Letting Go

I'm dropping out of school.

I was reading these short stories to critique before class and one got me really emotional and then I was reading the other one and I just started crying and couldn't stop for a while.  I think it may have been the pressures of making an appointment with a therapist and I did cancel that appointment, as well.  I felt no motivation to go on to finish my short story set and knew that I if I didn't have anything now, I wouldn't have anything later.

So I quit college. 
5 classes away from graduation.
Forever.

I've decided that I never want to go back.  I don't need to go back.  I'm perfectly fine the way I am. No classes I take will tweak me to any sort of awesomeness I haven't already attained to and though a Bachelor degree might look good on a resume, "some college" will just have to do. 

I feel horrible.  And I am very afraid of life without the crutch of Education, the welcoming embrace of a classroom, but I know that part of my life is over now and I can't change the choices I made or that actions I took. 

So I'm afraid and happy.  Letting go is a first step to holding on.   You can only hold so much in two hands.  Let go. 

Cloud Depression

A couple of days ago I talked about "Walking depression."  Well, here I'm going to talk about another type of depression that people have that is so dangerous and yet is often found in happy people. 

The kind of depression I'm talking about I call "cloud depression."  It's a type of depression that comes and goes like a cloud and it is not always visible.  It collects the depressed things that happen to us, the depression we feel and it can disappear in an instant, like a cloud.  The reason it is dangerous is because it can come on instantly and strongly, like a snowball that has been slowly rolling down a hill for years, invisibly collecting more and more snow until it hits the bottom and there is no more control of the depression. 

The problem with it is that it can be so well controlled by the owner of the cloud, that it can disappear without a trace, but will be revisited in private moments and thus is a problem because the façade of happiness is there, without the reality of satisfying moments, thus causing a flaky, shallow mirror of joy without becoming ever truly happy. 

Maybe this is everyone.  I don't know.  But it happens to me.  Someone is stealing my joy and I seem happy.  My one hope is that maybe they will die?  I don't know. 

I don't have any coping mechanisms, except the ones exhibited my mom.  Sleep and TV.  Until you die.  I still have dreams.  They aren't as colorful as the ones when I was a kid.  But they are there. 

Cup of Coffee

I have coffee.  There's a rich, woody browness to it, the taste, the smell of wet grounds, warmed.  The atmosphere hit me  as I came into the house, not thinking of anything but the fuzz of the end of the day, and the love of a small hurt dog. 

She kept sniffing at nothing patches of grass, desperately, painfully.  To me, this little dog's sweet pain is rather like love, reminding me of myself when as a child, I would think eternal things and struggle to answer eternal questions like the one she struggles with.   The sniffing is to smell the answer and as a dog, this is the most likely source of reality. 

Darting one way on the short, dusky, black leash and then pulling me to the next patch of grass, quickly, never looking me in the eye, her nose swoops and dives.  There is an ugly undercurrent to this madness, but she doesn't let me see, the hurt only glinting from her eyes.  A little hurt dog is a little upset over me kicking her butt at loving people.  She is upset that things are not always the same.  She is upset that I knew something she didn't. 

All this I drop as a skin, as exhausted, we leave the fuzz of the outside for the fuzz of the house and smell the soft, creamy scent of coffee.  It sours in the mouth after a few minutes.  I know this is my fault.  My eternal questing pain.  My doggy life.  

The atmosphere sharpens for a second, then lies down dull, as if the boring had defeated the sharp sudden pain of life.  Neither atmosphere is to my liking, I prefer slaved-over grit to outbursts of pain or a calm that can't quit. 

So to quell the sour taste, I take another (now lukewarm) gulp, but it's too late, everything is words, words, words on a page, spirited away by man's first time machine, the written word. I want to retract into my shell and hide from the world, but it's too late, I'm a slug, shell-less and addicted to writing. 

The third to last gulp tastes like sand.  I'll shove this grit you like so much into you, says life.  Gritty, sandy, the physical sensation is nothing like the spiritual happiness I had attained coming into the house. 

The second to last gulp, came wrapped in Easter tin foil.  A surprise within a surprise the wooden molecules of the particle board desk, itself.  But the aftertaste is ancient and profound 

The last sip stains my consciousness like a tattoo.  Milky and gritty in one bundle, I dread the last gulp.   I dread the end of things, and the coffee seems to stick into my gullet like a powder.  I know I'm going to get another cup. 

More exercises in positivity

 Willing into being:

The meeting with my classmates will go well. 

