Damn these anxieties

I think too much. Way too much. Without even thinking sometimes. If that's even possible. For instance, let me take you through the hellhole that is my mind.

I wake up in the middle of the night and don't feel good. Okay. Manage to calm myself down by just getting out of bed and recognizing my surroundings. I know this feeling, sort of--a lot of eminates from lack of exercise and too much reading before bed. Whoops. It leads to this whole sort of "I'm tired, but not quite tired, and I don't want to sleep, but I have nothing better to do." Thing. For me, it's not good when sleep becomes boring--I like to look forward to my dreams and such.

Anyway, and then I don't quite feel great because of the enchiladas I had earlier with onions. Whoops--those don't sit too well anymore. So then my hearts been doing this pitter patter thing that's been frustrating the hell out of me--always makes me feel like I'm half about ready to pass out when I know I'm not. But this whole combination of things triggers a memory of spring break,w aking up in the middle of the night, feeling like shit, going to mommy's room and then getting sick.

Okay, fine, so lets go to mommy's room and tell her I need help calming down. WEll that leads to "What happened?" And then "You're going to have to learn how to do this on your own, you know?" Which leads to:

Holy shit I'm leaving for Ireland in less than five days.
What if I have an anxiety attack alone in the airport?
What if I get sick on the plane from anxieties (not from airsickness, no, f-ing anxieties).
What if I have a panic attack in Ireland?
I won't have mommy there to calm me down
Oh god, I feel sick. Let me drinks ome gingerale.
I should go wake mommy up and tell her these things.
But she's asleep and I don't want to wake her.
But she should know.
Maybe I should write these things down.
I'm afraid to go to sleep. I don't quite know why.
But I do...I don't want to wake up sick.
God I hate throwing up.
I really need to get past that.
I think it's more the feeling before the thrwoing up, that wave of sickness and uncontrol and it feels like a seperation of body and mind and surreal ness.
How am I going to survive all of this.
Typing this doesn't help!
Ack. akdsjg;laksjdgkjasdgklj. Damn my mind. It's worse at night when I have this feeling of lonliness...
...and indigestion.
I can make it go away for a little bit, but then I have to open my mind and think again.

Why do I have to think? Can I please just turn those controls off in my mind.

Rawr. How am I going to survive in a foreign country for four weeks!?

Help me.

I think I'm going to go wake up mommy.

One Step at a Time...

I'm not sure where exactly I messed up, or how I can go about fixing it. But at least I'm starting to realize that I've got a lot of misconceptions when it comes to life, and specifically men in this case. I've always wanted a fairy tale romance, in a sense. And by that I mean a guy who asks me out, not the other way around, a good (ie. not awkard, but fun) first date, a first kiss with a guy that I'm actually interested in, having it be a special-ish first kiss (ie. cute or in the moment or something), and a good relationship with a guy that is really for me and I'm for him and then we get married and have lots of babies (and by lots I mean like, two. Maybe three. We'll see).

And yet, at the same time, I've always known that I wasn't going to have that story-book fairy tale romance anyway. But a very deep part of me still hangs on to that dream and refuses to let it go. Which is fine...as long as I don't let it control my actions in life the way that I have.

See, what happens is that I will always skew things and percieve them in a way that isn't ideal for me. It's me trying to be realistic to protect myself from getting hurt, but I think in the end it really just hurts me more. For instance, there's a guy here who I consider to be one of my best-guy friends and closest friends on campus. I thought that was a mutal understanding, but I don't want to make any assumptions. He was always the type of guy that I could go to with my problems and talk to about men and how much they suck. He would give hugs (they solve many problems, his hugs) on a random basis and I'd have a couple a week, if not a day. He also came to me with his problems just to talk them over. We had a very cutesy relationship...boarderline, if not actually, flirtatious. Flirtatious without direction, of course, which is something that I've always understood. During one of our major conversations back around Thanksgiving I learned that, even though I may have feelings for him that might go beyond friendship, I was never going to be the girl that he would fall for or chase after. And I was--and am--fine with that.

