FEELS
25 May 2012 2 Comments
in Personal, random posts, Random thoughts Tags: life, postaday, stupid
I don’t feel like me anymore. I haven’t in months and I’d always thought it was just a phase, that I’ll get back to normal when everything that’s bothering me goes away, but nothing is. I’m just getting used to things, getting used to me being like this and that scares me. I suck the way I am right now, I can’t be like this forever, I don’t want to. I can’t find anything to say to anyone, it all comes off whiney and annoying or just edgy and pissed off; I know that so I try not to say anything. I’m trying to get myself busy with other things, I’m trying to study so that maybe I can do post grad after I’m done, but I’m too lazy, it takes so much effort and so much discipline and I hate both. I’m trying to go back to reading because it’s what I love most. But every time I hold a book or even think about getting one I start feeling guilty about the time I could be using to study since my exams are so close, a week away actually. There are relationships that I have with some people that I know is going to get cut off soon. And maybe forever. I just don’t know anymore. I don’t even remember going through the day, I sit around at night staring at a wall wondering how the fuck is it night already. I don’t pay attention to anything, I can’t focus. My sisters are starting to hate me, they think I’m ignoring them, they keep telling me I think I’m better than them and I can’t stop myself from being bitchy as a reflex. I’m being a douche. None of my friends say anything because they know about the stuff I have going on now, but in all honesty, it doesn’t even feel like the problem anymore. The things that were smothering me don’t feel bad now. I just still feel smothered and I don’t know why, I can’t explain it so I let them think what they want and I try to make a joke out of it. I’m so tired. I’m really exhausted. I’m starting to have stupid ideas.
advice to me
16 May 2012 Leave a Comment
in Personal, random posts, Random thoughts Tags: advice, books, depression, love, music, panic
Talk about the mundane, to talk about anything else is to explain and expose too much. Become a boring person. Become what looks and forever sounds safe. Hide the underneath. Hide the insane. Be open to trying anything. Be open to listening to anything. Make it your thing because you have more capacity than anyone you know for acceptance. You’ve seen enough. Be more aware how fast time is running. Don’t show that it makes you panic. Don’t think about how you don’t know why it makes you panic. Try to not get more depressed than your usual depressed. Laugh and smile. Genuinely laugh and smile. Be nice because you can. Care less so you can give more. Care more so you can give away less. Be more comfortable with everything. try to stop trying to impress, it never works. Don’t say anything when there’s nothing to say. Believe compliments. Don’t look for love. Read more. Listen to music.
Perfect day. Kill yourself.
27 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Personal, random posts, Random thoughts, Uncategorized Tags: clean, clothes, death, drugs, Friends, life, postaday, smoke, suicide
You ever had this weird feeling when you think you’ve done everything you can do, that everything is in control, so completed and finished that maybe you should die now? because what else can you do?.. I’m not talking people or feelings or relationships.. I’m not talking things that make you happy.. I’m talking about the days when you wake up and you clean your room within an inch of its life, organize your lectures, organize your books, wipe the dust off your desk and everything that was on it, sweep the floor, fold your clothes inside your closet and put them on your shelves, separate stacks; t-shirts, pants, PJs.. etc, put everything you don’t need, papers, clothes, junk, in big plastic bags, the black garbage ones, air your mattress throughout this cleaning session and then put on new sheets, clean your bathroom and after you’re done, you feel like you’re done? like there’s nothing left to do.. ever?
When I stood in front of the bathroom’s mirror later, dragging on a cigarette before I get into the shower, I kept thinking about movies where people finish everything they have to do then just kill themselves..it made so much sense and I tried to imagine how I’d do it. I wasn’t sad or anything, it simply felt like the best ending for today. Like if I died now, no one would be troubled with doing anything I was supposed to do. I don’t know how to explain it, I just felt really good about myself and so felt like dying. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but just know that while I stood there looking at myself, the only thing I felt was peace, considering my options.
I knew I wouldn’t hang myself, it probably wouldn’t work and it’s too inconvenient, the thrashing and kicking, the suffocation, how would my facial expression look when they found me? it was very important to me that when I die, my face is not contorted in agony, regardless of whatever pain I feel, I don’t want it to look like I was in pain.
I would never slit my wrists because what if I don’t cut deep enough and then have to do it again? or what if the sharp object I’m using, be it a razor or a knife, turns out dull and then I end up going back and forth over my wrist trying to cut through, like you do with a carrot?.. also messy and I just finished cleaning this bathroom.
I can’t OD, I don’t trust drugs.. which is ironic since my major is all about drugs and I’ll spend my life giving them to people after I graduate, but anyways all we have here are drugs for flu and cold and I’ll probably just end up very sedated or vomiting my guts out.. also I know people who tried that and were saved.. I don’t want to go through shit like that and then not die.. it would be very awkward later trying to explain to my parents why I did it.