What I just ate will digest well, even though I practically scarfed it down. 

I don't hairpin turn. 

I have a family who loves me and will do whatever it takes to support the family.

I don't weird out and get self conscious in food lines.   
 


Genuine Positivity:

I'm full of yummy food. 

I probably passed my Spanish test, which was pretty simple if I didn't make any silly mistakes. 

I'm about to get a chocolate chip frappe. 

An Exercise

I'm feeling great today. 

I don't have problems with my dad at all.  He's always very respectful and he doesn't take up too much time.  

I have plenty of people to talk to at lunch and everything and I'm not sitting on a bench alone typing my soul into a blog. 

I'm not sad or anything.  I'm not decreasing in the imaginary polls I create in my head. 

I'm not worried about the coming election, voting or non voting.  I'm sure whichever candidate will take care of the nation well.  They are fully qualified and honest, so I have faith in them.  I'm actually happy that I will be voting because of all the benefits that come with voting.  I know my vote counts.

My attitude is great and I'm pleasure to work with. 

Also, my butt doesn't hurt from sitting on this bench. I'm not tired, but refreshed

I didn't have a sup weird dream last night, right before I woke up.

I'm not sad or anything.  Not decreased or diminished.  He must increase and I must decrease is something Paul says in the New Testament.  A lot of negative things are put forth as positive by Paul.  Death, the Cross, decreasing, running.  lol. 

This was an exercise in positivity.  All of these were false positives.  Sometimes you have to speak it into being. Now for the genuine positivity. 

I really like UTA students.  I think they are really brave and powerful.  

I didn't forget anything I wanted to remember today, when I left for school. 

I didn't understand my Spanish workbook exercises at all at first, but now I'm getting some of the answers right!  Progress. 

I still have time to study for my test. 

People are pretty simple, after all. 

Someone, somewhere, loves me. 

My butt still hurts. 

More Exposure and "Walking Depression"

I'm depressed again, but this is the depression that leads into more depression later on.  The preliminary depression.  You kind of feel bad, but much worse is coming.  You are at the gym and know you should work out but only have 45 minutes left of the time before you get your ride.  You don't go exercise: instead you write this blog and play with Facebook. 

I've been feeling masterfully guilty today.  My profesora was sick and class was cancelled.  I'm not sure of the details, but she was sitting outside of the UC and drinking some water.  I think there is something wrong between me and her.  She's like a firecracker and I'm like a spud dud.   I'm trying to anticipate her and she's trying to anticipate the needs of all her students.  I feel like a big distraction, but I really just want to learn Mexican American History, grab the credit, not be forced into some giant people mill.  Which is what we all want. 

A lot of people from Six Flags passed out because of the heat.  I wonder, could it be the heat?  It was exceedingly sweaty today and I had to change my white shirt cause of visibility problems.  Maybe it's the last heat wave until the Autumn cool. 

I am pretty depressed, but it's what I call a "walking" depression.  And I want to talk about this.
I feel sad and down, but still functional.  Like I could run forever on this pain.  It's not debilitating depression, but definitely leads to it.  Leading to a deeper depression. 

That's why I think I may need more schooling after all.  I'm planning on finishing my University Studies degree, with two more classes in the spring.  I could go for another year and get my English degree. (I'm hoping I could   And I could get a Masters in Math or Communication or Psychology, anything to keep me from working for a couple more years.  (Or I could leave UTA...*dramatically* ...FOREVER....and try a different college.) 

I assume I am practically a demon in disguise, changing everything I touch.  Careless.   Angry.  Mean-spirited.  These are the things I think I am not ever, but I know that people think I am and that I express these things sometimes.  But you know, if you don't go, you won't get the help. 

I also feel like something could happen.  I could get into that "secret society" that I've mentioned before, which is probably all in my head, but is still there none-the-less.   I could talk to people.  I know that sounds dumb. But it does take all of my concentration to say something in class or to ask a classmate for a hairband.  And sometimes I don't do it.  Sometimes I do. 

I really hate kids, especially those of my relatives and people close to me.  They are always so innocently self-righteous and want me to play games with them.  I don't know any kid games.  And am really bad at making stuff up off the top of my head.  Then they start pulling rank on you.  Because you're not automatically defending yourself like their healthy immune systems are.  It hurts my feelings.  But kids are just kids. 

