Used Year, Condition: Poor

This is terrifying. I'm not even sure what I'm gonna say, and that's the scary part. It feels like my rage will take over, change my wordprint, and offend every innocent bystander who might be out there. My anger is boundless, but lacks a basis. Mostly, I just want to languish in my fear and confusion. Maybe I just need someone to throw me into a freezing cold river so I'll have a reason to flop around and scream. A sign up sheet for people who are pissed off with my depressive demeanor is going up.

...

I don't pretend to understand depression. Heaven knows I can't even hope to understand myself. I love curling up with a book, snacking a cracker or two, holed up without texts pestering me or YouTube begging for my well-deserved attention. But then I'll pick up a cracker and see it's nutritional value instead of lightly salted surface and I look see my book as a black hole instead of an open window and I see my blissfully blank screen as the sign of ultimate abandonment. 

I know it's ridiculous; I know that I have a happy enough life, I know that I'm loved, I know that I'm gonna be okay. But it's as if all those rational thoughts lose their weight in the moment that lasts for hours or days. It's like a cartoonish anvil fell on my head and my heart and where there should be stars and x's in my eyes, there's a gray matte film. There's nothing until there's pain. I won't go into that; I understand the double-edged sword of self-harm even less.

...

Anxiety is even more fickle. I loved the Yellowcard concert. I accepted the fact that there were a thousand people pressing on me, that there were voices blasting out of speakers and screaming into my ears and filling up my body. It scary, but so much fun to nearly be swept up into the mosh pits and death circles and to lose hold of my friends, looks of manic terror mixed with ultimate excitement on all of our faces. That was enjoyable.

But going to party with people I know and love dearly automatically puts me on edge. When the noise level raises to a dull roar of good times and happy faces, I go bonkers. It's like the speakers were now in my ears and the mere vibrations are felt in every cell of my body. It hurts me physically to see everyone having fun on a normal night of their lives, and it hurts me emotionally to be talked to, to have to answer a question when I'm busy trying not to scream and run into the dark fields that seem to surround everyone's houses and taunt me with their silence. Then again, it hurts so much worse to be passed by. I understand that people don't understand me. I know they've tried. I know they want me to come and have fun. But it's no fun to party with a freak. At least I get that.

...

This really isn't to make anyone feel bad. This isn't about guilting y'all into bombarding me with inquiries of my health and safety; that would actually kill me, I can't handle the thought of attracting such negative attention. But when I finally caught up on everyone's blogs this afternoon, I came across one that filled me with such sadness. The last time I talked to this person, everything was fine: they were excited, they were caring, they were beautiful as always. And yet, they shared nothing of this frustration they wrote about so eloquently. I don't need to know everyone's life story. I think I'm busy, and I know y'all are ten times busier than I. But I want to know something. I care about y'all so much. Y'all are one of the biggest reasons why I try so hard not to give up, but I feel like y'all don't want anything to do with me. I promise, it's okay if that's the truth. People change, times change, our life changes every single day. But if that's not the truth, let me know. Say hi, tell me you're angry or sad or super duper happy. I'm not a good texter, but I love to talk on the phone, even just for five minutes. Let me know that you're okay so that I can be okay.

...

There's so much more to my pain, my diagnosis, my life, whatever this is. But none of it really matters. This is the part where I get really angry and mask all the sentiment I tried to write down up above. I just need a friend. I'm trying not to blame or judge anyone because it's not anyone's fault. If it is, it's my fault for being a little prick. But again, trying not to get angry, trying not to hate or hurt or bury myself alive. The struggle is real. Every second is up for grabs.

...

Doctrine and Covenants 121:9

Love Letters

Hey there. I know it's a little late for me to ask a favor of y'all (in many ways), but I NEED YOUR HELP.

MoreLoveLetters.com is a beautiful website that encourages people to write "love" letters to leave in public to brighten the days of strangers. They also facilitate campaigns where people can nominate friends or family for people to specifically write to. Anyway, it's awesome and obviously something I adore. I suggest that you all check the website every two weeks to write letters for a beautiful batch of people, BUT... This is the most important week to check and participate, because I have nominated one of my best friends, the dearest Bradan Schwanke.

So way back when I nominated him like a month or two ago, he was having a very hard time. By the time they accepted and posted the request (now), he's been doing a lot better. Regardless, I am begging y'all to write Bradan a letter. Just let him know that he's awesome and that you love him or that you like the fact that he wears bow ties. I'm just asking for a short note from a person who is as special and important as he is that he can look at and appreciate when he might ever become sad again.

Tell your friends. Ask strangers you run into or the kid you sit next to in class. It doesn't have to be personal or deep or long or devoid of mistakes at all; it just needs to be kind and uplifting. I want to present Bradan with the largest bundle of letters the world has ever seen! He has done so much for me, and I can't even begin to thank him. This is a way for me to try. 

Very important: DON'T TELL HIM. This is a secret, and I want to totally surprise him if at all possible. You can mail the letters to me (my address is on the website) or just give it to me in person. I'd rather receive the letters no later than October 10th. 

Anyway, here's this. Scroll all the way to the bottom (and then scroll back to the top to maybe help some other people out): http://www.moreloveletters.com/the-love-letter-requests/

I love y'all.

Crap

I wish I had something for y'all to read.

Except "y'all" is probably no one at this point; I've barely posted this year, and when I do, it's just the same old thing over and over. Sadness. Despair. Hope that maybe things are getting better. Realizing that I'm just as pathetic as always.

