Middle of Nowhere.

Sometimes, I feel like I am dying. I kind of feel that way now, while I’m at my parents’ house, especially when I stumble upon a piece of who I used to be, am confronted with photographs of the past, and subsequently become overwhelmed with a disturbing and deeply painful conglomeration of nostalgia and self-loathing.

I don’t know how it happened. I used to be really awkward and socially inept, except for those rare few persons that I somehow gelled with. In my adolescent pre-teen years (or what I understand for many are the "awkward" years) I could not look people in the eye, felt hot and nervous whenever I had to have a conversation with more than one person or with someone who I felt intimidated by or who I felt didn’t like some aspect of my personality, which was usually everybody (yes I thought no one liked me or that everyone thought I was awkward). I had a vivid imagination and was who I was and who I eventually became, in private. But I cared deeply about what other people felt and was crushed when I was specifically and pointedly rejected by more than one group of people in my pre-teen years. Whenever I see those people now (which was previously on facebook or someother dumb ass social networking site), after playing fields are leveled and it doesn’t matter so much anymore, and all that pain comes back. Actually, I will admit that I deleted my facebook profile because I didn't enjoy the feelings it stirred up inside of me, but many of which were wholly unrelated to the past. --but that's beside the point.

All of that went away for a long time when I was in high school. I became outgoing and confident, became totally unaware of any imperfections in my personality, my body, whatever. Unlike the stereotypical high school girl, I was never concerned with my weight (although I certainly showed off my body) and had intense relationships with my clique of girlfriends. We were all into guys (usually the wrong ones). Actually, I had intense relationships with everyone. The intensity that I used to hold inside basically just came inside out, and I was who I was and I didn’t really give a fuck. Although I did get into some trouble with overindulgence in various things (sex, drugs, etc.) it was all in good fun, I liked myself, and people liked me.

Then I attended college and the old socially awkward me somehow returned, but not in full force. Instead of being popular, I clung to a small circle of my boyfriend’s friends and several random people with whom I had become close to over the years in college, most of whom I didn’t go to school with, but met in one of the many jobs I performed then. In the back of my mind I felt like maybe something was wrong with with me but I didn’t pay it much attention. I started drinking quite heavily and chain smoking and drugs and was very dark and sometimes would get very depressed and drink and stay in all day. My grades slipped. I couldn’t really put my finger on the problem. But, all in all, I was still who I was, and I really didn’t care what people thought about me. I was definitely on the outside of the inside though, and had just accepted it as what it was.

Fast forward to my 20’s. A mismesh of the highschool me and the darkened college me emerged, and I was both. I didn’t give a fuck, but I also in turn was highly selective about the people I wanted in my life and let everyone know that I definitely didn’t like most people and that they were privileged to be in my presence. I began to drink and smoke even more but not as a salve as in college, moreso as an unabashed lifestyle. Drugs were not the norm as they were in college, but I still did them. In other words, my 20’s were great. It is just a big blur of drunkenness and fun and enjoying life.

Which brings us to the present. Well, in my late 20’s, although I was thinner than I had even been in highschool, I started having the body image issues I never had before (even during the time I was actually fat for about 2 -3 years after college). I began to obsess about wrinkles and getting old and particularly my ass being flat; although I have been told that my ass is flat for years, somehow, it suddenly began to bother the shit out of me. I became very self conscious about it and would buy clothes to enhance it as opposed to before when I just really didn’t give a fuck.

