July 4th, 2000 11:00 PM

Ah. Here we are again. I suppose I can do this on computer, it’s probably safer than my diary. At least I have a password for the computer. A good hacker could get around it, but the people that I am worried about are far from good hackers. Some don’t even know how to turn on a computer. So I am relatively safe. Let’s see, it’s July 4th, and I have fallen into a funk once again. I’m not sure what caused it or why. Let’s just say I am not really a happy person right now. We’re planning my Grad party, and there has been nothing but fighting around the house for a week now. If I had known it was going to cause so many fights and upsets, I would never have said okay when Mom asked if I wanted a party. Unfortunately, I did say okay, because I thought it would be a nice thing to have. After all, I’ve never really had any big parties. My friends were at one or having one nearly every week, but I never went and I never hosted. It didn’t appeal to me. So I agreed to the grad party. Big mistake. I should have seen it coming. Fights fights fights fights fights. All week, even longer, since I agreed. But I didn’t see it. Why, I don’t know. Everything that happens around here happens like that. It’s become the norm. I should have realized. I hate fighting. I hate confrontation. I wish for once that something would happen so we could come together as a family and do something without it turning into a big fiasco. Like tonight, for example. We went to see the fireworks, like we do every year. Big deal. Well, it was. Mom and Dad fought all day first, so by the time we were ready to go, no one even wanted to anymore. Then we went. We took Vick’s friend Natalia with us. Mom and Dad didn’t fight in the car because Natalie was there, but it was tense and uncomfortable, as usual. Then it all wasn’t worth it, because the fireworks were low and scary. Some were exploding much too close to the ground. It was awfully frightening. We were really too close, but my parents didn’t think so. I kept getting hit in the head with ashes. It sucked. I got home and pulled a big chunk of charred “stuff” out of my hair. And then I came upstairs to write, in the hopes that I would feel better. This time it didn’t work. I still feel low, and vulnerable, and miserable. But, there’s nothing I can do about it. At least, not right now. I’ll find a way to cope. For now, goodnight.

July 5th 4:46 PM

Ouch. I have a headache. What else is new? Not much. Same old same old. I’m tired. Things have been rough these past few days. I wish I had more positive things to say, but I don’t. Things have been rough. I’m worried about college, worried about getting out of here in one piece, worried about making it through. My sister has been incredibly stubborn and inflexible lately, too. She makes it very difficult to function on a daily basis. I’ve been doing a lot of work with crystals and meditation lately, just to get by. Unfortunately, most of the time it hasn’t done much good. I can’t seem to let myself go fully enough to feel any benefits. If I could just give in and believe, I would get so much more done. But I can’t. I never have been able to let myself go enough to believe fully in anything. Hell, I don’t know why I would expect that I would be able to believe in anything else when I can’t believe in myself first. Anyway, I have to go lie down for a while. Maybe I will write some more later.

July 7th 2:17 PM

Whee. We’re playing the “Every person in this house hates every other person” game. It’s been nothing but continual fights for almost two weeks now. Ah, fun. I’m so depressed I want to scream. But I can’t, ‘cause that’s “infantile.” My mother’s favorite word. She calls me infantile and worthless and stupid all the time. She even tells me that I won’t make it in college.

July 9th 2:14 PM

My party yesterday went well. Mr. Thornton didn’t even RSVP, I guess I expected that. But I got a bit of a shock when Mr. Conte didn’t come! I was so disappointed. He promised. I really should learn not to listen to what he promises, he’s been doing this all year. But I did. I counted on him, and I believed him. And he let me down. I can’t believe he’d do that. I can’t believe he keeps breaking promises. This concert, that concert, the other concert, Alexander Nevsky, graduation, my grad party. I adore him, and he knows it, and nothing hurts worse than to be lied to by someone who you really care about, and who you thought cared about you. He’d better have a good excuse as to why he wasn’t there, ‘cause I’m going to see him for a lesson this week and if he doesn’t I will really be hurt. Because I love him. He’s been a great friend, and I don’t understand why he keeps telling me that he’s going to do things and then doesn’t... Anyway, after the party I went out with Holly and Liz. We were going to go to a movie, but that didn’t work, so we ended up going to Borders and then going to Louie’s for a hot dog. I got a chilidog and chili fries, the same as everyone else did. By that time it was a quarter after twelve. I looked down at my plate after the waitress brought it and thought “what the hell am I doing, eating this at MIDNIGHT!” I got a bit of indigestion, but was fine by the time we got home. It was actually quite fun. I got four CD’s at Borders, courtesy of Liz. I was ready to pay for them, but she insisted, and I let her because they were a buck apiece. I figured, “what the hell, why not.” They’re pretty cool, too. Good meditation stuff. Lizzie also gave me a pretty pendant--the Archangel Michael pendant that I liked in Heaven on Earth. I wasn’t going to buy it because it was far from cheap, and my father would have had a fit if he saw it. But after she gave it to me I showed them and told them that Liz had bought it for me because she was worried about me going to Ohio, and wanted to get something to protect me (which was true), and they just laughed and said “Lizzie’s weird, but that’s sweet,” so everything worked out all right. It was kind of nice. So I’m wearing it now, and I feel pretty good. Maybe I’m just happy that the party went so well, and relieved that everyone isn’t so stressed now. Of course, it is raining and miserable outside...we really lucked out as far as the weather yesterday. It was glorious! But today...oh well. Well, I suppose I should go now. I want to take a listen to my new CD’s and do some meditation while I feel good enough to do it. I don’t know how long this good mood will last and I should make the best of it. I really feel that I have some form of depression, because I am down too often for it to be normal. I looked up borderline personality disorder online...it fits very, very well. I have all the symptoms that are used by doctors to diagnose it. So, perhaps. If I still have these recurring depressions in college, I plan to seek help by way of the school, as long as it is private and completely confidential...I mean to the extent that my parents will not be told. That’s the last thing I want to happen, because it will make everything too complicated and much worse. If I can’t get counseling without their knowledge, I will not do it at all. But for now, up with the good mood, and I’m going to go have fun!

July 14th 9:05 PM

Well, here I am again. I had a huge fight with Liz several days ago. I haven’t spoken to her since, and I don’t think I’m going to. After what she said to me, as far as I am concerned our friendship is over. But this upset me a lot. We’ve been friends over eight years, and she really hurt me. I couldn’t believe the things she said. I got really upset and depressed. So I cut myself again last night. I took my big red Swiss Army knife and I cut my right arm...a little half-inch cut, but enough. Several days before, I cut my left arm. That one was a little deeper. I don’t understand why I had the urge to cut suddenly, but I felt better after I did. It scares me...this is the fifth time I’ve done it. The urges are increasing in frequency. I did it once last year, then twice several months ago, and now twice within a week. I don’t know how much farther this will go. I don’t have anyone to talk to. I’m afraid to talk to anyone. I don’t know if they’d understand. I really do need to seek counseling. It would be of great benefit in controlling the emotional pain and the urges. I must really hate myself. I like to see the blood flow, and feel the pain. I don’t know what to do now. I’m scared again. I don’t like myself, I don’t trust myself, and I don’t want to be myself. I am weak. I can’t stand to be weak. I have to be strong. I should be able to get by on my own without any help. But I can’t. I know I can’t, and I know I shouldn’t be ashamed about needing help, but some little voice within tells me “You’ve failed!” and “You’ll never be good enough! You’ll never be what everyone wants you to be! You CAN’T DO IT!!” This little voice says that if I get help, I’ll be inferior forever, and everyone will know that I’m inferior, and there won’t be anything that I can do about it. So I don’t get help. I want to so badly. I must when I get to college. But I can’t right now. My parents prevent me, fear prevents me, and I prevent me. I wish I knew what to do.

July 15th 11:38AM

Good morning computer. I just realized five minutes ago that Nick’s grad party is tonight. I had forgotten all about it! I feel like a total asshole. So I have to run out today and get him a present. I’m not sure what to get him, though. I know Nick, but I don’t know Nick. You know? I mean, he’s a good friend and everything, but I don’t really know what he likes or anything else. Sigh. Well, last night was interesting. I chatted online for a long time in the Self-Injury chat room. I talked to a lot of people, and learned a lot, and let go of a lot of pain. It helped. I was really glad. As long as everything goes okay today, I shouldn’t have time to get depressed. I’ve got a bunch of things to do. I should be okay. But then again, I don’t know. I never know anymore, and it hits me at odd times, even when I think everything is good. It’s really hard sometimes. And there’s usually no reason for it. I can be having a really great day, and suddenly I feel like black clouds have rolled in. There’s never much warning. I joke to myself about how I can go from happy to horrible in 2.3 seconds. I joke, yes, but it’s kind of sad. I wish there were things I could do to prevent it. I mean, it can really ruin an otherwise nice day. Well, I suppose I should go now. I will write more later tonight, likely when I get back from the party.

2:29 PM

Or maybe I’ll write more now. This day definitely goes on the Bad Days list. My mother is a complete and total asshole. I can’t stand living with her anymore. The bitch hit me again, but this time I didn’t even care. She can do what she wants. She’s already lost me. I don’t have any respect for her at all anymore.

She is one of the most backward people I know. She has real problems, but she can’t see that. She thinks everything is fine, that she’s reacting normally. She doesn’t realize how overblown her reactions to normal things are. She blows up over nothing at all. I’ve asked her questions on many occasions only to be greeted with a scream or a foul name instead of a reasonable answer. And when she comes home from work I hide in my room until dinnertime for fear that if I say anything I’ll set her off. Usually, if something is going to happen then, it begins before I go downstairs. Like, she’ll start on Dad instead of me. If I’m not down there I can be certain I didn’t start it. Although sometimes I can start it just by being in the house. Or out of the house. I can’t go to my friends’ houses very often anymore, because she gets upset if I’m not home. She also gets upset over college. She tells me she’s not going to pay for college for a loser like me. She tells me that I’m stupid, that I’ll never make it. She tells me that I don’t deserve to go to college. I can’t even describe the names she calls me. The NICEST one is “little bitch.” She tells me I’m infantile and irresponsible, and that I’ll never live up to her standards. She tells me all the time how much better my eight-year-old sister is, how she is so much smarter and neater and more talented and prettier than I am. She even said once that Victoria is the daughter she always wanted. Then she told me that I was an accident and that she never wanted me to begin with. She’s even holding my grad party over my head, using it to make me feel guilty...“I busted my ass for your fucking party! You are an ungrateful little bitch!” She isn’t going to let me go to the party tonight, even though I told Nick I was coming. She forbade me to go get a gift for him, said she wasn’t going to take me (I didn’t ask her to) and that Dad wasn’t allowed to take me either. I’m going to try to go anyway. I don’t care. She can’t take my friends away from me. She may try to take college away from me, though. I’m scared. She keeps threatening to not pay. I’m afraid she might get me down there and then stop paying right in the middle of it. I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t make that kind of money on my own. She doesn’t want me to go to Ohio State. She thinks that sending me to college is a waste of money. She’s told me that over and over again. She keeps telling me that I’ll never make anything of my life because I am a total failure. She says she is embarrassed of me, embarrassed that I am fat and stupid and incompetent and ugly and idiotic and useless and worthless and any other nasty thing that she can think of to say. I can’t stand her anymore. I thought about suicide again today, for the first time since last year. But I realized that I don’t want to die...that is not an option for me. I want to go on in life and make music and be the person that I know I can be. I need to be loved for who I am. If I can’t get that from her, I’ll get it from someone else. I am a musician. I will always be a musician, and have always been a musician, and I need to go on and fulfill that. If she can’t accept me as I am, that is her problem. Sure, it hurts me like hell, so bad some days I simply want to cry or hurt myself or do anything at all to stop the pain, but I have to be who I am. I can’t be what she wants me to be. Lord, I’ve tried so hard, but I know now that I can’t. I guess I am a failure to her, but I’m not a failure to me yet. I have to follow my own path. If there is always disappointment in her eyes, I’ll have to live with that.

4:26 PM

I feel like I need to write more. I’ve never needed to this badly before. I can’t believe the urges that I’m feeling today. I want to cut, and I want to scream, and just moments ago I thought about overdosing on Tylenol. This really sucks. I feel trapped. It’s incredible that I can be thinking these things in one part of my mind, while a second part of it tells me not to do anything stupid and knows that I won’t, and a third part puts on the front of everything being okay! I know I’m not going to follow through on any of these thoughts, and the thing that scares and surprises me is that they are there in the first place. I want to live. I don’t know why these thoughts keep coming. It’s hard to understand, and some little part of me listens to them and considers them...that alone scares me, that any part of me would give them credence... but the great majority of “me” brushes them off and goes on, knowing that the little part that listens is not strong enough to overpower the big part that doesn’t. I’m afraid, though, that the little part may somehow increase its power. I’m afraid it will catch me at a bad moment, and I’ll do more than just think. Thinking doesn’t hurt, but action would. I’m not sure what to do about this. It’s very scary for me. I really, really need help. But there is no available method right now. I have to hold out on my own. This is frightening. I wish that there were someone I could talk to. I’d really love to talk to Mr. Conte, but I don’t want to burden him with this. He’s got a new baby, and lots of other stuff to concentrate on. I don’t want to bother him. I don’t know what to do, though...help, someone! I wish there were someone to help. But that’s not likely to happen. I need help. I need someone to listen to me. I need someone who won’t tell me to “fuck off and grow up.” I just don’t think there is anyone. I’m afraid to ask someone for help, but I’m also afraid to do this on my own. I’m afraid I CAN’T do this on my own. What happens then?

5:37PM

News flash. I just went to get Nick’s gift. Dad took me. Mom didn’t have any say whatsoever, the bitch. So HA! I have lessons Wednesday, so maybe I’ll talk a little to Mr. Conte then. We’ll see. Also, I may write more after the party...I don’t know. I do have to work tomorrow, so I’d best not stay up too late. I would like to chat online though...perhaps I will. It might make me feel better.

12:08 AM...it’s really July 16, but this entry still belongs with the last...

I just got back from the party a little over an hour ago. Then I went online. To the HealthyPlace.com self-injury chat. I got there to find everyone in the middle of a crisis. Nomorehurt wants to commit suicide...she had a bunch of meds laid out to take...she logged off after a while with nothing resolved even though everyone pleaded with her not to, to let us help her...I talked to her, trying to get her to listen, to respond. Nothing worked...I’m so scared for her. No one could find her real name or address...so we couldn’t call the police. We can’t get her help because we don’t know who she is...God. I tried to talk to her, tried to help her, tried to get her to stay with us...but I failed! I don’t know what’s going to happen to her. I hope to God that she doesn’t do it...I can’t believe that I couldn’t do more to help. I feel awful. If she doesn’t come back, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know how to respond. I feel like I’ve failed her. Like everything my mother says is true. How can it be possible? I tried, I really really did. I wanted to help her. I wanted to so badly. Because if I’m ever in that situation again, I want someone to help me. I can’t expect anyone to help me if I can’t help someone else. I don’t deserve help anyhow. But Jesus, I wish there were more that I could do. I’m scared for her. I’m scared that it might someday be me. And I’m scared that someone might fail me as I’ve failed her.

July 16 11:29 AM

Good morning. Today is another day. I have to go work today. I am feeling better now. Just so long as nothing else happens. I’m glad to get out of the house. I’ll use any excuse, lately. Tensions are too high around here. I have to think about myself first. Before anyone else. Because if I don’t help myself I’m not going to be much use to anyone else, either. I have to take measures to get myself calmed down, and my outlook improved. Starting now. While I feel good today. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I have to be who I am. I have to take care of me. If that bothers people, then they don’t truly care about me, and were never friends anyway. So that’s that. There are too many good things in life, and too many good people. I’m going to stop worrying about the bad.

10:20 PM

I just read something that made me cry...it sums it all up, so much better than anything that I could have come up with to explain “it”...to explain WHY, to explain how I can do what I do and how it becomes a “coping mechanism” and why it works. I understand it more myself now...this was written in a Self-injury e-goups e-mail.

I read this and I cried. I cried because it made so much sense, and meant so much. It was what I would have wanted to say to explain, had I wanted to say anything. I couldn’t explain Self-injury to myself until I read this. But now I understand all the feelings. I UNDERSTAND NOW. I understand, and I feel...well, better. I realize that my feelings have credibility. They may not be the best feelings, but they are at least credible. I thought that I was crazy. I thought that no one else could be feeling what I was feeling. I really thought that I was nuts. Now I know I’m not. I am in need of help, yes, but I am not “nuts.” I am still sad, and scared, and depressed and confused, along with a host of other things. But I am not alone in these feelings, and knowing that helps. It helps so much. Just knowing that there are others out there who think in the same way that I do helps. I am not alone, and I am not crazy, and I’m really glad to know this because I was very, very afraid that I was. I have been afraid for a long time.

July 24, 8:24 PM

I am quite down today, and I don’t really know why. I feel very low about myself, very self-conscious and very vulnerable. I am doubting everything. I doubt my abilities, my future, and myself. I want to make the pain go away, but I don’t know how. SI is not the answer...I can’t keep doing that because it is too hard to hide the scars. And it makes me feel worse after I do it. I may feel better at the time, but the shame that follows is worse.

