Scared of myself

The past four days have been, as a whole, pretty great. There haven’t been any major meltdowns, and I feel like I have some control on my life at the moment.

But I’m scared of feeling the way I did last week. I’m scared that this happiness won’t last.

Since Friday, I have been putting extra effort into reminding myself that change does not happen overnight, and that the best plan is for me to take everything one step at a time. I often make myself focus on the people I know who care about me, and I let the mantra “You are enough” intermingle with my thoughts. I allow myself to look forward to certain events that will happen as encouragement to push through the rough moments.

But I’m scared of how much effort it sometimes takes to be happy.

Even on the good days, the ones that let me pass through without paying the toll price of tears, I am scared. I fear that at any moment the shadows will catch up to me, and the sadness will demand to be felt.

This past week was a good week. My eyes were dry until Thursday night, which means I had roughly four days where I was strong enough to resist the negativity. Four days of ignoring the self-doubts and loneliness, and of actively focusing on remaining calm and positive. And I’m proud of those days…honestly. I just wish I could’ve made the tear-free streak last longer.

Not knowing when the next storm will come is frustrating, but my least favorite part of all this is being able to know- even while in the midst of a meltdown- how illogical my thoughts are. Last night (I guess it was this morning since it was 4:30am), I cried for almost an hour. I was in one of my favorite places, yet I couldn’t shake off the unhappy feelings. So there I was, lying beside one of my favorite people in the world, after a fun day of horse-back riding and other randomly enjoyable activities, and I had tears silently dripping into my hair and the pillow beneath it.

What sparked those tears was a thought so pathetic I am embarrassed to even admit it (but will do so for the sake of personal integrity): I was disgusted with myself for being too heavy to rest on my boyfriend without crushing him….

Wow.

That sounds even worse typed out than it did in my head.

But anyway, from there, that thought grew into the fear that I had ruined my relationship by gaining weight and that my boyfriend no longer thought I was attractive (Yes, I know. This is EXTREMELY superficial, and makes NO SENSE because he has NEVER once said a single negative thing about my body. I promise. He’s great. See my post about him.). From there it snowballed into all the other parts of my life that I worry I am currently failing at: running, school, friendships. Each new turn of thought elicited a barrage of hateful words directed back at myself. I cried because the only one to blame for my unhappiness is me. I cried because my dramatic emotions and neediness cause others to suffer. I cried for the future that I messed up by the actions of my past and present. And for the finale, I cried because I was crying without being grateful for all that I DO have.

I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to feel like myself again, but I know that I want to. I want to feel strong and capable again, and most of all, I want to feel happy. I’m scared of myself right now, yes, but there is a benefit to fighting the person in the mirror: I know her biggest weaknesses.

If I could, I would

I don’t want to be here anymore.

Not “here” as in the universe- don’t worry, I love life too much for that.

My “here” is this school. More specifically, “here” is this bubble of sadness and loneliness that I feel while at this school.

It’s not the institution’s fault, and I recognize that perhaps this bubble is of my own creation. Whether it is or not, though, I want to leave.

I’m tired of spending day after day pretending everything is alright. Pretending that the girls on my team I thought were my friends don’t actually exclude me. Pretending that I’m comfortable in my skin and that I’m okay with being very seldom asked to hang out (it happens about once a month- twice if people are feeling particularly generous).

If I could afford to, I would leave now. Have my parents drive down, pack my bags, and move out without saying goodbye.

If I could, I would commute back and forth to my classes (I really do enjoy the ones I’m taking, now that I dropped O Chem). I would be on campus the required amount of time then go home to a place I felt loved each night.

If I could, I would transfer to the school where Mitchell is because I love the campus, the atmosphere, and I’ve met more people who seem willing to talk to me there during the few times I’ve visited than I have during the past 3 semesters here.

If I could, I would go back in time and form new friendships with people who might actually still want me around. At this point, a lot of people have solidified their groups, so it’s difficult to join a new friend group. (Maybe this is an excuse. If I could, I would be more brave.)

If I could, I would channel my sadness and anxiety into fuel to do better. To run faster, to study harder, and to prove to others that they were wrong to ever underestimate me. But I’ve tried, and each time I work to turn my feelings into fuel, I’m left crying on the side of the road (often literally, since I’ll run wherever).