Then after I had children, I totally regressed back into blob of self-consciousness and awkwardness. Sure, I’m no longer nerdy or physically awkward but I might as well be. Like before, I find it very difficult to look people in the eye, feel hot and nervous whenever I had to have a conversation with more than one person or with someone who I felt intimidated by, feel like no one likes me, just generally,and that everyone thinks I'm awkward. I stumble with my words when talking to people even on a professional level. I now feel very self-concious about my mannerisms—the way I shake my head when I talk or dart my eyes, the way my mouth gets dry and sometimes doesn’t seem to open all the way when I talk, as if I’ve had botox on my face, how I use my hands in an exaggerated dismissive way that is usually perceived as non-chalant. Which never used to bother me before, although it was always there and I just didn’t know it until I had it repeatedly pointed out to me during the early years of my professional career (e.g., “people think you just don’t care and that you’re not excited anough” or “you have a poker face”). How I have a huge head, how I slightly hunch over when I’m walking (a by-product of my extreme dislike for being tall in my adolescent years) and how I feel ultra self-conscious when I’m standing tall and feel like a fucking big ass giant, and how people (except for my family and my husband) seem to never let me finish a sentence before I make my fucking point. Have I just been broken down? Or am I dying? Like am I dying? Is everything I built up over the years fucking destroyed? Can I repair myself? How? I feel like the bravado and don’t give a fuckedness has turned into sheer bitterness and anger and old lady-like “I don’t care what you think about me or my opinions because I'm used to the dislike” instead of what used to be the "I'm superior to you and that's why you can't fuck with me" attitude I used to have. It’s very saddening to live inside of me right now.

Ink Spot(s)

So as a side bar: I googled the name of this blog just now--I can never find it and always seem to misspell the name (since I don't use it very much) and was shocked to see that the titles of my last two blog entries appeared in the Google search results. And only those titles. Yes, I know that posting on blogspot puts the blog into a public forum, making it available to anyone who stumbles upon it, but the fact that my words were there kind of freaked me out.

It used to be very difficult for me to be totally and completely honest via this medium, and I only recently overcame that. Also, I only know of two people (who know me) who have read the blog, and the fact that I told either of them is beginning to disturb me more and more and more and more.

Why I write my intimate musings on the world-wide web remains a total mystery to me. I have another journal where I also write things down old-school. There is really no difference between the journal and the blog. I guess the functionality of the two is the most material difference.

The blog is available to me anywhere, or when I simply feel like typing something or making a point I know won't eventually get lost in the clutter of my life--the blog will always be here, unless I delete it, which I've vowed not to do. In fact, I kind of forgot it was here after I had my first child (since the first few entries were really just about being pregnant with her) and somehow remembered and used it occasionally here and there. But now I think about writing so much more than I used to. How convenient.

The journal, on th eother hand, is great for the times I need to say something to something/someone in the car and have no one else to talk to, or at home late at night, or just randomly want to be more thoughtful about what I write (which is what a journal kind of forces you to do), in order to prevent utter sloppiness. Anyways, ok. I'm over it.

Sin Brut

I'm on day four of sobriety. Well, this is not real sobriety--this is the sobriety imposed by my doc of two drinks twice a week, which is literally about a tenth or less of the amount I usually drink. Yesterday, I was feeling really anxious, so I had a glass of wine when I came home from work. I struggled with whether to "waste" my first drink of the week that night but I ended up giving in at around 9:30. It didn't relax me, nor did it make me feel any better. It just made me feel like I had a glass of wine. Today, I feel this same anxious energy and would love to call a friend and stop at a bar for a beer on the way home, but we all know that one intended beer equals six for me. So I'm not gonig to do it. The major thing I've noticed in the past few days is that my mind has been so fricking clear, it's crazy. I mean, I've actually been able to do my work efficiently and thoughtfully and I am somewhat organized, and I haven't been distracted by email and the internet (except for this, but I just wanted to type what I was feeling at this moment). Also, although my energy is a bit anxious, is more of an alterness that I am not used to and I do not have the nervous energy I usually feel at this time of day. I am obviously not as tired (but that could also be because I've been going to bed at 10:30 instaed of my usual post midnight bedtime, which could also be a positive effect of not drinking. I feel great and hope that I can continue on this path and not coil myself into a tight ball of nerves. The doctor said that 4 to 6 months of sobriety is biggest indicator of permanency.

The only other time I've been completely sober was both times I was pregnant, and I remember it being horrible. But I do not know what it is like to just be sober, period, without all of the raging hormones. It has been so long that I don't even really remember what it was like. That's sad. This isn't so bad!

Ok...I'll post updates when I feel I need to.