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jan. 3 — 9:27pm

good evening and happy new year. i have been pushing off writing my first journal entry in the new year AND new journal, as i wanted it to be professional and of good quality, but i seem to be in a bit of a block. the sensible thing to do would be to start off strong with a declaration, to say i am leaving behind my inessential thoughts and behaviors for good this time, or write with a slight hint of optimism, but i am not in the correct state of mind for such.

i am experiencing, yet again, another “shift” in emotional regulation and general reasoning. there have been absolutely no external environmental changes and i am not doing much differently in regards to personal and internal factors. i have just woken up the past few mornings and there it is greeting me as soon as i open my eyes— the feeling of being incomplete. something is off. it feels as if there is an essential piece to a puzzle that has come loose and been misplaced, but i cannot grasp where or why it is missing, especially with it being in ideal place and condition just the day prior.

i've began questioning my interest in getting diagnosed again, just right before this overnight “shift” occurred. i imagined the ways in which i would bring up this topic with my psychiatric practitioner, but considering the last time we spoke i could not seem to remember any of the hardships i had been facing, i was stuck. (emotional permanence is not my strong suit, so a lack of negative emotion means there simply are none.) i was met with embarrassment and self-humiliation when imagining these potential conversations in which i lay out what felt like a completely baseless claim. i know there is something deeply wrong with my mental state and its unreadable fluctuations, but claiming or insinuating that i am bipolar just feels incorrect. self-obsessed, seeking undeserved attention and concern, exaggerating my mental symptoms in order to be classified as “different”. i now know that this is untrue and i am back to feeling concern and an urgency to inform my providers with my self realization/discovery. i have, once again, been fooled. this keeps happening to me, like someone is clandestinely opening up the most vulnerable parts of me and flipping the switch of desolation. my chest is heavy; i cannot disregard the reappearance of an unnaturally high resting heart rate and the disinclination i failed to notice and appreciate the disappearance of. when i get into this cycle, i find it hard to feel satisfaction in anything i do or attempt to do. this includes hobbies, the usual daily actions i take, and the imperative— eating, sleeping, drinking, and the like. i've been stuck in an idle state today, waiting for a whim or want to make an appearance, but nothing. what to do if i don't want to partake in even the usual, simple pleasures? i cannot believe i have grown so used to, and idiosyncratically, comfortable with such a feeling, but never understood it, AND continue to misunderstand it. i don't like to mention that this constant miscommunication between my brain and its own illness has led me to reconsider what kind person i really am. i feel as if i can no longer take pride in what i believe i once possessed; the permission to value my “self awareness” and “emotional intelligence” has been stripped from me. i am being blindly lead down a path i should recognize by now.. a path of pessimism and unrelenting depression. i haven’t even mentioned that i got the job i interviewed for this morning because i would rather ignore the negative emotions it elicits. i am too busy being a prophet of doom.

jan. 6 — 6:47pm

i am back under the warm blankets after finally lifting myself up from bed to eat dinner. i still cannot get used to the basic human need of having a meal or two, sometimes even three, every. single. day. there are not enough meal options for a girl like me, and for so many fucking days. it does not help that there is absolutely nothing appealing to me today, not just meals. i suppose i could read. the books i ordered yesterday evening during my kafka-induced inspiration arrived tonight, but that does not sound like a fun plan. i despise the feeling that ruins me during days such as this; there is an endless, invisible, helpless gap that cannot be filled. it begs to be entertained while simultaneously not finding anything entertaining. i may continue listening to old emo and post-hardcore albums i have never heard. i would like to add to my already lengthy playlist of every emo and adjacent song i have liked.

it is 8pm now and i've started reading a bit of one of the three books i mentioned buying. i hate men by pauline harmange. shoutout to misandrists. no one understands me the way you do. i think i will sit in my bed and redirect all of my current anger and sadness toward men for the time being.
it is a hard night and i am sure i am not making it better by having a drink. i will put my cup down and drink from my bottle of water instead. i am not sure why i keep drinking knowing it makes me anxious nearly everytime. stupid. besides, this is not my point in writing tonight. i writing to inform that i am having the hard conversation that i have been avoiding for weeks now. i am not in love anymore, or maybe i am, or maybe i never was. i got so caught up in what it felt like to have someone, my own person that liked me more than they liked anyone else. what i once felt and the behaviors exhibited are not what they once were. i began telling myself that maybe tomorrow, maybe sometime soon, i will get back that initial feeling i had last summer. god, i am tired and a little bit drunk, i think. i explained what i had been feeling. the fleeting emotions, the long gone positive feelings i received from doing what i was always able to rely on during such a depressive time in my life— talking to the people i love. but how do i tell someone as direct as it is? i no longer have the desire to talk to you.

