Where It All Began.

So believe it or not, despite how open I am about my current problems I’ve tried to not look back to the past for anything. I tried not to look back out of fear that I’d sink back into depression, get caught in regrets, imagine myself doing something differently.

Clearly that’s worked out well in my favor right. Hehehehe…That was sarcasm.

But while my professor was in the middle of her lecture my mind started drifting back to when my battles truly began. I remember 10 years ago when my depression began. Back then I didn’t have a name for any of it. That’s when I started to call it the Nightmare Syndrome. I remember where I was mentally back then. I remember how alone I felt no matter where I was or how many people surrounded me. I remember how much I loathed myself. I remember feeling so worthless in everything that I set out to do back then. But most of all I remember feeling trapped and powerless to do anything.

While I was in school at Central Piedmont Community College there was a day when that horrible trapped feeling and all other types of negative thoughts and emotions had devoured me. I was in the library that day. I remember I had my eye on this door where there was a spiral staircase. I knew that it went all the way up to the roof. I remember wanting to go up to the roof. I remember how enticing the thought of going up felt at the moment. It was like this magnetic pull. That’s when the suicidal thoughts first came to me. I wanted to jump off that roof and land head first into the pavement.

I scared myself just thinking about it. I didn’t get up from where I was sitting and I kept looking at that door for what might have been twenty minutes. At some point I snapped out of it and I got out of there. The whole time I walked from campus to the bus stop I was like, “What the fuck was I thinking?”

That feeling of being trapped always stayed with me. It wasn’t until I came up with the idea of quitting school that I started to feel relieved. I figured back then that school was the problem and that when I left that horrible feeling would go away forever. I figured I’d get my writing career started. I was determined to go through with it.

But I was totally deluding myself. Sometime after Christmas my Mom was so angry with me about my decision to quit. She kept yelling and yelling at me like I had just committed the worst of sins. Like I was guilty of murder. She left the house in a rage. I went to write something in the journal that I kept at that time. I was writing about the experience that had just happened.

That’s when the suicidal thoughts started to come to me again. I remember writing in that journal entry, “I guess this is it. This is how its supposed to end for me. This will be the last thing I ever write.” That’s when I went into the kitchen and grabbed one of the sharpest knives kept in the drawer.

I remember thinking, “How deep do I have to cut?” “How much blood needs to spill?” “How much is this going to hurt?”

And then I pressed the blade against my wrists.

That was the closest I ever came to going through with it.

I still don’t know if I was too afraid to go through with it or if I was just too apathetic at the time. So I didn’t die that day. But something inside of me had already been long broken. I didn’t put the knife away though. I kept it in my desk drawer.

I thought, “Maybe not today. But somewhere down the line.”

Even though I stayed away from that drawer for six months the thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. I would wake up with that knife being the first thing on my mind and the last thing before I went to sleep. Even whenever I was out of the house I kept imagining all the many other ways I could’ve ended myself. Stepping into traffic, drinking bleach, jump off some other roof.

It always brought me back to that moment when I almost went up those stairs to CPCC’s roof. The enticement was still there. It was like someone was whispering in my mind this promise of sweet release and they wouldn’t stop until I went through with it.

It wasn’t until the very end of my first therapy session ever that I told someone about wanting to die. I remember the look of shock and concern on her face when I told her about the knife. Up until that moment I had already put on my fake happy face. But then I just blurted it out.

Now that I’m looking back on things now I can’t help noticing how things from back then and now almost mirror each other. That trapped feeling is back. And it almost feels like its brought me back to the person that I was back then. Why else would I have these intrusive thoughts?

I’ve done all that I can to not think about anything from back then. I thought that by not thinking about it that I was able to move on from it. But I think I needed to remember that time. I needed to remember where I was at the beginning.

If my Nightmares weren’t figments of my imagination gone horribly wrong then I’m pretty sure they’d be trying to convince me that this is the end of me. That no matter what I do I’ll never realize my dreams.

All of this came to me when I was in class and wondered why I was so scared of what happens in the future. From there I started to think that I already felt trapped in that dreaded 9 to 5 dead end job that I hate having. There’s that word again, “trapped”.

Maybe I’m supposed to remember now so I could do something that I couldn’t do back then. And I’m much stronger now than I was back then.

I need to stop right here.