I kept watching the smoke in my bathroom swirling around, it was so hypnotizing. I had never watched myself smoke before, always assumed I looked a bit stupid doing it, but discovered I didn’t look that bad. If I opened my mouth a bit without breathing; it would come out slowly, very thick, and then if I start breathing again, inhaling through my nose it would go through and burn my nostrils. When it climbed up to the ceiling, the fan would disperse it, I kept the window open too, but it didn’t feel like the smoke ever really left that way. Eventually I stubbed it into the sink and climbed into the shower, I was a bit dizzy and I remembered a friend I had when I was in 9th grade, they had found her dead, naked in the bathroom. The first rumor that came out was that her brother had killed her, that they had fought or that it was an honor crime. Later I heard that there were fumes of some sort and that she had suffocated and died, that it was not murder. I still don’t know the truth, and it always nags at me that at the last couple of months before she died we weren’t ok. Anyways, I decided the best way to do it would be to shoot myself in the head. No pain, instant kill. I just needed a gun, maybe use a towel to dull the noise?
Of course, I also decided I would never do it, in any of the ways I mentioned, because dying is too “final” , too no more, gone, forever, and I’m too indecisive to decide on something so final no matter how much I think about it. also, there’s hell after death to think about. no, thank you. later.
Allow yourself to feel happy
26 Apr 2012 1 Comment
in Personal, random posts, Random thoughts Tags: depression, happy, hate, insecurity, life, postaday
A while ago, someone had said something really nice that could have meant a lot, but was said in an off-handed way and so I could only respond in a similar manner. I didn’t try to know why it was said or anything, we never talked about it and probably never will. I was under the impression that we weren’t really okay, and so for that to be said out of the blue, my head went into all sorts of directions- over analyzing, and eventually my insecurities were creeping in and I began to get depressed.. the thing is; it was said in a text sort of thing and so there was no way for me to rely on body language to get any more of it than mere words.
I know this sounds vague, but I’ll keep it that way ’cause it’s not the point, what I want you to know is I showed it to a friend, she knew how much it meant to me and when she saw how it made me depressed instead of happy because I doubted it, she said the best thing someone ever said to me:
Shesaid life will give you good things sometimes, and you have the choice to let yourself feel good about them or let yourself feel bad, but whatever you choose; life will make you pay for it later, something bad will happen because something good happened and that’s just the way it is. and life won’t care how you chose to feel about it at the time, it already gave it to you..
so I don’t know.. I just think we should “let” ourselves feel happy every once in a while
في بيتنا غريب (stranger at home)
21 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Personal, Random thoughts Tags: dreams, family, father, life, postaday
I don’t feel comfortable blogging about this, because I guess I feel it’s not fair to him.. but I wrote this last night and now I just don’t know, so here it is:
At first it was confusing, it had been bad for years between me and him and then suddenly, it got worse. I thought it was a mood swings thing in the beginning, that he was aging and that I simply always had bad timing, happening along at moments where he didn’t want to be disturbed. But then it was evident that although I had always been the target for all sorts of abuse, I was now sought out for it. The more I tried to avoid the outbursts the worse they got, the more I tried to follow the rules, the more he changed them. Things had gotten to the point where if I just walked past him he’d threaten to knock my lights out, no reasons needed. I sensed the venom in his words, how much he really meant it, how much he wanted to hurt me. At times I wanted him to just do it, if only to get it out of his system. I didn’t mind physical pain, I’d had my share growing up and they way I see it; it all heals or you get used to it, as long as it doesn’t kill you, and he wouldn’t kill me so fuck it. What I hated was the psychological play, the fact that anything I say can be twisted and turned against me, this I didn’t know how to deal with.
As bad as it made me feel sometimes, I always wished it was consistent. The sudden shows of warmth were a lot worse, baffling. I would be slapped around on a Tuesday only to find myself being teased into smiling on Thursday. Whenever this happened I would just smile or laugh, whatever it took to end the conversation. In front of people he would boast about me being a good student, being smart and being involved in things people my age don’t necessarily know much about. When we had no guests I was “stupid” and any thoughts of doing something worthwhile for myself or my future were crushed and mocked. It didn’t hurt because I felt stupid all the time anyway, no matter how much people told me I was smart and if only I studied a bit more, the conviction never wavered, but the thought of wanting to do something different with my life never changed too, I still want to make my dreams happen one way or the other. And I think this pissed him off too, that I would dare to think I can be different.
