become my escape as of late, and I think I’m better off for it.

Nina and I are going out to breakfast tomorrow.  I’m nervous only because I don’t like people watching me eat.  I am SO STRANGE, but yeah.  Plus, awkward silences are so uncomfortable.  I know I have nothing to worry about, but worry I do.  I need to break myself of that habit.

I’m hoping that this cold will leave me soon.  I think my head fuzziness has gone away, but that could be temporary.  I can’t afford to be sick.  I’d like to spend this week getting my major and everything straightened out.  It looks like I’ll be doing an English / Spanish double major, and then I’ll go to grad school to get my Master’s in Education.  So, when you boil it down, I will never graduate.  If it weren’t for my amazing Spanish professor and her wonderful colleagues, there’s no way I would be considering this crazy course.  We’ll see how it goes.

I need Parallels to work in order to do my online workbook exercises.  I have NO IDEA where my Spanish textbook is.  Honestly.  No idea.  I need it for my composition.  I am woefully unorganized.  Can I take NyQuil yet?  Man, I have to say one thing about being sick: NyQuil is my wonder drug.  It knocks me out, and for an insomniac like me, it’s a beautiful thing.  The only downside is that usually it’s a dreamless sleep, but I’d much rather that than a night of rolling around and feeling like my nose is on fire.  Gross.

Well kiddos, I’m going on a very slow crusade to find my Spanish book.  I have no energy, so I’ll wander into a room, flop down on the ground, contemplate the pattern and fiber of the carpet, and then sleep.  Then I’ll realize that I don’t have my Spanish book and will repeat the process.

Yawn.  ‘Night, y’all.