August 14, 7:53 PM

Today has been a decent day. I’m writing here because I haven’t written in a while, and I think it’s important to keep things up to date. I got home from orientation late Saturday night. I had a super time at the college, but the rest of the trip was hell. Everyone fought the whole time. Mom never let up once during the whole trip. She got mad at Dad, me, herself, and Grandma. The only person who skated by was Vick, as usual. What else is new. So anyway, I’m an official Buckeye now...I’m so very, very happy. I can’t wait to go! I was scared, but I’m not anymore. I have a little more confidence in myself, now that everything is not such a mystery and I know more of what will happen when I get there. Welcome week sounds like so much fun! I got my schedule for the first quarter...no long treks across campus. Every one of my class buildings is right on the Oval. It’s great! I’ll have more free time than I was thinking, too. A good practice schedule seems do-able. I just hope I get into Baker, then I’ll have practice rooms right in the dorm and won’t have to go running off elsewhere to practice. Hey, cool thing... they have free counseling for students. Each student gets ten free visits to a counselor or psychiatrist every quarter! Maybe I can finally let go of some of the crap. I think it’s absolutely wonderful that they offer these services. Oh, one bad thing happened...I found out that I was never sent the football ticket forms...Blah! It’s all due to that stupid mistake that was made by admissions when they didn’t credit me for paying my deposit. That delayed housing, may have screwed me out of my dorm, and did screw me out of my football tickets. The kid in the ticket office said that I should call September 18 to see if they have any tickets turned in by kids who decided they aren’t coming to school. He said that, other than that, there was nothing I could do. “It’s too late,” he says. Bull, bull and baloney. This was the college’s mistake, not mine...yet I suffer for it. I was really looking forward to having those tickets! I’m not a big football fan, but I was really excited. I mean, OSU football is BIG! Just the spectacle would be enjoyable. Prospects don’t look good...I probably won’t be able to get tickets at all. Which sucks. Badly. After I found out about the tickets, I ran over to admissions to make sure I didn’t “miss” any other important mailings. They said everything else was square...I hope to God it is. I’m so happy about college; all I need now is for something to screw it up...that would be a disaster. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. I’ve strived for it far too long. Anyway, orientation was fun. I learned a lot about how things work. There are so many student organizations to get involved in...I can’t wait to join some. I just have to watch to make sure I don’t try to do too many things at once. Academics first...SURVIVAL first. I have to learn how to do this. Got to get organized...that’s going to be tough. I’m going to have to work very hard. But I can’t wait. Ohio State’s music program is ranked quite high!!!!! AND I GOT IN!! I’m a Buckeye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! May I say,

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

9:54 PM

I’m back. Slightly more down than before...don’t know why. I get this way. I’ll be fine and then end up getting upset or blue for no reason. Sigh. I don’t really know what to do. I want to go online at the moment, but Mr. Conte might call, even though it’s late, so I don’t want to tie up the phone. Although he probably won’t call at all. As usual. Even though he “fixed” the Silver Band problem, I don’t really want to go rehearse and play with them again. But, on the other side of the coin, I really don’t want to let him down. He asked me to play, and I said I would. If I didn’t I’d feel like I failed him. I can’t do that. Gah. Maybe I’m just tired. Though I can’t imagine why. I just kind of relaxed all day. Took time to myself. Got away from family. They went to the fair, which I was pretty glad of. I just couldn’t take another day with all of us together the entire time. I would have gone nuts. As sad as that is, I can’t stand being around them. All except Grams. I love Grams and would spend as much time with her as possible. She was upset and disappointed that I didn’t go, and I felt very bad about leaving her hanging, but I couldn’t stand another day with Mom. Mom and I have spent the last week together, to great tribulation. Neither of us can handle the other for more than a few hours. It makes me sick. I try awfully hard to be patient with her. I try to accept her for what she is, knowing that she won’t ever change, but I can’t. She really TRIES to hurt me sometimes. I hate it. I wish we had a better relationship. I wish I could understand her. Things would be easier if I could just get a handle on where she’s coming from when she goes after me. If I could understand how she thinks, I might be better able to avoid conflicts. But I can’t grasp her mind. I don’t relate to her at all, and though I try can never see things from her side. Unfortunately, this makes me feel like I’ve failed. Again. Time after time I end up thinking “Where did I go wrong? What could I have done to prevent this? What did I or didn’t I do?” Some would say that it isn’t my fault, but I can’t convince myself of that. I believe that I have control over what happens to me. Something I do must trigger her, and make her act the way she does. She wouldn’t just do that on her own. I don’t know what to do. I’m stagnating. The same problems occur over and over again, but I never manage to find solutions that keep them from coming back. I try hard to be a good daughter, but no matter what it seems I’m never good enough. I asked Dad the other day if he was proud to have a Buckeye in the family, and he just kind of sniggered and didn’t really respond. Then he said that he wished I “had picked a college that didn’t charge twenty thousand dollars per year.” All they care about is the money. It doesn’t matter to them that this is one of the best music schools in the country. It doesn’t matter that I am a member of one of the highest -achieving freshmen class in the history of the college. It doesn’t even matter that I will be incredibly happy there. All they care about is the money. They fight all the time in front of me about the money. They’ve put me in the position where I’ve felt the need to apologize to them again and again about the cost. Instead of being proud to go to college, I feel ashamed that I’m costing my parents money. I end up feeling like I don’t deserve to go to college. Especially a place like Ohio State. They tell me all the time that I’m not worth it, if not in so many words then in the way they act, the way they speak to me and look at me, and the way there is always disappointment in their eyes. I will never be good enough for them. They don’t understand my dreams. Mom wanted me to choose a different path, that much is obvious. She questions everything that I do. She refuses to put any faith in me, or to trust my decisions and feelings. She thinks she knows what is right for my life, but in reality she can’t even tell me what kind of music is my favorite, or what my favorite color is, or who my best friend is. She doesn’t know anything about who I really am inside. She just looks at the outside and makes her judgment. “You’re fat. No one is going to want to have anything to do with you when you get older. You’ll never have a boyfriend.” She said this to me when I was twelve. I’ve never gotten over it. And the times that she has told me that she is “embarrassed” to have me for a daughter I will never forget. They shattered me, and cut me deeper every time I think about them. Then I find myself apologizing to her...“Mom, I didn’t mean to...I tried, I’m so sorry.” Or when I didn’t understand the math she was trying to explain to me...her throwing the pencil at my head and telling me I was a stupid idiot. Me sobbing out “I’m sorry Mom. I don’t understand, I’m sorry.” Getting slapped because I was “not listening” to her, when in reality I was listening but still not understanding. All the names, all the curses. The “fucking little bitch”-es and the “friggin’ idiot”-s. “Stupid bitch,” “Little Shit,” “Fat Slob,” “Moron,” or my favorite, “DUH!” She still says those. Nothing ever changes. Strike out any way you can, hit with everything you have. Send her running from the room in tears often, cradling a bruised limb or other injury on occasion. Watch her later, alone in her room, shirt off, staring at the round, small, dark bruises on her chest where your hard angry finger has stabbed while you were screaming in her face. Other times, watch her examine the raised, red welt handprints on her arm, or leg, or the side of her head. Remember the time you almost knocked her unconscious? NO? Well, she does. Or the time you almost pushed her through a window? She still has the scar. Or the black eye that your well-placed slap gave her? That’s the one that called in Child Protection. Not that they did anything. Because you are invincible, you know. You are right and she is wrong. Or so THEY thought. She’s just a child, what does she know? She must be exaggerating. Look what a wonderful woman you are. Clean house, pretty grounds. Well-kept. And you work, too! Amazing. Stupid rebellious teenagers. Can’t believe the lies they tell. Ah, yes. You are strong and she is weak. You are old and wise and she is young and stupid. You know you can intimidate her just by looking at her. You like it when she cowers from you, don’t you? Yes. I knew you did. Remember all the names you’ve called her, or the many times you’ve shattered what little confidence she has managed to salvage from the last time? I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t. She certainly does. She remembers every incident. They come back to her in dreams, demons with twisted faces, coming to haunt her and carry her away on wings of terror. And each demon has your face. You know what you do to her, and you delight in it. You are happy when you do these things. They relieve the anger and hatred that builds inside of you. You feel better then. You don’t see that pain you cause her. You don’t see the inside of the mind, the deepest part that is locked away, poisoned with hatred and fear. The part that will not let her free to live her life as she would like. You don’t see the seed you’ve planted there. She will never believe in herself again. You’ve shattered that fragile part of her. She doubts everything. She cannot trust, because it has been her experience that those whom she would trust and love the most have always betrayed her. She desperately wants help, but doesn’t know where to find it. Even now, without hitting, the emotional weight you force her to carry threatens to crack her fragile facade. She puts on a front to the entire world, making everything seem okay. But she’s fast reaching a point where she can’t do that. She knows she can’t go on much longer. She knows she must find a way out. Her escape shines on the horizon, only a month away, but there are days when she doubts that she can last even that long. There are days when the pain is too great to bear and her only choice is to externalize some of it. Which makes her feel worse later. Then the guilt comes. And the feeling that she is not worthy. That she doesn’t deserve even what she has. That everyone and everything would have been better off if she had not existed. A stain on the surface of the world, she ought to be wiped out. And she looks at you and loves you. Through it all she loves you. For you are her mother. The sacred bond. Mother to daughter. She can’t hate you. You may hate her, but she is unable to hate you. She’d rather excuse you, blame your behavior on something else, because the truth would destroy her. She cannot hate you. What would she do if she could? You’ve never seen the truth that shines inside of her, the determination. She has survived this long, she will not let you beat her now. But you make it so very, very hard for her. Days come when she no longer wants to go on. When she’s too tired to even try. And on these days you swamp her with more than she ordinarily would bear. You choose these days to be the worst. Something in you realizes that if you push just a little harder you might finally accomplish something. You might finally make her crack. If she cracks, she’s done, right? Her will is broken. Then you can reform her into the daughter you’ve always wanted. You can make her be someone you can love. She can be a completely different person. Submissive, obedient, someone whose will you can shape as you please. Whose time will be spent doing things that you want her to do, instead of doing things that she wants and needs to do. Because she won’t have a career, or a future, or a life. She can be your servant. Until she dies. That is something to be proud of. Shaping a child like that. Most parents can’t do that. Most would never have what it takes to try. Thankfully, most lack that hatred. You know, she loves you, and always has, and always will. She’s never asked for more than a return of that love. But you seem incapable of that. So you do what you desire. You make her miserable because it makes you feel good. You push her down to raise yourself up. Then you can say “Look at the way she turned out! I told you she was a loser. She always has been. Never done anything right. At least I did more than that.” The truth is, you’re jealous of her. You envy your own child. She succeeds, she perseveres, she is strong. This threatens you. She might eventually be better than her mother. Something must be done. I have a question for you....

What in hell are you doing to your daughter??

August 15 12:40 PM

Ah. I just re-read much of what I wrote last night, and before. And for the first time I realize how much anger I hold inside, how much resentment. Last night I wanted to cut, but didn’t. I’ve vowed I will not do it again. It’s too hard to hide the scars, and they are too painful a reminder of everything. I think writing is a much more healthy way to release those emotions. The “letter” that I wrote last night helped. It helped me put some feelings into perspective, and allowed me to look at things from a point of view outside my own, though, granted, a biased one because it was created by my own mind. But I did get to do some exploring of my feelings, and that was good. At that moment it proved a viable alternative. I don’t know if it will again, but it worked last night. And I’m awfully glad it did, otherwise I would be sporting the latest in gashes on my arm, and it’s just too hot to wear long sleeves. Try explaining that to people. “Why are you wearing that!? You must be dying!” Actually, I’m perfectly comfortable, thanks. Lie. Oh, it’s not that hot. Lie. The material is very thin. Lie. I really am more comfortable in a long-sleeve shirt after I cut...because it hides it from prying eyes, semi-concerned people who probably wouldn’t understand. Who would think I was sick, or disturbed, or childish, or worse. I am disturbed, but not in the ways that people think. Or better yet, if I don’t wear a long-sleeve shirt... “Oh, my. Doesn’t that hurt?” “How did you cut yourself? My God, that’s a deep one.” “That’s disgusting...do you need stitches?” “How’d you do that?” I never have ready answers for that. How can I tell people that I do it to myself? What questions will they ask me then? I know they’ll ask why. And God knows that I can’t tell them. As much as I would sometimes like to, I really can’t. Not now. They don’t realize how their questions cut. Innocent seeming, some of the words worm their way deep into my soul, and I think If you only knew. If you knew the truth, you would never ask. Because you don’t want to know. You don’t want to know what runs around inside my mind. It frightens even me. It would not be good for you. You don’t want to know. But I can’t fault them for asking, because it is human nature. Everyone asks those questions, never thinking once that they could just be making things worse, because they force me to lie to them, and with every lie I tell comes a sense of guilt, that I have done something horrible, that I have betrayed those that I love and those who love me by not being truthful with them. It’s such an awful feeling. I want to tell someone, but I know those close to me would never understand. I don’t think very many people would understand, unless it had happened to them, or someone very close to them. I have three Grade A scars on my arms right now that may never go away. That doesn’t include the one that isn’t self-inflicted. I know that one will never go away. It’s sad, really. I feel there is a gulf between me and everyone else that widens daily. And I can never join in with people the way I want to. I will always be different. I refuse to conform. Everyone shouts the watchwords “Different is good!” But they don’t act that way. If different is good, then why are the ones who are different called “oddballs” or “outcasts” or “losers” or “strange?” This society does not accept differences. It never has. Everyone longs to be “Normal.” But no one is normal. We’re all just trying to fit in, conforming like chameleons in order to feel loved. Because to us, if we can’t be “normal” then we’re not worthy of love. That’s when we start to feel that we aren’t good enough, that we’ll never live up to anyone else’s standards. The problem is that we are trying to live up to standards at all. That we are constantly trying to be what others want us to be. Then we can’t truly live because we are creating a lie. Our lives are no longer our own.

August 28 5:17PM

I feel like I’m going to burst into tears at any moment. I haven’t been having a nice time lately. My parents are making me get rid of my cat, Jesse. They won’t take care of him when I’m gone. So I have two choices. A: Let him rot on the porch all day for a year with no attention and not enough food because everyone forgets that he exists, or B: Give him away and never see him again. This sucks so bad. I love him. Jesse is MY cat. I was the first thing he knew when he was born. He’s been my cat since he came out of his mom. And he loves me. He’s very affectionate. I can’t stand having to get rid of him. I wanted him to be with me until the end of his life...not a year and then he has to go away! I don’t know what I’m going to do. He deserves a good home. I hate this. And Hearts...poor Hearts. I love the pathetic old thing...but it’s time for her to go. Unfortunately, neither one of my moronic parents thinks so. She doesn’t use the litter box. So the cat sleeps in her own shit, so what? She lies in her urine, even though she’s got plenty of other places to lie, no big deal. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, can’t move because unless we keep her in a cage she craps and pees all over the place. When I let her out of the cage she slinks to a corner and hides, then runs right back in the cage again. She’s mentally ill, really very sick. But no one believes me when I tell them that. “Oh, she’s fine.” Yeah, right. Normal animals don’t act like that. She doesn’t want to live anymore. She’s stuck in a cage all the time, scared of her own shadow, scared of me when I feed her, scared of the door when it opens, the wind when it blows, scared of Jesse. She scared of the outdoors, the sounds of the street, the sounds of the house. She’s scared of everything. She won’t come out of the cage when she has the chance, won’t come out to be petted, or held, or anything. She won’t even let me touch her anymore. Me. The one who she’s always been close to. The only person in the house who she’d come to. She used to crawl in my lap...she’ll never do that again. I don’t think she even recognizes me anymore. This is no life for her. It’s time to have her put down. But if I do it, I have to go and do it on my own, because my parents don’t believe me. I’ll have to walk into the vet’s office, put her on the table, hold her while her life slips away. And I’ll have to do it all alone. And if I don’t...she’s stuck here. In a cage, wasting away. She’s been my friend for eleven years. Either way, she’s dying right before my eyes.

5:40

Just re-read the vow I made on August 15...the one not to cut. So much for that one. It didn’t last very long.

September 3 10:36 PM

Well. What an arduous few days it has been. I have been feeling so much. In fact, I’ve been bursting into tears all the time over little things...but I’ll get to that in a minute. The problem? College is here...only two weeks away. I’m terrified. This is really tough. Despite not getting along with my family, I’m going to miss them. Especially my sister. And I’m scared to be on my own. I’ve never been on my own for more than two weeks before. It’s trial by fire...there’s no preparation, I’m just thrown into a situation where I will be forced to be self-reliant. That scares me. Yesterday I spent literally half the day in tears. I was so upset, and confused and scared about everything. Plus, my sister hurt my feelings pretty badly. And to top it all off, I haven’t heard a thing on my housing yet. Another mess, it looks like. They probably screwed that up too. Thinking about that possibility makes me want to cry again. If this doesn’t go right I don’t know what I’ll do...I wanted this so badly. Now that it’s nearly here, yes I’m terrified, but it’s still something that I’m very excited about. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it all by myself. I’m going to miss everyone so much. I’m scared I don’t have what it takes to get through college-level courses. AP English was hard enough...but if I can’t make it through there is nothing else I can envision myself doing. Music is my life, I don’t know what else there is. There isn’t much that I’m good at. Gah...waterworks. Here I go again. What am I doing? Am I making the right choice? Is this really what I should be doing? Mr. Conte says that young children, rather than older, need the best teachers. I believe in that wholeheartedly. The “formative” years... When they first start is when the need the best example, the most expert guidance, the strongest support. The best teachers. I don’t know if I’m good enough to be the teacher that young kids need. I don’t know if I’ve got what it takes. I mean, look at me, I can barely control my own life, my own fears. I don’t know who I am, or what I believe, or what direction I should go next. How can I expect to be the guidance that a child needs?? That’s idiotic, and unfair to whatever children would get stuck with someone like me. I would be doing them a disservice. I can’t do that...I can’t do this unless I’m certain of myself, and who I am, and what I want to be doing, and I certainly can’t do this if I don’t know my field. I have to be the best. I have to give the kids what they deserve...but I’m afraid I just am not cut out to do it. Crap, I’m crying again...well, what else is new. I may write more in a bit...I just can’t right now.

September 7 11:18 PM

I’m sitting here at the computer waiting for the music that I’m downloading from Napster to finish transferring, and I’m thinking. I was listening to some of the files (men’s choir music) as I downloaded them. There is something so magical about human voices all singing together in harmony. The experience just can’t be imagined, it has to be lived. Such glory, and created by human beings. Human beings with nothing more than themselves...there is no mechanical aid. An instrument provides a little bit of a base from which to work, but the singer has nothing but himself. It’s incredible when you really think about it. Such beauty. One piece that I’m downloading made me cry. They all give me goose bumps. Music is such a wonderful thing. It’s flowing emotions, raw power. It can sweep you away so easily. I don’t know of anything else in the world that can do that so well. All music has this power, but music made by the human voice has a larger dimension, an even greater ability to grab the soul. Being both a singer and an instrumentalist, I have felt both levels, and they both are amazing. Actually, I don’t know if vocal music has so much a greater power, but a different one. It strikes in a different way. Music speaks so directly to the soul, and there is such magic and so much to be learned from it that I can’t imagine not having it in my life. This is why I so ardently support music education. This is why I believe that music should be accessible to every person, not just a privileged few. Music is the language of life, it is the rhythms that drive our souls, the expression of a love and hope and wonder that is greater than any one person, greater than all of us combined. Music is internal, it is external, it is eternal. It is heavenly, it is spiritual, it is life and love and harmony and feeling, emotion and soul and heart. Music is us, it creates us, it defines us, it gives us our souls. It is the pulse of life, and it unites every single man, woman, and child on this planet, and God above, and nature and the universe and the cosmos. It pulls everything together and makes us all as one. NOTHING is greater than the music.

