So I said in my first post I would tell you of the guy I am madly in love with (I also told you I would tell you of my sister... but, trust me, it is worth the wait on that one). Here's most of the scoop... I don't want to let everything out at once...
I became best friends with a guy I will refer to as Kent (*this is not his real name and I have changed it only if he finds this blog - which is probably never - but just to cover my ass*) during my sophomore year of high school. We clicked. Nothing else. We just... clicked. The communication between us both was random dialogue here and there, but I told myself I would eventually fall in love and marry him. Well, at least one of those happened...
Kent and I, after a few years of being "just friends," decided to take our relationship to the next level before I left for college. Kent, a year younger than I, was staying in our hometown. I moved 45 minutes away to attend college. The night before I had to leave, Kent kissed me. I have never (ever) felt the way I did when he kissed me that night. I have never since had a guy kiss me like that (though it was just a peck on the lips), and it meant the world to me. We were together after that for 4 1/2 years, until I moved 8 hours away to law school.
Kent has been the only one to ever understand me. By "me," I mean the real me. Nothing was sugar-coated or fake with him. Nothing was hidden. Everything was out in the open. We both had faults. We both didn't care.
However, what we both did differ about was the fact that we were so far apart. That caused most of our fights. Nothing more. Just the fact that we were far apart did us in and kept us apart.... and, unfortunately, still does. I have never felt more depressed than I did when our relationship fell apart (I mentioned in the last post that it was the last time I cut -- before that, it had been about 6 months).
As depressed as I felt, I turned my sights on hoping to find someone here in Jacksonville. This was a failure. I hate to admit failure, but I will completely give in to this one. I thought I had one that was good -- however, 4 months after dating he told me he never really tried in our relationship. His name was Chase (a real name this time... if this were a Taylor Swift song it would not be pretty (p.s. - I hate Taylor Swift, so that was a rare shout-out)).
All I can ever think about is Kent. He not only was my best friend, my companion and my confidant... he also saved my life. That's for a later date though... him saving my life is not the big picture here. The big picture here is that I have always, and will always, be in love with Kent. It just took me an emotional ride and a trillion miles between both of us to realize why.
Moral of the story: "You cannot break free until you let go." However, breaking free isn't always the best option, for you may find in the end you fall instead of break free. I fell.... hard.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
a mandatory option.
I never thought I would resort to something of these sorts. Blogging has never been one of the tools I have considered using to get my point across or to express my opinions and beliefs; however, in this case, I will make an exception.
I decided to use as the title of my blog "Partially Complete." You'll realize why by the time I finish writing this why my name is what it is. For now, I will give you a hint -- my life IS this oxymoron. I live it, breathe it, and cannot change it. I will always and forever be partially complete. Well, now that I have informed you of the premise of this blog, I will continue to tell you as to why I am considering myself to be a product of the main title...
Today, I gave into something that I have never wanted to give into -- seeing someone for my 6-year long bout of depression. It wasn't the easiest task for someone that is labeled a perfectionist, but it had to be done. To bring in another oxymoron that I also relished over titling my blog, it was a mandatory option. There was no other way that things could get better and I could no longer handle everything on my shoulders all at once. I've never been one to admit my faults (and, to me, I don't have many - though you could find some I'm sure). I've also never been one to admit that I have depression openly -- only those that are close and know me well have ever been forced to listen to my tragic tale. But, today it seemed easier to let go of everything I had in order to gain something back I had been missing for awhile -- happiness. Happiness doesn't come easy in my life...
At the age of 12, I learned from my parents that my father had cheated on my mother. This, coupled with the fact that my father was fired from his position at a job he had worked at since the age of 18, threw me into shock. My father was my hero and I looked up to him and respected him dearly. Doing something like he did made me officially lose not only trust in him, but also trust in every other man that has walked into my life up to this date. Learning these two things at such a young age made it hard to cope with being a kid. Life as a kid was over at that point. I have never and will never get my childhood back - that was thrown out the window. I was expected to grow up at a very young age after this.
Not only was I dealing with this, but my family was in the transition stage of moving homes. I dealt with my father cheating on my mother, my father losing his job and pushing our family into the depths of welfare, and then finally moving homes to a new county in which I would now be placed in a school different than the one I previously attended.