Sometimes I thought he was simply lonely, moments like these I’d feel bad for him. Tell myself it made him bitter. This past year or two he’s grown very childlike in his anger, he’d want my mom to spend all her waking hours with him, not going out because he didn’t go out anymore, watching the news 24/7 because that’s what he liked to do. Always murmuring things under his breath whenever anyone walked by, always frowning so hard it almost looks comical. An argument would grow out of nothing, or over things so worthless you’d be too shocked to react. Sometimes he’ll walk around the house, checking if any lights were left on in an empty room, or if any were on while it wasn’t dark yet and then start an argument over it that could last for hours when we all know he doesn’t genuinely give a fuck. Sometimes he’d call out for me and then ask me to get 4 or 5 things from the kitchen downstairs, he’d make sure I do them by going up and down the stair 4 or 5 times too and make it sound like a punishment for something I’ve yet to know about. Sometimes it’s just to talk, he’d ask questions and it would so awkward because I know he’s probably feeling lonely but I’d stand in front of him listening for 20 or 30 minutes and want to go back to what I was doing anyway, not giving a shit. It was maybe that I hated the situation as a whole, him sitting, not looking at me, asking me questions and then being silent for about 5 minutes until the next question is asked, me standing in front of him, feeling exposed and shifting my weight from one leg to the other, not allowed to leave but not having my presence acknowledged all that much either.
I get it though, I know he’s not satsified with his life and that must suck. Having the same job for 30 years, making the wrong decisions and staying behind while watching others move ahead, having brothers and sisters who love to feed on one another’s problems, having a family that is so far from perfect be it the son or the daughters. I get how acting like you don’t care for so many years, like this is what you wanted to begin with, like you never really failed could eventually turn you into what you are now. Hating everyone around you and blaming them for everything that didn’t turn out right. I guess on the surface I feel sorry for him, I feel nothing about it if you go any deeper though.
I let a friend read this before I put it up, tell me if it was too much or if I shouldn’t post it, he asked me if I felt better after writing about it.. and I guess (I say I guess a lot lol) it doesn’t make me feel better or worse, the whole thing doesn’t make me feel bad, really. I don’t care. but writing about it helps me put things in order instead of having them floating around. like, Defines things? I don’t know. (he also suggested the title for this post)
.
13 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Books, random posts Tags: abuse, domestic violence, Lisa kleypas, postaday
Lisa Kleypas’s “Blue Eyed Devil”
“I found the striped shirt on the floor of the bedroom, and I laid it out on the mattress. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. I couldn’t find the flaw that had driven Nick berserk. “What did I do?” I asked aloud, my fingers trailing down the stripes as if clawing through iron bars. What had I done wrong?
The urge to please was a sickness in me. I knew that, and I did it anyway. I washed and starched and ironed the striped shirt all over again. Every thread in the cotton weave was pressed perfectly flat, every button gleaming and pristine. I hung it in the closet and I checked all the other shirts, and aligned his shoes and hung all his ties so the bottoms were all at the same level.”
__________________
“If he found the birth control pills, he would kill me. A strange, sickening resignation settled beneath the fear, and my pulse quieted. I was light-headed and freezing. “I’m going to get dressed,” I said, still calm, even as he broke, ripped, threw, destroyed, liquids and powders spilling, running together in oozing pastel puddles. I went to my dresser, pulled out jeans and underwear and a T-shirt even though it was late and I should have reached for pajamas. I guess my subconscious had already figured out I wouldn’t be sleeping that night. As I finished dressing, Nick stormed into the bedroom and shoved me aside. He pulled out drawers and upended them, emptying my clothes into piles.
“Nick, stop it.”
“Tell me where they are!”
“If you’re looking for an excuse to hit me again,” I said, “just go ahead and do it.” I didn’t sound defiant. I wasn’t even scared anymore. I was weary, the kind of weary you get to when your thoughts and emotions dry up to nothing.”
_________________
“As I sat on the bench and waited, I knew I was garnering curious glances. My face was bruised, one eye was almost swollen shut and my jaw was huge. A child asked his mother what was wrong with me, and she hushed him and told him not to stare. I was grateful that no one approached me, that people’s natural instincts were to avoid the kind of trouble I was obviously in.”
Oh that song is singing.. singing into me.. over everything I used to be ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
03 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Personal, Random thoughts Tags: black, clothes, college, mind fuck, music, postaday, space, vision
It’s a bit before 2 pm and I’m sitting in a faculty research seminar, trying to pay attention as much as possible and it just sucks, if I’m not thinking or toning out then I’m dozing off and neither is ok because I still haven’t asked anything since these seminars started. Did I tell you it was mandatory to attend and ask a question too? And you have to introduce yourself to the audience when you do it, not the person presenting their research. How it makes sense to sometimes have to turn your back on the person you’re about to ask a question in order to tell the audience who you are is beyond me, but they have a rubric for this shit and you gotta follow. Nevermind the fact that it’s quite pathetic to make it mandatory for students to attend and make it look like these things have a good turnout because you know no one would give a shit otherwise.
