I have been rather discouraged lately.

In the sense that, once again, it feels like no matter how I try to break free of stagnancy, I exert myself a lot without getting anywhere. In my eyes, this isn't madness, because I'm not trying the same things over again expecting different results... but it sure as shit feels like it.

I've spent an more time on Tumblr than I'd ever care to, and followed maybe 20-25 new blogs. I joined something like eight different discords, a couple for each topic (Phantom, Japanese, Disney, Alice)... and none is very active or engaging. I joined an Alice in Wonderland collection/trading group on FB.

During all of this, I realized that it's majority teenagers in these domains, so not people I'm wanting to be friends with, no offense to them. Though I accidentally called a teenager "hot" in a Phantom discord because they posted a picture of themselves covered head to toe in a costume and I honestly couldn't tell and was just trying to be complimentary... so that was awkward. Having minors around kind of feels like a field of landmines, and they're not relatable, and more and more the spaces I'm trying to interact in don't feel like they're "for me" anymore.

There was also a weird few hours I had at the tail end of my last weekend, when there had been so much silence and alienization after all those efforts that it kind of felt like I was not part of reality anymore. Even sticking my head out the front door to escape the dead-silent living room, the fresh air and sounds of activity in the nearby parking lot weren't reaching me in the same way. My friend said it sounded like her episodes of depersonalization, but it was not that extreme - just slightly jarring and hella depressing.

I don't think I'm going to get that job, either, since it's been... 18 days and I've not heard back. There have been some people who have been telling me to just "keep applying" to positions that are similar, and I was like "that was IT. That was the first time in years that I have seen something that fits me; there are no similar positions."

* * *

Anyway, I will see a neurologist soon to address my almost daily headaches/migraines. I'm 12% hopeful, but 88% preparing to hear that nobody knows why I'm having these, or that it's stress, and "perhaps therapy will slightly reduce the frequency of them, twenty years from now, if you manage to find a therapist you click with, and after spending all that money you don't have on appointments that would be often enough to be effective."

A therapist: "BTW, what is it that stresses you out, anyway?"

Me: *shrugs* "Being alive, apparently."

Therapist: "Oh, okay. have you tried... not?"

Me: "Have I tried dying?"

Therapist: "Oh wait, no, that's not what I meant. Well, what is it about being alive that's so stressful?"

Me: "These fucking migraines are what's stressful. And being alone so often, without close connections or a sense of belonging. Life is just not comprised of very meaningful experiences for me: it's mostly meh or unpleasant, unless I stir myself into a numbing enough obsession. Basically I have to try to not participate in reality as hard as I can, and retreat into my brain. There is still some magic and wonder in there."

Therapist: "Well have you tried... making close connections and belonging?"

Me: "..................................................................."

Therapist: *tilts head*

Me: "Yes, but the world does not seem to want me to have those things. People I want to connect with don't want to connect with me, or don't exist, and places where I would belong don't want me there, or don't exist. It seems like I won't find peace until I stop wanting or expecting those things to be happy. Like, if I could just find a way to contradict the human state of being, and not require closeness or meaning in what I do. Do you think that's possible?"

Therapist: "No."

Me: "Well unless you have a better idea... damnit, that's what I'm going to try."

Therapist: "Well maybe you're actually afraid of trying for those things. Maybe you are inhibited in some way, guarded." <-- what the last therapist I talked to was suspecting, based on very little knowledge about me

Me: "You're wrong. It's everyone and everything else that is inhibited, guarded, insecure, fickle... and highly mysterious."

I don't really want to talk about all the stuff that happened regarding my dentist appointment(s), but let's just sum it up by saying... I legitimately would believe at this point in my life that I had been cursed, if I was superstitious. Bound to nothing with no chance of escaping. I mean I was quoting Norman Bates in the car the other day, "We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch."

I slept a lot yesterday (without pulling the all-nighter thing again.) Something told me I had better get up off my ass and hurry to the pharmacy for my anti-depressants, though. I'd been skipping a few days (since I ran out), and it was making me nervous that I was wanting to sleep so much, so I made sure to pop those pills by the time I was home. The last thing I need right now is to fall apart mentally. By the way, the doc agreed to double the dosage so we'll see soon enough if 300mg works out.