If I could, I would transfer to the school of my best friend, Emma. I don’t really know how that would work, but if I could, I would.

There are many things I would do if I could, but the truth of the matter is that I just can’t right now. There are variables I can aim to change, such as my perspective, and I can try to summon up the energy to go out more and maybe meet new people. But right now, everything seems exhausting.

If I could, I would sleep for a day because it would be one less day to feel the way I do now.

“Choose people who choose you.”

The notion seems simple – of course I would surround myself with people who want me! But what about when those people don’t exist? Or rather, when those people aren’t able to be around due to physical distance and/or other obligations?

Loneliness has been one of my closest companions since coming to college. I am in my second year at this university, yet I have no one on campus I feel entirely comfortable calling my best friend. Sure, I have my teammates who I’ve spent countless hours running and traveling to meets with. And I have my current roommates with whom I share a four-bedroom apartment. There are lab partners I’ve met and random people I’ve talked with at campus events, but when I look for someone to turn to, I am left either staring at an abandoned lot or looking back at my reflection.

When I think back to the friendships I’ve had throughout life, it’s difficult for me to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong and the friendship fell apart. I met my first best friend, Dede, when I was four, and we slowly grew apart around the time of third grade because my family had moved away, and playdates were increasingly difficult to schedule. My next best friend, Maisa, lived two houses away from me (when we’re not at college, she still does), and we met in kindergarten. Over the years we remained close until about sophomore year of high school, when she no longer needed to ride the bus, and I quit cheerleading. She had a new group of friends that she spent most of her time with, but we would still occasionally hang out. It always felt natural to tell her everything, but at the heart of it all, we had grown to be two different people, and our lives were no longer entwined.

There have been other people in my life whose friendship expired before I had time to realize there was even an expiration date on it, but I have come to terms with the fact that some people are meant to be in your life only for a moment. Today, my best friends, Mitchell and Emma, are hundreds and thousands of miles away from me, respectively. Mitchell goes to a college that takes three hours by car for me to get to, and Emma attends one that takes three hours by plane. My problem is not that I do not believe myself to be loved. I know that my parents, sister, and best friends care about my existence and happiness, and I know that they would choose to spend time with me if they could.

My problem, as of now at least, is that I struggle to FEEL loved most of the time at college. My school is relatively small, but there are enough people always around that I am seldom entirely alone. In fact, I encounter more people at school on a daily basis than I do while at home. But when I’m sitting on the couch in the house I grew up in, I feel encompassed in love and security, whether I am sitting  by myself or not. In an abstract way, it feels as if I could extend my love outwards from my body, like spokes on a wheel, I would quickly reach someone who was extending their own love back to me. At college however, those same projections feel infinitely long, as if they are continuously searching and meandering for someone to connect with, until they are forced to circle back to me and settle for self-love.

This is not to say that self-love is trivial, for it is anything but. It is perhaps the strongest form of love, and you must love yourself before you can love others. But this empty return of my love feels never-ending. Repeatedly I try to speak to the people around me at school, to inquire about their lives, and listen when they share with me stories of their pasts. I try to exhibit through body language that I am sincerely excited to be spend time with them and to create memories together. I send notes of encouragement when I can, and words of condolence when appropriate. I offer help, and  I offer time.

But it has yet to be enough.

These people I care about show little care back, and after a while, it takes its toll. There is a common phrase that circulates in society about cutting out toxic people in your life. I admire the strength behind that statement, but I also admire that in order to do such a thing, one would have had to accumulated enough people who want to be in their life to begin with. I WANT to “choose people who choose [me]”, yet right now, in all honesty, I would choose people who only chose me temporarily.

I’m not going to give up on trying to make friends here at school, and I recognize that there are lulls in everything in life, including friendships. I know that one day sooner than I think, I will be happy again, and the loneliness that walks with me as closely as my shadow will be more of a memory than a companion. I acknowledge that greater things are yet to come, and that there is truth in the cliche, “everything happens for a reason.” I realize that I cannot control everything in life, especially people, and I see the value in patience. So, for now, I will strive keep my head high, treat people with compassion, and trust the path I follow. I am never alone, and neither are you.