I am not fine, however, with the fact that our friendship status has been reduced. No longer do I get hugs, but high fives. I can get a hug if I need one, but I have to ask for it. We don't joke or play-flirt anymore. We barely talk. And I blame both of us.

Firstly, I blame myself for being a psycho-bitch pain in the ass. I get it in my head that someone is going to find out on their own why something is bothering me and they will fix it themselves. Wrong. Either people don't know that something is wrong...because I'm apparently good at hiding it without intending to...or they just kind of tiptoe around my emotions and hope everything gets better. Which just sinks me into a deeper pit of anger and I start to withdrawl and hope for them to come crawling back to me. Yeah, it's a problem. It's really, really a problem. Especially when I'm dealing with someone like this right now, but at least I know that I have this issue and I'm working on it. So bascially, I kind of pulled away attention from him. Mostly this was due to part two, which is where I lay some of the blame on him, but not an excessive amount because I know he didn't do this with a malicious intent or probably even realize he was hurting me.

What happened is this...he and his girlfriend broke up over a month ago. I guess that's about when we started to get distant. What wound up happening was he wents to go visit a female friend at another school. When he came back, he spent a couple of hours talking with my other friend about how his weekend went instead of me. And that's where it started. This rage and jealousy and hatred. Because she always gets the guys over me. And she always seems smug about it too...because life is a competition for her. And I'm so damned tired of it.

Anyway, so he knew her because she had been in this thing with his roommate and the two of us were looking out for her together, which is how we became close in the firstplace (his roommates nickname is duechebag, with reason, so...yeah). But that day, he started to get closer to her. And now he's all cuddly with her and they're on the couch together ever night snuggled up and I'm the one that was the good friend that now just gets the high fives. Seriously, what the hell.

I'm thinking maybe there was something I did. Maybe just my general sulkiness and glaring and avoiding and...yeah. I talked to him on Friday, but I feel like that conversation didn't have everything that I wanted to say. But now basically it just comes down to this. I miss him, and I'm tired of this strained friendship. I want to work to go back to where we were. I'm not trying to be with him in a relationship, or get anything from him except what we used to have: hugs, occasional cuddles, heart-to-heart conversations and an overall carefree, playful relationship. Please...let me just have that. I will work for it, and be conscious of me doing stupid things like I've done in the past.

I'm learning, I swear to God, I'm learning. Can I catch a little break, please?

Thanks.

Hey...don't write yourself out yet....

...It's only in your head you feel left out,
Or looked down on.
Just try your best,
Try everything you can.
And don't you worry what they tell themselves
When you're away.

It just takes some time,
little girl, you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything, everything will be just fine,
Everything, everything will be alright.

Hey,
You know they're all the same.
You know you're doing better on your own,
So don't buy in.
Live right now.
Yeah, just be yourself.
It doesn't matter if it's good enough
For someone else.

Hey, don't write yourself off yet.
It's only in your head you feel left out,
Or looked down on.
Just do your best,
Do everything you can.
And don't you worry what their bitter hearts
Are gonna say.


So I'm a little disappointed that I didn't find this song a little earlier in the week...I could have used it. But it's okay, everything is finally beginning to look up. I got the hell out of my room, which was necessary, and I'm very content where I am right now. It looks like things will actually be GOOD here, and I'm not that far away from my old room (barely even across the courtyard). Except I got in a fight with my mom today over the refrigerator.

I'm very tired right now, it's been a long day, and therefore my writing is not of any sort of "stellar" quality. But I feel like this is a good environment. For once, I just want to kick back, relax and write. I don't feel like I'm being judged, and it's fantastic.

And tomorrow, I get to see Phantom of the Opera! Even though it's going to snow like crazy....

If I Ever Leave This World Alive...