jan. 9 — 12:29am

i am shifting rapidly between having an inflated sense of confidence and being insecure in my personal attributes, physical and personality wise. sometimes the fat that lays on my body in awkward, unappealing positions gets to me, or the flatness of my chemically damaged hair, or the way i carry myself in conversation, friendships, and relationships. these are trivial matters that should not have such an effect on me, and maybe instead of allowing myself to be upset at these traits i should take it as an opportunity to improve. i don’t like how uninformed i may sound when conversation revolves around a certain topic, well, i could read more books and get curious enough to find the answers to my confusion. i don’t like my body, well, i could eventually learn to be comfortable in it, or alternatively, find healthy methods to shape it in a way i would prefer. those are much easier said than done though, and i know i most likely won’t put time into these alternatives.

jan. 13 — 11:53am

i woke up this morning with surprisingly, almost suspiciously clear, bright looking skin. it was all the tears cried last night while scrolling through my contact list, searching for an open crisis line that would accept my call from out of state, and internally begging for someone to somehow, miraculously know of the crisis i was experiencing. how can it feel as if there is absolutely no one to call while bawling my eyes out? how is it that i have already exhausted the options i do have with my continuous complaints about the ongoing, previous issues i deal with?

do you ever feel an unbearable loneliness when reflecting? when you finally completely comprehend that absolutely no one knows you? when you don’t even know you, which version of you, which differing personality shown to differing types of friends, which emotional state is the truth?
it is isolating and despite the constant attention placed onto this subject, i cannot come to terms with it. it is isolating to not understand myself and much more so when the reminder makes itself known— this is irrecoverable. this doesn’t go away. this is lifelong. and so is the need to constantly remain on alert, educating myself, taking maintenance medication, consistently using the unchanging coping strategies, just riding through the waves! i haven’t told many about this yet, only ** and ** during the first times i noticed the signs. they don’t know about the details because i am too opposed to the idea of tacking on one more thing for them to deal with. thank you, journal, for being my only true confidant.

jan. 15 — 5:35pm

good evening. late start to my day today. i woke up at 3pm thinking it was still late morning, though this is partially better than yesterday’s wake time at 5pm. as long as i am awake before sunset i suppose.

is it bad to say that this worsening sleep schedule is due to an unintentional all-nighter to talk to ** on the phone? it is something that i've been slightly secretive about, especially with my closer friends since my last mentions of her were full of one-sided malice and spite. i regret it because as of late i only want to talk to her. conversation flows naturally and the insecurities i once held during our talks have been left behind in my younger years.
i notice a sense of regret, or something more like jealousy or anxiety, when there are mentions of the friends she will be moving with. i can’t help but imagine what this will change about our friendship. will she find someone new to love there? will she grow intimately close with a roommate? what effects will this have on me? the question of “what about me?” selfishly comes up, completely ignoring that the events that took place in our relationship were ultimately my doing. there is no “me” and that was decision made by me alone, even if done under the influence of her unfavorable behaviors. i could have taken it upon myself to improve communication and understanding. besides, it’s not like a move on her part is something huge for me. she is already many miles away, so what is a couple hundred more? perhaps it is time for me to dissipate my daydreams. her decisions are not made with me in mind, just as it should be. plus, what the hell i am expecting? we fall in love? i take regular visits to see her in person? with what money? and what courage? i’ve now accepted that relationships are not realistic, nor a sensible decision to make, but i have yet to quit daydreaming of one.

jan. 18 — 12:49pm

maybe one day, if i dream big enough, if i follow my wants and aspirations, she will fuck me again. our skin will touch. i will allow myself to be completely swallowed by my pleasure and desire. i will melt into the fingers that touch me inside and out. how do i admit that i long for her in such a way when admiration and the occasional intimate, but non-sexual, moments feel as if i am indulging in something forbidden to me?

i fear these admissions may be too much for my journal despite it being here to write such thoughts in, but still, excuse the details i am getting into. i must remind myself that sexual desire is a normal, common thing for a woman like me. for everyone, actually. it is not abnormal for me to beg, internally, to be fucked passionately by a woman in love with me. though i crave to be shown affection and attraction through a tongue on my skin, i find difficultly in reteaching myself this desire is okay.

