Posted in Emotions


“Don’t go away. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t stand being alone.” -Arnold Rothstein

I’ve always had quite an issue with being alone.  It doesn’t really fit well with being antisocial either.  It’s a really conflicting feeling.  I don’t want to be around people, but I don’t want to be alone either.  I think part of my problem with it may be the way other people act about it.  In school, there were a lot of times where I didn’t have friends so I spent my lunch period eating alone or reading alone in the library.  People always look at you funny when you do those things they laugh or whisper, but the majority of the time they don’t care enough to be nice or to try to talk to you.

Now, that translates to life after school too.  When you go shopping alone, or eat at a restaurant alone, or go to a party or event alone, these fully functioning adults act the same way those mean girls in high school did.  I feel embarrassed and a little pathetic in these situations because of the mocking looks people give.

I hate to feel alone.  I mean besides all the judging of other people, I think too much when I’m alone.  Sometimes, I realize harsh realities that I wish I hadn’t.  It’s easier not to think and to find a distraction.  When people are around, you have this false sense of security.  It’s a distraction to what is going on in your head and life.  But the problem is, even if you fool yourself into believing otherwise, you are still alone.

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.” -Orson Welles

We are alone.  We have to face the world alone.  There is no one by your side.  The fact is people don’t stick around they leave.  They may be there for a long time, but they won’t be there forever.  People grow apart or die in some cases.  Families turn their backs on each other.  Marriages fail.  Friendships end. People move away.

Everyone always says that’s not me that won’t happen, but it does.  It always does.  You hear from people less and less until you look down and realize its been years.  I’m tired of trying to pretend that it won’t happen and that people stay because they don’t.  The distractions are nice while they last, but it’s still an illusion.  No matter what happens you are alone.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Emotions

Broken Attracts Broken

“Sometimes the most beautiful people are beautifully broken.” ― Robert M Drake

A lot of people consider themselves to be broken.  It may be because of a traumatic past or a mental illness or because they just feel like they mess everything up.  Some people hide this the best they can and try to fill their live and be whole.  They lock it up where no one can see and shut off their emotions.  Other people embrace being broken. It’s just part of who they are, and it may be easy to see.

I feel that at least in my experience, broken attracts broken.   This seems to happen for me even when I can’t tell in the beginning if they are broken.  I’m not really sure why this happens.  Maybe we think we can fix each other or that two broken people can make one whole person.  Maybe we just see it as the only option.

If I am around or with someone who I perceive to be whole and unbroken, I don’t feel that I can truly be myself.  I build up a wall and pretend that I am completely together.  I don’t want to bother them, and I don’t want their pity.  The problem is I can’t keep up that act forever.  Eventually, the wall crumbles and they see at least a part of who I really am, and I am a mess.  They don’t like the real person and they leave, or they feel bad for you and they stay, but neither way feels good to you.  You can’t be who they want you to, but you feel pressured to try and to pretendto be.   They never fully understand why you are that way and they can never fully accept it even though they say they do.

“I like that you’re broken
Broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you’re lonely
Lonely like me
I could be lonely with you” -from the song Broken by lovelytheband

I guess subconsciously I choose broken people to protect myself from all that.  I’m more able to be my self around these people. I can be vulnerable.  I don’t have to pretend I’m fine.  I don’t have to hide truths about myself.  I feel more accepted.  I know this isn’t always the case of it being a good thing.  I mean sometimes with all our issues we can hurt each other and inflict pain unintentionally, but somehow, at least for me, it’s still easier.

With other broken people, you don’t feel like you’re a problem that needs to be fixed or have to feel bad about yourself.  You just are.  They’re the same as you, and they’ve been there.  you can just be there for each other without having to explain to someone who never understands.  Even if you’re suffering intrinsically, you can get through it together.  It’s all so much easier when you are around people who feel the same things and experience the same kind of things.

Maybe, I look at this completely wrong, but I know what is easier for me.  I know that when I’m with people like me, I don’t feel so alone.  Everything seems so much more bearable.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Emotions


“I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”  ― Sylvia Plath

I’m usually a very emotional person, but sometimes it flips off.  When this happens, I feel empty and numb.  Nothing really seems to matter it just is.  I can’t find joy in the things I care about.  I can’t get into a good book that only days ago I was entranced in.  I find it hard to write or even get up.  Even the people I care about and love, I know that I feel this way about them, but when I get this way I no longer really feel that emotion.