This depression is manifesting itself as pain in my shoulders and arms.  There is no real solution, except going back in time and exercising.  Unfortunately time travel isn't invented yet, at least not for matter.  Maybe I can exercise tonight. 

All I can do in my profesora's case is to follow my conscience which says, I should be open to distracting myself before class, instead of trying to read my profesora's mind.  That's all me, the little one in God, can do. 

Being reminded of Six Flags, I formulate a plan to work and go to school at the same time, but I know this is useless to consider.  There's only so many hours in a week.  I can only look back and reminisce, those were good times.  It was when I was coming out of my depression and felt that I really deserved to be happy. 

As for getting more hours at UTA, I'm clown fishing it.  Coming out, and then going back in. Coming out, and then going back in.  Lol.  I'm sticking with university studies, but will ask about the dual degree in the fried and diminishing English department. 

I am a lot of bad things, but I think that's the point. You are bad, so you go to school to get good at something.   Right?  But to me, college is super elitist.  Only the best go to become the best.  And I am old and boring.  And odd numbered.  My twenties were awful.  But this Is my thirties, something good could happen. I'm worried that my talking to people could have super abundant bad consequences because of being silent so long.  You don't share, you don't care.  Bad can work. This is an idea I hate to entertain because I believe that communication is the most essential attribute that connects us to God.  We need to talk to people. It's human (not animal) to communicate. 

Maybe that's what I need to do with kids.  Communicate.  I like having little games with them, as long as the results are not depressingly not in my favor.  I don't know why kids try to beat me so badly.  Maybe I seem weak and inferior.  But I'm hoping that I can have a better attitude towards them and something positive can come out of that.  I kind of think of them as little time machines, which is not particularly helpful.   To think of them as people is the hardest thing to do because you do that, then they change before your eyes and you never trust them again.   And then you or they have to become a villain.  I'm voting that the children of the corn/gremlins are, but that's just my self preservation instinct talking. 

All my situations have a solution.  They are all solvable problems which with discussion, help and time, can be resolved.  I need a therapist desperately.  But I don't want to get one, which reminds me.  Coming off of lithium is really, really hard.  It's like you are a sun burst and then you are dipped into a vat of depression.  I don't know how I'm going to get off this morning dose.  Another solvable problem.  Time and patience. 

Exposure

You get to the point where it's like do I expose myself more?  Do I reveal more secrets in a sad last attempt at ... something.  I'm one of those people who get more active when things come to an end, and I'm feeling things coming to an end lately. School, friendships, relationships, etc. 

An era of something.  This is a big deal. 

The problem is I'm really hurting and as great as it would be to let it out on the anonymous internet, it's really not great.  You have to have personal connections.

On one hand I believe this, but there's a part of me that is like B.S., you gotta write everything, every little horrible thing, and every horrible person that did something to you in the past 10 years. 

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but people have to realize that they can't do that.  They have done it, but there are consequences.  This is my only way to do that.  I don't have any personal connections.  I don't want to go on any dating sites.  I can't go to church, something to do with my mom and her not going to church. 

It's frustrating.  You think you're righteous and then suddenly you aren't.  It's like righteousness is fluid and changing every minute.  Righteousness is personal, not universal...?  I wish God talked about this in the Bible.  Maybe Proverbs, but it mainly talks about wisdom and knowledge. 

There's school, but everyone is either in a secret group that hates me (sometimes because I worked at Six Flags)  and sometimes because I'm not in a secret group and the others are innocent slaves who hate me because they think that they will get a one up and I'm only surviving because this is my first semester back. 

Maybe school's a big popularity contest.  I never believed it because I was homeschooled and there were only three of us and you can't really be popular in a triad.  Then I had a low in junior high in 6th and 7th grade and then 7th grade was fantastic at a Baptist private school, cause everyone was nice and it was small.  Then 8th grade sucked really bad, but I made some friends.  I colorguarded my way through high school.  Not really a popularity contest there. 

I think I use people too hard.  Not even on purpose.  It's like I wave my hand and I've sucked half their life out.  I don't know until later and then it's too late to make amends.  They look sucked out and I look brilliant (except for working at 6 Flags which strangely has more of an impact on me today than all my years of depression) and I want to buddy up with them and they look at me like...I'm the worst human being on the planet and they want to see me really depressed in vengeance.  And for some reason that's acceptable to pick on the one who is outside.  Who is older.  Who is awkward. 

And my neighbors are all depressed because I'm in school and they can't control when I walk my dog.

