Twenty Eleven

I'm not even sure what to say. It just seems appropriate that on the last day of this horrendous year I blog. It also seems appropriate that my heart is breaking, my head is exploding in pain, my body doesn't want to function and I'm consumed with countless thoughts and fears of negativity imaginable. I just want to get into the fetal position and cry.

I'm so done.

2011 I hate you.

What am I supposed to do right now? Look back on my year and think of the positive? Sure, there were some highlights. January 28th, with my best friend. March 26th, getting those keys to our apartment. May 13th, walking across the stage as they called my name. September 29th, Michael Ryan Gray asked me to be his girlfriend. I went to Utah and spent a week with Jamie and her husband and even saw the Grand Canyon for the first time. Against all odds, I'm still alive. But..

Marisa. Sitting in that doctor's office while Erin was partying it up in Mexico. The abuse going too far. Having to do everything alone. My vulnerability. That kiss. My shame. The disastrous aftermath. My struggle to save what was already lost. My desperation to be everything to someone who stopped seeing me. My final act and last departing gift. The illness taking over me more. Having no one. The night I let you go and had to hold myself together alone. Continually getting sicker and my heart not knowing how to heal. Losing the person I needed the most because my depression was something they didn't want to be around. Surgery. Come into my room for one minute and then disappear. Like I didn't matter. St. Anne threw me away. I don't matter. I get sick again. Always sick. Pain like no one understands. Surgery. This ugly bald spot. I'm so ugly. I'm not good enough. You tell me to choose. I don't talk enough. I'm not open. I don't accept help. I'm defective. I get it. I'm sorry. I try. I always try but...

2012.

I have these ideas in my head. These hopes. These resolutions. But I dare not say them. I don't even want to think them but I've never been one to control my thoughts.

I hope you all have a Happy New Year.

One is the Loneliest...

You know for a kid who spent most days by herself you would think I'd be better at this but it's almost like the older I get that harder it is to be alone. Or perhaps I'm getting weaker. Maybe it's the people I'm surrounding myself with. Maybe I'm taking too many shots to the head. Literally. I just know these winter days, even Arizona winter ones, are extremely dark and cold.

Desmond is a life saver. Really. Seeing him running around right now with his ball just makes things bearable. How I love him so.

I want someone to talk to. I keep going through my phone and coming up empty. I hate not having Erin around to simply just text. I walk into her room like Des does sometimes just to walk in. Actually right now I'm staring at it. I'm sitting at our kitchen table and her room is right in front of me. I can't see inside it because the lights are off but I could describe it perfectly if someone asked me to. Right down to her Cookie Monster pajama pants on the floor next to her hamper. :)

I've somewhat made some progress on my application. Somewhat. Does filling my name out count? Hah. I have gotten two people to agree to write me letters of recommendation. I'll ask my third person on Sunday at church.

I want someone to acknowledge something. I'm still very sick. I'm still really, dying. I haven't got cleared for anything. But I'm doing more with my application than I ever have before. My health is this interesting limitation. However I'm going to stop waiting for people to tell me when I can live and when I can't. As far as I'm concerned, medicine knows nothing. If it did, I wouldn't be here.

My future belongs to me and the one that created me to live it.

Step One.

I feel nauseated. I asked for my first recommendation today. My hands are sweating. I totally don't sweat. I'm waiting to be rejected. I just sent a text to my second contact and told her I needed to meet up with her so I could ask her. I'll ask Cindy when I see her at church. Now as far as my transcripts and application fee go, after I pay rent I'll calculate how much money I have to spend.

I feel sick.

Oh boy.

I really want this.

I'm terrified.

Oh my goodness.

AJC

I've never known anyone like April.

My little sister had left me a couple hours earlier and I was lying on my couch with Desmond with a blanket over my head just crying. I had somewhat recently written my last blog and  my heart felt like it simply didn't exist anymore. The one person I needed in the world had just finished talking to me and I was thoroughly annoyed because the conversation I needed was not going to be had. Not then. I needed to go to the store and I had the intention of walking but I lacked the energy. My plan instead was to stay on that couch. To rot on that couch. To not eat. To not drink. To not move unless Des needed something. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to question everything. I wanted to throw a fit. I was throwing a fit. I was planning on not talking to anyone for days and perhaps weeks. I just held myself tight and Desmond, always knowing when I'm sad, came closer to me and wrestled himself in my arms. I fell asleep crying. I'm so very good at that.

I woke up to someone knocking at my door.