I'd like to say that I'm getting better. I'd like to say that I was so frightened and so hysterical last week, but now, thanks to Ali and Logan, I've changed. I'd like to tell you about how I've been reading my scriptures and hanging out with the people who love me the most and what blessings these have been. I'd like to say anything and everything about work and school and life. I wish I could tell you about how I've found a boyfriend who is able to show me that I have no need to despair all the time and who is content to just watch White Collar and read Pride and Prejudice with me. I wish I had someone who didn't want to kiss me and that I wouldn't care because I'd already be happy. I wish this person was out there and didn't have a girlfriend. I wish that my friends did have girlfriends and that they would be happy.

I wish I could be happy. I hope no one reads this.

Mistaken Blessings

God doesn't allow us to suffer without blessing us. He gives us little gifts all the time; we just have to choose to see them, even when all we seem to feel is darkness. One of my gifts was the knowledge of this, sent to me in the mail from the first of my Elders. 

I'm not sure what to write because I'm not sure what I'm feeling. I have never experienced anything like this before. The conflicting feelings and confusion surrounding my every thought... 

It shouldn't have been this way. There were two options: not do it and be happy, or do it and get over it. I am the master of my destiny and I chose a third option. I made a mistake. My greatest mistake was freaking out about everything. I overreacted and now I can't stop. I'm trying, I really am. 

I know y'all will disregard or won't accept this apology, if anyone still even reads this. But I am sorry. You are important to me, and I am so, so very sorry. 

There's a blessing somewhere in this. I just have to try to find and share it with you. 

TTM

I finally have a trich buddy. It's not inherently good, for that means that we both suffer from Trichotillomania (TTM), a terrible disorder that affects more than just one's hair. But if I've learned anything tonight, it's that I'm not alone, I'm not crazy, and I can always try to make a negative situation positive. I have my trich buddy to thank for that. 

She called me at nearly midnight. I was astonished and intrigued, wondering why a girl who was one of the best friends of one of my best friends would want to talk to me. But when I answered to hear her sobbing, I knew. She was a Trichotillomaniac, just like me. I knew that, but she always seemed fairly in control as she'd report three days, twelve days, one month free. I was jealous of her; she was what I've been striving to become for the past ten years of my life. I was a failure next to her. 

Tonight, she fell. It wasn't her fault; that's the point of obsessive/compulsive disorders, you can't do anything about it. I understood how hopeless and depressed she must've felt. Two months of hard work were gone in a matter of minutes. All I knew is that I had to pray, for the both of us. After praying and breathing deeply, we began to talk. 

We talked about our pain, our embarrassment, our shame. We talked about the few kids we knew with trich and OCD. We talked about our own depression and anxiety and urges to vomit after spending money. We were two peas in a crazy pod, and for once, that seemed to be okay. 

It was amazing to be able to laugh with a beautiful girl who understood me like I understood her. We took something so dreadful and built a connection upon it, a safety net we could catch each other. Trich doesn't seem quite so scary now that I know I have a perfect ally. She kept thanking me for my help, but I wish I could thank her a thousand times for the hope she's given me. 

...

Two hours later, after having watched vlogs by trichies, reading up on the documentary Trichster, coming Spring 2014, and researching medications proven effective in treating TTM, I need to go to sleep or I WILL pull all my hair out. 

Another Post About Loss

All of a sudden, I feel like I've lost everything. 

I'm losing some of the most important friendships I've ever made. I feel they've lost the ability to care much about crazy old me, and I've lost the ability to stand up to them and tell them how I feel. I've lost so much hair this past week, month, year, decade. I'm losing my friends as they go on missions, traveling the world and serving the Lord, while I stay behind, crocheting scarves and wondering what I even believe in. 

I've lost cable and I'm losing Netflix. 

Dang, I feel empty. I'm not even sure how this all happened. It was like I woke up from a dream where everything was right, where my friends were my heroes and there was bright music and tv show references galore and I was happy and safe. That is a realistic description, both literally and figuratively. I dreamt that this morning and woke up to find I was alone, in pain, and no one would be there to save me with a doughnut, a smile, a muted trumpet, and an homage to Scrubs. 

Something is wrong with me on so many levels. 

And at Last I See the Light

The first Friday of summer ended terribly. 

I'm still not sure what happened. I couldn't stop crying, and I thought I was going to die from hyperventilating. All I could see was the black sky, and all I could feel was the cold grass until Breanne. 

I wish I could remember who else was there; I can only remember seeing Breanne and Erik. Tony was a voice, Gretchen was an afterthought, Taylie and Ali and the Schwankes still don't exist in my memory. I'm sorry if I can't remember you. Know that I am still grateful for your presence and help. 

They sang and prayed and loved me. Adding that to the most wonderful YSA fireside last night by the bassist of Neon Trees and his wife, I've realized that The Lord has been missing from my life. I'm surely having mental and psychological issues, but any problem will be worse unless you rely on Him. I was never strong enough, and when I became lazy and scared of what God thought of me, I gave up. I lost what little strength or faith I had. 

Obviously, I just lost it. 

I'm going to try now. I read my scriptures last night, I changed my background to the temple, I fasted for the first time this year, I really prayed for the first time this month. It feels like too little, too late, but I can't give up hope. If I can get my spirituality in order, I feel like the impending therapy will be able to help me more. 

I just know I couldn't live without Him or y'all. 

Doctrine and Covenants 121: 9-10 ~ Thy friends do stand by thee, and they shall hail thee again with warm hearts and friendly hands... thy friends do not contend against thee, neither charge thee with transgression...