September 18 1:11 AM

Yes, that’s right, AM. Good...um...morning. Here I am at Ohio State. I’m tired but I can’t get to sleep. It was an exhausting day...er, yesterday. Move-in day. I’m really here. Kind of hard to believe. I wanted it so badly, and there was a time when I never thought it would come. But here it is. I don’t know what to think. I am excited, yes. But I’m scared too. Maybe not scared exactly...more uneasy, anxious. Here’s the lowdown: I like my dorm, like my roommate, room wasn’t as small as I thought it would be. Fit everything in. Arranged everything nicely. But it doesn’t feel like home. Everything is so different now. Daddy said nothing would ever be the same for me again, and he was so right. This is a wonderful opportunity, yes. And I am excited to be here. But I sit here unable to go to sleep, wishing my sister would come in and bounce on me, or my father would come into the room and tell me to get my rear out of bed, or even that Mom would come yell at me. I never thought I’d miss them so much. I also miss my friends, and my pets...I wonder how Jesse and Tiger are. I tried to call home tonight but my calling card won’t work. I have to buy another one. Sigh. I don’t even know how to call out from the phone in our room...I’d have to use the pay phone downstairs. Eventually I’ll ask the RA how the phone works, but I haven’t yet. She’s really nice, by the way. I like her a lot. Her name’s Laurie, she’s a dance education major. She’s a sophomore. My roommate is named Amy, as we all know... she’s a theater major. Nice girl. She hasn’t been around much today, though. Right now she’s off somewhere again. I hope she’s not planning on staying out this late all the time. I’d be asleep now, if I could. But it’s loud here. Lots of traffic noise, and people noise, and plane noise, and sirens, barking pets, even a screeching bird (at NIGHT if you can believe it!). I can hear it all, and prominently, too. Joy. But I guess it’s not that bad. For a residence hall. Well, I have a class tomorrow. Survey class, the first one. I knew nothing about it until this afternoon. Apparently other people got mailings on it, and also on other stuff. I didn’t get them, surprise surprise. And yesterday they didn’t have my dorm information when I went to check in...I give up. I mean, how much more can I do? I call the damn office over and over again...this isn’t here, that didn’t work out, I didn’t get this, I didn’t get that...sure they’ll take care of it. Just like they “took care of it” the last time, and the time before that. Tomorrow I have to fix the football ticket thing. I probably can’t even get them now. Sigh. Again. Resignation this time. I hope things go better when classes start. I hope I made the right decision in coming here. All my doubts are resurfacing. I thought I’d conquered those...I guess not. But it has been predicted that I’ll do well. And I think I will. I know in my heart I made the right choice, but all these feelings keep getting in the way. I feel so alone at the moment. All I can hope is that I have the strength to keep going, to persevere until I can make my dreams come true.

October 17

I’m grappling with so many emotions right now. Today I has a fantastic lesson with Jim. Then I went up to practice afterwards, and I played like crap. I’m letting it get to my head, and that can’t happen. I need to find some consistency in my playing, or I’m sunk. It’s hard, though, because there are times when I feel so worthless, and unworthy of being at a great university like this one. I’m having such a hard time keeping my emotions in check. I’ve been warned several times by different people about being my own worst critic, and that’s true more than ever now. I just don’t feel good enough.

October 25 9:47 PM

I haven’t written in this in what feels like ages. I’ve been having a bad time of things lately. The thing that I want most in the world is for someone to give me a big hug and let me know that they care. I feel invisible. And I feel like a big disappointment. I quit my job at Buckeye Express on Monday. I feel really awful, even though I know it was the right thing to do. My studies come first, and it was interfering. But I feel terrible nonetheless. I only worked there for two weeks, and I feel like I wasted everybody’s time by getting hired only to quit before I got my first paycheck. I feel like an asshole.

Also, I was screwing around and hit Chris the other day, just a playful whack, it wasn’t hard and I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just fooling around. But he got upset. He was really upset, and stared me in the eyes and said “Don’t hit me.” Like a moron I grinned at him a little to let him know I was just screwing around, and he looked hard at me and said very deliberately “Listen to me. I am speaking English. Don’t hit me, it pisses me off.” Then he walked away. I can’t ever do anything right. I should have known better. It was stupid and juvenile of me to try to joke around with him like that. I don’t even really know him. I felt so terrible. That was something my sister wouldn’t even do. I’m so stupid. I always manage to ruin good relationships with people whom I admire. Always. I do moronic things. I’m such an idiot. I should know never to act like that. I’m treading a thin line already. I’m fat and ugly and not overly bright. If I’m lucky enough to have someone like me, I should never, ever do anything like that. I can’t afford to scare them off. I’m lucky that anyone would ever look my way twice. Then I go and do stupid things and drive people away from me even more. I can’t believe I’m such an idiot.

I don’t know if I’m going to make it here. I feel so alone. I’m so scared. I can’t do anything right. I had a session with my advisor today to plan for Winter Quarter. I was so confused over the class schedule that I didn’t have enough of my schedule planned out. He was upset with me. He didn’t say anything, but I could see it in his eyes. He was upset, and disappointed, and mildly annoyed. I’m such a moron. I’ve only met the guy once before, and on our first advising session, I go and upset him. He thinks I’m an idiot. And he’s right.

I don’t know what to do. I want a hug, I want someone to care that I exist. I don’t want to piss everyone off, but that’s all I’ve been doing lately. I’m so lonely. I came back to the room today and cried. I’m crying now as I write this. It seems that I’m crying a lot lately. Mostly when I try to practice. Everyone here thinks I’m such a great player. They’ve never heard me practice. I can’t do shit. No one would have any respect for me if they found out how I really played. I’m just awful. I can’t do anything right. I just want to curl up in a ball and disappear. I’m so alone. I want to hug my grandmother, or my mom, or my cat. I just want to know that someone is there. But that’s just the problem. No one is there. They’re all hundreds of miles away, and I’m not going to see them for at least a month. I have no one.

I cut several nights ago. Deep. Not long, but deep. The wound looks like a laughing mouth. “Guess what, ass, you’ve failed again!” it cackles. Failed again. Failed again. Failed again. Failed again. Failed again. Failed....I don’t deserve to be attending this college. I’m not good enough. I don’t belong here. No one else was as confused as I am about the curriculum projection or the schedule. Everyone else managed to figure it out. But I can’t. No, because I’m too dumb. I’m a moron. I can’t even manage to do well in Tech class. Or Psych. I’m not doing well enough in any of my classes. Just not good enough. Nothing I do is ever good enough. It never will be, because I myself am not good enough. I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t know how I ever managed to get in in the first place, there probably was some mistake. I got lucky. Just like I got lucky when I made Wind Symphony. Luck. That’s all. No skill, no talent. Luck. Dumb, blind luck. Like an asshole. I’m sick of being lonely. I want to curl up and cry. I’ve alienated everyone, and they’ve alienated me. Alone. Like usual. Alone. Again and again and again. Cry.

Cry. That’s all you can do. That’s all you’re good for. Just cry. Feel pity for yourself, you selfish slug. Go ahead and cry. And when you’re done crying maybe you can stuff your face and get even fatter. Pig. Fucking ugly, selfish pig. Go cry. That’ll really get you somewhere, won’t it. Fuck you. Just fuck you. Fat slob. Everyone hates you. You know it. They know it. You don’t deserve to be here, you don’t deserve to live. You’re nothing more than a stain. You’ll never amount to anything. You ought to be wiped out. Asshole. Fucking slug. Maybe you can outgrow the hundred dollar dress you just bought. Why don’t you go eat some more. Eat it all. Maybe you’ll die an early death. What a benefit that would be to everyone. Slob. That’s right. Go cry.

10/29/00 10:51 PM

Guess who’s triggered today. I feel sick. I’m a pretty upset person at the moment. I don’t really know why. I tried to practice some tonight. It was awful. Nothing went well. I felt like such a failure. I wanted to cut so bad tonight. I wanted to feel like I can at least do one thing right, even if it is not a good thing to be doing. I want to push the limits and see where I can go, how much I can take. But I can’t, I won’t. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want a hug, but I can’t do anything. So I’ll do nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Like usual. I can’t face the problem and I can’t run away from it. So I do nothing. Stand stock still, stuck in the middle, trapped between a rock and a hard place. Where do I turn, what do I do now? Hmm?? That question never seems to get answered. I’m weak. That’s all. Nothing more. I can’t handle everything that I’m being asked to handle, and I know that, but I refuse to admit it to anyone, so I try and try and try, and ultimately fail. And feel like shit because I’ve let everyone down. Again. Gah. I hate myself. Well, I have to go try to sleep. Otherwise I will cut. I have to sleep.

10/30/00 8:30 AM

What a nice morning. I went to survey class this morning, 7:30, ugh. When I got there Evelyn was handing back papers...curriculum projections. I got a D-minus. Fuck it. Just fuck it! I was confused and she wouldn’t help me. All my questions basically went unanswered, so of course it was bad! Fuck it. She took off a letter grade and a half because it was late. When she wouldn’t help, wouldn’t answer the questions I had, just tells me to go do it. I didn’t know what was being asked for, what I was supposed to be doing or how to do it. Of course it was late, I spent too much damn time trying to figure it out! I should have just bullshitted through it, I probably would have gotten a better grade. Fuck it! I don’t know why I bother. Nobody gives a damn anyway. I’m such a fucking failure. I can’t deal with this. I want to cry, I want to curl up and sleep. I don’t know which I want to do more, probably cry. Everything I do turns out wrong, even when I’m trying to as hard as I can to do the right thing. I don’t know why I even care anymore. There’s nothing out there for me. Everyone would be better off if I just disappeared. At least I wouldn’t be bothering anyone then. Poof, just gone. I hate myself. I never do anything right. Never. I try, but it’s never good enough. There’s no excuse for me not understanding anything. I’ve got a brain. There’s no excuse. I’m such a failure. I don’t deserve to be at such a good school. There are so many others who would do a much better job here. I’m just taking up space. I’m always just taking up space. My “accomplishments” don’t mean a damn thing. They’re useless. No one cares what I’ve done, only what I’m doing. And I’m not doing anything. Nothing. Failure.

11/13/00 10:40 PM

Here I am again. Just got back from another wonderful practice session. I don’t know why I bother, it’s not making things any better and it’s undermining my confidence even more. I don’t have any confidence left. I feel like such an asshole. A miserable failure. I don’t know how I’m ever going to survive it here. It’s only the first quarter, for Christ’s sake! What am I going to do once the really hard stuff rolls around? What then? I’ll probably shoot myself! This isn’t what I’d expected. This is a wonderful place, and a super school, and the teachers are phenomenal. I just don’t belong here. I can’t measure up. I don’t know how I ever managed to get as far as I have. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when everyone expects more of me. By their reasoning, I’ve done this much and I should be capable of much more. But I don’t think it’s going to work that way. I think I’m going to end up disappointing everyone that is dear to me. I don’t want to do that. For once I want to do something right. Bit by bit, if I could start from somewhere, maybe doing one thing right could lead to other things. But I have to start somewhere, and it hasn’t worked yet. Nothing I do ever turns out the way I want it to, and I’m always just getting by, clinging on by the skin of my teeth. I can’t do it anymore. This isn’t high school, this is big time stuff. I can’t slip by. I need to be as strong as I possibly can because it’s my career on the line. It’s the rest of my life on the line. I can’t throw it away but I AM. I really am. I’m slipping more and more, downhill every step of the way, no matter how hard I fight to turn it around. I can’t do this. And I’m so scared. I’m scared of myself now. Used to be I was scared of others and what they would think most of all. That’s not true anymore. I still feel that a little bit, but I’m more scared of myself, and I never know what’s coming next. I mean, I had an anxiety attack the other night! I’ve NEVER had that happen before. NEVER. It scared me so badly. I can’t even trust myself, then there is no one else to trust. How can I trust someone else when I can’t trust my own body, or heart, or soul? When I’m so afraid that I’ll do the wrong thing and make the wrong choice, and that I won’t be the only one to suffer for it? My parents are sacrificing so much so I can go here, and I can’t let them down. Guilt would eat me alive. I love them. I don’t know what else to do now, and I can’t really talk to anyone about this. Jim I think would understand, but I don’t want that. I don’t want people to pity me, or feel bad for me, or even know what runs though my head on a daily basis. I’m taking a chance even documenting all this, because there is always a chance that someone will find the disk, or whatever. I don’t know what to do from here on out. I feel so alone. I’ve been contemplating telling Jim, at least then I’d have someone here who understood why I act the way do, but I don’t know if that’s an appropriate thing to do. I like him very much, and trust him strongly. I just don’t know. I can’t figure out what to do anymore, so I sit frozen as usual, doing nothing. And I wonder why nothing ever gets done. But I’m just not strong enough to walk this path alone. I want to finally let go of all of this, but I can’t do that on my own. I really should be seeing a therapist, but I don’t know how to make that work. I’m sick of being like this. I’m sick of feeling like this. And I’m getting very low again. It’s that time of year. Two year anniversary. November...............Shudder. I can’t think about it. It makes me sick. Everything makes me sick. I should never have done anything in the first place, it was all my fault to begin with. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! There is so much guilt in me. Screaming. Screaming at me, ceaselessly. I can’t let go of what I’ve done. It wasn’t fair to them, wasn’t fair to anyone. I got what I deserved. I can’t believe I did that. Never come to grips with it, it hurts me so much. It hurt them so much. How can a child hurt her parents like that? I’m such an evil thing, it sickens me to think of what I’ve done to them. I deserved what I got. Every little bit of what I got. They didn’t deserve that shit, everything I put them through. Everything I accused her of. I love her. I can’t believe I did that to her. I can’t believe anyone would do that to her own mother. God. This is one of the days where I just want to curl up somewhere and die, or disappear. I can’t do this by myself anymore. I just can’t. I’m sick of being alone. I’m sick of the guilt. I want it to end, I want it to go away. I don’t deserve it to go away, but I want it to. I deserve to suffer through this for the rest of my life. After what I’ve done I deserve to rot in my own personal hell. But I want it to stop. I can’t endure any more. I just want it to end. I want it to end. No more. Please, no more...I can’t do it any longer. I can’t keep on like this. I want it to stop. I want to sleep forever, not die, but sleep forever and ever and ever. Make everything go away, let a blissful darkness come. End the hurt. I hate who I’ve become.

11/14/00 6:07 PM

Hmmm. I’m depressed. Not feeling real good at the moment. It’s not a sick sort of feeling, I just feel very low and generally icky. It’s all mental. Ugh. So. I got my stones today that I ordered. They’re pretty. Aquamarine, angelite, and charoite. Nice pieces, all. Good sized tumbled babies. The aquamarine is especially pretty.

I also took the film in and got my pictures of campus back today. I wasn’t expecting anything really spectacular, as I was testing the camera...but I am not happy with them. I made stupid mistakes, and didn’t hold the camera steady, etc. etc. As usual, nothing I do ever turns out right. There are two nice pictures, though, a pine tree, and the sun reflecting on Mirror Lake. The one I shot of the sun over Browning Amphitheater is cruddy because I shot right into the sun. I’m a total moron. I don’t know what I was thinking. Anyhow. I could be happier. The camera is really nice, though. If I can ever learn how to take GOOD photos, then things will be fine and dandy.

It’s been such a sucky day. I played poorly in lessons yet again. Not good enough ever. Ever. Ever. Never good enough. I don’t think Jim thought it was all that bad, but I sure did. I could do so much better if I could keep my head screwed on straight. I’m a freak though. Nothing ever works out right for me. But screw it. It doesn’t matter anyway. What happens, happens.

“Spend all your time waiting/for that second chance/ for a break that would make it okay/ there’s always some reason/ to feel not good enough/ and it’s hard at the end of the day/ I need some distraction/ oh beautiful release/ memories seep through my veins/ And maybe empty/ oh and weightless and maybe/ I’ll find some peace tonight.

In the arms of the angel/ fly away from here/ from this dark, cold hotel room/ and the endlessness that you fear./ You are pulled from the wreckage/ of your silent reverie/ you’re in the arms of the angel/ may you find/ some comfort here.”

Angel, carry me away.

11/23/00

10:30 PM

It’s time for me to write a little. I’m here, I’m home on Thanksgiving break, and I feel so awful. I waited and waited to come home and was so excited about it. The family has done nothing but fight so far. Mom and I can’t get along for two days, let alone a week. I just want to cry. I thought it would be different, I really did. And on top of that, the events of two Novembers ago keep popping into my head. Coming back to haunt me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I never seem to move forward, only back. I’m so disappointed. I hoped so much that this would be nice, would be different than usual, that me being gone for a few months would make everything better. But it’s all the same. It’s always the same. Always the same. I realize now that it’s never going to be okay again. The things I did ensure that. Nothing’s ever going to change, and it will never be okay again. I just don’t know anymore. I don’t...I can’t...I just wish I could make it all okay again.

11/24/00

9:40 PM

I feel so empty and I don’t know why. I had what should have been a wonderful day. I went shopping with Mom, Tor and Aunt Pam this morning, and Mom bought me this beautiful ruby necklace and earring set from K-mart that was on sale for $9.99. Then this afternoon I went out with Liz and Holly. We went to the mall and had fun, shopped, etc. etc. etc. But now I feel so empty. Like I don’t deserve any of it. And I start to cry for no reason. I don’t know what to feel anymore. I should feel good, but I don’t. I feel empty and worthless and utterly useless. And all I want to do is sleep and sleep and sleep and dream the pain away. But it never goes away. Memories are always there to suffocate and drown. Down, down, down, deep and deeper. Spinning and flailing and spinning some more with nothing to hold onto for support. Nothing there but the emptiness, the fear, and the ache of a sadness so deep that it cannot be filled.