I didn't want to get up, but I did. I got up without my glasses on and when I looked out to see who it was I couldn't tell. So I went back and put my glasses back on and a wave of relief rushed over me when I recognized her face. It makes me laugh that she never calls me to tell me she's coming over. That she never sends me a text. She just shows up like she has some sixth sense. And then she just talks, and talks. And she somehow makes me talk back. Then she drags me out of my apartment. She waters, feeds, and makes sure I get sunlight. I'm April's plant and I'm well taken care of.

April is one of those rare human beings that honestly is too good for this world. Far too good. She provides an abundant amount of joy in my life. Without her I would still be on my couch crying but it's much more than that. Without her my life would be less fulfilling. April is a model of what a young Catholic woman should be. I look at her and I want to be better. She's beautiful and there are not enough words to describe how precious of a gift she is to me and everyone around her. She's a living saint.

My heart is still hurting. My world still very much a mess and my thoughts still too much for me to handle. However my promise to my best friend was kept not because of my own strength, though I know not how today's events would have played out if April would not have come knocking. I only know that she did and every smile, and laugh I have with her isn't faked.

Another day passes.

I love you April.

Walls Up.

I looked into your eyes and I was completely honest with you. Or perhaps I averted eye contact. What words did I use? Weak? Fragile? Delicate? All of the above. My voice quivered, my stomach knotted, muscles tensed, eyes burned with held back tears. It kills me that you want something I'm incapable of giving you. It kills me even more that you don't see how hard I'm trying.

Everyone tells me I'm not alone. I'm convinced no one knows what alone is.

My life isn't my life. This is someone else's.

I'm tired of all of this. My heart is safe nowhere.

I'm going into hiding. Everyone out.

I was going to ask April to come over today but no. I'm just done.

Best Friends...

...and my strange interpretation of it.

I had two separate conversations with my boyfriend, both which frustrated me. I asked him a question which involved my irrationality. His response annoyed me. In the second conversation he made a comment that really got under my skin. His opinion gave me a bad taste in my mouth. I was upset that he didn't understand so much. I could feel my blood pressure rising and I almost wanted to start yelling. Tears began forming in eyes and this certain rage filled me but years and years of practice were able to control it.

I just recently watched an episode of the Wonder Years where Kevin punched his best friend Paul in the middle of class. Why? Because Kevin was upset with Paul because Paul was choosing to go to Prep school for high school and Kevin found out on the last day of junior high. Kevin's reaction was irrational but it was completely out of fear. It was out of emotion. It was out of him not knowing how to react to the fact that his best friend was leaving him and he had no idea how to handle it. He was mad at him. He was hurt and so in turn he wanted to hurt him.  Now I knew exactly how Kevin felt. Of course when someone, anyone, hurts me I don't want to go hurt them back but I understood how much Kevin hurt over his best friend. More so, I understood how much Paul meant to Kevin. The thing is when we're hurt and feel betrayed in any way, even the smallest ways, sometimes we react too quickly. Our emotions get the best of us. Especially people like Kevin Arnold and me who really do nothing else but feel with too much intensity. I would never react the way Kevin did but I have my own way of doing things. Neither which is an appropriate way of handling the situation.

I probably shouldn't ever hold someone to such a high level as I do. I probably shouldn't ever value two words the way I do. Yet I can't help myself. I wish someone could read my heart. I wish someone could have captured the thoughts and simple wishes of a little girl sitting alone in a tree. I don't have a million best friends. I don't even have two. I have one. Which is the way I want it. I refuse to fling those words around. Maybe I'm the one that's wrong. Maybe I take everything too seriously. I just know where you stand and what you mean to me.

I'm sorry for my failings and every area I fall short. I'm sorry for my jealousy and not being able to understand. I'm sorry for ever hurting you.

I love you best friend. Mucho mucho.

Christmas

I have the urge to describe the indescribable. I'm utterly exhausted. My shoulders and neck are aching and are far too tense. My eyes burn from both lack of sleep and probably an infection in my left one. My stomach hurts from far too much food for my body. My right leg is in a tremendous amount of pain and is extremely sore. The rest of my body feels bruised. I won't even get into how my head feels. Oh, and I think I'm catching a cold which is possibly very bad. Yet I feel strangely at peace. In some weird way.