jan. 19 — 6:02pm

i know full well that i am not healed enough to leave the house whenever i please. i understand that at one moment i may feel perfectly fine; the worry and overanalyzing of my body sensations no longer present, but when it comes time to get in the car, take the drive, or sit in the parking lot of a shop, the panic sets in. despite understanding what point i am at in my healing and exposure process, i cannot see it. my expectations and wants take control and hurt themselves upon realization that they cannot be met yet, even if just the day prior i made substantial progress.
i am too easy disappoint, especially by my own hand. i gave myself a headache and medication-induced fatigue by trying to go out tonight and what? all of this for what? to end right back in the same place in my bed, but now with a headache, nausea, and excessive overthinking of everything i eat, drink, touch, look at in addition. this is the joy of anxiety and ocd. i thankfully avoided the worsening of this headache by fighting off the tears of disappointment, which also preserved the full face of makeup i spent all afternoon into the evening hours on.

jan. 20 — 11:34pm

why is it absolutely devastating seeing someone you used to be with start dating someone new? a man i know i did not love, nor do i currently love or have a single, remotely positive thought about, so why do i feel so sick to my stomach seeing her posed in the same jacket i have worn? i am much too quick to turn to comparison, but it is such an awful sight to see someone so drastically different than me, someone who solidifies the idea i had about his “type”, someone who is white. another one added to the list of those nothing like me.

my life would be much easier if rumination and insecurity did not exist, and so would hers if she found someone much more suitable. someone capable of matching her allure and offering much more emotional maturity. the only consolation i can find is the fact that they look so similar, like siblings, or possibly even twins depending on the facial expressions made. i hope everywhere they go, they are looked down upon with the belief that they are family members with a fucked, illegal dynamic. may they be struck down by law 39-15-302.

jan. 21 — 1:26am

to be so sensitive and overly sentimental is a hindrance unless allowed to be completely and freely expressed. if i disallow it to flow out through a kind gesture toward another, a confession of admiration to a friend, a letter mailed to a loved one, a kiss planted on the head of my mother, it sits too long and begins to rust into an uninviting, overwhelming muddle. i am too mawkish for my own good.

jan. 23 — 5:29pm

good evening. i forced myself to make a makeshift “meal” with the little food/ingredients found in the fridge and pantry. quite a difficult task, and all to soothe yet another migraine.
i am having trouble believing that i am in a depressive episode considering my actual mood isn’t absolutely terrible, but all other signs say otherwise. the persistent headache, the refusal of productivity, the hours spent in my bed, the fact that i need a shower. badly. but of course, “i don’t feel like it right now,” like the urge to get up and clean myself up will suddenly appear later, just like the clothes ive been in for five days will suddenly change.

jan. 24 — 6:54pm

i am endlessly working on myself, which is what is expected, healthy, and beneficial of me. this is a necessity as i age further along into adulthood, especially at such a sensitive time. this is an age with a surprising amount of responsibility and characterized by lifelong decisions. i am currently building the foundation of a fully mature, grown adult version of myself. scary to think about. regardless of its heft, this is an expectation of nearly everyone. the bare minimum. the idea of a life without “success” is a particularly frightening one for me, but this is something that i must put aside as i try to sort out the bigger issues at hand. the mental kind.

i am sure it is no big secret to reveal such a thing to those i am close with, but i recently started the process of getting diagnosed with bipolar. this is something i have yet to share with anyone, besides a very good friend of mine once in the initial, “i think i have it” stages. this has been such a dramatic weight added on TOP of pre-existing issues, but the thing that holds the most weight is the fact that nothing has changed at all. my current issues are just as they have always been.
in recent days, ive had a difficult time functioning and coming to terms with this new piece of information about myself. it feels as if i am in a constant battle with separate versions of myself, but i just CANNOT recognize it. ever. for how overly conscious and analytical i am about my behaviors, patterns, and habits, they continue to go undetected by both myself and the people around me, just like it has always been. i am always on edge, always questioning myself, and looking out for any warning or indication that a manic or depressive subpart is beginning to take over, but regardless of how obvious they may be, i continuously convince myself otherwise. they absolutely do not register as unusual, out of character, or threatening.

lots of disappointment, lots of feelings of incompetence, and deep, deep embarrassment after the fact, when the alternate parts of myself have already done their damage. there is a perpetual worry, in addition, that any “progress” on myself is only an illusion and the intermittent grandiosity. it’s the bromidic cycle— i believe i am healed. i begin to see the beauty in the world again. i kiss and hug my mother more. i feel an overwhelming sense of adoration for my friends and must compliment them, share a paragraph of appreciation in their messages, and make a multitude of plans i cannot keep. i can’t see myself as anything but beautiful and intelligent and amazing; i can’t imagine why i was ever self-conscious because my faults present themselves as eccentricity and make me perfect. then, i am convinced everyone else thinks i am perfectly crafted as well, and in a way that compels them to fall in love with me and sleep with me. until they don’t. and i am unsure why anyone would think these things about me in the first place, even myself. and this cycle continues on and will continue until i die.