...I'll thank for all the things you did in my life
Wherever I am you'll always be
More than just a memory

My thoughts are almost like word vomit right now. There is nothing coherent to them, they string together in ways that make sense to me, but not to anyone else. There's just so much going on that it's hard to even know where to start. But here's a simple way--it doesn't feel like it's a Friday.

My friend just said that to me, and I feel like I havent heard a truer statement this week.

I've only been back at school since last Saturday, which wasn't even a week ago yet, and already it's been quite possibly the worst week of my life. My last week here before winter break was hell, there was a lot of stuff going on with finals and room issues and the one night I got three hours of sleep. I had never, ever, operated on three hours of sleep before. Let alone get three hours of sleep and then go and take a final. That was fantastic.

I thought things would be okay when I got back here. I thought I could learn how to deal. But I learned that I couldnt, and that there was also no need for me to have to. Here's the main issue--my roomate likes to sleep with it at 73 degrees in the room. She freezes her ass of at 70 degrees, and we were going to sign a roomate contract to make it a range of 71-74 for sleeping. My issue on that was this...70 was already a compromise for me. At home, our house is set to 68 during the day and 63 at night and it feels fantastic. I get to cuddle up under my thermal sheets with some fuzzy socks and pajamas. I sleep with the fan on so that air is blowing over me, and sometimes I get a little chilly (my nose, specifically) but I love it that way.

At the end of last semester, I brought this issue up with my roomate (note: both my roomate and I are only children...this may or may not mean anything to you in how you judge it). She basically told me that I was crazy for being as hot as I was, I was the one with the issue, it was *not* hot in the room, and essentially that I had to learn how to deal. After that, I went to my RA to ask her for advice/to mediate between us, because I did not feel comfortable doing it with just my roomate. I told her that nothing could be accomplished until after break, however, since there was only one day left.

Over break, I started having troubles sleeping. My mind would, when I lay down to try and sleep, think about what life was going to be like when I got back to the dorm. Was I going to be able to deal with the heat? Could I survive? What was this meeting going to look like? How was everyone going to react?

When I got back to school, I talked to my RA. That first night, even though I had control of the room temperature because my roomate was not arriving until the next day, I could not sleep. I was too anxious. When my roomate got back, my RA pulled her aside to ask her some questions before we had our meeting. Upon returning to the room, my roomate (who had stormed in) sat down in a huff and asked me "how do you want to change the room? Lets just talk about it now, we don't need to get [our RA] involved."

Let me explain that bit. One of my possible solutions was that we could rearrange the room. At that point, either I could be moved away from the heater, or she could be moved away from the window, which lets in a nice draft. She absolutely positively did not want to move the room. She was mad at me becasue I went to my RA first, instead of her. But the thing was, I had gone to her and she shot me down. Hard. So we talked about the room, and I mentioned that it was a heating thing, first of all, and she got annoyed and said, "whatever" and that we could deal with it. I also said it would give us both more space, dividing the room short ways instead of long ways, so we both had a more definitive area. That way her stuff would stay on her side and she'd have a lot more room for all of her junk. She proceeded to tell me that none of her stuff was ever touching my side--but of course, our room still looks like a mess. Granted, this was not one of my major issues, and she took it to be.

Perhaps two nights later, I went to fall asleep at midnight, but instead, shit hit the fan. My roomate and I got into a nice fight. It involved her telling me that she has sacrificed enough for me, and she is done. She can't sleep with the room that cold (70 degrees) because she wakes up in the middle of the night shivering. In her words, she sleeps with two layers of socks, leggins, sweats, a sweatshirt and five blankets (I think it's really more like three). She cannot do any more, and she is getting sick from the cold (70 degrees). Meanwhile, I switched how I lay on my bed, so that my head is not next to the heater, but instead, is directly underneath of the fan. I am in a camisole and short shorts, under one sheet, a comforter and sometimes a blanket that I can flip on and off depending on my body temperature. (She told me "I think you need to sleep with less sheets." At that point I had responded, "I already am, and right now, I'm not under any.") Sleeping directly under the fan is cool, but uncomfortable, and it dries out my throat and ear if I dont sleep with the humidifier pointed into the fan so that the air around me becomes moist.