I had a wonderful Christmas. Completely wonderful. I was spoiled completely rotten. In my entire life I have never gotten so many gifts. My family spoiled me. My boyfriend's family spoiled me. My boyfriend spoiled me. Adrianna spoiled me (a teen I sponsored for Confirmation last year). I was just overwhelmed. April bought me a prince, even! Not to forget my early Christmas presents from Erin and her family. It's just all too much. Of course as much as I love my gifts, that's not the reason my Christmas was so amazing. A large part occurred during  Mass. Well actually, before. First, I was shocked at the fact my father was coming to church with us all. Secondly, if you have even the slightest glimpse into my life you know that God and I haven't been on the same page. My heart was just filled with anger, and even after I came out of surgery well, alive, I couldn't let go of it. Even though I desperately wanted to. Yet when I walked into my parish on Christmas Eve and my favorite smell filled my senses my heart caught on fire and I almost fell to my knees. It took so much of me to not just ball my eyes out all through Mass. To not cry out in a mixture of complete joy and reconciliation. Mass was one of the most beautiful masses I've ever experienced and I'm not saying that because of my euphoric state. Father John proclaimed the Gospel from memory with the most passion I have ever heard and said a beautiful homily. My greatest gift is that I am a horrible person yet Christ loves me anyway. He humbled Himself to be born and take on our human flesh only so that He could die for me. My greatest gift is my faith. I'm still in a difficult place. I'm walking down an extremely long road but my line of communication is open again.

Another reason my Christmas was so pleasant had to do with my boyfriend. Well more so his family. In my past two serious relationships I have played the girlfriend role extremely well when it comes to family gatherings. I would go to different houses and smile, shake hands, and talk politely. Answer a few questions about myself if asked and participate in whatever I had to participate in. It was always extremely uncomfortable and awkward. I'm shy and I never felt like I belonged there. I would more or less follow my said boyfriend around hoping he wouldn't leave me to fend for myself. In particular in my last relationship we would go to his dad's house and I would walk in and I seriously felt the temperature in the room drop. Their resentment toward me was obvious, although I never did anything wrong except love their son with all my heart. Regardless, I never felt like a part of anything with any of my boyfriends. I was comfortable with them sure. Now with Michael? Last night I stayed at Michael's house in his sister's room and so I woke up Christmas morning and went downstairs in my pajamas and casually talked to his mother and she gave me a big hug. I hung around the kitchen while Michael's mom and sister made cinnamon rolls and then I went back upstairs to get ready. I ate cinnamon rolls with Michael's mom, sister, brother and grandma. Then we opened gifts. After, I sat  downstairs on the couch and talked to his grandma, and then his mom and sister. All separately. I don't even know what Michael was doing at this point and I didn't care. I didn't need him by my side. After everyone was ready we left to go to Michael's brother Kevin's house. There we did our Secret Santa and ate lunch and just hung out and enjoyed each other's company. I was more with Michael during this time but honestly, I didn't need to be. It isn't of course that I don't want him around. It's the fact that I feel like Michael's family includes me. I'm not some outsider or just some girl he likes. I see Michael's mom, and his grandma, and Michelle, Kevin, Allyson, Amelie, Joyce and Chris as my future family. Michael is the man I'm going to marry and I'm so thankful that his family is kind and loving enough to make feel like I belong. They don't understand how just even hugging me makes me feel. I'm used to nothing and now I have everything. I haven't met all of Michael's family but the family I have met, and the ones I was blessed to spend Christmas with, I am so thankful for.

I need to release so much more than I'm about to. Holding back the tears is taking all my strength. I'm tired of this roller coaster I ride on. I want it to end. I don't know who to blame. Is it really just all me? I'm tired of not feeling good enough. I'm tired of feeling like I matter so much less. I'm tired of feeling overlooked. I'm tired of feeling like dead weight. Like a burden. I'm tired of words being tossed around meaninglessly. It's bull. Sometimes I sit here and I listen to people tell me I deserve better from them and I find myself agreeing. I hate myself for it. But then I think, what are you going to do about it? Make more empty promises? Because I'm not into that and I'm tired of being heart broken. Brain surgery is a bitch and the aftermath is too much. I'm so unstable and no one is being supportive.

...and go.

I want to sleep more. I would probably benefit from it. I kept waking up last night and checking Facebook. It was irritating. When at 8 this morning I finally got what I had been waiting for (sort of) I moved my one pond dog who was sleeping like a rock and took him outside. He just stared at me for a second unhappily and then scampered off to do his business. When he came back inside we tried to go back to bed. Desmond curled up next to me and had no problem. Me? Well I have no such luck.

In my frustration last night, my exhaustion, my mild hysteria-I forgot to take my medication. Someone might as well shoot me in the head now. As though my head already didn't feel like exploding. I'm rather brilliant.