11/27/00

8:50 AM

Back at school. Depressed. Wish I could curl up in a ball and sleep forever. Sleep and sleep and sleep some more. Maybe then I could dream pretty dreams instead of disturbing ones, pretty dreams that could carry me to far off places of love and light. There I am being naive again. Places of love and light don’t exist. Clouds and rain, clouds and rain. Drag my ass out of bed. Sit and learn, try, and fail. Try, and fail, and try not to fail. Fail anyway. No matter. Up and down and all around. Sit in Psych class and write crazy things. Feel crazy act crazy all for attention for love for someone to realize that I exist see me here pay attention to me. Cry. Scared. Who am I? What have I become? Don’t like it. Don’t know anymore. Disorder unorganized chaos of life. Look out into darkness. Darkness darkness always darkness. Can’t be me myself, can’t be anyone else. Don’t know. Want to disappear. Trigger spoiler cut. On and on and on. Vicious circle, vicious circle ha ha ha ha ha. Controlled babble let it out write it out throw it out burn it up tear it up cut it up eat it up. Cry cry cry cry cry. Hate myself.

11/30/00

12:12 AM

Oh what a night...ha ha ha., I’m such a fuck-up. I hate myself. An idiot could get along better than I can. Get this, I walked all the way over to Hughes tonight to practice...got halfway there and realized I didn’t have my ID with me. Meaning I couldn’t get back in the dorm. I panicked for a few seconds, then just said screw it, I’d deal with it later. So I continued on to Hughes. Walked up to the door, pulled on it...it was locked. The card swipe is the only way to open it when it’s locked. And my card, my ID, was sitting back here in the dorm on my table underneath my gloves. Which I was pretty cold without, but that just proves what a moron I am. Never even realized...Stupid idiot. Or as my mother says constantly, “DUH Bethany!” I’m such an asshole. So now it’s well after midnight and I haven’t practiced and I have a jury coming up. And all this other stuff I have to do, so I wasted a whole shitload of time tonight that I could have used to do other things. Fuck, I deserve to flunk out. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do if I can’t get my shittin’ head on straight! I don’t deserve to be here. This school’s too good for me. I don’t belong here. I’ll never fit in. I never fit in anywhere. Always floating by, flying by the seat of my pants. Like the concert last night. I played like shit. Wasn’t confident on anything. I don’t deserve to be in that group. Tonight’s one of the nights that I’d just like to slit my throat, curl up in a ball, and let it bleed until it couldn’t bleed anymore. Black oblivion., RED oblivion. I think if I had a knife I would have sliced myself open somewhere several times already. I have a disposable razor that I can’t get apart, so that accomplishes nothing...can’t even do THAT right. Ha. Just barely squeaking by on everything. Wish I could make everything go away. Everything. Nothingness, emptiness, is what I deserve. I don’t deserve to be a part of society. I contribute nothing to anything. I’m such a fucking joke. That’s all I am. A joke. And the world has been laughing for a long, long time.

12/1/00

10:56 PM

This has been a very exhausting day emotionally. I can’t even talk about it right now, because if I do I’ll start to cry again and I have already spent half the day in tears. I just need to go to bed. Then everything will go away for a few hours. It may still be there when I get up, but I at least won’t have to think about it right now. And tomorrow I may not have time to think. I have tons of stuff to accomplish. End of story.

12/3/00

6:22 PM

What a sweet weekend this has been. I sat in a practice room on the fourth floor of Hughes today and seriously considered jumping out the window. Then I decided it wouldn’t accomplish anything. So I came home...er, back to the dorm, and I sat down here and stared at all the medicines that I have here. Tylenol, two bottles of St. John’s Wort, Contac, Immodium, Excedrine, Tums, and all the cleaning stuff I have that says “harmful or fatal if swallowed.” Yeah. I sat here and I looked. And I wanted to swallow it all. AND wash it down with a few beers. But I didn’t.

6:53

I just talked to my Dad. He doesn’t want to come pick me up for Christmas...I don’t know how I’m going to get home and I have 3 days to figure it out...we were almost but not really fighting on the phone...plus I have finals to survive this week, which I don’t think is going to happen. I want to cry. So bad. If there were a hole I’d crawl into it. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. This has been a hellish week. Absolutely awful. I can’t deal with this. I spent most of today crying, too...like I did Friday. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I’ve thought about not coming back next quarter...but any school I go to is going to be like this, and probably worse because I won’t like the school when I really do love it here. I do. But I’m scared I can’t do it, scared I’m not going to make it through this time. I can’t do this. I have a jury tomorrow, and two finals on Tuesday, and my tech final Wednesday. And I have to find time to pack, too. I’m so scared I’m not going to make it. I’m such a failure. I’m crying again...again. So weak, too. I don’t deserve to make it.

12/7/00

4:01 AM

I’m pulling my first all-nighter for absolutely no reason whatsoever, other than I want to. I’ve stayed up packing and listening to music all night. I’m going home this morning. So right now I’m sitting here at a computer that technically should be all disconnected and packed away, but I figured I’d do that in a while. Right now I wanted to talk a bit. So, anyway, I’m sitting here listening to John Barnes Chance’s Incantation and Dance. I love this piece. The Symphonic Band here did it at a concert a few weeks ago. Before I went to the concert I had heard the name of the piece but was under the impression that I had never actually heard it. Boy, was I surprised at that concert! I found that I knew every little bit of it well, to the point of knowing musically what was coming next and virtually being able to sing along with the parts. It turns out that I played the piece sometime in High School before Mr. Conte left, but I had completely forgotten about it! Now I remember how much I loved it and how fun it was to play! I can’t pinpoint exactly WHEN I played it, but I know I did. I can’t believe that I had forgotten it. It really is an incredible piece of music. I love the textures and colors of it. It’s glorious! Of all the songs I’ve done, this was one of the ones I should have remembered most, and I can’t imagine how I forgot it in the first place. I know it so well now that I’ve listened to it a few times, and it feels like an old friend. Listening to it stirs the same tension and excitement in me that I felt while playing it, and a nostalgia for high school band days. I can’t believe I’d forgotten this spectacular work! Anyhow, I’m sitting here listening to it, thinking about how I’m going to be on the other side of the podium before long, and wondering if I should consider teaching high school. I mean, you can’t do pieces like this with an elementary school group, no matter how advanced they are. I don’t know though, because I am very suited to young children. I get along with them well, and they’ve always seemed to take to me. Then again, there is a certain level that I would like to achieve with my groups. I’m hoping to be able to do works of quality and occasionally complexity. The thing that I don’t know is to what level one can take an elementary group before it’s considered either too difficult, insane, or both, and said that it’s pushing too hard. I have a feeling that overall level depends largely on the individual group and the group dynamics involved. I’ve seen very young children achieve amazing things, and I’ve also seen pitiful flops that occur when they’re pushed beyond what their capabilities are. Once again, balance becomes an issue. There is a delicate balance between pushing a line to achieve greatness, and tripping over that line and falling on one’s face. I do not want the latter to happen. Listen to me, though. Here I am worrying about all of this, and I haven’t even hit a classroom for preliminary observation yet. I’m jumping the gun a bit, but this is something that passed into my mind tonight, and I thought it might be good to think about. But, hey, I also have been up all night and am getting punchy. It’s 4:25, what do you expect! It’s interesting the thoughts that meander through one’s mind at such a late hour...especially when one begins to float and half-daydream while attempting to think seriously on something. The music encourages transcendence and new thought levels as well...interesting what results. Well, this is just one more way to pass the time and avoid falling asleep. I just don’t want to sleep tonight, don’t ask me why. I’d rather sit up, get ready to leave, and kill time writing and listening to music. More productive that way. More brain exercise. I’ll sleep in the car on the way home. My roommate hasn’t come back. She last popped in about Midnight, or 1. La la la. Whatever. I’m enjoying myself, and it’s fitting that my last night of the quarter should be spent by myself, relaxing and philosophizing. Spacing, whatever, you know. Same deal. Same thing. Same reasoning. I’m just getting long winded and losing my train of thought utterly, here. That’s okay though. It’s late. I’m punchy. I don’t expect to be entirely coherent. I’m going to start getting ready at 6, showering, etc. Things like that. Well well well. I’m writing in this thing and I’m not depressed, upset, or angry! Just thoughtful! Kind of cool. A nice change of pace. Wow, I just totally changed topic with no formality whatsoever. I’m really starting to go out of it. Blah blah and all that jazz. Bah ba badabadaba....sing along with the music...bopping along, singing a song. Okay, that nice moment of clarity that I had, the sudden insight on the nature of life and teaching and kids...all gone. That was fleeting. Too bad, I should get thoughts like that more often. Anyhoo. Um, yeah. I have no idea what I was going to say. Going home, going home blah de blah de blah. Sleepytime...gah. Tired. Spaced out wired weirdness. Feel like I’m floating somewhere out in Never-Never Land. Listening to John Barnes Chance’s Incantation and Dance! Ha. That would be a happy thought. Whatever. Not knowing what is going to come out of my head and fingers next is actually rather interesting. Ow. My eyes hurt, they’re crying and they’re all grainy. Suddenly. I guess that means it’s time to get off the computer. I’ve been on too long anyway. So, goodnight.

12/8/00

11:20 PM

Well, welcome home Beth. I got home yesterday afternoon. I wish I’d never left Columbus. I hate it here. I thought things could be different. But no. I haven’t spent a full day in this house yet and already we’re fighting. That bitch. I can’t deal with it here. I want to cut so bad. Slice myself up beyond recognition. I’m a stranger here anyway, doesn’t matter. Mom spent all this time yelling at me today, then said that, as far as she was concerned, from now on I am a guest in this house. In other words, I don’t belong here and I don’t have a place here anymore, and I should be grateful just to be here. She yelled because the stuff that I brought home from school was sitting around. I haven’t had time to unpack it and put it away yet. So she spent the entire day screaming at me. When I woke up this morning, she had started to do my laundry. I never asked her to do it, I was going to do it myself but she got to it first. Then she screamed at me because I wasn’t doing it, she said I was making her do it. That I brought it home to make her do it so I’m a fucking irresponsible pig and a slob and that I’m infantile because I can’t do my own laundry. Then, since she had thrown everything in there indiscriminately and there was a pair of pants that I hadn’t taken the stuff out of the pockets yet, she washed a lip gloss of mine. Ruined my sweatshirt. Then came running upstairs to scream at me because it was all my fault. It was my fault that I didn’t know she was going to do my laundry, and it was my fault because there was stuff in my pants pockets, and it was my fault that my sweatshirt had spots and oily stains on it. And it was my fault because I made her do my laundry. Fucking bitch. So she had a fit and left me a present of four loads of other people’s laundry to fold and put away, then she made me do dishes, dust, vacuum, put all my stuff away instantaneously, clean the house upstairs and down, shovel the driveway, and do computer work for her. And she yelled at me the whole time about how incompetent I am and how I was doing everything wrong or too slowly or not well enough... She pushed and pushed until she had me in tears, then she called me an idiot and a baby and an asshole and various other things and stormed out. Then she came back later to persist with telling me how useless I am. By the end of it all I wanted to kill myself, plain and simple. A nice bottle of pills, the wine cooler lurking in the back of the refrigerator, and oblivion. A beautiful sleep. And then later a hospital and a stomach pump, throwing up and feeling awful and not being dead but being alive and faced with thousands more problems then I had in the first place, and yet another failure to add to the list. I dropped that idea fast enough. Now I just want to sleep. Or leave this place and go somewhere far, far away, for a very long time. Never to come back unless I wanted to, and only if I had freedom to leave when I please. I want to go back to school...but can’t get in the dorm until January. I want to curl up in a hole and hide. From everything. I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to be me anymore. I want to have a normal, boring, usual life. I want to be able to trust the people around me. I don’t want to be fat and ugly and afraid. I wish I’d never come home. Because this isn’t a home. It never has been.

12/12/00

11:30 PM

I’ll keep this short because I’m pretty tired. I’m starting to get worried about my depression. I think that I should start seeing someone. I’ve said this time and time again, but I’m getting worse, and I know it. I’ve been sleeping so much lately. The last few days I slept until noon, and today I slept until noon but lazed around and didn’t get out of bed until nearly one. It’s getting bad. I know this isn’t normal. It’s a reaction to being home and all the stress. I just want to sleep it away, and magically have everything be fine when I wake up. I don’t think that’s going to happen, though. Hell, I know it’s not. But my body keeps trying. Then I feel guilty for sleeping so much. I feel like I’m missing out on life and letting people down in the process. I can’t stop it, though, and I don’t know what to do from here on out. When I get back to school I have got to check into their counseling services, whether I’m scared to or not. I can’t go on like this.

12/13/00

6:48 PM

I’m crying.

I got my grades this afternoon via computer, and I was ecstatic. My first quarter in college, I got an A in band, an A in lessons, and get this! an A in Music theory!! (the class I thought for certain that I was going to fail.) I got a B- in Psychology, and a C- in my survey class, the shit intro to the university class. I wasn’t happy about that, that useless class, but I figured, fuck it, I got an A in theory! My GPA is 3.26...I figured that wasn’t a bad start! So I was really happy and proud and I ran downstairs and showed them to Dad and he was proud of me, and told me they were good. So I left them on the counter for Mom to see when she got home and went up to my room to read for a while. Well, Mom came home and I heard her start yelling and screaming at Dad but I couldn’t hear what it was about. I never dreamed that it was about my grades, I figured it was just another problem at work like any other day...so I stayed upstairs until I got called to dinner, wanting to avoid the problems as much as possible. No one said a word to anyone else at dinner...total silence and tension as usual. Nothing new there. Then we finished up and I went to do the dishes. (This was about ten minutes ago.) I was running the water and getting ready to do them when I happened to glance at the grades sitting there. Mom was in the other room. I asked Dad if she had seen them. He replied with a sarcastic snort and held up his hand and turned away. “What?” I asked, confused. He just shakes his head. An inkling of realization dawns on me. “What? Is Mom mad about these?!” He grins a mirthless grin and continues clearing the table. I want a straight answer. I walk over to him and look him in the eye. “Is that what set Mom off?” I ask. He nods. “Yeah.” Walks away from me, to the other end of the counter. “Mom’s mad about my grades?” I squeak to his back, disbelief and shock making the pitch of my voice rise. Tears begin to build behind my eyes. Dad mumbles something under his breath, something about her screaming at him about it, something with a few expletives mixed in. I start the dishes, a constricting, painful ache settling in the region of my heart. My shoulders hunch and my body deflates, assuming the defensive posture I know too well, drawing into itself. I plunge my hands up to the wrists in the steaming water, water that I’ve drawn much too hot, but don’t care. I turn to look at him without removing my hands. Quietly, “Mom’s yelling at you for my grades?” The look on his face is silent confirmation. I turn away. “I’m sorry, Dad.” My voice trembles and my eyes fill with tears. I just keep washing. Washing, making sure every tine of every fork is sparkling. Making the water hotter and hotter every time I rinse a dish, until it’s so hot that the tingling pain in my hands distracts me from the pain that’s settled in my chest, and the guilt that I feel because she’s upset at him and not at me, because she’s placed the blame on him when it belongs on me. I’ve fucked up again. I thought she’d be proud. I thought for once that she’d be proud. But she’s not. It wasn’t good enough. Not good enough. I tried so hard...so hard. Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Crushed. I thought for once that I’d done something right, that everything was going well, that I had a right to be proud. But no. Never. Never, never, never. Pride goes before a fall. I know that. Stupid. I will never be good enough. I will never survive. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry Mom, and Dad, and everyone. I’m sorry I’ve let you all down.

12/16/00

12:08 AM

Ooh, ooh, ooh. Strange dreams lately. Things that I wake up from and can’t remember at all, but I know I dreamed, and they leave me very uneasy and anxious. Very uneasy. Not sure what’s going on with these. So, I’m about to head to bed but am feeling uncomfortable about going to bed because I’m afraid I’ll have another of those dreams and they are very confusing and upsetting to me. I don’t like the idea that something bothers me so much that I dream about but my mind won’t let me remember what it is so I can face it and get rid of it. Don’t like that at all. However, I really do need to sleep. I’m no longer functioning. I can’t think clearly, I’m too tired. So I’ll have to stuff down the anxiety and hope I don’t dream, just float and fade and sleep deeply, deeply. No dreams, sink below that level. So, goodnight.

11:58 PM

I wanted to die today. I wanted to cry so badly but I couldn’t do it. Then everything built up and threatened to drown me...I sat here and I actually wanted to die. For the first time in two years. I honestly WANTED to die. I couldn’t find my knife, thank God. I would have sliced my arms to ribbons if I could have. Instead I sat. I typed. I worked on my web page. I knew there were other knives downstairs, but I wouldn’t let myself get up and get one. Because I knew if I did I would do more than simply make a few cuts. I would have slit my wrists. That would have been the end of it right there. So I sat. I sat and shivered and shook and wanted to cry, and I made myself go blank. I made myself not think. Did mindless work until I became the work so I would no longer have to feel. Basically I committed emotional suicide. I went numb. I killed my thoughts and feelings so they couldn’t force me into physical suicide. Because I would have done it. I would have thrown everything away, my entire future, my music, my life. All of it. Just because I hurt so damn bad. I’m so tired. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to feel like I mean something to someone, anyone. Because I need to be loved. We all need to be loved. I’m tired of feeling like a burden, and a failure. I’m tired of always letting the people I care about down. For once in my life I want to do something right. I know that suicide is not the answer, but sometimes it seems like the only way. The only way I’ll never fail again. But ironically that would be the biggest failure of all...the biggest waste. I have no right to throw away my life when so many have invested so much in me. But I hurt. I hurt so badly. I’m so scared. I’m scared that the next time I feel like this I’m not going to be able to stop myself from getting the knife, or grabbing the bottle of pills. I’m scared that I will let everybody down in the worst, most permanent way. Good God, I’m afraid of myself. No one should need to be afraid of herself. But I am. I’m very afraid.

11/19/00

11:50 PM

God, I’m such an asshole. I’ve done it again. Screwed up everything. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I’m nothing more than a burden to everyone. A dependant, unworthy, disgusting burden. I want to die. No one deserves to have to deal with me hanging around. I screw up everything I touch. All I wanted to do was make it better. I lied to Amy to protect Mary and I lied to Mary to protect Amy and I stuck myself in the middle of a real pile of shit because I wanted to play peacemaker and make everything better and minimize everything and not have anyone get upset with anyone else but instead I’ve made everyone upset with me when I came into this essentially blind and tried to offer what I could to both sides in the way of help but fucked that up along with everything else and I’m watching my friendships go down the drain all because I just wanted to help but couldn’t be honest with everyone because people shared things in confidence and I couldn’t just betray them and I shouldn’t even have said what I did to either one of them I should have kept my big fat mouth shut and refused to say anything at all because I’ve ruined everything in the same way that I’ve ruined the rest of my life and no matter what I do I end up hurting the people I love all because I’m so fucking stupid...I want to die die die die die die die die die. I’ve ruined everything. Everything. Nothing is good anymore. Everything I touch turns to shit.