My father wasn't the best man after this. He began having more anger tendencies, threatening my mother and throwing things at my sister and me. I have had anything from a remote to a cell phone thrown at my head, and was close to having glass in my foot from my father's destruction of a full stack of 6 dishes from the cupboard. My father would leave the home at the drop of a hat and we would not hear or speak to him for several days. We knew of nothing that would happen during those periods of time. He would return, and my mother would not speak as to why he left. We would all move on with our lives as if nothing happened... or at least until the next episode occurred and it would happen all over again.
There was nothing that could have positioned me for what I had to deal with just 5-6 years later during my senior year of high school.
My senior year I was chosen as captain of my varsity cheerleading squad. I began working out, eating less and losing a severe amount of weight. Picture a cheerleader that is 5'6'' weighing around 110 pounds (with her skirt practically melting off of her body because she cannot hold it up). That was me. Everyone kept telling me how great I looked and, sadly, I believed them. I was anorexic. Eating was not an option for me any longer. I stayed this way until my body could take it, and then realized that something had to happen or I could die. I started eating, but of course nothing like I did before the anorexia. It has been this way every since. Sometimes when dealing with depression I sink back into not eating because I have a "loss of appetite." With this loss of appetite I am always feeling sick, weary and tired from the lack of energy in my body. I have no motivation to finish schoolwork, let alone walk outside my apartment to get my mail. Currently, I have been feeling this way for about a month and a half.
It took me awhile to realize that because of my high anxiety and anorexia I was falling deep into depression. Depression that spurred from my father's verbal abuse, my father's sexual deviances, my father's loss of his job, my mother's pushing of all the pain on my shoulders, my father's walking out on my family, and my family's move from one county to another. This depression only coincided with my anorexia and anxiety. This depression started coinciding with my mind, and eventually led to me cutting myself. Cutting is not something I am proud of, nor is it something I would have ever thought I would do in my life. It was more something to take the pain of everyday stress and anxiety out on myself -- for I feared that I was the one that was causing it, therefore I must be the one to take the fall. I have not cut since March, which is when my 4 1/2 year relationship with a guy I am still madly in love with ended (which, like my story about my sister, I will get to in time). At any rate I plan on trying my hardest to continue on and not cut. It's something that I am going to stay in control of....
Over the years of dealing with depression, I have taken the burden and pain off of my mother and onto my shoulders for most of my life. Carrying someone else's burden is not an easy task. My shoulders and body have grown weary from carrying things of this nature for so long. My mother would blame me for things, such as my sister's deviant behavior (which I will get into with time), but never for things in which I was truly involved. This has continued on for many years, and, unfortunately, still happens today.
I was a straight-A student, on the honor roll each time it came around, and eventually graduated with a 3.7 from both high school and undergrad. I am currently in law school, working toward something I have only dreamed about since I was 10. I cannot afford to let things in life bring me down at this point.
Deserving to be happy is not an option. It's a mandatory option. One that requires the need to see someone and try to maintain my happiness. That's what this blog is for. For those out there like me, who maybe have different stories from mine, but can relate to what I am trying to do. For those who consider themselves partially complete, follow me. Hopefully with my story that I plan on telling you, you can relate and get the help that you need, too.
I decided to use as the title of my blog "Partially Complete." You'll realize why by the time I finish writing this why my name is what it is. For now, I will give you a hint -- my life IS this oxymoron. I live it, breathe it, and cannot change it. I will always and forever be partially complete. Well, now that I have informed you of the premise of this blog, I will continue to tell you as to why I am considering myself to be a product of the main title...
Today, I gave into something that I have never wanted to give into -- seeing someone for my 6-year long bout of depression. It wasn't the easiest task for someone that is labeled a perfectionist, but it had to be done. To bring in another oxymoron that I also relished over titling my blog, it was a mandatory option. There was no other way that things could get better and I could no longer handle everything on my shoulders all at once. I've never been one to admit my faults (and, to me, I don't have many - though you could find some I'm sure). I've also never been one to admit that I have depression openly -- only those that are close and know me well have ever been forced to listen to my tragic tale. But, today it seemed easier to let go of everything I had in order to gain something back I had been missing for awhile -- happiness. Happiness doesn't come easy in my life...