I have to go feed Emmerson and Flounder. Actually I have to go clean Flounder though I'm not sure exactly how to do that correctly. That poor fish. My apartment is a disaster. I haven't been able to clean it. Or really, been alone long enough to. Not really. I need to do laundry. I need to wrap gits. My mom wants me to bake cookies. Desmond just barked at me. I should buy him stairs. He's not going to grow much more. He wants to get off my bed and to be fed too. My head is spinning. I'm not sure but I think I hear Erin yelling at me in my head. Hah.

Steubenville. Application fee. Money to send my transcripts. Three people to write me amazing letters of recommendation. That's pretty much it. Why aren't I friends with more priests?

I hate St. Anne's.

I hate that I'm 22 years old and I have more life experience and heartache than most people will have through an entire lifetime but I'm still a trapped insecure little girl that can't talk to anyone about how she really feels.

I've come so far but really, I'm still in the exact same place.

Quit it.

I'm going to go do a million things now.

Dear I Don't Even Know Who

I'm almost at a point of screaming. I took my bandage off. I'm letting my head breathe. No one is here so I'm not ashamed. Except I still am. I want my best friend. I wish Michael was here to hold me. I told him he shouldn't stay here any more. And he shouldn't. Taking care of me or not, I almost feel like we're playing house and its bothering me. He couldn't stay tonight anyway. He has to take his sister ice skating early in the morning but I feel so alone.

I have an empty message addressed to my best friend on Facebook. I have so much to say but it's just...my heart hurts. I need her. I'm so frustrated that I can't have her hold my hand. That I can't hear her voice. I'm angry she isn't here and I'm even angrier that I feel that way. I'm mad that she'll get home and start school and piano and she'll be here but not be here. I'm being SO selfish but I'm just...ugh.

I don't know how to feel. I hate that tonight at Theology on Tap I started to cry in front of strangers. I hate that I wanted to cry more. I hate that I feel bottled up inside. I hate that I'm so lost. I need answers.

What am I doing? What's going on?

Spending the day with April I felt...content. Normal. Okay. Like we were on the same page. She keeps me talking. She talks to me. But now I'm alone.

God. He used to be in my back pocket.

Now?

I feel sick.

I'm Alive.

I want to say a million things but I haven't yet processed everything. I feel like I'm living in a daze. Maybe I'm still drugged up.

When I saw Erin on skype yesterday I immediately started crying. My heart ached. Seeing her face and hearing her voice was more than I could bear. I thought it was just because I miss her so much. But last night as I was lying in Michael's arms I had a moment where I broke down. Where it hit me and I latched onto him and I felt my insides shake. I didn't think I was ever going to be held by him again. Ever feel his lips on mine. Ever see his face or hear him tell me he loved me. And so seeing Erin yesterday, even just on my computer, was my miracle. My best friend. Watching her walk away from me at the airport... But it doesn't matter. I held on. I don't know how but I did. She's on the other side of the world and I'm at our apartment with my head shaved again, but I'm here. I'm still here.

I'm in shock. I still haven't spoken to God though I know I should. Sometimes I have moments where I think I'm dreaming. But I can't be. I'm alive. I'll die when I'm old. Not now. Not soon. I have too much to do.

I just want to stop time.

I apologize for my blog yesterday. It was nonsense. I'm just very angry. I'm very hurt. I'm lost and confused and I have no idea what to do with all my emotions. The thing is though, what really gets me is not what I'm losing. It isn't the life I won't get to live. Although obviously, that does cause me a great deal of frustration. What really angers me is the people that I have to leave behind. That's what upsets me. They don't deserve this. My best friend deserves to have me forever. Michael deserves to be loved by me until the day he dies and to make me his wife. My sister and brother need their older sister. Desmond needs his mom, not that Erin won't do an amazing job. It's the injustice to them that gets under my skin. I'm not saying that they aren't strong enough to deal with my death. That they wouldn't be okay. But...

Maybe I'm being selfish. I don't know how to let go.

I love you.

Jamie, you said you would be okay because you would have to be. I don't worry about you but I don't know how to tell you goodbye either.

FAOTBICDT

I've had enough. The sadness in me has turned nearly into a complete rage. I want to throw myself on the ground and begin kicking and screaming. I want to shout profanities into my pillow and punch my bed. I want to get into a car and speed angrily down the 60 and blast music until the speakers blow out or I get pulled over. I want to cry with someone who loves me. Someone who somewhat understands the kind of pain I'm going through. Who knows how unfair this is.

Faith. Last time I walked holding God's hand. I didn't doubt Him or question Him. I offered up every ounce of my suffering. But I'm so done. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. I feel jerked around. Why would you do this? And this way? Why would you let me love Michael just so I couldn't have him forever? So he couldn't have me? Why would you take me away from Erin? Why can't my sister have the person who is supposed to protect her from everything? Or my brother who looks up to me so much? Why did you let me find another church that's giving me opportunities if I can't ever have them? What is wrong with you?

