I think I mentioned on an earlier post how I wanted this blog to not just be about my personal life...
Well, that's certainly not what it's turning out to be.
Not that that's a bad thing. I suppose that this just means that this is what I need my blog to be for me. I suppose... it's an outlet of sorts. A personal outlet that doesn't require me to talk to an actual person but I can still put out "into the air" and not keep it "hidden".
And that's sort of nice.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Music
I kind of miss playing my instruments. I miss the adrenaline of orchestra and being amongst other like-minded musicians. I miss the deep sense of accomplishment I would feel when I get a particularly difficult piano piece under my fingers. I miss the sense of deep connection with my music and my instruments I wish I could practice again, but I just don't have the time.
Pace
I have an analytic view of myself. I observe myself from the most objective perspective possible and then analyze what I have observed. This is how I understand most human behavior; through careful observation and reasoning.
Recently, I have discovered that I have a tendency to pace when I'm upset, anxious, or not feeling well. Now, when I notice myself pacing, I try and make myself stop. It's a waste of energy and it won't solve any of my problems.
I honestly don't know if this is healthy or not. I know that this is a rather common form of unintentional coping. It's kind of a staple in movies and TV shows. Characters pacing when they're distressed. I find it amusing that I also engage in behavior. Am I mirroring behaviors I'm seeing on television, or do a lot of humans actually do this to cope?
Recently, I have discovered that I have a tendency to pace when I'm upset, anxious, or not feeling well. Now, when I notice myself pacing, I try and make myself stop. It's a waste of energy and it won't solve any of my problems.
I honestly don't know if this is healthy or not. I know that this is a rather common form of unintentional coping. It's kind of a staple in movies and TV shows. Characters pacing when they're distressed. I find it amusing that I also engage in behavior. Am I mirroring behaviors I'm seeing on television, or do a lot of humans actually do this to cope?
Strength
I became... disappointed with myself recently when I realized that the last time I was strong was over two years ago. It was when I gave a speech in front of the entire student body at my high school. I revealed some very personal, painful experiences in order to help educate my peers and teachers into becoming more aware of their surroundings in order to prevent atrocities like what happened to myself in my old school.
Thinking about it now, I would not have the strength to do such a thing now. In fact, I feel as though I can't really speak about it at all except in vague and general terms. Sometimes I feel like I can't even handle thinking about it.
I've gotten weaker. And I'm ashamed because of it.
Thinking about it now, I would not have the strength to do such a thing now. In fact, I feel as though I can't really speak about it at all except in vague and general terms. Sometimes I feel like I can't even handle thinking about it.
I've gotten weaker. And I'm ashamed because of it.
Mask
For the most part, I am very good at hiding when I'm in emotional turmoil. I like it this way. I don't like bother my friends with my problems. In my whole life, there have been maybe five people who could see right through the act. Once I become aware of the fact that a person can tell if I'm in a bad place or not, I find that it's even harder to keep my mask in place. Without meaning to, I start shaking or becoming more withdrawn. A part of me goes "Why bother trying? They're going to know anyway." So I try to avoid eye contact with these people. Or I try and avoid speaking with them at all. They can't tell if I don't interact with them, right?
"Stupid"
I rarely actually get offended by what people say. The only time I take it personally or makes me angry is when they insult my intelligence. To me, there is nothing more important than your ability to think. You can be ugly, pretty, mean, nice, lazy, or not... as long as you can think well, you'll be okay. Insulting my intelligence is equivalent to insulting my ability function.
Self-Image
When I was a teenager, I can honestly say that I was very proud of the fact that I did not give a damn in regards to how I looked. I wasn't concerned with looking pretty or even put-together. Everything I wore, I wore for either comfort's sake, or to piss off teachers. I was proud of the fact that I wasn't one of those girls who obsessed and constantly monitored their weight. I looked down on girls who felt they had to wear make-up every public hour of every day. I detested girls who tried to wear sexy, uncomfortable clothes just for the sake of looking pretty.
It has only been recently... today, in fact... that I've realized that I have become one of these girls.
As a teenager, I always said that I didn't care what I looked like and I didn't care what people thought. This was the truth. And I continued to state this whenever the subject came up.
"I don't care what I look like. I don't care what other people think. All I care about is being comfortable and eating good food."
I am realizing that, at some point over the last couple years, these statements became a lie.
Although I have been successfully denying it to myself, I have become obsessed with my outward appearance. For at least two years now, I have been constantly weighing myself. Berating myself for every pound gained. I even berate myself when I lose weight, telling myself it's not enough. As horrible as it is to admit, I have often wished I were anorexic. I have secretly wished dearly to be that skinny, even though I logically understand that it is neither attractive nor healthy. I have tried starving myself for this reason, but unfortunately, lack of food causes me to get migraines, which make it makes it impossible for me to function. Even still, I try to skip meals, when my head can handle it. "I don't need lunch. I'll be having dinner in a few hours anyway." I still eat candy and snack-y foods, but I feel unbelievably disgusting and ugly inside when I do. And when I do, I try to deny myself another meal for that day to make up the difference.
When I do eat, I often eat incredibly unhealthy foods, like pizza and fries. I still want to eat things that I actually like. Even though it's fattening foods, it's usually once once a day and I run around a lot to make up the difference.
As a child, I hated my hair. It was frizzy and uncontrollable. As a teenager, I though I had come to peace with it, accepting my curly hair as a defining feature. But now I look at my hair and all I can do is think of ways that it could be better. Less frizzy, more volume, better colour, etc.