So personal connections are on the back burner to keeping up with school homework, thinking, acting and reacting to people who don't like me.   There are some people who I adore.  But I keep looking at them in my head and I see them look away from my eyes, head down and shake their heads, like we could never be on the same level. 

So I'm pretty much screwed on personal connections. 

Today, I chose to expose myself more.  To connect, to share with someone who reads what's going on with me.  I hope this helps. 

The Universe

Today I wanted to get up, but I was definitely considering staying in bed. 

I had a funky dream where I was having a debate with my professor and someone called her extra crispy, which was funny because she has a tan is rather curt. 

My dog had stretches of the night outdoors, so I had to get up every so odd hours and put her out or bring her back in when I heard her little bark.  


I'm here, at school, feeling tired.  Not exhausted, but generally tired. 

"What should I do next?"  I wonder, stupidly. 

"Sleep," I think, also pretty stupidly.  I have 2 hours to kill.  Maybe I should have gone to the library and found a couch to sleep on.  There's one on the fourth floor.   Didn't bring a watch today.  Dumb. 

***   ***

Did some Spanish lab work, checked my emails, considered moving from the outside to the inside of the picnic table, and did move. 8:31 am. 

*** ***

Feel much better after Spanish class.   The professor there is so understanding and the classmates are kind, as well.  Then lunch.  Veggie Subway Sandwich.  Now here.  I'm in Nowhere, 3rd Floor, Central Library, UTA, Arlington, Texas, USA, North America, Earth, The Solar System, The Milky Way, The Universe. 

Today

Vegetarian trying to be Vegan.  Can't resist Starbucks.  Milk central.  I'm supposed to limit my coffee drinking, too, so I got a Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino.  I don't think there's coffee in it. 

Missed a class today, but have a friend in it so I know I don't have to bring scantrons for the test and we can meet later with our group, because we are going to get extra credit by attending an event.

Made me feel awesome after my missing a class this morning.  I was sleeping in the library.  So dumb, but I was tired. 

Have my Advanced Fiction Writing class at 5:30 in the Preston Hall, in the room with the comfortable, black, butt-hugging chairs. 

I have no words.  I open the webpage and I have no words.

I am filled with a great debt of gratitude and peace. 

Also I'm concerned about my speaking up in class.  Silence is a symptom.  I simply didn't have the words.  I'm learning all sorts of disfluencies.  Um, Urg, Arg, Hm, Hmph, Wah, Er, and Urp.  I'm comfortable with sounds.  But when I think of speaking.  The mechanics of moving my mouth.  The breath that it takes to make a noise.  Loudness and softness, Gentleness, or meaness Pitch, Volume, Feeling, Intention.  Anything and everything...I am exhausted already with the very thought.

I think, I will have to move my mouth. He who hesitates is lost.  Love is sweaty and embarrassing.  Don't expect me to speak from my childhood, because I rarely spoke, in a high voice and mostly ridiculousness

Talking, networking, random, spontaneous conversations.  I feel like Fall 2015, I facebooked and listened my butt off with small results.  A foundation was set. Yeses and noes.

Thoughts on a warm Tuesday in September

I am on the third floor of Tremble Hall on the UTA Campus.  I'm right across from the Language Acquisition Center, sitting on one of two old wooden picnic tables. 

I am very sleepy and it is very warm and yet not oppressive.  I've been drinking water out of an Aquafina bottle I have recycled.  It is going towards warm.  I've been Stumbleuponing, the one website which takes you to many different websites, all mostly entertaining.  Trying to stay awake.  It's like sitting in a turret up here.  There are old pasteboard benches with metal slats against the walls, without any chairs to seat them. 

I am disproportionally anxious.    People were talking below me, casually, comfortably and then they floated out.  I think I'm going to fill up my water bottle.  Then to the basement with me.  For another 2 hours until class starts. 

It is getting stuffy up here. 

*************************************************************************************

Restocked the old water bottle, found a snack machine within my budget.  Victory! 

Also I want to shed some love on my readers.  You have not commented.  I don't mind.  I appreciate that you read. 

But if you do comment, I would be very happy.  Even if you were bashing me a little.  I'm kind of self-depreciating.  I just like knowing there are people out there.  People EXIST!

I like to pretend it's too hard to talk to people.  It's like a little game, I think, a sad and dangerous game that I use to define who I am.  Everyone does it to some extent.  It's really unhealthy. 

That's really hard for me to admit.  I've never said that to anyone, and just recently admitted it to myself.