Joined last night, I think. Internal clock under construction

Discussion in 'Welcome' started by toiletburger, Jun 21, 2012.

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  1. toiletburger

    toiletburger Member

    Warning: I'm not sure what happens below exactly or if it belongs here or where. Uhhh yeah

    Hi. Please excuse any typos or rambles as well as the lack of style, I've been awake for 50 hours now. The minimal amount of food I've consumed in that time combined with 97 degree heat and no a/c isn't helping much either. I was actually able to concentrate on reading just now laying in the sun with my neighbor in the backyard but I also felt so loopy that I came up to my room intending to sleep, but the lure of the internet was too great. I was even offered gazpacho at her apt...
    I will try to keep the amount of self-deprecation low, but can't promise anything.
    Perusing facebook last night (I don't ever do anything on it. My last comment is a happy birthday from 2 years ago) I couldn't help but read about how the majority of people I went to high school with just got their bachelors and are finding real grown-up jobs. It's impossible to not compare myself with them. I know I used to be more intelligent than some of them, so why can't I just go through the fucking motions the way they did? I didn't go to college directly after graduating high school since I was way too depressed; second semester senior year I went from honor roll student to almost not being able to graduate in a few hellishly lethargic weeks. I also managed to end my 3-year relationship with my first love as well as get my favorite teacher, the one who introduced me to a love of writing, to not want to talk to me anymore. She thought I was trying to manipulate her. I never meant to, but looking back with 5 years' clarity I can see I did.

    I think my mental illness/life history is developing. Didn't exactly intend for that to happen, but I always have such a hard time figuring out the proper place a story starts and then how much detail is too much. Sorry. Mentally masturbating, there's really nothing to see here, folks, move along please.

    "I was really upset and couldn't think of anything else but killing myself last night" would have sufficed, but I'm invested now. Also I've hardly written anything recreationally longer than 100 words since high school.

    January that year I had started cutting. I wasn't especially depressed, but depression wasn't anything I was used to. I had had a minor episode the summer I turned 15 but shook if off partially on my own and partially by starting dating high school sweetheart. I read the Bell Jar, had a crush on a girl I suspected of cutting, was worried about college and the fate of bf and I, and had the image of orange plastic child safety scissors from a classmate's poem stuck in my head. It all coalesced into a dream one night where I wanted to start cutting, but needed my bf's help to do it, so he was the one who cut me (dream only). I found regular scissors with an orange plastic handle, because I'm a fuckin' visionary like that, y'all! and became addicted to cutting for the next 8 months. They almost primarily run up and down the top of my left arm. I reveled in the sight of blood, having scabs to pick at under my sweaters in class and destroying myself physically. I also put on about 30 lbs and was disgusted by myself.

    I outed myself to my parents on purpose but very indirectly. I'm still not comfortable thinking about how I did it, so I'll leave that part out for now. Begin goofy montage of me mumbling I don't know (my favorite phrase!) and I guess so to a troupe of different therapists. The first one I didn't like because of all of the Jesus memorabilia, the second one because of the Ansel Adams photographs in her office, they were just too neutral for my elegant mind (self-deprecation, not pride) and one kind of yelled at me until I was in tears. My dad realized he went to high school with my psychiatrist when we first met him.

    When I met Rhoda I actually respected her- she wore silly glasses, had way too many books, one of her sons was gay if I remember correctly, she would do the bottom of the shirt flapping thing in order to cool herself off and only talked to my parents when I was present. But my near muteness persisted, so she recommended me to STAR, services for teens at risk, group intensive therapy. The oldest teen was 15, most were 13. I had just graduated high school and my 18th birthday was about to come up. I was able to get the planB pill and cigarettes for the 15 year old girl, though. We got swedish fish and chip bags which we would fight over who got the best flavors, water bottles which were great for turning into a squirt gun, and we would occasionally lock the therapists out of the room after break. At the end of the summer I had to move over to women's group, primarily composed of middle aged women. The most freedom I'd ever gotten from my parents' house was a week at summer camp. Also you don't get swedish fish in grown-up therapy.

    So I immersed myself in finding the types of jobs available to recent HS grads with no skills- delivering chinese food 15-20 hours weekly and stocking the shelves of the local grocery store at nights full time. I also found an age appropriate fuckbuddy from some internet dating site. I was ready to quit therapy, I just didn't want to do it anymore. My life also had significantly fewer stressors now. So many times I remember waking up at 9pm to go to work at the grocery store and my parents trying to feed me spaghetti. Seeing my parents for those precious 15 minutes was about the only time I had to see them. The chinese people I delivered for hardly spoke english and the night stock crew was comprised of burly beer-bellied guys who maybe had their GEDs. I remember being trained by one of them, wearing a muscle shirt when he really shouldn't have been and him saying, "Well, if you go down the row like this it's gonna take you a little longer but it's faster." Another one of these stellar citizens once won a teddybear dressed as a cheerleader from the claw machine and immediately lifted its skirt to see if it was wearing panties. I was essentially alone all year, but saving my money for a trip to Germany in the spring. I learned how to chain-smoke, only eat a bowl of cereal every day with chinese food once or twice a week, so I lost weight. The short choppy Girl, Interrupted inspired hairstyle I had done to myself in high school was finally growing out.