I'm not sure if you know this but I haven't had a good life. It hasn't been fulfilling. I'm emotionally damaged because my mom left me when I was in the third grade. Before then I had trouble socializing because I kept moving every damn year. I moved after first grade to AZ in the summer, a month into the school year I moved back to TX, then the following summer the exact same thing happened. I came back to TX again a month into the school year to start third grade and a few days later I woke up to find my mother gone and she had taken my sister. I'm not going to describe what that did to me because it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Beginning when I was 5 my mom began hitting me with wire hangers, and throwing me into closet doors. It was great fun. I somehow deserved every last bit of it even though I can promise you, I was a perfect child. The worst thing I did was I liked to hide in the clothes at department stores. I earned a leash for that one. Regardless, after third grade I was virtually ignored. My dad did his best but he was broken hearted and a drunk. I excelled in everything but nothing matted. My aunt took care of me but she had two kids of her own and too many problems too count. I just spent time in a tree, on the roof or in the streets. No one ever asked me when I was going to be home or probably even noticed when I was gone. I just made sure to tell my dad to take me to baseball practice during the season and that was that. A year later I saw my mom again. My father drove me to AZ to see her. Just a week earlier in the car he had informed me that she had a boyfriend and was pregnant. I remember almost jumping out of the car. Looking at my mom, a woman who hadn't spoken a word to me in over a year, standing next to some cowboy with a baby bump I was disgusted. I looked at the little girl sitting on the couch playing with a doll and my heart broke because I knew she had no idea who I was. I turned around and walked out the door.

After 5th grade I moved to AZ permanently. I was not happy about the move at all. I was miserable about it. I thought I was invisible before to my family? Yeah. I was invisible to the world from 6th-8th grade. My suicide attempt in 7th grade made some noise I suppose. Cutting every damn day. Developing an eating disorder. Yet I strangely manged 4 MVPs, and above a 4.0 GPA. Still not fucking good enough. Freshman year. When I found love? hah. Fuck that too. 16. Brain tumor. Oh? But my parents couldn't handle it so I got shipped away. It was a cover up. I was forced to deal with my pain alone. Always fucking alone. For time sake let's skip a few years. Taylor Swift's Dear John hits home to me more than it should. Though my story has more of a twisted ending. We're even the same age, 19. This guy John picked me up one night, and proceeded to try to rape me. I had a seizure. Yeah. Stress much? He dumped me at a park. The next day he killed himself. 21, brain tumor again. I even died for a little bit. I live but I lose everything. St. Anne fucking screws me over. The throw me away because just all my life indicates I don't matter. Oh, and did I mention my ex boyfriend Jeremy broke up with me because I wouldn't sleep with him? And my other ex Chris abused me? Yeah. Oh and now? I'm fucking dying.

Sure. Other people probably have it worse. I should stop having a pity party. But I'm tired. Don't I deserve to live a happy life? Don't I deserve some good?

I'm so fucking mad. I can't do this. It doesn't make sense.

I'm forgetting how to breathe. I want to color. I want to eat another Christmas colored M&M. I want to clean. I want to listen to music. I want to organize my thoughts. I want to watch the Wonder Years. I want to do something but all I can do is cry. Cry because I'm in so much pain. Cry because I'm alone and wasting precious time. Every minute that fades...

I'm dying.

I wanted to comment on your blog but I couldn't think of anything to say. I can't be brave. I can't be comforting. I can't find the right words to say. A week isn't enough. No amount of time is enough.

I can't describe myself. I just want someone to take my pain away.

I don't want to leave you.

Erin. Marisa. Anthony. Michael. Jamie. April. Katrina.

Desmond. My teens.

What was the point of August 8th?

Have I ran out of miracles? 

One Second Too Late.

I'm not alone. But I am. I have music blaring into my ears and it gives me that tiny adrenaline rush that I need even though it's causing me pain. The migraine I've battled all day was too much for me to handle. I love what's playing on my ipod right now. The sound that's flowing into my eardrums. Phantom of the Opera. Ah. I'm going off subject. Though I'm not blogging about anything in particular. I'm just rambling. I'm in bed. Wanting to sleep but knowing sleep won't come. I've loved with intensity. I've given until I had nothing more to give. I've tried my very best. I've been as good a friend as I could. Yet I'm still not close to being ready. I have more to offer. But it's not my call. I hurt. I want to talk. I can't.