At this point, I am at an impasse. The “I need to…”s are as usual running my brain but a new thought has entered my head. Eighteen. How did it get here so fast? I mean, I look around my room and it still looks like it belongs to my eleven year old self. Dolls, beanie babies, the baskets that hold my things, my guitar, crayons, and the rainbow of paint stains on the used-to-be white carpet. So how am I so very near being eighteen? I don’t feel eighteen. I still feel like a scared little girl. Yet here I am, on the edge of making life changing decisions. Here I am preparing for college.
I look at my guitar and think of the band. Do I really want that life?
I look at my artwork and think of college. Am I good enough?
Everything is a reminder of the choices I need to make. I feel so unprepared for all of these decisions. How do people get to the point where they are ready? Are you ever ready or do you just have to walk straight through the flames?
I am trying to find who I really am. I have been through so much in trying to please people I have truly forgotten what I want. I have forgotten who I am. The things that are reminders of the choices I have to make are also reminders, memories of sorts, of who I was.
If can “find myself” I can find what will make me happy.
If you haven’t seen by the picture (which is hard to miss.) I’ve cut my hair. It felt good to get rid of something that has always been a point of pride. Yep, my hair was one thing I had above a good portion of people before I stripped it, dyed it three colors and then cut it. It also feels good because it’s over one hundred degrees everyday where I am.
Mom has scheduled a doctors appointment for my anxiety. I’ll admit, I’m scared. What if they put me on medication? I don’t want to be addicted to anything. I want to solve my problems on my own, yet, all of the things that are supposed to help me calm down can are actually making things worse; amplifying my anxieties.
I asked Mom if she thought I was OCD, only inwardly. She said no but there have been studies that have shown if you do not say no to certain compulsions, like the urge to open the door ten times before leaving the room, it can develop OCD. For the record, I do not open the door ten times before leaving, that was someone I knew, though. Anyway, I asked because I show all of the signs of being schizophrenic, taken so many tests, and yet I am not screaming about hearing Opera music via toothbrush.
(okay , I can’t finish this right now. Keyboard is acting weird)
—Later in the day on a different computer–
Where was I? Oh, right: It doesn’t make sense how I can have all of these symptoms and somehow if I didn’t tell you what was going on, you wouldn’t even know. Hell, people can’t even tell when I am pissed unless they have known me for more than a decade or have been around me a lot.
What’s going on with me?