11/20/00

11:11 PM

Well, I SI'd twice today. That's 3 times in less than 24 hours. Not so good. Not so good at all. But I guess it's better than the alternative, which likely would be to slit my wrists, or swallow as many pills as I could find. So much for that two-month streak. I was doing so well. I'm so tired. Just so tired of it all. I've had about all I can take. I think I’m going to be sick.

11/23/00

11:55 PM

Things are going a tad better right now. Amy is over, spending the night. We’ve been having fun. The urges haven’t gone away, I do still feel a little suicidal, but I’m hiding it for the moment, and things go on. She’s here, and fun is fun. I needed to SI this morning, but I didn’t, which is good. Things were getting very bad there for a few days. I still have scabs, and they’re probably going to become some nice scars. Oh well. Whatever. I don’t give a shit. Anyhoo, I just wanted to update this and reassure the ghosts of the computer that I am still alive. Sort of. I’m walking around, and that’s what counts. To hell with the rest. Well, I don’t want this to turn into a trigger, and I don’t want to spend too much time on it either, ‘cause I’m ignoring Amy at the moment and that’s not nice. So I’ll break it off here. Goodnight.

12/13/01

10:47 PM

First writing of the new year. I’m back at school. Things have been a tad bit crazy, but it’s a good kind of crazy. I’m very busy but enjoying myself. I haven’t been suicidal or even too depressed since I left home again. I wonder why... I picked up three books today at Long’s that make for an upsetting yet amazing read. I’ve devoured two of them already today and I only bought them about four o’ clock. They’re the trilogy written by Dave Pelzer. A Child Called It, The Lost Boy, and A Man Named Dave. I read the first two. They made me think. They made reflect. They’ve depressed me a bit, but still. They were worth reading. Their message of hope and strength is tremendous. I cried a lot, and I thought a lot. I’m fairly triggered at the moment, but I went into this knowing that I would be, and I’m controlling those feelings for now. I really feel that it was important for me to read these books. Of course, it raises issues. I’m going to go do some stuff to reduce the triggered feeling, then perhaps I’ll draw or compose, or something else. Anyway, this was just a quick update. If I need to continue this tomorrow, or whenever, I shall.

12/17/01

3:28 PM

Good Lord, I’m tired today. Just exhausted. And ashamed of myself. I cut over the weekend. They were not nice cuts...fairly deep, though not very big. I will include a copy of a post that I wrote to the Self-Injury e-group.

Anyway, that explains how I’ve been feeling lately. I shouldn’t have to say too much more.

1/18/01

1:47 AM

What a wonderful week thus far. I cut again!! I never cut this much. It's not good. Not good at all. I've been suicidal...I'm afraid. And as if slicing a new cut wasn't good enough, I went and reopened the ones I did Sunday and Monday, too! I'm really beginning to scare myself. These are going to leave serious scars. And up until now I have always been careful to try not to leave scars, or at least not pronounced ones. God, what am I doing to myself? I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know what to do........................................................... I'm scared. I'm really scared.

1/29/01

9:30 PM

I’m so tired. So very, very tired. I’m sick of dealing with everyone’s shit. Phone calls at quarter to five in the morning, phone calls at every hour of the day and night. I’m so fucking sick of this. I want to sleep all day...I’ve been averaging two and a half to three hours of sleep per night for the past week because my roommate is so damn inconsiderate, coming and going at all hours and accepting phone calls at two, three, and even four or five in the morning! I’m sick of this shit. It’s making me sick and keeping me from concentrating in classes, and besides that is entirely ridiculous! There is no need for it whatsoever. And she’s got the nerve to complain about ME to her friends! Well, she can fuck off. I’ve had enough. No more of her walking all over me. If this doesn’t stop, I’m talking to my RA and we’ll see what comes of that. She’s been warned.

2/6/01

12:17 AM

“and I think to myself, what a wonderful world” Boy, what planet was he living on? This has been a horrible week and a great week all in one. Great, because of the OMEA conference. I has a blast. I spent much too much money, though. But, oh well. Horrible because of me finding out BJ is gay and because of Tammy killing herself.

I was pretty much in love with BJ. He’s such a kind, sensitive guy. Exactly the kind of relationship I’m looking for. So I decided to show it a bit. Wonderful. Justin, BJ’s friend, plopped down next to me in theory class Tuesday and started to talk to me, which is unusual. He then came right out and asked if I had a crush on BJ. Actually, he didn’t really ask. He stated, and I confirmed. Then he proceeded to tell me that there was a problem with that., and that BJ was gay. Lovely. BJ didn’t even notice how much I liked him, but Justin sure as hell did. Which basically means that I made a complete ass out of myself. I felt like such an asshole. A total moron. So blind. I was so close to slicing about a dozen good cuts in myself that night. Luckily, though, we had a concert, so I had some distraction.

Now, Tammy. I got an e-mail on the list last night from Willow. She said that Tammy had taken her own life...she also stated that Tammy’s boyfriend Gerard was the one who had told her. I started to cry when I found out. Poor Tammy. I really liked her. I hope she’s found a better place, I really do, one where she won’t be hurting anymore. But I feel just awful knowing that maybe I could have helped her, maybe a kind word or a phone call would have made the difference and she would still be here with us. I miss her and I hope she can forgive me for not being there, because I can’t forgive myself. I almost cut several times today and am tempted to right now, but am going to go to bed instead. Hopefully I’ll get some sleep. I doubt it.

2/13/01

2:45 AM

I’m sitting here at my computer after unsuccessfully attempting to confront my roommate about the things that have been going on. She spent quite a while sitting in the hall tonight whispering about me with her friend. I told her that if she has an issue to confront me. She didn’t say anything. At all. She asked me what she said and told me that she couldn’t remember having said anything. She stared at me for a while. I should never have said anything. I heard her complaining about me snoring, I know that much for certain. And other things, other times. I know she doesn’t like me. I have the feeling that nothing is going to come of this, though. Nothing ever does. I’m sick of it all. It’s not worth living this way. I want to move out. I tried, I tried for over a quarter and a half to make things right, to stick it out. I can’t do it anymore. Nor do I want to.

1:34 PM

Oh happy day. I’m so upset I want to curl up and die but I’m not sure why, I can’t pinpoint anything that is causing this horrible slump I’m just sick of living altogether. Nothing ever goes right for me. And I feel so guilty. I slept until 11 today. I skipped all my morning classes. Then I went over to Hughes for Studio, only to find out that studio is cancelled until Thursday. So I went upstairs to practice my voice solos. I suck. I suck so bad. I hate the sound of my voice, I hate the way I can’t ever get it to do what I want. I’m such an asshole. I hate myself. I really honest to God do. I can’t stand me anymore. I deserve to die. Nothing I do is right. I just called an accompanist for my lessons. He charges $12.00 for a half-hour. Which means I have to pay him $24 per week. Where in hell I’m going to get that from, I don’t know. I never should have started voice lessons. Never. I’m so fucking stupid.

Me siento abusada, odiada, ansiosa, avergonzada, culpable, inferior, deprimida, y atrapada. Tengo tendencias suicidas y gran inestabilidad emocional. No esta bien. Hay suenos malos, tambien.

2/14/01

10:25 PM

Well. Here I am, sitting at the computer yet again when I should be doing theory homework but can’t because I don’t understand it in the slightest. I’m eight homeworks behind now. I don’t have a freaking clue as to what to do about it. I’m trying, but I just don’t understand.

I sit here tonight and look at myself and how pathetic and stupid I am and I realize that I don’t have the right to be burdening anyone with my presence here. I’m wasting the faculty’s time, and I’m wasting my parents’ money. I’m letting down the people I care about on a daily basis. I don’t deserve to be here. Everyone would have been better off if I had just ended it two years ago. Then no one would have to deal with my shit. I can’t get my act together, and I can’t keep my focus. I can’t get my head screwed on straight. I want counseling, but I doubt it would help. A person can’t change his basic personality. I’m useless. It’s ingrained. Everyone has always said that, and they’re right. No matter how hard I try, that isn’t going to change.

I’ve lost interest in a lot recently. I haven’t sat down to practice my instrument since before the band trip. I can’t summon any enthusiasm at all. We sight read in band today. Chris wasn’t there, so I was on my own. I was awful. Spent most of the time lost. I missed a solo line. Inexcusable. Dr. Mikkelson had to sing it because I couldn’t keep my act together well enough to follow. I was too fucking afraid to play it. I knew it was there, and I knew it was coming, and I was on the right beat, and I was watching him, and when the time came I couldn’t get any sound to come out. And of course it was an exposed line, the melody, so it was obvious that it wasn’t there. And I’m sure everyone noticed. It doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t think anyone cares that I exist, Chris carries the section anyhow. I can’t even pull my own weight in music. The one thing that I really love. I don’t have any idea what I’m going to do when I get out on my own, if I ever do. I’ll be bankrupt and living on the street if I can’t keep my head out of my ass. And maybe that’s what I deserve. A reality check, a good swift kick in the pants, something to force me to wake up and pay attention. Something that confirms the facts that I have know for years, along with everyone else. Mom and Dad, you are right, I AM WORTHLESS. And I apologize for that. Whatever good that does. Fuck it all. I don’t care anymore.

2/17/01

5:00 PM

I feel all alone. I’ve sat in the room all day and felt lonely. There’s no one to talk to and nothing to do. I think I’m going to the Symphony tonight, but I can’t even summon any enthusiasm for that at the moment. I slept for 16 hours last night/today. I feel like a slug. And I still don’t have any energy. I really want counseling but can’t make myself take action to get it. I can’t get motivated and I can’t get the courage to try. So I sit here and stew. Whatever. I feel so alone. I haven’t been hugged by anyone since Christmas, no exaggeration. All I want is to feel like I matter to someone, anyone. Even something not human. If I had my cat I would feel a whole lot better. At least he cares that I exist, though perhaps only because I feed him. It’s still better than nothing. I feel invisible half the time, like no one would notice if I just up and disappeared. No one is willing to do anything with me, or talk to me, or just be with me for a little while. I feel like I’m burdening people when I ask if they want to go do something with me. Life is so fucking pointless. I want to talk to someone but nobody deserves to have to deal with my immature shit. I want my kitty, that’s what I want. I want to curl up with him and listen to him purr until I fall asleep, just knowing he’s there and that for one small moment everything is okay. Stupid, I know. But my animals are the only things on this earth that have ever understood me. They love unconditionally. That’s the only thing in the world that I want right now...a little love. I hate being alone.

12:11 AM Feb 18

Just got back from the Symphony. My head hurts. I went out afterwards with Dave, Rena, and Rod. Poor Rod complained the entire time. He’s hurting. Cynical, bitter and depressed. I just wanted to give him a hug. I wish I could have made him feel better. Boy, though, I empathize too much. I felt how disappointed and upset and hurt he is, and it made me more depressed. I didn’t say much all night. I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing. I wanted to hide my head in the sand. I basically stared at my hands most of the time, looking up and meeting eyes enough not to seem rude or upset, just tired and thoughtful. I tell you, I feel worse now than I did before. And I’m completely exhausted. Which is SICK because I haven’t even been up 12 hours yet, and I slept for 16 hours last night. Fucking slug. I hate myself.

Anyhoo, I guess I will go to bed because it’s about that time, and I have nothing better to do. I wish I could go talk to Laurie or something, but I haven’t the energy and I don’t want to burden her, she’s got friends hanging out in her room. So I’ll just put on a happy face and go brush my teeth. Shove it all down, push it in the closet, like usual. Fuck it.

Closeted

They say it's not good enough.

Didn't try hard enough.

Failed again.

They say I'm not good enough.

Didn't do well enough.

Failed again.

They say I'll never make it,

Never reach my goal,

Never make my dream come true.

They say

"You think you can?

Well, won't you be surprised

When you find out what we say is true...

You'll never do."

And though I know it's wrong,

A part of me starts to believe them...

"It's all your fault."

"You'll never make it."

"You're too stupid."

"You're too fat..."

"I'm embarrassed to have you for a daughter."

"I'm sorry Momma,

I'm sorry Daddy.

I've failed again.

I know I'm not what you want me to be.

I know I'll never be good enough.

I know there is no hope...

I've disappointed you,

And I'm sorry."

But what can I do?

It's a part of me.

I've failed again

And will fail many times before I'm through.

I can't be good enough for you.

I only do what I can do...

So I pack my fears away and hide them in a closet.

Pretend that everything's okay

While all my dreams and hopes are stuffed behind a shoe.

There, only the pain shows through.

This is what I do.

Stuff everything down and pack it inside.

This, at all costs, this I must hide.

The fear and the pain and the hopes and dreams, too

Are all there

Stuffed inside

Hidden under a shoe...

Yes, this is what I do.

There comes a time when the closet door won't shut.

What's hidden inside just won't stay put.

And this is when I cut...

I cut out the fear and I cut out the pain.

I push it outside; I can handle it there.

I flush out the anger and cover the stain.

And after it all I am even more scared...

But I find, that for now, there is room to spare.

I pushed everything out but I don't despair.

For, now I can put more in there.

When the fear comes back

Along with the pain,

I can lock it away,

Safely

Closeted

Again.

2/18/01

3:01 PM

Hello world. I just ate lunch....alone....again. I came back here and am sitting. Alone. I went to the symphony last night, alone. I went shopping beforehand, alone. I go out for coffee alone, I watch movies alone, I walk through art museums alone. I ride that stupid bus alone. I mean, I look for people to do things with, I ask my friends if they’d like to go with me, but everyone is always too busy or they just don’t feel like it. I guess it’s time to buy a pet. Hell, at least I can pick up and hold a turtle when I feel the need for companionship. Or a newt. Or if it comes to that, I can stare at a fish. (Bangs head on desk.) Wonderful. No one else gives two shits whether I’m here or not.

11:15 PM

Well. It’s done. I just talked to Laurie. I gave her a copy of this. I’m going to call the counseling center tomorrow. I did it. The deed is done.

I’m terrified.

Maybe I’ll finally get some help, though.

Oh my god, what have I done??? I can’t go through everything again, I just can’t. My parents are going to find out, I just know it. Can’t do this, can’t do this, can’t do this. Scared. Scared. Scared. Scarred. Ohhhhhh, why?????! I feel sick.

2/19/01

4:55 PM

I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m sick of my roommate talking about me behind my back with her friends, laughing about me WHEN I’M RIGHT THERE IN THE ROOM. I called the counseling service this afternoon when I got home from band, and they don’t have an opening until Friday March 2nd. My birthday. Some birthday present that is. Then after I did that I was totally exhausted, and I had and still have a migraine headache. So I decided to lie down for a while. Not unreasonable, right? At least, I didn’t think so. Well, Amy came home half an hour later and she sure thought that it was. She bitched on the phone to her friend about how I was sleeping so they couldn’t “hang out here,” but then he came over anyway, and they stood there and he picked up my stuff and made fun of me and they laughed at me while I’m not more than two feet away. They thought I was sleeping. Well, damn it all, I wasn’t. EVERYBODY IS ALWAYS FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then she makes a flip comment on the way out the door about how she should just let it slam so it would wake me up THE WAY I DO HER! That fucking BITCH!!!!!!!!!! I NEVER LET THE DOOR SLAM WHEN SHE IS ASLEEP! IT CREAKS ALL OF IT’S OWN ACCORD, BUT I NEVER LET IT SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m ALWAYS concerned about not waking her up, about being polite and courteous. She could care LESS that I was asleep!!!!!!!! She always comes in and slams the door, talks loudly on the phone, turns on music, rummages around loudly in her shit, bangs her closet doors, kicks things around, takes phone calls at two or three or four in the morning, CONSTANTLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED SHE CAN JUST GO FUCK HERSELF! That two-faced lying little BITCH! I’m so fucking sick of being taken advantage of! “Oh, Beth, can I use your printer?” Two in the morning after waking me up to begin with “Before you go back to sleep, can I use your printer? It’s only two pages.” Time and time and time again. “Oh, I’ll get mine fixed this week.” That was weeks ago. “Oh, please, this paper is due tomorrow morning...” And all the time, behind my back, comments to her asshole friends about how awful I am, or how pathetic and stupid I am, them LAUGHING LAUGHING LAUGHING LAUGHING ALWAYS LAUGHING at me! I HATE HER! I’m so sick of people walking all over me. I’m so sick of it. And I just let it happen. Time after time after time after time. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t STAND this anymore. I want to move out. I wish to God I had gotten a single room this year, if the school hadn’t fucked my housing contract to begin with maybe I could have. I absolutely have to have one next year...I can’t live with people. It makes me crazy. Everyone laughing at me behind my back. I’m not paranoid, I hear them. They think I’m asleep and they make all these comments and whisper about me and giggle and laugh just like everyone did in elementary school, middle school, high school, everywhere. Why can’t people just grow up? Why does life have to be this way all the time? After they left the room I just lay on my back and cried because I didn’t know what else to do. I want to move out. I can’t deal with another quarter of this. I can’t. Honest to God, I’ve tried. I can’t do it anymore. Jesus, aren’t I carrying enough already? Why does it always have to be this way? WHY?

2/21/01

11:08 PM

I bought a giant novelty eraser tonight for fifty cents. It’s about five inches long and two inches wide. It says “For BIG Mistakes.” I was wondering: Can I erase myself???

I’m very, very tired. I just want to sleep. I’ve had a migraine for three days now. Wow fun. I skipped aural training this morning because I wasn’t feeling well. I skipped Tuesday, too. Can anyone say guilty? Ha. I’m tired tired tired, I’m going to go to bed now. Don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep or not, I feel nauseated. Icky. Not so good. Midterm tomorrow in Geo. sciences...haven’t studied. Haven’t practiced my horn. Haven’t read my book, or worked on MacGamut, or sung, or done theory. Haven’t done ANYTHING that I was supposed to do. Wonderful. Can’t keep on like this. I will flunk out. Can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t do that. Failure. My head hurts. ARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!