The conversation continued to devolve. She told me that I was a failure at being an adult because I want to switch rooms, because I cannot deal with the temperature, because I went to my RA and complained about ever little thing (all of two instances, the heat and the nair. Different story). She told me that I needed to learn how to deal with my anxieties, that I cannot let every little thing worry me. (No shit, Sherlock, it's my life, I know I have anxieties, I know I need to learn how to deal with them. Don't preach to me about my anxieties). And of course, she understand them. The anxieities that is. Because she used to have them too. when I asked her how she dealt with them (and no, they were not about the heat, they were from highschool and instead about her grades) I never really got a straight answer.

Proceeding from there, she told me that she has sacrificed enough for me and wasn't going to sacrifice any more unless it affected my health. She stopped using nair (which she had bought a lot of and it's really expensive and she stopped using it and wasted all that money for my benefit) in the room for me at the beginning of the year. On this, I may have been wrong. Personally, I did not like the smell of the chemicals in the air, or the fact that they were seeping onto the rug in the dorm, a nice, confined space with chemicals. Good freaking plan. Doing it in the bathroom was out of the question for her too. Also, she drove in the point several times that she was a good roomate. She has done a lot for me. She cleaned up her room, which she told me she didnt' have to, but she did it anyway so I had one less thing to complain about when it came to her (of course, that didn't have anything to do with the fact that her mother was there two, three days earlier and told her how much of a mess it was and that she needed to clean her room? No, that had nothing to do with it at all. [Don't worry, I do take some claim to this, I did mention that she is a mess, so she would clean up for me for that]). Also, when she goes out at night (drinking, wednesday through saturday night. Because that's being an adult? Getting drunk four out of seven nights a week?) she comes back and doesnt make any noise, and goes to sleep with her contacts in, which she's not supposed to do, and wears her makeup, which she's not supposed to do and just crawls straight into bed so she doesnt bother me. Also, in the morning, she didn't use much light in order to get ready when I was still sleeping. She doesn't bring friends back to the room even though they ask because she's afraid I might be working and doesnt want to bother me. None of this I ever asked her to do. None of it was anything she had to sacrifice on my behalf. Yes, it is common courtsey, and I appreciate that she's done all that, but I don't think that that's necessarily a point that she can use seeing as the argument is that I've forced her to sacrifice a lot for me. Also, she says that I have done nothing for her.

Right. Sleeping in a cami, short shorts and under a fan in the dead of winter so she doesn't freeze to death while I'm overheating isn't doing anything.

Also, I hate her hair spray. She spends two hours getting ready to go out on nights she goes out, and puts in extentions. The smell of the hair spray makes me nauseous. But when she leaves, I just open the window. I hate when she stays up late (which she says she doesnt do it all the time, but she really does do it a bunch) and I'm trying to sleep. Our rooms are set up shittily in the sense of light hitting us when we sleep. Another reason why I want to change the room, but she flat out says no. Also, she's alseep in the mornings on weekends, so I leave the room until she wakes up. Usually I'm up at 9 or 10 and she's not up until 11 or 12. I go in and out as I'm getting ready, but I really do try and be quiet. Just like she did with me. But of course, I've done nothing for her.

And all of this is giving me the worst anxieties of my life. Three times I have called home crying. Once at midnight, once at 1Am and then a third time last night. Each night all I want to do is go the hell home and get out of this place. Which sucks because I love it here during the day. I love my classes, I love my friends, I enjoy my roomate when we're not pissed over the heating issue. I broke down crying twice to my mom last semester--once over the fact that I couldn't figure out how to find a way home (and that was my first time trying to get home for a three day weekend while being a first semester freshman) and the second time because my glasses broke. Three times, less than seven days, and none of those times did I just "want to go home" just "because" like I do now. (The trip home that I couldn't find transportation to was expected in advance, except the transport wasn't planned).