These feelings don’t stop me from continuing my day-to-day life.  I just pretend everything is normal.  I feel as if I’m on autopilot, just doing what I know to be normal in a robotic manner.  I go to class. I visit with friends and family.  I pretend everything is normal, and surprisingly, very few, if any, people see through it.  I’m not sure if that is a compliment to my acting skills or proof that they just don’t pay close attention.

Everything is happening around me, and it doesn’t feel real.  It’s almost like dreaming and you have no control of anything including what you are doing.  The things that happen don’t even seem to have a real effect.  I only cry because I know I’m expected to.  I only smile because I’m supposed to.  And so on.  Everything just feels draining, and when I’m alone and feeling like this, I can’t make myself do anything.  I just stare at the ceiling or the wall or some mindless television show.  I don’t feel real, and nothing around me feels real.

“Our life is full of empty space.”  -Umberto Eco

Then, slowly the feeling comes back.  It’s kind of like when your leg goes to sleep and you have to move it and feel the prickling pains to wake it back up.  I don’t know what the trigger is to bring it rushing back.  I think sometimes it’s just the right words from the right people who make you feel like everything does matter.

Even though all the emotions and feeling comes back, the emptiness always remains even though it may be less pronounced.  There is always the feeling that maybe the emptiness is something fundamentally wrong with me like I don’t have something everyone else does.  However, I know other people feel this way as well.

It seems like I’m always looking for something to fill this void in my life whether it be people, or activities, or hobbies.  Nothing really fits though.  I can force it all I want eventually it falls apart and the emptiness is back again.  I kind of stopped trying at some point and I just try to accept it.  I can’t fix myself with something else.  I don’t know if I ever will, but I just want to feel complete and whole.

-Love, Dee


Posted in Love


“Unworthiness is the inmost frightening thought that you do not belong, no matter how much you want to belong, that you are an outsider and will always be an outsider. It is the idea that you are flawed and cannot be fixed. It is wanting to be loved and feeling unlovable, or wanting to love and feeling that you are not capable of loving.” -Gary Zuka
     I find that I keep asking myself the same questions over and over.  Why don’t I deserve love?  Am I unlovable? Is there something fundamentally wrong with me that I am blind too?  Every time I have voiced these concerns they always return the same reply. “You do deserve love, everyone does.”,”You’re very lovable.”, and “There’s nothing wrong with you.”  I don’t really know what to say next when I get these responses because I don’t see them as quite accurate.  If everyone deserves love, then why doesn’t everyone get it?  If I’m so lovable, why can’t you love me?  If there is nothing with me, then what drove you away?
     I try not to, but honestly I get bitter when I see happy couples.  I mean is there some hierarchy as to who deserves love more than someone else?  I see these horrible people who are self-centered and think they’re better than everyone else and treat everyone around them like shit have these wonderful loving relationships with all the cute couple things like sending flowers and dressing up for fancy dates.  How is this person more deserving of love than me?
     I’m not saying I’m some wonderful person.  I see all my flaws probably better than anyone else. However, I try my best to be nice to all the people around me and do everything I can for them, but I still get walked all over for it while someone who is rude and mean to other is rewarded for it.
     Maybe I’ve just watched too many fairy tales and Rom-coms in my life.  I guess maybe I focus on the wrong parts of a relationship, but it really bothers me that no one has ever bought me flowers, or been there for Valentine’s Day, or my birthday, or been to a family function even when I was in relationships(not that all of them coincided with those dates).
     I always wanted love to be like those cheesy 80s movies with some grand proclamation.  The classics being standing outside of your window with a boom box (“Say Anything”), or Jake Ryan leaning against his car across the street (“Sixteen Candles”), or showing up on a lawnmower (“Can’t Buy My Love”).  I know how unrealistic that is.  I mean I’m not the kind of girl someone would do that for to begin with.  I’m not what people usually consider pretty, I’m chubby, I’m overly emotional, and I have psychiatric issues.
     I never expect some grand gesture that’s not really the point.  I don’t think my standards are too high. I don’t really think even my bad qualities should make me undeserving of love, but it seems that they do.  I just want someone to care enough and love me enough to do those things.  I mean like the stupid stereotypical couple things that everyone pretends to hate but that they actually love.
      My happiness doesn’t depend on having another person around, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.  It doesn’t stop from wanting to be loved.  It doesn’t stop me from getting upset every time I see happy couples in love in real life or in movies.  It doesn’t stop from asking, “Why not me?”
     Every time I ask that, I go through a mental list of my flaws.  I try to find why people don’t want me, and why I drive them away.  I know my emotional issues have driven people away, and it makes me so angry at myself because I can’t help it.  I also can’t help feeling bad about myself or feeling unlovable.

