Sunday, December 28, 2008

Dear Diary,

I don't know when it started, why or how, but I have to be honest and let this out. I'm unhappy. More than that, I'm bitter and angry, deep, deep down inside.

The truth is, no, I'm not happy you're having a baby. And, no, I'm not happy you're getting married. I want to be. I really want to be happy for you. But I'm not. I'm not happy that you're happy and that's just one sign to me that something's wrong. I'm sick of you posting your pictures of you and your husband, of your ridiculously cute ultrasounds. Baby pictures.

It reminds me that I'm completely alone. Really. I have no family other than the friends that I choose, that I really can't be all that honest with all the time. Because I can't talk. Things only make sense when I write. And even then, they don't make much sense. Truth is, I'm incredibly insecure and have to fight hating myself every day. When I'm actually ok with myself, life just is. The only thing that keeps me going is people. People make me smile, they make me feel connected. But still, when there are too many people I get overwhelmed. I need to have one person at a time to talk to. Talking, itself is hard. I can't really connect with anybody... I'm too paranoid. I don't understand or feel comfortable around typically social things like bowling, dancing, camping, fishing, sports. Even being around them or attempting them makes me feel stupid, humiliated, vulnerable, awkward, and disconnected. I'd rather not be anywhere near them at all.

I don't know where I fell off the tracks. It was a small thing, I'm sure, but I'm not in tune. I feel hopeless and helpless. I can't focus. All I want to do is sleep, play piano, or write. That's all I have done. Sometimes I eat, too. Not always. I try to ignore the hunger sometimes because I just don't want to eat. Sometimes I remember the Philippines and cry. Things made so much more sense when I was there; it was so easy to connect to God when I was in a state of complete surrender from the get-go. But I'm not surrendering now. I don't want to. I want to not spend the rest of my life alone. I want to have a family of my own. Even on the good days it aches in my head to the point that I am incapable of considering anything else. The only thing that makes it better is music. I feel extremely vulnerable to any distraction satan would want to put in my way. It's already begun. I don't think I can fight it. I have been so far, mostly. But most of me doesn't want to fight it anymore. Most of me just wants to make things right my way, on my time. I want to get it over with. I want to start my life. I'm tired of waiting. I hate where I am. I'm tired of borrowing other people's families for Christmas and Thanksgiving. I realize that many of my friends have struggled with this far longer than I have. I want to sympathize with them. But I don't care. All that consumes me is my own ill. I want the commiseration to dull the ache, to know that I'm not in this alone. But it doesn't help. Because I am. I am very much so.

I'm writing this all with tears in my eyes. I spend a good deal at home crying when I'm by myself. Debbie once told me "Crying isn't real faith. Don't cry over it. Have faith." She was talking about my relationship with my family then, when she was still alive. Her words have stuck with me. They come back every time I break down again. I understand those words, and I accept the truth in them. But I don't have faith. There's nothing I can do to earn or gain that faith. All I can comprehend and grasp is the overwhelming internal anguish that circles around my head, cutting me to the bone.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."
Proverbs 13:12

I ache for the second part of that verse to come to pass, and the irony that my name is "tree" like stings me to the core.

"Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy. Even in laughter the heart may ache, and joy may end in grief. A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones."
Proverbs 14:10, 13, 30

"From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death; I have suffered your terrors and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me; your terrors have destroyed me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend."
Psalm 88:15-18

I've struggled with depression since I was a small child. Of course I didn't know what it was, or that what I was doing wasn't normal. Nothing about my upbringing was normal. It's also incredibly ironic that I can think the most clearly when it is darkest outside.

"My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof."
Psalm 102:4,7

Perhaps this post is long and gloomy enough. I don't want a lot of people trying to cheer me up, because words don't work. They only make me feel awkward and not know what to say back. I know people care about me, I guess. I don't want sympathy, just understanding. I've had my fill of sympathy, of varying degrees of sincerity, and it never makes anything better.

I just need a tiny miracle, is all. Or maybe some medication.