My anxieties are nearly making me sick. I broke down to my other RA last night in his room, completely and fully to the point where I nearly threw up...my entire body was shaking, and I actually wouldn't have been surprised if I had passed out instead. This was all after the meeting that my roomate and I had with my RA, where we tried to come up with a "compromise." The only issue is that there is no compromise. 70 was my compromise. 72 is pushing it, 73 nearly killed me and God, I can't imagine sleeping at 74! (During the summer, if these are the temps, it's also outside air, which I can deal with because it's fresh. So yes, I do manage to survive then, but that's also when it's less of a temperature difference than from freezing outside to hot inside).

My roomate thinks that she has the correct body temperature because she can go to classrooms and be dying of heat, and come to our room and be cold. She's a little overweight too, so she said that she should really be warmer. She doesn't understand why I'm hot, and "everyone" says that it's freezing in our room all the time. I don't know who everyone is, because anyone I talk to says that it's warm. I hate that she makes it seem like there's something *wrong* with me because I'm hot. What the hell is that shit, anyway?

So last night was that meeting that I broke down afterwords. During the meeting, she mentioned that she felt targeted. Also, earlier, she had said she felt like I was always trying to control her and the room. I know I have control issues, but I would never try and change anybody. That's why I'm freaking sleeping the way I am. She also said that she can't do any more to warm up. Which is bullshit because, what, do you think I can do more to cool down? Last night I tried sleeping with a wet towel around my neck, but that didn't help too much, and the fan was just pushing warm air on me. I wound up sleeping on my floor next to the refridgerator. At some point in the night, my body had let me cool down so I managed to get up and crawl into bed, which I only really vaguely remember doing. I know that anxieties are part of why the heat affects me so bad when I go to fall asleep, but I can't help them. More s pecifically, I can, but just not while living in a dorm, trying to get sleep so I can function for classes, do my homework and not let my grades slip.

Today I went to my RA to let her know that it's affecting my mental health. I have never cried in one week as much as I have cried now. My mom is legitimately worried about me. She talked to the RD. I'm moving out of the room, which I had been planning on doing. But they won't let me move down the hall to the room with one girl in it who I know I could live with and we would match almost scary perfectly. So now I'm either moving upstairs (which I doubt), to the building across the courtyard or out of the complex entirely. My RA think's I'd be moving across the courtyard, but that only adds more worries for me, because what if things are worse with the girl I'd live with there, and we actually have personal issues instead of the fact that the temperature of the room is making us both sick in two completely different ways?

I just want to enjoy it here again. I want to stop worrying. I want to be able to sleep at night without having to jump through all these hoops. I just want to stop feeling sick to my stomach. I want to stop wanting to cry all the time.

This blog was originally meant to be a rant about men, and life in general, not this specific issue. From now on, it will deal a lot with men and drama revolving around men and so fourth and so on. But for now, I had to get this down. I had to rant. Because I'm so afraid of what's happening to me, the person that I'm becoming with these anxieties. I know everything is making me sound bitchy, and complaining to my RA this much is making me sound bitchy. What sucks worse is that I'm applying to be an RA. My interview is with the RD in this building, who is also dealing with all of my issues. I hope this doesn't jeapordize my chances. I want it so bad for so many reasons. I'd get to help people, I'd have a job, I'd be a leader, I'd have free room and board and my own room!

Anyway, it's time I sign out of this blog...it took me over an hour to write, and is much longer than I originally anticipated it to be. I hope if you're reading this, you'll come back for more, because I'm hoping to be a lot more insightful, witty, whatever, later on. I am a novice writer, so I'm hoping that my style carries through to my blogs.

My next topic will likely be about men and friendships, or my relationships with men and how I've never actually had one. So, until next time. See you then.