Okay... I think it's time for a muchly-overdue venting of sorts.
I think I have fallen back into a time of my life when, things just aren't so wonderful. Yeah, I know, one of y'all is probably about to say, "Geez, Jenn, not this s#!t again" but before you open your mouth and say stuff, hear me out. Please. Because this is a bit more serious than you think, and perhaps about time these things that I'm about to say are said.
First and foremost, losing both a friend and a family member in the course of two weeks, sucks. Only NOW is when the fact that I miss my Great-Uncle Ed, has been hitting me. Been this way since Saturday, when the family had his memorial service. I have in my apartment the prayer shawl I'd gotten for him the Sunday before he died... which was Sunday 2 October. Monday 3 October, the parents [Dad and Stepmom] delivered it to him, as they'd been visiting him everyday since he'd fallen terminally ill. Tuesday 4 October was my birthday--Uncle Ed died the next day with the shawl on him. After the service this past Saturday, Grandma Sharon gave the shawl to me, and the family was thankful for the shawl. But I miss him tremendously, and have cried a bit about it since.
Besides Uncle Ed's passing, inside... well... my spiritual winter has arrived a few days early. Usually the month of November is when my darkest of moods tends to hit but, this past week [and month for that matter] has decided otherwise. It's been a while since I'd felt this low but, it's not the first time I've felt like this and [unfortunately] it won't be the last.
Right now, inside, I feel very insignificant. It's not one of those passing moods when a LOT of people can get away with telling me to "snap out of it"--trust me, VERY FEW PEOPLE get away with that saying. And honestly, sometimes, I just want to smack those that should -not- be telling me to just "snap out of it." That's the thing--I CAN'T. I F#%KING CAN'T. I fight with depression every single day of my life. Been fighting it for some 12 years now, and it's a helluva fight, I can tell you this much. I can't just "snap out of it"--it doesn't always happen that way.
Part of this despairing--and this note goes to my fellow Frostwind typists out there--is because someone's had issues with me for a good while now and, I guess, hasn't let go of them. I don't like having to work so hard for so long just to make things right with someone--and mind you, I'm the kind of person that forgives and moves on for the most part. But knowing that this person won't even acknowledge a SINGLE MESSAGE IN KINDNESS that I'd sent her, makes me feel less of a person, and I die a little inside each time I check to find there's no reply from her whatsoever in my forum inbox. And it hurts but, it's not like this person gives a damn about it. And the only few typists that DO speak with me, they don't even know this until now. So yes, this is another something that's been eating me up inside, but that I've kept silent all the while. And no matter how many times I apologise to this person, I feel as if it will never do a single thing. That it will never be enough, or that it will not change this person's mind or issues with me. And sadly, this has taken a serious toll on my wanting to write, as well as my wanting to jump into storylines with said typist. So that's another piece of this depression puzzle that's getting to me.
Roleplay typing dilemma aside, right now on the inside, I feel like the most insignificant person in the world. Like everyone's doing so much better than me, and that no matter how up I try to be there is always something shoving me back into the reality that, things on my end will NOT get better. I have to force myself to smile for the world and tell them "Eh, I'm fine" more than I would like to admit. And it doesn't help me any when there are people who tell me they'll be there for me, but when I need them to hear me out they're too busy and don't have time. So on the inside... I am insignificant, isolated AND pretty much helpless. And I really don't have anything to look forward to anymore these days. I'm NOT looking forward to Christmas Lessons + Carols on Sunday 18 December because, no matter how big a deal I make of it, those that I invite [and not just to that but to EVERY Church-Choir-related something] don't come. I'm not asked to hang out with anyone more often than not. And it all comes down to me just being the... well... the outsider. I know I have coworkers and maybe a manager or two at work, say something about me behind my back--all of the simple fact that I am strange. I AM AN ABSOLUTELY ODDITY AND PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT IT. Yes, I'm strange, but it doesn't help that I am the only strange human being in this bloody small town, let alone my circle of friends. And when I do try to get excited or happy over something, I don't really have anyone to relate to about it because, more often than not, it's just out of their league.
Inside, there's a piece of me that hates myself so much, for being so damned different, that it makes me want to just rip myself apart. And this is a BIG reason why I don't like using actual kitchen knives [or own an Exact-o knife]--it's because I am more than capable of harming myself. No, seriously. There are scars on my hands and left arm that go back a few years because of my self-spite--including one on my left arm that goes back 12 years. Freshman year of high school, when it all began. The most recent of the wounds was back in June, and there are scars that are still there. Sometimes I'll just run my nails down my arm, behind everyone's back at work, when the day is far too difficult over the course of the day and in the end it feels as if everyone's angry at me for God only knows what, even when it's my fault. [To my coworkers, yeah, who knew?]
This is the painful, disturbing reality that I live with every single day. It's a constant battle just to keep some sort of inner light burning even while the storm's about to extinguish it by whatever means needed. I am my own worst critic, and in my own eyes I feel as if I can't do a damn thing right or that no matter how hard I try, it will never be good enough. But all I do is try, and keep going--albeit reluctantly sometimes. There's a saying that goes "It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice" and, perhaps, that's been how I've always been. I don't know. Maybe I haven't entirely a clue anymore--because, perhaps, I just never really was 'important' anyway. Perhaps that's just how bitter and hurt I am feeling right now. Because there will always be someone better than me, and I guess that's just what-all I am used to as well.
Please understand--this is NOT A SUICIDE LETTER. Far from it but still in all seriousness. This is whatever's left of me that's whispering what should've been a cry for help, for someone to just hear me the hell out. Only, I feel like it just gets ignored, or perhaps I really have done a damn-good job convincing the world that all's well when, really, "I was only dreaming" as one OMD song goes. And maybe, for now, I am just done pretending that everything's fine. I have no idea anymore, but I do know that, this is the most sense I've made to myself in a very long time. Possibly ever. I don't know about you guys though but, this is how I am feeling, and probably how I will be feeling as this inner 'spiritual winter' that is November rolls by.
"I was only dreaming
I was only trying to catch your eye
I was only wishing you would notice me..."
~ me.