2/22/01

10:30 PM

Migraine day number four. Ugh. Just ugh. I’m very tired but don’t want to go to bed just yet because...um, I don’t know why. I just don’t. Guess what? I can’t do SAI. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to. It’s so expensive. But I really, really, really wanted to do it. It seemed like so much fun. And the sisters all really wanted me to do it. I’m so disappointed. But that’s typical. Nothing ever works out for me, EVER. Life hates me. If something can go wrong, it will. If there is any possible way for my plans to get screwed up, they will. Gotta love it. I’m so freaking tired. And rather sick to my stomach. Again. I might as well just stop eating entirely, perhaps I would feel better. Thank God tomorrow is Friday. I’ve had four midterms in four days. And four days of a migraine, I wonder if there’s a correlation, or if I just happen to have a really stubborn, nasty headache with a rotten sense of timing. I don’t know. Whatever. Anyhoo, I guess I will go to bed now, I haven’t got anything better to do.

3/28/01

11:30 PM

Hi again. Haven’t written for a long time. Haven’t needed to, plus was too busy, plus didn’t have my ‘puter over break. I am bad. Tonight is baad. Just bad. Everything was great until half an hour ago when I tried to practice Clarke technical studies. So much for a good mood. I want to slice the hell out of myself right now. I hate me. I hate everything about me. I couldn’t even practice Clarke for ten lousy minutes without bursting into tears. Fucking asshole I am! Why am I here at this university? I’m wasting my parents hard-earned money. I never do anything right. Fuck.

I’m bleeding again. Not a big cut, but enough to confirm that I’ve failed again. Happy life. I’m going to bed before I do something drastic. Besides, I’ve got yet another 7:30 class tomorrow. See my big fake grin? Gotta love it.

April 2, 2001

11:10 PM

I’m afraid. The fear runs through my body like ice water, chilling me to the core. I can’t function like this. My hands shake, and I can’t draw a clean breath. It is nearly impossible to play my instrument in this state. People have started to think that I don’t know what’s going on, that I’m just a crappy, unfocused player, when the truth is I want to do things right so much that it turns against me and makes me do them wrong. The slightest little things fluster me. I can play the piddling little unimportant lines just fine, it’s the big exposed lines and the solos that make my blood freeze in my veins and my breath catch in my throat. Fear. There comes a point when my lips just won’t buzz, and my breath won’t blow. This is the time when I shrink behind my horn, barely audible but playing, the times when everyone thinks that I don’t know where I am, that I’m lost or not there, but in reality I am there, it’s just that I can’t be heard. I don’t have the courage to push the line. There is so much that I could do if I could only find the strength, if I could conquer the fear for a few minutes at a time. But it’s always there. It is this fear, or the anticipation of this fear, that leads me into tears in the practice room, that grips my insides days before a big concert, and weeks before auditions. Always there. God forbid I actually make a mistake... when that happens I clam up entirely, freeze, with no idea what to do next. Band is an absolute nightmare for me when my section leader is not there, when I’m on my own, flying solo. I am absolutely terrified to make mistakes. I don’t know why. It’s ingrained in me. Everything must be perfect. The first time. If I can’t be perfect, then I have failed. I’m so afraid to fail that I don’t want to try at all. I came home after band today and got sick to my stomach. Granted, I hadn’t been feeling wonderful all morning, but I would have been all right, I wasn’t at all nauseated, my stomach was just sore from indigestion. It took band to push me over the edge. After the way I played...I missed all the solo lines that I was supposed to be playing. Chris wasn’t there, so I had to cover his part. I played like a child. Everything was wrong, I couldn’t count the rhythms to come in right, I ended up on the wrong partials several times. I could just see the disappointment in Dr. Mikkelson’s face. I felt like a complete and utter ass. I wanted to curl up and die. Everyone else in band plays their part, no matter what may be going through their heads, they still play their part, and play it well. I can’t even begin to play well. Damn it all. I try, I really do, but I can’t get past my fear. I don’t even know how to begin.

4/10/01

8:33 PM

Evening. It has been raining and thunderstorming here for two days now. The air is dark, heavy; hot and oppressive. Weather to promote depression. I am teetering. I have been all right for a few days now, things have been more than tolerable. But I don’t feel well right now. I keep telling myself I will not get depressed, I am okay, things are okay. But the feelings keep coming back. I’m exhausted, but can’t sleep. I’m hungry, but can’t eat. I continue to get sick after I eat, regardless of what I eat or when I eat it. Mornings are the worst, though. I went all day yesterday without eating, and felt fine. I wasn’t even hungry. This morning I ate a pastry and a glass of milk at about nine ‘o clock, and I felt horrible. I went to lessons at eleven thirty feeling so sick that I wasn’t sure I would be able to play. I told Jim I wasn’t feeling well, and we talked for a while. He asked at one point of it was stress, and I denied it, but I am beginning to think that it very well may be. This happens too often to be a bug, or a reaction to any specific food. I ate dinner tonight and was pretty well okay, though. Perhaps this will no longer be a problem. Probably not, but perhaps. I’m tired. So tired. Even playing with the fishies doesn’t really appeal to me tonight. I’m not sure what to do. I should do theory homework, but I will most likely sit here and fritter away time. A bad habit, I know. Unproductive, I know. But I am struggling right now to stay somewhat sane. I can’t really concentrate, in fact I would just like to go to bed. Perhaps I will in an hour or so, but it isn’t even nine yet, and I can’t go to bed this early. Why? I don’t know. I just don’t know. Anyhoo, I feel sick again right now, I just had a Steamer from Brenan’s. Nothing there to make me sick, just milk and flavoring syrup, but I am sick nonetheless. I just got back from Rep. Band. I can’t sight read worth shit. But it doesn’t matter. Not right now, anyway. What matters now is the Wind Symphony concert that is coming up in about a week, the concert that I am playing first on one of the pieces for, the concert that is my last chance to prove myself a good musician. I am the leader this time, I cannot back down, or I am cooked. Then where will I be next year? Where will my career be sitting then? For once in my life I need to do something right. Just this one thing. Maybe then I can prove to myself that I am worth something.

4/11/01

6:25 PM

Well. I felt like shit today. I can’t stand always feeling sick after I eat. It’s awful. And this morning I almost had a panic attack. I was sitting in Music Lit. in Hughes 13. It was sooo hot. No air movement at all. The air was very stuffy and heavy, extremely oppressive. About halfway through class I began to have the recurring thought that I couldn’t breathe. I ignored it the first time, but it kept coming back more and more insistently until... I started to panic, then talked myself down, then started to panic, then talked myself down. Over and over again until class was done. I was hyperventilating. No one noticed, thank God. It was terrible. I stood up to go to Wind Symphony feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach, and scooted out of that room absolutely as fast as physically possible. I decided to make a quick stop in the bathroom before going over to Weigel, and it’s a damn good thing I did. I got into a stall and COLLAPSED onto the toilet, so incredibly dizzy that my head was buzzing. I nearly fainted right there. I have never before been so happy to sit down. So of course I got to Wind Symphony and was an absolute wreck before it even started. I was sure that I was going to throw up. I sat there shaking. I didn’t stop shaking the entire rehearsal. It was awful. I told Chris in the beginning that I wasn’t feeling well, so he knew that I wouldn’t be playing wonderfully. I finally got my head clear enough to play with some accuracy, but it wasn’t great. That’s all right, though. I got through rehearsal, that’s what counts. I still feel sick to my stomach, so I’m not going to eat dinner tonight. I’m going to try not eating anything tomorrow and see how that goes. If I don’t eat, I can’t feel sick. But there are other effects to not eating that I don’t really want to deal with in the long run. I can only hope that this clears up soon. I can’t really go on like this much longer. Something is very wrong and I don’t know what it is. I think I’m seriously beginning to wig out, here. Jim was most likely right about the stomach problems being stress. I think that they are psychosomatic, to steal a Psych 100 vocabulary term. Anyhoo, I should probably go, as I have Brass Choir in a bit. Perhaps I will blabber more later, but no promises.

10:21 Ah, blabber blabber! FUCK. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!! Goddamn fucking life I fucking hate it can’t do fucking anything RIGHT ever never ever ever fuck fuck fuck! Son of a bitch goddamned asshole I am! FUCKFUCK FUCK FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK ASS ASSHOLE!FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK! Goddamn shithead motherfucking asshole! I HATE MYSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5/11/01

I posted on the SI list tonight, first time in a long while. I had nearly forgotten about it. Here it is:

Hello to everyone. It's been a very long time since I've posted, but I've been keeping up with the e-mail digests. I just haven't had much to say. Hello to all the new members whom I haven't "met" yet. I hope everyone is well. I have been fairly well until recently, which leads me to the reason that I am posting tonight.

TRIGGER

Well. Things have gotten very difficult for me here at college in recent weeks, so much so that suicidal thoughts have begun to plague me of late. I've been cutting more often and more deeply. Today I even cut in the bathroom of the music building. Up until now, I have always kept my cutting in the privacy of my own room, never venturing to do it in a public place. This is a big step, unfortunately it happens to be in the wrong direction. Tonight I wanted to cut very badly, I haven't yet. I'm thinking about enlarging the one I did in the bathroom this morning, it's pretty shallow. But I'm trying to resist that urge. So, here's what happened to trigger me.

Trigger warning once again! Just for good measure.

First off, this is just a generally stressful time of year, what with things winding down, and preparing for finals, etc. etc. etc. Second, I have been very ill as of late with a mysterious reoccurring stomach ailment that can have me throwing up all morning but fine by 2:00 or so. I don't understand it. But it happens regularly, and has affected my attendance at classes dramatically. I mean, who can go to class when they have to run to the bathroom all the time to avoid their stomach leaping to the floor??! People (myself included) think it's stress, and I can attest that it may be a likely candidate. Anyhoo, I am/was enrolled in Brass Methods at 7:30 in the morning. Our absence policy was: 3 absences to do with as you please, after that your grade drops by a letter each time. Well, what with my stomach, I ended up with six absences. That's a D right there, IF I had kept an A average to begin with. I didn't. I did poorly on several assignments, some of which were surprises where I thought I had done much better than I did. I am WAY beyond failing. So. The professor and I had a long talk this morning. It was an extremely uncomfortable conversation to say the least, and I was on the verge of tears the entire time. I was discussing with her the option of dropping the class and taking it over again next year when I finally broke. She had asked me if I felt I would be better off starting over from scratch, and I stated "If I keep going with this grade the way it is, it will kill me GPA and I will lose my scholarships." I got to the words "lose my scholarships" and just lost all the composure that I had been fighting so hard for. I choked up and couldn't talk, I started to cry, then couldn't breathe. Thankfully I got myself back under control quickly, within about thirty seconds or so. I just blanked, it was all I could do. She let me leave a little bit later, after saying that the final decision as to dropping the class was up to me. I got out of there absolutely as fast as I could, ran downstairs, dropped my instrument off, and hauled ass to the bathroom as fast as I possibly could, where I collapsed in a stall and hyperventilated because I COULDN'T cry, even though it was okay then because no one was there to see me lose control. So I just got really dizzy instead. Then I remembered my knife, a beautiful polished wood keychain pocket knife with a one inch blade that I bought for a dollar at the Renaissance Faire here at school last weekend. I bought it because I wanted it for carving, this was the first time I had even thought about using it on myself. It's little bitty blade is VERY sharp. I couldn't get the thought of my knife out of my head, and I absolutely couldn't cry. I felt if I didn't do something I would self-destruct. So I pulled the little knife out of my jeans pocket, and opened the blade.

I place the blade against my arm, while a little spirit of a voice in my head whispers "you shouldn't be doing this." My breath catches and hangs in my throat. I pull it across, gently the first time, barely breaking the very outermost layer of skin. No blood, just a little indented line. I take the very tip of the blade and trace this line, opening it a touch more, watching as the first tiny droplets of blood bead in their spots. Again, with just a little more pressure. I can feel the skin tearing underneath the tip of the blade. I suck in a deep breath through my clenched teeth. I lay the blade full length against the shallow cut and pull it across, feeling it grab, feeling it bite, but feeling only a detached, spreading ache. No sharp pain. I use the tip again to lengthen and widen the wound, watching the blood well forth with each stroke, watching that glorious red blood. I am utterly focused, calm, with the steady hands of a surgeon. Just a little more. The unbearable pressure inside eases with every pull of the blade, with every droplet of blood that colors my skin. I can breathe again, normally now. The air feels cool, somehow cleaner than it did just a moment before. My teeth unclench, and I give the cut one more soft stroke with the full blade of the knife. There. It's done. I smile, a smile grim with pain and a darker horror colored by manic glee. It's done. I've done it. I CAN do something right. I can perpetuate my own destruction, but I can at least do one thing on this planet right. For now, I have atoned for my failure, both at controlling my feelings, and at being a good student and a good musician. I know the feeling won't last long, but for now, it works. I wash the blood from my arm and from the knife blade and walk out of the bathroom and up the stairs, already concocting a story to tell should anyone ask, a story about a run-in with a protruding drywall screw in one of the decrepit practice rooms on the fourth floor. They do exist, I've seen them in my travels. No one will question. I smile wider and walk out the main doors, out into the sunshine, to be human again for a while.

So. That was my morning. I dragged myself to more classes, came home about 5:00, sat at the computer, too exhausted to do much else, then crawled into bed to sleep for an hour before I had to turn around and go back over there to band at 6:30. I didn't get to sleep because my grossly inconsiderate roommate came home and slammed around, then decided that she wanted to talk on the phone, and proceeded to do so at the TOP OF HER LUNGS for the next hour, like she does every single night when I'm trying to sleep. I was very close to snapping. All I had wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for ONE lousy hour, and I couldn't even do that. Earlier in the day I walked in on her and her boyfriend groping each other, even though one of our most important rules that we had agreed on in our roommate agreements was NO SEXUAL BEHAVIOR IN THE ROOM! I was very annoyed. I couldn't even get my stuff for my next class because they wouldn't stop. I was afraid to stay in the room at all, I walked in, saw them, and turned around and walked right back out. I went and sat in the lobby of the building and griped to my friend BJ. I have issues with sex due to some forced experiences with a slightly older neighbor boy when I was between five and nine. I'm not sure of the exact age. Anyhoo, I was rather freaked out all day, to say the least. So I got home about an hour ago, then I felt so shitty and low that I walked over to the local store and bought a four ounce bag of potato chips, and eight ounce container of chip dip, and two twelve ounce bottles of soda, came back, and gorged myself, all the while muttering that if no one wanted to spend time with me, well then by God I was going to "celebrate my own independence" and have a party all on my own. A pity party, I guess. I ate the entire container of dip, most of the chips, and both bottles of soda, and I don't even give a damn. It's just another way to kill myself off earlier. Boo-hoo. Well, anyway, I got on here and decided that I would rather post than overdose on something or make my cut bigger, so here I am. End of story.

I know this is long, and if you're still with me, thanks. I just needed to get some of it out before I tried anything rash. I love you all, and I've missed you in my time away from this group. Thanks for being there.

~Beth

There it is, the thoughts of the day. I’m going to change fish and go to bed now. I’m fucking exhausted.

5/18/01

10:36 PM

Comfort eating. Comfort eating. I’ve been stuffing everything available to me down my throat. I’ve lost five bettas in five days. I’m feeling pretty awful. Fucking failure. Bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad badbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbadbad bad.

5/25/01

Update on the bettas: I’ve lost eight total now. All my girls are dead, and my wonderful, beautiful Ace...my Acey. I loved him so much. My poor boy. I am an incompetent asshole.

5/31/01

1:00 AM

I want to cry. I don’t really know why. I do know, but I don’t... I talked with my advisor yesterday. The whole conversation consisted of him telling me that he thinks I need to seek counseling. He didn’t say it exactly that way, but he kept telling me that it’s not normal to feel uncomfortable with oneself for long periods of time, and that the questions I am asking myself are big ones and that I shouldn’t try to find answers alone, and that there are people and services to help. He wants me to do it before school lets out for the summer. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or mortified, so I was neither. It makes me wonder very seriously what Dr. Henninger said to him. What on earth would she have told him to give him the idea that I need counseling when he doesn’t even know me, indeed we have only met three times this year for about twenty minutes or so at a stretch. I’m concerned, and upset, and feeling betrayed and also feeling like a failure because I couldn’t keep my act together in the first place. Honest to God, all I really want to do at the moment is curl up and cry, but I can’t. I can’t cry anymore. I also want to cut, but I don’t know where my knife is and that’s probably a good thing. That is the last thing that I need to do right now. I’m barely holding together at the moment. I know that I myself have considered getting help many times this year. But it hurts really awfully for someone who doesn’t know me to tell me that I need help. It hurts to think that I am so fucked up that it is obvious to other people. I didn’t think it was that bad, I honestly didn’t. And there again I have failed, because I let people see that something wasn’t right, I let people see that I am not a normal person. I’ve worked so hard to be normal and now the shit hits the fan yet again. I feel so worthless, like such a failure. I feel so DIRTY inside. It hurts. It’s not worth it. It’s simply not worth all the effort that it takes to forge on day to day only to have everything blow up in my face once I finally begin to think that I’ve got it all under control for once. I’m sick of fighting all the time. Every time I think that things are starting to go well something else happens, whether it’s screwing up in a concert after I’ve worked my ass off for weeks to make it as perfect as I can get it, or forgetting something important, or thinking that I’ve done very well on an assignment only to have it come back with a C or lower...I’m sick of the uphill battle. I’m sick of pretending that I’m worth something when life and God and circumstances conspire again and again to prove that I’m not. I try so very, very hard, but nothing ever gets any better, I never manage to get any further along than before. Freshman year is gone, it’s slipped through my fingers. And here I am, left, still wondering if I have made the right choices while most of my friends plunge happily ahead pursuing their dreams. I feel like I have wasted everyone’s time this year, and disappointed all who have counted on me for anything. I still feel, as I have all year, that I don’t deserve to be here at this school, that I don’t deserve to be studying with someone like Jim, and that I don’t deserve to be called a musician, or even a music major. I don’t feel like I have accomplished anything this year, other than destroying what little confidence I had. Which is not a bad thing, because it was false confidence anyway. I kept telling myself that I could do it, when really I am not capable of surviving even the most basic level of work required here. I have disappointed everyone, I prove again and again and again that I am not worthy of even the smallest chance. I don’t expect anyone to cut me any slack, I don’t deserve it. I should be able to get my act together and my ass in gear, but I never do anything right. I’ve tried, I’ve tried over and over again, but no matter how hard I try I always mess something up, and I ultimately fail the task at hand. That has been the pattern all year long, indeed for most of my pathetic excuse for a life. Here I am, I should be happy, Mom and Dad are buying me the euphonium that I’ve dreamed of. And now that I’m getting it I feel so low. I feel dirty. Dirty because something good is happening to me when there are so many others that deserve good things more than I. I don’t deserve a euphonium. I don’t deserve anything. I’ve proven that time and again by not being able to meet even the simplest requirements laid out for me. This, though, this I deserve: I DESERVE to be dead. I DESERVE to rot in hell where I can’t disappoint or do harm to anyone else ever again. I DESERVE to be shut away and left to die where I am no longer a burden or annoyance to anyone else on the face of the planet. I have been and always will be a burden, whether through my constant whining, complaining, and immaturity, or through never living up to anyone’s expectations of me. No one has ever been able to count on me for anything, I have always let them down. Well, it’s time to end that cycle. It’s time for me to go away where I can’t bother anyone anymore. If there was ever ANYONE who deserved to be alone for the rest of his or her life, it’s me. That’s the only way that I will never bother anyone again, never make anyone “concerned” about me again, never make anyone think twice about me and wonder what I’m doing and if I’m completing things properly and doing what I should be doing, never make anyone worry about me again. THAT is what I deserve. Not friends, a euphonium, a whitewater rafting trip, or good grades, but endless black nothingness. FOREVER.

