August 9, 2018

So if people I consider to be friends completely ignore me, should I assume I did something or assume the problem lies with them? This is one of the Great Struggles of my life – aside from living itself – that brings my anxiety to a boiling point and then causes me to do weird things like SIMULTANEOUSLY call and text and Facebook message them (I just did this as I typed this sentence) and then get rejected on three fronts all at once which then causes me to IMPLODE DUE TO ANXIETY.

So now my dog lives alone. Please come rescue her.

I highly value my friendships. They have saved me time and time again. I’m sure I pulled the 16-year-old-idiot move where I ignored my friends in favor of the gentleman caller of the day way back when, but learned my lesson quickly and figured out that friends are the ones who stick around. They have literally pulled me away from the edge of a cliff (thanks, Natalie); they have comforted me when I cried or ranted or complained or grieved (thank you, Emily, Eric, Kathleen, Jessica, Harrison, Allie, and myriad others); they have given their time, their advice, their hugs, their love to me when I probably deserved it least. But I appreciate every single one of those moments, every single one of those people. They have laughed at my jokes, and even though I’m clearly hilarious, they do laugh louder and longer than anyone else. They’re supportive and kind and have my back. I picked my friends very carefully. Because I am loyal forever. That’s why, when I get ghosted by a friend or they don’t respond/answer for a few days, I have an ABSOLUTE BREAKDOWN AND LOSE ALL SENSE OF NORMALCY. I contact mutual friends for information. I call them relentlessly like a psycho ex. I alternate between thinking it’s all fine and I didn’t do anything to full-on hating myself for most likely having done something terrible to this person who isn’t talking to me.

There are currently TWO of these friends in my life. WHAT DID I DO? I can’t know unless they tell me and they won’t talk to me so I don’t know so I try to talk to them and then they don’t answer and around and around we go. Honestly, having anxiety and insomnia and depression is like the triple threat of mental instability and daily dysfunction, but that aside, WHAT DO OTHER PEOPLE DO? Do they just… not care? Do they care but it doesn’t bog their mind? Do other people NOT EVEN NOTICE?

Oh god, there goes any chance I had at sleep tonight.

Day 60 – Ghosted By Friends and Anxiety-Ridden

June 20, 2018

Getting out of bed is the worst. I don’t know why, when we’re such an advanced species, we haven’t figured out a way to avoid this. I mean, I like to exercise (do I though?) and I like to eat (obviously I do) and we all have to use the bathroom (I read Everyone Poops when I was a kid, so don’t lie to me), but if we can get to the Moon, we can clone a sheep, and we can keep Betty White alive for 1,000 years, why can’t we figure out a way to sleep longer and have shorter work days? Also, not get out of bed at all – that’s what I really want.

It’s not just getting out of bed. It’s putting on pants. It’s facing the outside world. It’s interacting with other humans. It’s pretending you have your life together when you’re dreaming about getting away from them and back into bed. The entire day just feels like time away from my bed.

Getting up is hard to do. I did it, though. It was 11:30 am when I finally got up, but I have bad insomnia so I don’t fall asleep until 3, and then I wake up every hour after that, so… Basically, I’m trying to say, don’t judge me for being lazy and useless. I am those things, but, like, don’t judge me, please. We all have our battles.

I can’t shake the sadness some days, most days. Today was that day. Is that day. Is it time for bed yet? I’m exhausted. (It’s 12:39 PM as I’m writing this. I’ve been up for an hour.)

Day Ten – Tired of my own shit.

June 18, 2018

This one will be short. I tried my hardest to have a good day today. I started writing a new play. But…

Grief burrowed inside me. I lived in it and it lived in me. I fought it for as long as I could. But then I talked to my mom and it won. We laughed some. We told stories. She didn’t want to talk to me. She said she wanted to curl up in her bed. But then she told me, “I won’t kill myself while you’re still here.” I will never forget those words.

You know, when your heart is broken, it doesn’t take much for the wound to open up again. Even the happy things and happy conversations and happy memories can rip the scar tissue out.

I am so, so sad. I don’t even know where to put my sadness anymore. Every time I try to have a good day, every time I try to be a better “me” or make other people laugh, I get an email at midnight from my mom saying she doesn’t want to talk to me and everything is terrible. How can I laugh now?

Day Eight – Life kicked my ass.