    I felt truly attractive for the first time in my life and I was headed to Germany for 6 weeks completely alone, with my first 2 nights booked at a hostel, an unlimited type train ticket, some tourist books and the emergency credit card my parents made me apply for. I took German in highschool and was good enough to make up environmentally-friendly excuses for not being able to go to the movies with my friends that night. And ask where the bathroom was. If you choose to disregard the fact that my only experience with a subway system was one ride in WashingtonDC on a college-scouting trip with my ex-boyfriend's family then getting off the plane at 5am Deutschlandzeit and finding my hostel was easy. If you do not, however, then it took me 2/3 of the trip to learn how to navigate a subway system. I was embarrassed about being a tourist and occasionally carrying one of those huge packs so I would just hop on the first train I saw and ride the subway system for a couple of hours before figuring out how to get where I wanted to go. I wanted to do exciting things and make cool European friends, which I kind of did, but mostly I just played my newfound pretty-girl game and fucked a lot. My diet consisted of espresso, cigarettes and beer with drunk munchies as my meal of the day. Lost even more weight.

    When I returned home I got my college acceptance letters and chose NYU. Me and my parents would be in debt for atleast a decade, but, hey, who cares?

    Ughhh, losing motivation. Had a passionate and tumultuous relationship with an ex-junkie while working at the grocery store that summer, went to new york for school, got realllly into pot and proust, basically moved into a boy's dormroom who I had nothing in common with except being depressed and partying, tried a lot of drugs, failed or got an incomplete in all my classes except math, lied ridiculously to my parents about my grades, still lived in boy's dormroom while mutually detesting/fearing rejection from each other, started failing all of my classes even earlier in the second semester, spring came and dormboy and I fell in love on bicycles, confronted parents about being kicked out of college on move out day after I had made them wait in the dorm lobby for 3 hours because I was in boy's room and my phone died resulting in: crying, screaming, and toppled over dorm-furniture and a dead goldfish from too many tears and a 7 hour carride. Moved to western massachusetts with boy for a month, traveled together for a couple weeks, returned home, worked and saved money, moved back to NYC in the fall, got apartment and restaurant job, learned how to become an alcoholic, cheated on boy with mutual friend and resumed hating him but kept it secret for 6 months, boy breaks leg and goes to midwest for surgery, comes back to move in with me, still on crutches but now in NYC, reads my journal a couple hours after arriving in NYC, we scream/cry/get plastered/fuck for 1 week, dormboy goes midwest, I increase alcoholism now that I'm 21, fuck my coworker/closest friend's newest romantic pursuit while we're all doing coke at his apt, she quits job, quit drinking for a month, resume drinking, been at same restaurant a year now, meet bdsmboy, he moves in with me after a month b/c he got kicked out of apt, date/resent/live with until february, a couple cheats in there, get slutty period again, try dating not just fucking, doesn't work, hate life and cry at restaurant often, faux-quit, get taken to yankees game by boss, real-quit, stay in bed and watch inane tv shows, chainsmoke and get drunk for a couple of weeks, go broke, call parents and admit broke and unemployed and go home sameday to remind myself why I need motivation to get a job so i dont have to live with parents, return nyc, party with missed friends, look half-assedly for a job, chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide join SF chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke chainsmoke chainsmoke suicide chainsmoke chainsmoke write
  2. Mikeintx

    Mikeintx Well-Known Member

    You forgot the toiletburger story... but seriously, sorry youve had such a difficult past with mental health issues. Have you had any luck with medication?
  3. Mr Stewart

    Mr Stewart Well-Known Member

    welcome to SF.
  4. toiletburger

    toiletburger Member

    I know, I need to post it somewhere so I don't have to do a dramatic retelling so often. Thanks.
    I dunno, I was on celexa 60mg and trazadone for sleeping for a year or so, but I don't know if it helped at all or not. There were so many other factors to consider, I mean how can you ever tell when meds work?
  5. total eclipse

    total eclipse SF Friend Staff Alumni

    when you are able to stay clean and off other drugs and the alcohol then the meds will work it will take time to find right combination though
  6. toiletburger

    toiletburger Member

    Luckily I don't really do drugs any more, but I really don't want to stop drinking alcohol, I just need to learn to be more moderate with my consumption. Once I get a job settled and start having extra money again then I can find treatmen. Ugh.
  7. TheLoneWolf

    TheLoneWolf Well-Known Member

    Hello and welcome. Let me just say that you are a very talented writer - it's kind of esoteric and all over the place, but there's a certain brilliance to it nonetheless.

    Sounds like you've been through hell and bought a time share there. Probably fell for the same spiel that I did - "sure it's hot, but it's a dry heat". I can't say I share all the same experiences that you do, nor can I boast to be able to express myself in such a poetic manner, but I can say that I identify with your pain, thought processes, and at least some of your experiences. You really ought to write for a living though, seriously. Every time I think I have talent, I read something like this and realize that I am nothing. I'll be keeping my day job until further notice.
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