I've had a terrible headache all day and so have barely left my bed but I am at least somewhat awake now after my shower and I took some painkillers so hopefully that will help. Really, I just do not want to be like this tomorrow, because I still need to finish up that last paper, which will be astronomically more difficult if I'm feeling as horrible as I have today.
UC's graduation was yesterday, and I unfortunately was unable to go due to final papers. But from the pictures I have been seeing it was a good time, and I'm really happy for all of them and especially for friends who deserve nothing but the best in their post-college lives.
Two years have gone by since undergrad was finished (well, technically two and a half for me, but two in terms of when I was actually handed my degree), and I do not feel as though I have done much since then. Despite being in grad school and having professors who enjoy my work and everything...I just do not think I've experienced much. As an academic, sure, I've grown simply due to the extra years of schooling. But I feel as though I have spent those years not really enjoying anything in my life.
That makes sense. I still am taking multiple medications to handle my depression and anxiety, and the times I have gone out to try and meet people usually are disastrous in the end. I am constantly tired and my free time is spent doing nothing of value. It is spent in bed, thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about, and mindlessly watching television or something. I don't do anything spontaneously. Driving up to Ithaca for a day just because? Nope. Can't happen. I need to have some sort of a plan. Even when best friend got stranded in Syracuse when we were supposed to go to Cortland made me hesitate, because it was an unforeseen event and therefore I hadn't prepared for it. But then I realized it was stupid of me to hesitate, considering it was my sweetie. (I should try and see how much plane tickets to Wisconsin are during the summer...)
The first year post-undergrad was also spent in particularly bad state due to my breakup, and I built up walls around myself once again. And as I met people who then left or did something bad, I became more and more shut-in. The company of other people became something I would rather avoid than have, and I wasted away by myself, ignoring the friendships I had, almost wanting them to dissolve so that I wouldn't have to worry about them or feel guilty about not keeping in touch as much as I should. Still, I sometimes feel this way. I still rarely want to go out and do things with other people most of the time. Instead, if I want to leave my house, it is usually to do something with Callie.
Callie quickly became the most important thing in my life, and she saved me as much as I did her. The terribly dark thoughts I always had subsided somewhat with her around, because the idea of me abandoning her is too awful for me to bear. While I still sometimes believe that she would be better off with someone other than me as a pet parent, I know, from the way people who watch her for me when I am gone talk, that she would be very sad if I suddenly disappeared and never returned to her.
It is odd, perhaps, that I think more that my dog would be less able to recover from my disappearance than any friends or family would.
I suppose I cannot give myself no credit though, in these past two years. I have been able to acknowledge some of my demons which I had previously ignored. The sadness and perfectionism that I have felt throughout my life came to the surface when the ex broke up with me: I couldn't understand why things failed and I kept (and still sometimes do, to be completely honest) asking myself what else I could have done. Despite him saying I was perfect, that couldn't be true, because if it was, then he would not have left and moved on the way that he did. That was the way that I thought, and is a way of thinking that I still fall into at times. I try to recognize it, though, and fight it as much as possible.
Deep down, I wanted so badly for ex and I to be together, even after I proclaimed my hatred for him. I covered up how much I missed him with my anger (which was very real), and I learned to hate him. But hating him also made me hate myself even more, because that deep desire to be with him became a sin. So when I thought about it, I told myself what a piece of shit I was for having those sorts of desires. I tried to get with other people as a way to forget about him, but it never worked. They all left or did something terrible in the end. And even if they had stayed, I would have still thought of the ex. I still would have secretly wanted it to be him I was with, and because of that, all those encounters felt shallow, in retrospect. Realizing how little emotion I felt during these and for many months afterward made me less inclined to leave my house. I didn't want to go places and pretend to have a good time anymore. Even things that I once enjoyed felt meaningless and empty. They still do, a lot of times.
I still find that connecting with others is one of the hardest things for me to do. And despite the fact that I claim to want a strong connection again, I am too afraid. I am too afraid of what happened happening again. Right now, I'm still in the mindset where the potential future cost of a dissolved relationship is still greater than the benefit of having one in the present. Which I know just leaves me lonely and empty, but it also keeps me safe. And right now, I favour safety.
Even though I'm becoming more and more aware of what that safety does to me. It keeps me inside.
And I'm starting to wonder what it would be like to go outside more often. To experience things that I have neglected to do in the past two years.
My mind goes back and forth on these things. I know that this seems somewhat of a change for me, and it has been something on my mind lately; UC graduation triggered my wanting to write things down. However, I'm also aware that I am prone to...relapses, if you will.
I guess we'll see what happens in the summer.
No comments:
Post a Comment