Good day everyone.

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Chicken Fried Rice

Goal accomplished. I cooked. I sang. And I will clean up after I eat. I owe myself this dish and I devour it until there is not a single grain of rice left over.

Itadakimasu!!

いただきます

Unstuck Yourself

Goddamnit I miss cooking my own meals. I’ve been living off take out for almost two weeks now. My defense is that check I waited for was taking too damn long to process and I was starving myself for days. So maybe I got a little carried away. But to have sushi and ramen noodles delivered to your front door? That’s beautiful.

But I miss the rush I’d get from cooking. What have I made in the last two weeks? That ginger tea and some coffee. I want to make curry rice, ninjin shiri shiri, fried chicken, hamburger steak, bibimbap, and goddamnit I want to make a fucking bento box!!!!! But nooooo….

I have midterms and projects that require my full attention. Between waiting for the meat to defrost, the food prep, and the cleaning up it’s going to eat up a lot of time.

I find myself dealing with a lot of indecision lately. Something that was covered in my session yesterday is triggering this. It’s making me more self-aware of how indecisive I’ve been. Feeling stuck in between everything. I’m pretty sure I wrote about something like that pretty recently.

I’m sick of it. How do I know that I’m sick of it? Because my brain just keeps screaming, “FUCK IT!!”

I’ve reached Wade Wilson status! I say FUCK IT!!

Cook > Order In
Pull My Punches < Raise Hell on my Enemies.
Compare Myself to Others < DIY Shit My Way
Hate Myself < Love Myself
Be a Victim < Be a Warrior
Rot like Bad Meat < Fight with everything I have.

Oh yeah…what to cook for dinner?

Something easy! Cooked at turbo speed!! Will upload a photo later!

Yesterday during my session I gave the counselor a recap of what’s been happening over the last week.

I don’t know if I ever mentioned that I make monsters out of the negativity in my mind or not (That was sarcasm). But based on what we discussed yesterday it looks like if I’m going to fight smarter and not just harder.

I will illuminate.

The monsters in my head, the Nightmares, come in different shapes and sizes. Their appearances always vary. And they have different “power levels”. Some are bigger and meaner than others.

Best way to point it out is to draw an example from Ghostbusters. The original film, for all you people that love to hate on the 2016 version….

There’s small fry like Slimer. These Nightmares are annoying more than anything else, but they’re easier to deal with. They’re easier to manage. It’s about as difficult as powering through a small wave.

Then there’s more moderate sized threats like those demon dogs, Zuul and Vinz Clortho. These pose a bigger problem for me. It’s when I have to deal with bigger worries that go beyond general anxieties. Dealing with them requires more effort. This is when I have to use tools learned from therapy and all the other things that can counter cognitive distortions, anxieties, negative feelings, and the like.

Finally there’s the big fish of them all, Gozer and Stay Pufft Marshmallow Man. When Nightmares like these come along that’s when it feels like the world has turned into nothing, but rot and pitch black. That’s when I reach my breaking point. That’s when I start feeling completely overwhelmed and beaten down by everything which then makes it easier for me get triggered by the smallest things. This is when I’m at my darkest place. And usually this is where I know I can’t handle things on my own.

My depression is the great big bad in my life. I want to confront it head on and take it down permanently. But there’s all these other battles that need to be fought against the Nightmares that rank below it.

Up until now I’ve been putting all my eggs in one basket with basic strategies. Making use of CBT, writing, keeping myself busy with cooking and schoolwork. But now I have to do more to fight effectively. That’s why I’m going to counseling, trying to meditate, make use of tactile sensory therapy, be willing to undergo medication, and share the things that go on in my head here on WordPress. Even though it means having to share something as crazy as how I just described my Nightmare Syndrome, go into painful details of every meltdown I’ve had, and risk being labeled some attention seeking drama queen.

Writing helps. Being creative helps. Knowing that there are things that only I’m capable of doing helps. But there’s still so much more that I need to do. If devoting myself to writing or creating anything was all it took then my battles would’ve ended long ago.

I have to get over my trust issues. I have to talk to my parents about what I go through mentally. I have to stop detaching myself from reality. I have to be more decisive. I have to stop white knuckling everything. I have to more willing to ask for help when I really need it. I have to do things differently because repeating the same behavior and action while expecting something new to happen is what truly defines insanity.