In the mean time, it's just been general bad luck for the latter half of the week: the dental stuff I don't want to talk about; a dude at work that I thought was my friend broke ties with me because I wouldn't go out with him (I'm serious); I burnt my hand on a hot pan that I didn't know was hot; I have two tickets to see ALW's Phantom of the Opera touring here in Portland and no one wants to go with me so I have to try to sell a $100 ticket last minute. I've been sad. Not even riled or truly upset about it, just exhausted-sad, like I want to lie down and let the misfortunes wash over me because they're all I know anyway. I'm so glad I have my mother because she's the only one who would even notice how down I am and make a serious effort to help. Thank goodness even some of the people who don't mean anything in this world have a mama, at the very least. Otherwise I would be sure I was just trash that could fade away without anyone noticing. Yeah, those antidepressants definitely haven't been in my system -- look at the way I'm talking-- pfff.

ANYHOO, just ignore that. 

Someone new to the HT page told me she wanted to die through PM the other day. Initially I thought this is the kind of scenario where you can easily be taken in emotionally, only to find it was someone who wanted attention, but I would much rather be "played" a bit than be dismissive, so I've been writing to her here or there. This story has brought people to me: friends, people who looked up to me, people who were stuck with their writing and finally found a kick of inspiration from the text, and even some who wanted to share stories about being in abusive relationships themselves. "The Phantom of the Opera" fandom in general tends to collect young women who are unhappy and jaded by life or men. Coincidentally, I have managed to get one of my other friends who started off as a... god, do I even say the word... fan... to visit the doctor for her serious anxiety. 

With all of that, I have to be able to imagine that somehow, yeah, I have a bit of a platform here, and there was a reason she blurted that to me, so I've told her to visit her doctor, and warned her that our bodies play tricks on us. They make us have delusions that our lives will always suck and we suck and blah blah blah. I hope she listens to me, even if she can't get around to doing it for a while. 

Bleh anyway, I'm going to try to write, because last night not a lot of progress was made. And "Erik" feels so much like I do right now -- I should be able to squeeze out what that's genuinely like and help Lily perceive it. 

-J

This pretty much sums up where I’ve been retreating to in my head lately. Somewhere fuzzy, soft, warm, peaceful, carefree. I told a DA friend that I imagine Hare’s hypothetically got motown on his ipod, and he grooves to it while he’s baking. x)



My depression flared up and cued random crying in the middle of the night, and moodiness at work, and a lack of motivation to get anything done. There’s something special about Hare. Even when I’m struggling to enjoy things I know I like and want to think about — like my novel? That one that I should have finished plotting by August 31st? — with Hare, it’s no struggle. I’m unconditionally affected by, inspired by, cheered up by him. Whatever, if it’s embarrassing or incomprehensible to anybody else. What is that saying by druggies? Chasing the dragon? You can never snort heroin and have it be as glorious as the very first time? This is true of most things, but not Hare. (Just for clarity, I don’t do drugs. lol)

For that reason, my brain is scattered. I have an awful attention span and can’t get myself to look towards what’s important. Usually when I felt this way in the past I would accept inspiration wherever it was coming from, and I even went by this mantra a few months ago, but it’s different now: I told myself I would rewrite and revise a novel before 2014 ended so I could actually get off my ass and accomplish something as an artist — PUBLISH, goddamnit. I’m more than a year post-grad and what have I got to show for it besides garlic underneath my fingernails? (this was a pizzeria joke, in the high chance you didn’t get that.)

Am I going to end every paragraph with parentheses?!

Anyway, it’s just hard recently to strap down and get serious about writing about a girl and her stalker. Even though it’s fascinating. I’m off giggling about Hare having an ipod, and about the AIW hot-tub fanfic I put down. I even thought maybe I’d work on the drawings for the site, but then I was like “Jennifer you can’t just go back to AIW. You can’t just spend most of your year fangirling over something! You’re an adult now and you need to buckle down with your original content and MAKE SOMETHING OF YOURSELF.”

*sighs most heavily and dramatically*

—J

P.S. There’s some good things, some quite monumental accomplishments for someone under a spell of self-hatred, that I’ve done lately, though: I thoroughly washed my car, I went to the bank, I checked out books at the library, and I printed my tickets to go see Neil deGrasse Tyson next week in Portland. WOOHOO