The speaker is my professional skills professor, her research is about rotations in hospitals, clinics and community pharmacies from our preceptors’ point of view. How they rate themselves. Her graphs are all high on the “good” and “excellent”, especially the “excellent”.. not modest, these assholes. In my head a certain piece of music won’t stop playing, I don’t humm with it, everyone else is too quiet so you can’t make noise. I only know how it starts so I make up the rest in my head and keep merging it back into the beginning, changing how it goes everytime because I don’t remember exaclty how I made it go the last time. I had wrote down a possible question in case I get selected today, so since I got that covered, I let myself go. Two rows ahead, a friend of mine is wearing a shirt with a black and beige flower pattern. It catches my eye because it keeps flashing, as in not really, but that’s how I see it. I close my eyes as tight as I can and open them again.. nope, still. What’s happening is that the black circles in the flowers keep blinking, black, white, black,neon, black, white .. and the whole shirt feels like it’s on vibrate. The girl next to her has a white and black striped shirt on. A friend of mine once told me he was on shrooms, and the guy infront of him had a black and white striped shirt and the stripes kept moving and he kept laughing until the teacher kicked him out. I’m not on shrooms, but I remember this story and I wait for the stripes to do something weird and I’m disappointed when they don’t. The next girl on the same row is wearing a dark blue shirt with branches and small flowers on it, it looks pretty. Hers does a mini trick, the branches look like they’re moving away then back to each other, I can’t really describe it but it’s like we’re in space and the movement is so slow, but so quick and almost imperceptible. I look at the striped shirt again and it’s still a disappointment.. seriously what’s wrong with it?..no, what’s wrong with me?.. I abandon this line of thought and I go back to the first blinking one, which is still blinking. It’s funny that this used to freak me out, how patterns always fucked with my eyes/head. It happens with curtains, wallpaper, clothes and carpets. Now it’s just fun sometimes, a pain in the ass other times.
People start clapping so I snap out of it and start clapping too. I show my friend the question I got prepared and she tells me it was already discussed in the presentation near the end. They announce the names of students required to ask questions and my name is not on so I relax. Girls start asking questions and introducing themselves in that awkward back-to-speaker-face-to-the-audience way and she gives them answers. I hate that no one asks her how she knows the preceptors understood what they were assessing correctly, because I don’t remember that was the case in my rotation. They open the floor for everyone else and my friend passes me a note telling me it’s worth 5%, that I should probably ask anything just to get the grade. I nod, we had just talked about how I’m going to improve my academic shit and stop being stupid about it, so I don’t want her to feel exasperated since we talked about this before a lot too. My plan is to raise my arm, not quite high though, near the end of the question/answer session so that maybeit won’t be seen or they’ll be moving to faculty questions by then, and thus avoid the whole thing. So a couple of minutes later, elbow on the table, I raise my hand.. a lot of other girls have theirs raised and I’m sitting in the back, but the moderator looks right at me and comes over with the mic, while the previous question is still being answered. She’s also one of my professors and she had talked to me a few days back about my grades this semester wanting to make sure everything was ok, so even though I wanted to hate her for picking me, I knew she just wanted to help. I decide to ask about the criteria perception thing . I have a hollow space where my stomach is supposed to be and my head starts spinning trying to arrange the words into a question that wouldn’t point out the flaw in her study so brazenly. I really don’t have a problem with speaking infront of an audience usually, no matter how large because I don’t see what’s the big deal, but this time I’m a bit nervous because I’m about to ask a question straight out of my head, it’s not a presentation about a disease or a drug where I tell people someone else’s ideas. When it gets quiet I get up and try to ignore that anything is awkward, I was too busy thinking about my question that I didn’t notice it was my turn and everyone’s looking at me like I’m late. “Hi, this is Sahar, I’m a sen-.. err no, not a senior, I’m a P4 stu-.. no P3 student”.. fuck? .. everyone laughs so I laugh too.. I can feel my knees and hands shaking and I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but I know that if I don’t do something with my hands the mic will make it very obvious, so I ask my question and I use my hands while I talk, making wide arcs with the one holding the mic because I know she can hear me without it anyway, close to the end of it I laugh because my tone had a nervous edge to it and now it just looks like I was holding in laughter. This is not weird for anyone, rather expected of me, sahar would turn a formal seminar question into a joke, but I don’t give a fuck and I just really want to sit because I’m not sure my knees won’t buckle. I keep standing throughout her answer, I thank her and sit down again. “I wish I was as confident as you are” my friend tells me. I want to both laugh and cry because my heart is still going ape shit and my legs just hurt and won’t stop shaking. I tell her I was nervous, she tells me no way; I was so relaxed throughout the whole thing, I even laughed… I smile and shrug.
I look at the shirt again, still blinking.