I’ve already declared war against my inner demons. So I’m pulling all out the stops and I’m going to fight until the end.

And I’ll do it all with…

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Hermitry

I’m a lonely soul. Have been for the longest time. And it’s never been by choice. But now I’m beginning to believe that it’s the way that it has to be.

The thought came to me yesterday after my latest post. It was the line that read, “Having a coffee date with myself” that triggered it. I’m pretty sure if my life were a Persona game then my arcana would be the Hermit. That’s gaming humors for all you non-nerds reading this.

I used to be more social and open with others about everything. I used to be. I used to attract people who were similar to me as far as interests go. I used to. I had always been used to having someone by my side to help me whenever I needed it. Again, used to.

Too many things have changed. People I know have changed. I have changed.

There was no way I could’ve predicted these changes to occur and I don’t have the power to undo any of it. I’m left with no other choice but to simply accept things as they are and move on.

For as long as I can remember I’ve held on to this hope that someday people will come around to my own way of things. How I perceive the world, how I treasure things that inspire me, how I try to make the best of things, how to stay sane in an insane world.

For whatever reason people just cannot connect with me. I can’t attract the man of my dreams to come and save me or the right people who can help me with my creations. And forget about attracting people with the same interests as me.

I’ve tried to be open minded about all different people. I’ve tried. I’ve really really tried. I’ve been open minded to the point where brain matter has literally leaked out of every possible orifice you can think of. I’ve taken every considerable factor into account to be better understand things. But it’s never enough. I can’t wrap my mind around people who inhabit this world anymore than I’m able to understand any of the things that go on in my own mind.

There are too many things that I have no power over. Too many situations that have left me with no choice in the matter.

I’m tired of worrying over the things that I cannot do or have control over. If I’m going to live a life where I’m not defined by my depression or every bad thing that’s happened to me then I have to shift focus on the things that I do have control and power over.

So as of now I make the choice to embrace hermitry. I’m tired of waiting for the friends I have to suddenly clear up their schedule and make time for me and I’m not going to waste energy trying to attract better people to become new friends or a future husband.

I have to bring the focus back to me and the things that I need to get done. Besides I have an entire story universe that I need to create. Socializing would just slow me down and dating would invite drama that’s best preserved for fiction.

Nobody matters except me.

Feeling Stuck

So I’m doing that thing that a lot of writers love doing and it’s something that I do best. Having a coffee date with myself. I have work that needs to be done before spring break hits, but I wanted to treat myself a little bit before I jump into anything.

The forecast read that it would be cloudy and rainy, but it’s the total opposite. So I didn’t want to stay locked up in my attic bedroom. Not even for more wrestling creations.

Speaking of…

I’ve got nice some faces made. But only their faces. I don’t have much else at the moment other than the names I gave them.

Things have been on the hectic side for me for the last couple of days. I’m thankful that I have a session scheduled for Monday morning. I’m pretty sure I have more than enough to talk about for a 50 minute session.

I’m having a bit of a moment though. I’ve talked about how there’s no one that can keep up with me. I talked about how I’m willing to overcome challenges on my own. Then I have realizations where I’m not alone in the depressing sense. But there’s not a lot of people in my life that can help me with things like with my creations.

I’m brimming with ideas. That’s not the problem. It’s that there’s so much that I want to do and I’m only one person. It doesn’t help that I’m the oldest among my limited social circle of friends. So there’s not a whole lot I can connect with when it comes to my creations when I draw inspiration from something that predates their existence. Oh but then there are the friends who are closest to my age and over. They’re not capable of helping because for a completely different list of reasons.

1) “I’m not creative enough.”
2) “I’m too old to fantasize stories like that.”
3) “I don’t think the way you do, man.”
4) “I’m too busy!”

And when I find people who are willing to help they overdo it. These sorts of partnerships don’t last long. When I think about stuff like this I think, “Urgh!! I just can’t win!!”

I had this thought yesterday when I got a call from my mom. She called past 9 am. That struck me odd because normally she waits at night time to give me a ring and she had already called to wish me a happy birthday on Wednesday.

She knows about the stuff I’ve been writing. More specifically my latest posts. My mom is not internet savvy. She doesn’t even know that I blog. In fact I’m fairly certain that if you mentioned the word “blog” then her response would be, “Que eso”. So I can easily wager a guess as to how she found out about it.