6/5/01

11:10 PM

I had my level-change jury today. It went well, surprisingly. I’m tired, though. Right now I feel like a big fat slob, I just ate a whole container of chip dip and a small bag of chips. Fat city. I haven’t really eaten anything else today, though. I’m feeling very strange, kind of dizzy and sleepy.

12:00

Sudden interruption. There was a phone call, then I went to go get my horn. I’m tired. I wanted to cut earlier today for reasons that I don’t know. I wasn’t even feeling poorly, but I thought about buying some razor blades for no reason other than cutting. I don’t really understand. It was like the thought just popped into my head suddenly. Anyway, I didn’t do anything, so all is well. Right now, however, I’m going to bed because I can’t stop yawning.

6/18/01

1:05 AM

What a rough day “yesterday” was. (I say that because I am still awake...) I include posts from the SI list and my replies to demonstrate what an emotionally draining night I had.

*** Post #1. I woke up to find this.

DEAR GROUP,

I have been so depressed these past few days because fathers day is

tomorrow. It is so hard that I will never be able to spend fathers day with

my father again. Also his Memorial Service is coming up in August. It will

be one year on the 4th of August. Although we are having the service in the

end of July. It is just so hard to , I don't know it is just so hard. I hate

this I just want things to be back to normal with me and my mother and

father together again. I want to cut so bad right now and want all the pain

to end Why is my life so miserable. Thanks for listening to my babble.

ERIKA HERNANDEZ

*** My reply:

Erika,

I'm really sorry that you're feeling badly. Anniversaries of events like that

can be very difficult, I know. If you care to talk, I've lost a lot of people

who are important to me over the last few years, so I know some of how it

feels. I'm online a lot, though not all the time, so if you see me on and

need to talk just let me know. My AIM name is BethBrake, and I do have ICQ,

but can't remember my number at the moment, so if you want to talk that way,

send me your ICQ number and I'll get in touch with you. Hang in there, there

are a ton of people who care about you. And remember, just because your dad

isn't there physically, that doesn't mean he isn't there in spirit. His love

will never leave you.

Many blessings and (((safe hugs))),

Beth

***

She didn’t get in touch with me yet. Perhaps she won’t. Whatever. But now, this. I received this post at 11:16 PM.

God, I can't take it anymore, everything hurts so bad, I've burned

with an eraser four times tonight, and it hasn't even nicked the tip

of the iceberg. I'm tired of trying to help everyone else and myself

at the same time. I'm crying, my eyes hurt from crying. Everything

seems so hopeless.

I found out tonight that one of my best friends, 'Manda, has been

thinking about killing herself, I knew she was depressed, I didn't

know it was that bad, it hurt that she didn't tell me, it almost felt

like she didn't even want me to try to help her through it.

That's not even the bulk of the problems, and I just can't take it

anymore. I'm so tired of always struggling to put on a smile, I'm

sick of hurting.

I can't take anymore, I don't want to take anymore. I'm sorry

everyone, but I think this is it, I don't think I can keep going on

like this.

Truly Sorry,

J-Lee

*** My reply:

J-Lee,

Wait. Please. If you want to talk, IM me. My AIM name is BethBrake. I also

have ICQ, but I don't know my number, so if you want to use that, send me

your number. Please don't do anything to harm yourself until you talk to

someone. Feelings pass, hon. I know it doesn't feel like they will go away,

but let me tell you that they do. I almost committed suicide two years ago,

and looking back I am so glad that I didn't. I've come so far since then, it

IS possible. Please, please talk to me, or call a crises line or suicide

hotline. These hotlines are usually anonymous, and they'd help you talk

through what you are feeling. They helped me. Please, please reach out. You

don't deserve to hurt like this. It's not your fault. Please, hon. I care

about you, I really do. I wouldn't be posting if I didn't. I don't usually

post about anything, but I want you to know that I am here! Please get

yourself some help in any way you possibly can.

~Beth

***She IM’d me a few minutes later, about 11:23 or so. We have been talking for nearly two hours now. This is the IM transcript.

ryoko162002: It's J-Lee from the group...I don't know what to say...but you said to talk to you or call a hotline, and the hotline is out of the question...

BethBrake: Hi there.

ryoko162002: hi..

BethBrake: I'm glad you IM'd me.

BethBrake: Are you all right?

ryoko162002: if you mean have I hurt myself yet...aside from a few eraser burns no I haven't done anything yet

BethBrake: Can you talk about what's making you feel so bad?

ryoko162002: there's so much. my family not accepting me because I'm not just like them, my dad making promises he never keeps, my friend hiding stuff from me, missing a friend that died a year ago, trying to help everyone with their problems while trying to get help for my own at the same time...so much

BethBrake: What does your family do to make you feel like they don't accept you?

ryoko162002: other than my mother and step-dad they ignore me, they pick on me because I dress differently, they pick at me for being pale instead of tan, they nitpick at my every decision when they have no one else to nitpick at, they made fun of the goals I had for my life

BethBrake: Well, honestly, if they treat you like that then they are petty people who do not matter. You are who you are, and you deserve the right to be who you are. I happen to think that you are a very nice person.

ryoko162002: thanks...

BethBrake: I understand that it can be hard to deal with that, I go through the same things with my family on a daily basis when I'm home.

ryoko162002: if that were the only thing I'd probably be fine...

BethBrake: You mentioned that your friend is hiding things from you. What's going on there?

ryoko162002: I knew that she'd been a little down lately, her boyfriend, online boyfriend, and the thing her life revolves around, hasn't been on for almost 2 weeks, and I found an online diary and found out it was hers, and she's been thinking of killing herself, because of her boyfriend not being on I guess

BethBrake: Have you spoken to her about it?

ryoko162002: tried, she's being pretty quiet though, not really giving any straight answers

BethBrake: Could it be that she is afraid to talk to you about her problems because she knows that you are going through a hard time right now and she doesn't want to add any more stress?

BethBrake: I doubt that she is purposefully concealing anything from you.

ryoko162002: she won't talk to any of her friends about it because she thinks everyone thinks she has the perfect life. I've always told her that no matter what I was going through if she had even the smallest problem to come to me with it because I was always more than willing to help

BethBrake: She's most likely scared to talk about it. It's very hard to open up to people about things like that, as you know, I'm sure. I myself had a VERY hard time talking about the things that happened in my life, until a very special teacher reached out to me.

ryoko162002: this is the first thing she's hid from me though, we've talked about it before, and not just for my goodsake

ryoko162002: also for hers

BethBrake: I understand that you would feel hurt that she is hiding it from you. Could you try explaining to her that it hurts when she hides things from you because you care about her so much? That might help her feel more comfortable in opening up to you, as it's a very solid demonstration that you care. I know that she already knows you care for her, but other ways of showing it never hurt.

ryoko162002: I did earlier tonight when it happened, and it hasn't changed anything...she's still where she was before

BethBrake: Well, it will probably take her some time to think things through. The best thing that I can offer is to just let her know that you're there if she needs you, and that's she free to some to you anytime. Sometimes the very offer is worth its weight in gold.

ryoko162002: those are promises I don't know if i can keep to her right now though, I'm trying to be there for her, but I can't promise it because I don't know

BethBrake: I understand.

BethBrake: How old are you, dear?

ryoko162002: I just turned 15 about 2 weeks ago

BethBrake: Wow. Honey, you are so strong. I went through a similar situation when I was seventeen, and I had such a tough time holding on. I really admire you, being so young, and so strong.

ryoko162002: I hear that a lot, that I'm strong after being so young and having the life I've had, but I don't feel strong, I feel scared and weak

BethBrake: I know you do, and I did too. But you need to think about how far you have come. I bet that there are things that you have come through where when you were in the middle of them you though "I'm never going to be able to survive this!" but you did!

ryoko162002: hardly survived them...this is the third time I've wanted to, and planned to, die since early 2000

BethBrake: The point is that you DID survive them.

ryoko162002: I guess..

BethBrake: Right there is a great accomplishment.

BethBrake: You said that it's hard for you to try and help others with their problems and take care of yourself at the same time, right?

ryoko162002: yea

BethBrake: Well, the very fact that you are trying to help others tells me what a wonderful person you are. But I must say to you, don't hurt yourself in giving of yourself. YOU have to be well before you can help anyone else be well. YOU come first, never let anyone else tell you different. That is not selfish, that is survival.

ryoko162002: I can't just turn everyone else away because I need to help myself though...I've never done that

BethBrake: I'm not saying turn everyone else away, I'm simply saying to do only what you can do comfortably, without draining yourself too much.

BethBrake: There is a whole world of other people out there, many of whom are willing to help. You are not the last resort.

BethBrake: I know you want to help, I've always been the same way. Just don't let it be to your own detriment.

ryoko162002: I'll be honest, I don't know what to say back to any of this...

BethBrake: I know. Just think about it.

BethBrake: What do you need right now? More than anything else in the world?

ryoko162002: right now, more than anything else, I need my friend C.J., but I probably won't see him for a while...other than that I need to rest mentally I guess

BethBrake: Why won't you see C.J?

ryoko162002: he's busy, so I probably won't see or hear from him until he actually gets the time to slow down, I would call him, but I don't have the number. he's said he'd always be there for me no matter what...

BethBrake: Do you know anyone who might have his number?

ryoko162002: no

BethBrake: Have you tried looking it up on the internet?

ryoko162002: yea, can't find it

BethBrake: Do you know where he lives?

ryoko162002: I don't know city or county but I do know state, GA

BethBrake: If you could find his address, you could write to him.

BethBrake: Could you e-mail him?

ryoko162002: I have his e-mail, that's it, and I've e-mailed him.

ryoko162002: I don't know when he'll check next though

BethBrake: Well, that's about all I can suggest. You could e-mail him again and ask him to call you, or give you his number so you can call him. I hope he checks soon.

ryoko162002: I have to go soon...it's getting late...

BethBrake: It is getting late, isn't it? I hadn't noticed.

BethBrake: Do you have school tomorrow?

ryoko162002: yes, I do, but I can be on at 3 central time probably

BethBrake: Hmm. What does that equate to Eastern?

BethBrake: What time is it there now?

ryoko162002: 2 I think...I'm not sure. It's 11:30 here

BethBrake: okay, it's 12:30 here.

ryoko162002: oh. ok. so 4 your time

BethBrake: I might be on about 3 your time...if you want to, go ahead and IM me and let me know how things are, 'kay?

ryoko162002: ok

BethBrake: Alright. Have fun tomorrow. Maybe try and go out somewhere with your friends, huh? Get out for a while and get your mind off things.

ryoko162002: I'll try

BethBrake: Okay.

ryoko162002: I'll probably be on another 10 to 15 minutes to make sure my friend is ok..

BethBrake: Cool.

BethBrake: Hey, let me know if there is anything that you need me to do for you. I'll help where I can.

ryoko162002: thanks...right now I'm drawing blanks with about everything though

BethBrake: Sure, no problem.

ryoko162002: I don't know if I'm going to be able to help my friend...she's not sure what she's going to do, but she's leaning towards taking a bunch of pills...if she does that will be five people in a year and two months...I'm not sure I can survive that

BethBrake: Just talk to her. Realize that if she does take the pills, attempts like that often do not work the way the person plans anyway. If she takes them do you know how to get in touch with anyone close to her, or could you give her address to 911 or a crisis center that would intervene?

ryoko162002: I could give her address to 911 or a crisis senter

ryoko162002: ^center

BethBrake: Then that is what you would want to do immediately if you feel that she is going to take them or if she does take them.

BethBrake: Do you know where to find the numbers?

ryoko162002: yes

BethBrake: All right, good. For now, just talk to her. But if you feel that you need to take action, don't hesitate. It's in her best interests.

ryoko162002: I want to keep talking to her, the last time I left a suicidal friend alone, even though I didn't know, I never heard from her again, instead I was informed by her grandmother that she hung herself

ryoko162002: but I have to get off the computer soon

BethBrake: I don't know what to tell you, honestly. It's not your fault and there wasn't anything you could have done to prevent that.

BethBrake: But I can understand how you feel.

BethBrake: Would she be willing to call someone?

ryoko162002: I don't know, I gave her a hotline number, 1-800-suicide

BethBrake: Urge her with all your might to call that.

BethBrake: How serious do you think she is about taking action to harm herself?

ryoko162002: I'm trying, and 'm trying to change her mind, but I don't know

ryoko162002: very...'manda never does or says anything lightly

BethBrake: If you think that the risk is that strong, then I would seriously consider calling 911 or a crises center now and telling them what's been happening, giving them her address and phone number, and letting them take it from there.

BethBrake: After all, what if she suddenly stops talking to you, for whatever reason?

ryoko162002: I dunno, but I don't have her number, only her address

BethBrake: I think her address would be enough. Besides, if you have an address it's easy to look up the number. If you are able to take action, then I would take it. It's always better to do too much rather than too little.

ryoko162002: ok

ryoko162002: if she won't call the hotline I'll call someone

BethBrake: I know you're afraid. I'm sorry that you have to deal with this. You're a brave girl.

BethBrake: That's a good idea.

ryoko162002: yea..

ryoko162002: I can't even cry anymore, I was basically bawling ten minutes ago, I'm still making an occasional sob, but not crying, I guess I don't have anything left to cry out...

BethBrake: The body can't sustain that level of emotion for long. That's perfectly normal.

ryoko162002: she's hardly replying, once every 5 minutes, all she seems to acknowledge is that she's still 'here'

BethBrake: Then it may be time to make that call, if she's withdrawing from you.

ryoko162002: I'm so scared

BethBrake: I know you are, sweetheart.

BethBrake: You have to do what's best for her now.

(LONG pause)

ryoko162002: I don't know what I can do, the address she gave me, I dug it out of my purse, it's a PO box

BethBrake: Hmm. I'd call anyway, if you can give them a name and that address, they might be able to search their databases and come up with a street address, or a telephone number.

BethBrake: Hey hon, you still there? What's going on?

ryoko162002: I'm still here, she isn't answering, I'm scared, she might be writing in her diary again, that was the reason for the long pause earlier, I'm not sure if I should call, or if I should go wake up my mom, or keep talking to her or what

BethBrake: How do you think your mom would react to all this? Would she be willing to help?

ryoko162002: she'd probably call the police, or something, i don't know

BethBrake: The police are a good resource. They are who got called when I was in that situation. My teacher called them, and saved my life.

BethBrake: Do you know what kind of pills that she has?

ryoko162002: some over the counter kind...I can't remember

ryoko162002: they're for her allergies, and they make her sleep

BethBrake: Okay.

ryoko162002: benedryl

ryoko162002: she had benedryl

ryoko162002: ^has

BethBrake: All right. Those most likely won't kill her unless she has 100 or more.

BethBrake: Do you know how many she has?

ryoko162002: no

BethBrake: They're sold in packs of 24.

ryoko162002: what if she doesn't have even 50? will she just get sick or what?

BethBrake: I'm not sure, hang on a sec.

ryoko162002: ok

ryoko162002: 25 benedryl, and 2 make her unbelievably tired...

ryoko162002: just letting u know I know you're not back yet

BethBrake: I;m talking to a counselor of mine about the situation, and she said that she most likely won't die but it still won't be good for her to take them.

BethBrake: Has she taken them yet?

ryoko162002: no

BethBrake: How old is she?

ryoko162002: she'll be 16 next month

BethBrake: Would she be willing to talk to this counselor friend of mine?

ryoko162002: I don't know

BethBrake: Her "name" is Grasshopper, and she's a wonderful person.

ryoko162002: she's on AIM right?

BethBrake: Yes, Ghopper41

ryoko162002: I'll ask her

BethBrake: Okay.

ryoko162002: she's the one you've been talking to about this, right? I just want to be sure I'm so scared

BethBrake: Yes.

ryoko162002: ok

BethBrake: I know you're scared. We'll get through this.

ryoko162002: now I know what everyone else would have felt like if they all had known about the two times before I almost did it, tonight was the first time I told more than one person, oh jeez, I have to calm down, I have to breathe or I'm going to have an asthma attack and we don't need that

BethBrake: You're okay, Just relax. Take some deep breaths.

ryoko162002: I hope she answers, I hope to God she answers

BethBrake: I hope so too.

BethBrake: Grasshopper says she's talking to her!!!!!!!!

ryoko162002: good

(break, went to buddy chat, AC didn’t say a thing all night...)

ryoko162002: she's talking on the im to me

ryoko162002: don't say anything about it in the chatroom

BethBrake: okay.

ryoko162002: she's ashamed, that's why she's not talking

BethBrake: Tell her that she has nothing to be ashamed of. We've ALL felt exactly the same way.

ryoko162002: I am

***

As you can see, it’s been a very stressful night. No wonder I have a migraine. I ought to take my own advice, but there are times that I simply cannot stand by and watch things happen without reaching out. That’s my personality. I do what I can, when I can, no matter what the consequences for me may be.

*** I asked GH from Angels for advice.

BethBrake: Hey, Grasshopper, I could use some advice.