At the age of 12, I learned from my parents that my father had cheated on my mother. This, coupled with the fact that my father was fired from his position at a job he had worked at since the age of 18, threw me into shock. My father was my hero and I looked up to him and respected him dearly. Doing something like he did made me officially lose not only trust in him, but also trust in every other man that has walked into my life up to this date. Learning these two things at such a young age made it hard to cope with being a kid. Life as a kid was over at that point. I have never and will never get my childhood back - that was thrown out the window. I was expected to grow up at a very young age after this.
Not only was I dealing with this, but my family was in the transition stage of moving homes. I dealt with my father cheating on my mother, my father losing his job and pushing our family into the depths of welfare, and then finally moving homes to a new county in which I would now be placed in a school different than the one I previously attended.
My father wasn't the best man after this. He began having more anger tendencies, threatening my mother and throwing things at my sister and me. I have had anything from a remote to a cell phone thrown at my head, and was close to having glass in my foot from my father's destruction of a full stack of 6 dishes from the cupboard. My father would leave the home at the drop of a hat and we would not hear or speak to him for several days. We knew of nothing that would happen during those periods of time. He would return, and my mother would not speak as to why he left. We would all move on with our lives as if nothing happened... or at least until the next episode occurred and it would happen all over again.
There was nothing that could have positioned me for what I had to deal with just 5-6 years later during my senior year of high school.
My senior year I was chosen as captain of my varsity cheerleading squad. I began working out, eating less and losing a severe amount of weight. Picture a cheerleader that is 5'6'' weighing around 110 pounds (with her skirt practically melting off of her body because she cannot hold it up). That was me. Everyone kept telling me how great I looked and, sadly, I believed them. I was anorexic. Eating was not an option for me any longer. I stayed this way until my body could take it, and then realized that something had to happen or I could die. I started eating, but of course nothing like I did before the anorexia. It has been this way every since. Sometimes when dealing with depression I sink back into not eating because I have a "loss of appetite." With this loss of appetite I am always feeling sick, weary and tired from the lack of energy in my body. I have no motivation to finish schoolwork, let alone walk outside my apartment to get my mail. Currently, I have been feeling this way for about a month and a half.
It took me awhile to realize that because of my high anxiety and anorexia I was falling deep into depression. Depression that spurred from my father's verbal abuse, my father's sexual deviances, my father's loss of his job, my mother's pushing of all the pain on my shoulders, my father's walking out on my family, and my family's move from one county to another. This depression only coincided with my anorexia and anxiety. This depression started coinciding with my mind, and eventually led to me cutting myself. Cutting is not something I am proud of, nor is it something I would have ever thought I would do in my life. It was more something to take the pain of everyday stress and anxiety out on myself -- for I feared that I was the one that was causing it, therefore I must be the one to take the fall. I have not cut since March, which is when my 4 1/2 year relationship with a guy I am still madly in love with ended (which, like my story about my sister, I will get to in time). At any rate I plan on trying my hardest to continue on and not cut. It's something that I am going to stay in control of....
Over the years of dealing with depression, I have taken the burden and pain off of my mother and onto my shoulders for most of my life. Carrying someone else's burden is not an easy task. My shoulders and body have grown weary from carrying things of this nature for so long. My mother would blame me for things, such as my sister's deviant behavior (which I will get into with time), but never for things in which I was truly involved. This has continued on for many years, and, unfortunately, still happens today.
I was a straight-A student, on the honor roll each time it came around, and eventually graduated with a 3.7 from both high school and undergrad. I am currently in law school, working toward something I have only dreamed about since I was 10. I cannot afford to let things in life bring me down at this point.
Deserving to be happy is not an option. It's a mandatory option. One that requires the need to see someone and try to maintain my happiness. That's what this blog is for. For those out there like me, who maybe have different stories from mine, but can relate to what I am trying to do. For those who consider themselves partially complete, follow me. Hopefully with my story that I plan on telling you, you can relate and get the help that you need, too.
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