She said, “Don’t put stuff like that on the internet!”

I’m explaining to her that I’m doing what works for me. Writing about this stuff helps me. I’m not doing this for attention or to gain followers. I’m not the same as those malignant narcissists who post a selfie five times a day on Instagram.

When she said that to me though it flipped a switch in my brain. I went into defense mode naturally. And I was upset. Like “How dare she tell me what I should or should not do?” I’m not keeping secrets from her. I told her about how I felt about things during the winter break. I told her that I was gonna go back into counseling.

Then she says, “Don’t be upset! I’m just worried!”

I know she worries. I know she wasn’t trying to make me feel bad about anything. But how else can I explain myself to her? I’m doing something that works for me and I can do it without her blessing, much less her commentary. The same is true for everyone else.

Weeks ago while I was washing the dishes and I had my headphones on another of my roommates tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Stop ignoring us. You’re making people feel uncomfortable.”

All I’m doing is minding my own business and dealing with stuff in the best way I know how. How the hell is that making people uncomfortable? So what if my methods aren’t ideal? So what if I’m disconnecting from people? So what if I would rather blast my eardrums with heavy metal instead of having to listen to every vapid, insipid, stupid thing that passes through someone else’s mind? Some people’s thoughts and opinions are not as interesting as they like to think they are. I’m focusing on myself and my own problems. If someone is offended because I’m the one person that refuses to make them the center of the universe for even a minute then it sucks being them. If that’s all it takes to get under someone’s skin then life is going to kick their ass to the moon and back.

And yet it’s me who has to take a set at the counselor’s sofa. The Universe is quite the comedian.

My methods might not be ideal, but anything beats rotting away like bad meat and being treated like some doormat. It’s even better that I’m not lashing out. It’s one of the few ways that I have control over things. Besides I’m so tired of trying to be social with everyone. I feel like that was just an act that I putting on. And I’m sick of it.

I’m totally ranting right now. I’m gonna go back to enjoying my personal day. I’m thinking now’s a good time to eat some ramen!

Later!

Ginger Tea

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Another recipe mastered! Courtesy Maangchi the Korean Julia Child!

One cup of ginger, one cup of honey, mix them together, pour water (hot or cold), top it off with pine nuts, and blamo! You’ve got some nice tasting tea!

I might give up coffee for this….

PFFTT!!!! Who the fuck am I kidding? Wired is better than tired, twitching is better than bitching!

Birthday Wish

I know there’s a retarded rule about not ever sharing your birthday wish or it won’t come true. Except I’m pretty sure last year my wish was for Finn Balor to come find me, ball my brains out, and then we’d get married in Ireland. I never told anyone that and it still hasn’t happen. So fuck the rules.

My wish is simple. I’m not asking for $1 million or to have anyone of the many dreamy guys on my fantasy fuck list to become my future husband. What I wish for is to no longer be defined by my depression or every stupid thing that’s gone wrong in my life or what’s fucked up about the world today.

Talking about my story and all my struggles is therapeutic. I’m not disputing that. But every once in a while I can’t help, but get the feeling that I’m playing the victim card. And I want nothing more but to put it back in the deck.

I feel like this negativity has become my mask. It’s my identity. It’s as if that’s the only thing I have going for me that makes me even a little bit interesting. But that’s total bullshit. There’s more to me than the usual doom and gloom I’ve written about. I’ve just been too sheepish to show those other parts of myself in full effect.

I have my writing, my cooking, the clothes that I wear, the infinite number of story ideas I have (good or bad). There’s my taste in music, movies, anime, video games and the like.

I have my dreams that I want to realize. I had convinced myself that it was too late for me to truly fulfill any of them. There were still parts of my self-defeating self that lingered inside of me. But that’s not me. I’ve been living life under a false self. That’s the mask that I need to rip off.

I wish to define myself, express myself through the things that give me joy and warmth. The things that I love. The things that make me laugh. The things that I want to do like finishing new stories, continuing to make my wrestling promotion, mastering new recipes, and the like.

I’ve made my wish. And now I’m going to be the one who makes it happen. I won’t wait for the universe to work it’s magic in my life. I will do everything under my own power!