As I grew through high school, I started to wear nicer clothes. I still didn't put much thought into what I was wearing, just throwing on the closest shirt before heading to school, but at least my selection of clothes overall were nicer. This was a good thing. I no longer constantly looked like a slob or a wanna-be gang member. Now, I want to look nice all the time. Not just nice. Pretty. Attractive. Unless it's a day where I will see no one except my mother or closest friends, I have to look at least somewhat nice. Somewhat defined. Attractive, if at all possible.
I do not believe I am physically attractive or pretty. Logically, I understand that I am not ugly by any means. But I feel ugly. I hate looking in the mirror. I haven't actually looked at my naked body in a mirror in years. I don't remember the last time I've done so. When I put my contacts in or put make-up on, I focus on just the features I'm working on so I don't have to actually 'see' my face. The few times I have actually looked at my face, I've immediately looked away, wanting to punch the mirror as hard as I can.
I know that this is all incredibly stupid. I am deeply ashamed to admit that I've become one of those girls, who is obsessed with her image even though she looks just fine, great even. I hate that this is what I am now. I hate that this is how I operate.
Thinking about it, I think this all started in my senior year of high school. Due to side effects from my medication, I developed narcolepsy and had no appetite. During this time, I lost twenty pounds. I was so skinny, you could completely wrap your hand around my hip bones while I was standing.
I loved it. I loved the feel of it. The feeling of my bones sticking out of my body. People were complimenting me, saying how good I looked. I had never been complimented on my looks like that before. I looked fantastic for prom, and a lot of people, including boys, were telling me how sexy I looked. I tried to keep the weight off. But slowly but surely, I've gained all twenty pounds back.
I suppose it would make sense that this was probably the start of my self-esteem downfall. I was never 'confident' so to speak, in my looks before. I was simply apathetic. But now I hate myself and how I look. However, over the last couple years, I've managed to convince even myself that I still didn't care how I appeared, while silently belittling myself. I was in denial about my treatment towards myself.
But maybe... now that I am no longer in denial... maybe I can stop hating myself.
It has only been recently... today, in fact... that I've realized that I have become one of these girls.
As a teenager, I always said that I didn't care what I looked like and I didn't care what people thought. This was the truth. And I continued to state this whenever the subject came up.
"I don't care what I look like. I don't care what other people think. All I care about is being comfortable and eating good food."
I am realizing that, at some point over the last couple years, these statements became a lie.
Although I have been successfully denying it to myself, I have become obsessed with my outward appearance. For at least two years now, I have been constantly weighing myself. Berating myself for every pound gained. I even berate myself when I lose weight, telling myself it's not enough. As horrible as it is to admit, I have often wished I were anorexic. I have secretly wished dearly to be that skinny, even though I logically understand that it is neither attractive nor healthy. I have tried starving myself for this reason, but unfortunately, lack of food causes me to get migraines, which make it makes it impossible for me to function. Even still, I try to skip meals, when my head can handle it. "I don't need lunch. I'll be having dinner in a few hours anyway." I still eat candy and snack-y foods, but I feel unbelievably disgusting and ugly inside when I do. And when I do, I try to deny myself another meal for that day to make up the difference.
When I do eat, I often eat incredibly unhealthy foods, like pizza and fries. I still want to eat things that I actually like. Even though it's fattening foods, it's usually once once a day and I run around a lot to make up the difference.
As a child, I hated my hair. It was frizzy and uncontrollable. As a teenager, I though I had come to peace with it, accepting my curly hair as a defining feature. But now I look at my hair and all I can do is think of ways that it could be better. Less frizzy, more volume, better colour, etc.
As I grew through high school, I started to wear nicer clothes. I still didn't put much thought into what I was wearing, just throwing on the closest shirt before heading to school, but at least my selection of clothes overall were nicer. This was a good thing. I no longer constantly looked like a slob or a wanna-be gang member. Now, I want to look nice all the time. Not just nice. Pretty. Attractive. Unless it's a day where I will see no one except my mother or closest friends, I have to look at least somewhat nice. Somewhat defined. Attractive, if at all possible.
I do not believe I am physically attractive or pretty. Logically, I understand that I am not ugly by any means. But I feel ugly. I hate looking in the mirror. I haven't actually looked at my naked body in a mirror in years. I don't remember the last time I've done so. When I put my contacts in or put make-up on, I focus on just the features I'm working on so I don't have to actually 'see' my face. The few times I have actually looked at my face, I've immediately looked away, wanting to punch the mirror as hard as I can.
I know that this is all incredibly stupid. I am deeply ashamed to admit that I've become one of those girls, who is obsessed with her image even though she looks just fine, great even. I hate that this is what I am now. I hate that this is how I operate.
Thinking about it, I think this all started in my senior year of high school. Due to side effects from my medication, I developed narcolepsy and had no appetite. During this time, I lost twenty pounds. I was so skinny, you could completely wrap your hand around my hip bones while I was standing.
I loved it. I loved the feel of it. The feeling of my bones sticking out of my body. People were complimenting me, saying how good I looked. I had never been complimented on my looks like that before. I looked fantastic for prom, and a lot of people, including boys, were telling me how sexy I looked. I tried to keep the weight off. But slowly but surely, I've gained all twenty pounds back.
I suppose it would make sense that this was probably the start of my self-esteem downfall. I was never 'confident' so to speak, in my looks before. I was simply apathetic. But now I hate myself and how I look. However, over the last couple years, I've managed to convince even myself that I still didn't care how I appeared, while silently belittling myself. I was in denial about my treatment towards myself.
But maybe... now that I am no longer in denial... maybe I can stop hating myself.
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