“Eventually you love people – friends or lovers – because of their flaws.” Karen Allen

However, that’s not the way love is supposed to work.  If you love someone, you love them for who they are, and who they are is the flaws and all.  And if the love isn’t more than skin deep, it isn’t really love anyway.  It’s still hard because no one has been capable of loving me in a romantic sense, and there’s always the nagging voice in the back of my head that says no one ever will.  Even if it’s not my fault, it’s still hard to stop blaming myself because there isn’t anyone else to blame.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Mental Illness

My Spiral of Anxiety

“The thing about a spiral is, if you follow it inward, it never actually ends. It just keeps tightening, infinitely.” -John Green

Although I’ve always been an anxious person, I was only diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depression less than a year ago. Throughout high school, I was severely depressed with the more than occasional suicidal thought. I was also very stressed as I was either taking enough college classes to be considered a full time student or Honors and AP classes all throughout high school. I didn’t really have a social life or time to join clubs or sports (although I was to uncoordinated for them). I felt alienated and like an outsider even though I did have a couple of what I believed to be friends my senior year.

One of these “friends” attended the same university I did after graduation and became my freshman roommate. I thought this would be a good idea because at least I’d be living with somebody I knew, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything started off seemingly fine. We had lost touch over the summer so we were a little distant. However, the problem began when she started hanging out with what I would call the wrong crowd. I had no personal grudges against these people, but the went out partying and drinking every night, rarely attended classes, and never studied. She fell into these same habits. She would come in at 2 AM, invite strange people into the room, skip most of her classes, and not do her homework. Although I was annoyed, I kept it to myself because at one time she had been my best friend.

The issue started when her parents started to find out how badly she was doing in her classes. She begged me to help her with her homework which I did for a time. However, when it got to the point where I refused to help, she blamed me for her grades. She was mad at me for getting up to attend my own classes and disturbing her while she skipped her own. She blamed me for these strange people being around and messing with her things even though she was the one inviting them in, and I never wanted them there in the first place. She spread nasty rumors about me in our hometown and to her parents saying I was doing all the things that she was actually doing. No one should have believed this of course if they knew me at all.

One day, I came back to our room, and she was packing her stuff to move to another dorm. It felt like a slap in the face. We had so much history, and she was supposed to be my best friend. I thought she was different, but she was the same as those other girls in high school. In fact, she was worse.

Instead of just leaving, she destroyed my property and put substances into my makeup that could have caused me harm. I was scared in my own living space believing anything could have been tampered with. I was paranoid beyond belief. Every faint sound woke me up. I reported this incident for my own safety, but that still wasn’t the end of it. When word of the report reached her, my former roommate, who new my schedule, stalked me to threaten me, and when I tried to leave, she chased me. Of course at this point, I was terrified and police became involved. She was arrested. I was proud of myself for standing up for my self and my own safety, but it still bothered me. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong or why she’d put me through this. Her mom also had to get involved and throw a fit because somehow I was in the wrong even though her daughter had threatened my safety, I “handled it the wrong way.” People in my hometown still give me dirty looks and are rude to me because somehow its my fault even though I was the victim.

“It is very hard to explain to people who have never known serious depression or anxiety the sheer continuous intensity of it. There is no off switch.” -Matt Haig

This is when my anxiety started getting really bad to the point it was almost unmanageable. I felt so alone and like no one could be trusted. I over analyzed every detail of my life to make sure it wasn’t leading to another occurrence like this. I felt alienated and alone and like I couldn’t handle everything at one. Even though mental illness ran in my family, the people around me didn’t really understand what was going on. I didn’t even really know what was going on. The closest thing I have ever found to describe my thoughts was Turtles All the Way Down by John Green.

“You lie there, not even thinking really, except to try to consider how to describe the hurt, as if finding the language for it might bring it up out of you. If you can make something real, if you can see it and smell it and touch it, then you can kill it. You think, it’s like a brain fire. Like a rodent gnawing at you from the inside. A knife in your gut. A spiral. Whirlpool. Black hole. The words used to describe it — despair, fear, anxiety, obsession — do so little to communicate it. Maybe we invented metaphor as a response to pain. Maybe we needed to give shape to the opaque, deep-down pain that evades both sense and senses.” -John Green

It starts over some small insignificant event and spirals into the worst possible outcome. For example, I forgot to bring a pencil to class. I would panic and be worried about not taking notes. Then the no notes would turn into failing the exam, and that would turn into failing the class which would turn into flunking out of college. Flunking out of college would turn into not being able to hold a job which would cause me not to be able to maintain a stable relationship. Then, it all would end with me dying alone with a bunch of cats. It seems illogical to think not having a pencil would lead to that demise. I did exaggerate and fabricate this example, but the point I’m making is one little event brings up every problem and bad thought about myself I have. It causes me to completely lose control of my thoughts and reasoning and leads me into a blind panic. Every thought goes deeper into my mind and my fears.

“It’s getting sucked into a whirlpool that shrinks and shrinks and shrinks your world until you’re just spinning without moving, stuck inside a prison cell that is exactly the size of you, until eventually you realize that you’re not actually in the prison cell. You are the prison cell.” -John Green

When I have these anxiety attacks, I feel trapped in my own mind. I get claustrophobic even though I’m in an open space. My chest starts to feel heavy and tighten up. It gets very difficult to breath, and many times, I start to cry uncontrollably. I feel like I can’t move. Sometimes it’s not full blown its just one symptom, but sometimes it is all of them at once. I can’t stop my mind from doing this, and I can’t reason through it until I’m already calmed down.

This anxiety triggers the depression. It makes me feel bad about myself and broken. The anxiety pulls up all the events of my past for my depression to dwell on as if they were fresh wounds. It’s like a never ending cycle. It just keeps going, and it never feels like it is going to stop. Then finally it heals, and I am okay again. Sometimes it lasts for a long time, but as soon as I think it’s finally over another event pushes me back into the worrying and into the spiral.

I have tried to get help. Last time it didn’t work. I’m in the process of trying again. I’m not sure if it will ever stop completely, but I hope it will dull with time as I learn to live with it and work to prevent it.

Love, Dee

Posted in Getting Away


“All the best stories in the world are but one story in reality -the story of escape.  It is the only thing which interests us all and at all times, how to escape.” -Walter Bagehot

As of late, I’ve been feeling very trapped in my own life.  My entire life has taken place in such a small area.  I never really moved except a couple of streets over, and although my university is in a different town, it still seems to close.   I’m just starting to feel claustrophobic like the state borders are closing in on me.

The scenery never changes. I see the same people who I’ve seen all my life over and over.  It feels like there’s no escape from the past or even just the current.  It all seems to be a little mind numbing. The same routine day after day with no variation.  Seeing the same places doing the same things, it’s no longer the comfort it once was.

I used to be so afraid of change and leaving, but now it’s all I can think about.  I just want to get in the car and drive, not caring where it takes me.  I feel like anywhere else would be a welcome change.  I just want to see the world after being sheltered from it for so long by barely leaving home.  I want a fresh start somewhere new.  I want to have stories to tell and new experiences.

However, for now, I just have to settle with the simple escapes life throws my way.  I feel like people can be an escape in a way; certain people are at least.  Something I often look for in friends in spontaneity (which I seem to lack).  The best kind of people are the ones that call you and say “I’m outside.” or “Let’s go to (insert place here).”  I mean it may not always be convenient, but neither is life.

I seem to like to be around people who make me forget all my worries and stress like they never existed.  Things seem so much simpler when you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, visiting some random new place, driving down the road with unconventional music blaring, or just having a deep conversation with a friend.  The bad thoughts just disappear for a while and are replaced with happy ones. And you escape it all.

“That’s the funny thing about trying to escape. You never really can. Maybe temporarily, but not completely.” ― Jennifer L. Armentrout

Your mood is so high, but it doesn’t last.  You feel better about your problems, but once you’re alone again, they slowly come back.  For me sometimes, it takes a couple of hours to start the worrying again, sometimes a couple of days, but it always comes back.  I never seem to realize how good I was feeling until I hit a new low.

The happy memories bring me optimism though.  The next adventure is the light at the end of the tunnel.  I just have to get there, and thinking about what a good time I’ll have helps me through the darkness.

I live for those random moments of happiness that are so all-consuming that you don’t see the bad in your life.  For me, those moments, those adventures, they give life meaning.  I treasure each one, and I never stop looking for the next one.

-Love, Dee