Ghopper41: sure

BethBrake: I'm online now with one of my friends who is dealing with a friend of hers who is suicidal. She has told this girl to call a crises line, but the girl won't. She thinks her friend is in serious danger. I’m trying to get her to call 911 or a crises line or the police and give them the girl's address.

BethBrake: The only problem is, the address she has is a PO box.

BethBrake: She's terrified, and I don't know what else to suggest.

BethBrake: We've been talking for two and a half hours.

Ghopper41: well all you can do at this point is sit with her

Ghopper41: she is most likely not going to do it if it has been that long

Ghopper41: has she said she has a plan

BethBrake: She has a bunch of pills, from what my friend is saying.

Ghopper41: do you know what kind

BethBrake: No, I'll see if I can find out.

BethBrake: She says some over-the-counter kind for allergies, they make her sleep.

Ghopper41: they wont kill her

Ghopper41: unless she has a like a hundred and they don’t sell them that way

BethBrake: Benadryl.

Ghopper41: how many does she have

BethBrake: My friend doesn't know.

Ghopper41: well they sell them in packs of 24

BethBrake: What if she has fifty or less?

Ghopper41: she most likely wont die

Ghopper41: but it wont be good for her to take them

Ghopper41: has she taken them yet

BethBrake: No. I found out she has 25 total.

BethBrake: We think.

Ghopper41: she still doesn’t need to take them

Ghopper41: but at this point you can’t take them away from her

Ghopper41: how old is this person

BethBrake: Not over the web we can't. She's almost 16.

Ghopper41: would she talk to me

BethBrake: We're trying to find out.

BethBrake: Can I e-mail you a copy of the conversation that my friend and I have been having about this situation? It will give you some background.

Ghopper41: yes

Ghopper41: angels4u@bellsouth.net

BethBrake: Sent.

Ghopper41: thanks

BethBrake: Yeah.

Ghopper41: ok I am talking to her

BethBrake: You are? Great!

(break; we went to a buddy chat format here, continued IM later)

BethBrake: She's talking on the IM to J-Lee. She says she's ashamed, that's why she's not talking.

(big break)

BethBrake: Thank you so much.

*** Chat transcript with Grasshopper from Angels in the Night:

OnlineHost: *** You are in "Ghopper41 Chat82". ***

Ghopper41: hi you guys

BethBrake: Hi.

Ghopper41: i thought it would be better this way

Ghopper41: i am going to try to get her to come back\

BethBrake: Probably a good idea.

ryoko162002: yes definitely a good idea

Ghopper41: hey thanks for coming back

BethBrake: Hi there.

Ghopper41: ac no one is trying to put you on the spot here

Ghopper41: we are just very concerned for you

Ghopper41: and we want you to know that you dont have to walk it alone

Ghopper41: i have been where you are tonight

Ghopper41: many many times

ryoko162002: I told Bethbrake because I can't help you alone, I've tried and I can't

Ghopper41: and i can tell you that no situation is so dark that there is no light

Ghopper41: AC will you talk to us

ryoko162002: please don't be mad at me 'Manderz...

Ghopper41: we care about you honey

Ghopper41: and nothing will leave this room

BethBrake: I too have stood where you stand. There IS hope.

Ghopper41: AC not only do i work with kids online, I am also a nurse

Ghopper41: and i can tell you that pills dont usually kill you

Ghopper41: they just make you sick as shit

ryoko162002: 'Manderz BethBrake is from one of the SI groups I'm in

BethBrake: That's right. I'm pleased to meet you.

Ghopper41: AC do know who i am

BethBrake: Grasshopper is a friend of mine.

ryoko162002: Manderz...if I didn't care, or if I thought you dying would be the better choice...

ryoko162002: I wouldn't have told anyone

ryoko162002: but I care, and it's not the best choice

Ghopper41: ac if you want to know about me check this out

Ghopper41: www.angelsinnight.org

Ghopper41: we are not here to hurt you honey

(break, I forgot to save part of the conversation)

BethBrake: If you aren't comfortable with me, I can leave.

ryoko162002: I'll sit here as long as I can, you know I will Manderz

Ghopper41: you said you wont talk to strangers, i will answer any questions you have that might make you feel

Ghopper41: more comfortable with me

Ghopper41: i am 44 and i have two kids and one grandchild

Ghopper41: my son is 20 and my daughter is 18

Ghopper41: you already know i am a nurse

Ghopper41: beth has known me for quite a while

Ghopper41: and she knows i pose no danger to you

Ghopper41: i dont want to locate you or tell on you

BethBrake: I owe a lot to Grasshopper.

Ghopper41: ac just type one letter to let us know you are there

Ghopper41: ac i want you to know something

Ghopper41: i have honestly been where you are

Ghopper41: i have even taken pills

Ghopper41: and i know you feel bad

Ghopper41: but i am not here to judge you

Ghopper41: in this room there is no judgement, no shame and no guilt

Ghopper41: just 4 people who care about each other

ryoko162002: Manderz I'm sure grasshopper would be a counselor for you if you asked and wanted

ryoko162002: And if you want me to find one to then so be it, we'll both get counselors

Ghopper41: i would be happy to talk with any of you

Ghopper41: either here or privately

Ghopper41: or if you feel more comfortable writing an email

Ghopper41: the important thing is that you are not alone in this

Ghopper41: thats the beauty of the internet

BethBrake: :-)

Ghopper41: even at 3 in the morning you can find someone to talk to

ryoko162002: Grasshopper's right, even at 3 in the morning

Ghopper41: you dont have to walk the road alone

BethBrake: GH, I would never have met you if it weren't for the internet, and that would be a sad thing

BethBrake: inded.

Ghopper41: whether its problems with parents, friends, boyfriend , drugs, sex, whatever

BethBrake: *indeed

Ghopper41: thank you beth, i feel the same way

Ghopper41: you know the other great thing about it

Ghopper41: you will most likely never meet me so you can say whatever you like and you dont have to be ashamed,

Ghopper41: because i am just a person behind a screen

ryoko162002: Manda, 2 and 1/2 years of self injury, and three suicide attempts/contemplations

ryoko162002: I think I need to change

Ghopper41: not someone you will meet tomorrow

ryoko162002: Make that change with me

Ghopper41: ryoko, i think its great that you are willing to make that change and challenge to your friend

ryoko162002: I'm willing to try my hardest to make that change

BethBrake: I tell you, I am in the process of that change, and it feels good.

Ghopper41: ac will you accept that challenge

Ghopper41: do you guys cut

BethBrake: Yes.

ryoko162002: yes

Ghopper41: i had the kids on the site do this project last year called the flowerpot project

Ghopper41: it worked well

BethBrake: Flowerpot project?

Ghopper41: you take your blades and put them in an empty flower pot, cover with potting soil and then plant

Ghopper41: seeds

Ghopper41: as you watch your flowers grow, you also watch your new life appear

BethBrake: Wow.

Ghopper41: it worked great. a lot of kids stopped cutting

Ghopper41: we had hundreds of kids from all over the world planting seeds

ryoko162002: Cool. But cutting isn't my only method of SI, I also friction burn

Ghopper41: then bury your candles

Ghopper41: or whatever you use

ryoko162002: true

Ghopper41: we had one kid who was addicted to little debbies

Ghopper41: so she got a huge pot and buried a couple boxes of them lol

ryoko162002: hehe

BethBrake: :-)

Ghopper41: its all synonomous with new life

Ghopper41: and thats what we are after

ryoko162002: yep

Ghopper41: want to know what mine is

BethBrake: What?

Ghopper41: i pull out my hair

Ghopper41: one by one

BethBrake: Ouch. I've done that, too.

Ghopper41: its terrible for the doo though

ryoko162002: I don't have to pull mine out, To much arsenic in my blood stream (long story..) and long hair

ryoko162002: It falls out on it's own

Ghopper41: been taking in some rat poison

ryoko162002: No, not me, my dad, when he was a kid he ate a small blob of arsenic, lucky he didn't die

Ghopper41: and you inherited it

ryoko162002: exactly

Ghopper41: wow i didnt know that could happen

BethBrake: yipes.

ryoko162002: I can grab my ponytail and pull out four to 15 strands at a time and not feel a thing >.<

Ghopper41: man

Ghopper41: ac you still with us

Ghopper41: just peck any key

Ghopper41: what is friction burning

ryoko162002: like, rubbing an eraser against your skin till it burns

Ghopper41: oh ok

ryoko162002: or something that can create friction

Ghopper41: i knew about the candle burning

Ghopper41: do you understand the theory behind SI

Ghopper41: that you are transferring emotional pain to physical pain

ryoko162002: yea

Ghopper41: have any of you been sexually abused

ryoko162002: I have...

BethBrake: Perhaps. I haven't figured out definitively whether or not it was abuse.

Ghopper41: you should go to the angels chatroom

Ghopper41: why do you say that beth

BethBrake: I was between six and eight, and the boy was between eight and ten.

ryoko162002: I was raped and sexually abused for a year by a kid that used to live in my neighborhood

BethBrake: He made my play games that I didn't want to play.

Ghopper41: then it was abuse

Ghopper41: ryoko, did you tell anyone

BethBrake: That young, though? Do you think he really knew what he was doing?

Ghopper41: well lets put it this way, you were molested

ryoko162002: The kid was the same age as me, 7 when it started 8 when it ended, and he knew what he was doing.

Ghopper41: most likely he was being molested by someone too

ryoko162002: I told my mom after a year, her and my stepdad confronted his parents

BethBrake: Then we were caught one day by his dad, and the entire thing got blamed on me.

ryoko162002: I was told his dad basicly patted him on the back, it never went any futher than that

Ghopper41: its a shame the way we become even more victimized by telling

ryoko162002: He mentally abused me then, scaring me into helping him make fun of other kids or keep my mouth shut

ryoko162002: Also to keep me from warning other kids

BethBrake: I've been trying to come to grips with the shame of that for years.

Ghopper41: do you still see him

BethBrake: Not the shame of the event, but the shame of being blamed.

Ghopper41: shame and guilt are the same

Ghopper41: we always feel we are responsible

ryoko162002: Me? Sometimes, he moved, sometimes we run into him and his mom at the store

ryoko162002: I hide behind my mom every time...

Ghopper41: how has it affected your boyfriend relationships now

BethBrake: The guilt part comes in because his parents and mine were friends, that's how I knew him.

BethBrake: We'd go to their house.

Ghopper41: i see

ryoko162002: I don't trust right away, I have trouble getting close to them, and if they break trust even once

BethBrake: After his father caught us, they broke all contact with my parents.

ryoko162002: It's gone, can't get it back for anything

Ghopper41: well its good your parents were behind you

BethBrake: I felt for years like I destroyed their friendship.

Ghopper41: yes trust is a big issue with us

Ghopper41: i am proud of your parents

Ghopper41: most parents dont take that stand

Ghopper41: but really the parents werent to blame

Ghopper41: but i can see you had to be removed

Ghopper41: and they did protect you

BethBrake: All those years they wondered why the family suddenly hated them. I knew, but I never told.

BethBrake: Wow, that was a bit of a rant.

ryoko162002: My life has been constant hardship after another, so it seems

Ghopper41: thats great beth

Ghopper41: its good to talk about it

Ghopper41: well ryoko we need to change that

Ghopper41: its time to end the cycle of abuse

Ghopper41: i am sorry but my grandaughter is crying and i have to go feed her

ryoko162002: Yes, past time actually. ok

BethBrake: All right.

Ghopper41: ac can you at least let me know you are ok

Ghopper41: please

Ghopper41: ac and ryoko, you are welcomed to come to the angels chatroom, it is monitored with adults from 8-10

ryoko162002: thank you

Ghopper41: sorry Beth :'(

BethBrake: That's all right.

BethBrake: There are other places for me.

Ghopper41: ok i have to go, she is hungry

BethBrake: All right. Thank you GH.

Ghopper41: if you guys want to get together again let me know

Ghopper41: and you can email me anytime at angels4u@bellsouth.net

ryoko162002: thank you gh

Ghopper41: you are welcomed

Ghopper41: ac you got great friends :-)

Ghopper41: take care

BethBrake: 'night.

ryoko162002: manderz...there's one less person, ready to talk? probally not, but can't blame me for trying

ACBrittain: Sorry... sorry.. I... I... didn't talk...

BethBrake: That's all right.

ryoko162002: it's ok 'sis' (like a sis, not actually my sis)

BethBrake: GH understands.

ryoko162002: hey I have a joke for all of you

BethBrake: I need to get going, I have to go to work in the morning.

I stayed for the joke. And I left. Work was a lie, obviously, but I needed to get out. It is now 3:17 AM. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to bed before I pass out. I’m sure I will have more thoughts on this later.

6/18/01

9:50 PM

I just tried to practice my euph. What a fucking disaster. I can’t stand this, I will NEVER be good enough. I was trying to play Fantasia by Gordon Jacob, and it was absolutely HORRENDOUS. God damn! I’m so SICK of this, I can’t do it anymore. Nothing I do is even close to good enough. I want to play professionally, which will NEVER happen. I’m such an asshole. I’ve coasted and bullshitted my way through everything, and now it’s catching up with me. I hate doing this, and I’m starting to hate music. I love it, but I hate if. Fucked up, I know. Fucking disaster. I’ll never make it. I don’t deserve to be a teacher, I don’t deserve to call myself a musician, I’m such a fraud. Such a fraud. I HATE MYSELF. I hate who I am, I hate who I’ve been, I hate who I’m becoming. I don’t want to do it anymore. You know what I want more than anything else in the world?? I want to wake up one morning and feel like I’ve accomplished something, that I’m WORTH something, that I’ve done one thing right in my worthless life. I’ve let EVERYONE who ever believed in me down. Everyone. It so isn’t worth it. I’d end it all if I could. But then I’d be an even bigger failure. The biggest freaking failure of all. What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t EVER do anything right? Why am I such an asshole?

6/20/01

12:55 AM

Ugh. I spent a long time thinking tonight, about the events of this year, specifically the one that I mentioned but did not elaborate on the night of Friday, December 1. I’m not going to go into it at the moment, because it is late and I’m tired, but I can say that I’ve realized and examined how deeply that affected me. I haven’t shaken it, and may not for a long time, but I have realized it. Sigh. Actually, I’m too tired to keep thinking at the moment, so I’m going to go to bed. I will continue this sometime “tomorrow,” i.e. later today. It’s time to review it in detail. Goodnight.

6/21/01

10:39 PM

Okay, I guess continuing that last one didn’t happen. Oh well. Right now, I feel shitty. I have a splitting headache and my period. Yay fun. :-( Sigh.

Anyhoo, I guess I can talk about the December 1st entry now. It’s as good a time as any, and if I don’t face it soon, I never will. I don’t like to think about it. All right. That was one of the last weeks of Autumn Quarter, I had made it through. Everything was good. I had worked hard and come through without any major mistakes, or so I thought. That week in Wind Symphony, we were gearing up for the Celebration concert, a big combined concert featuring most of the school’s musical groups. It was to be held in Mershon Auditorium, which seats a ton of people. I was kind of excited and kind of scared, as I was throughout the year when concerts came up. The scared feeling finally did ease somewhat, towards the end of the year. It would have let up earlier, but this particular event set me back months. Anyway, as I said, we were gearing up for the celebration concert, which took place on Friday, one performance in the morning, and one Saturday in the evening. So, Friday morning I walked into Hughes, and went up to the second floor to check Jim’s door for lesson info. like I usually do. While I’m up there, Doug Hawkins walks up to me and says something to the effect of “Hey, Beth, why weren’t you at the dress rehearsal yesterday?” My heart dropped through the floor. I turned to look at him, very slowly. I couldn’t even think. “What dress rehearsal?” I squeaked out. He looked at me a little funny, then said “The dress rehearsal for the Celebration concert. Yesterday at 3:30 in Mershon.” I couldn’t move, think, or speak. I was totally stunned, and just stood there, my jaw hanging open, tears springing instantly to my eyes as my stomach sunk through the basement. I immediately felt like I was going to throw up. The only thought that ran through my head was Oh my God. I was absolutely, completely panicked. I don’t even know when Doug left, whether he just walked away or if he said anything else to me. I wanted to curl up and die right there, to hide in one of the lockers that line the hall and never come out. I wanted to melt through the floor. Keep in mind, this was less than an hour before the first performance, I had stopped upstairs in the process of heading over to the auditorium. With nothing else to do, I pulled myself together, stopped crying, and walked to Mershon. I have never before felt so ill in all my life. I got to the building and went backstage to the rooms where everyone else was. Chris and Char and Jeremy, and Matt and Doug were there. There weren’t too many other people around. Thankfully. I walked in, and talked a little to Char and Matt, said hello to Chris, got my horn out and stuff in order. I went back over to join Char and a couple of the others talking, and after a minute Char says to me “You look thrilled to be here.” I just mumbled something, and it didn’t take long before it all came out. I barely held the tears in while I told them how I didn’t know about the dress rehearsal, and that was why I missed it...I told them some of how terrible I felt, and after a while went to sit down on a stool that was in the room next to the row of makeup mirrors. Chris came over, crouched down to eye level, and said “You look like you’ve been crying, hon.” I said, “Well, yeah, I’ve been crying...” and couldn’t get anymore than that out. I just about burst into tears again. And he talked. He was so nice, and I’m so grateful to him for being there and being understanding. He said that “we” could go talk to Dr. Mikkelson later, I was so grateful that he said “we” and that I wasn’t going to have to do it alone, and he calmed me down and said all the right things, and I finally felt a little better. I was still very upset, as I had done the worst possible thing that I could do, in my opinion. I felt crushed, things had been going so well, and then I go and make a mistake like that, I felt like I deserved to be kicked out of the group, I felt like I had betrayed everyone, I felt like everyone in the band would be staring at me and hating me for what I had done. I felt like the BIGGEST failure the world had ever seen. I was so disappointed with myself that I was positively sick over it, and I do mean that. I barely ate anything that day, in fact I don’t think I ate at all, and I know I didn’t eat the next day. But Chris talked to me, and treated me gently and kindly, and he walked me through the procedural things that I had missed, and I just pushed it all aside for a while and played, and that concert went well. He was wonderful, and I will be forever grateful to him for his kindness. If he hadn’t been there I doubt that I would have made it through that day at all. Anyway, after the concert was over, I went back to the dressing room to gather my things, then went over to Hughes. Chris did not stick around. I sat for several hours and pondered whether or not I should talk to Dr. Mikkelson and explain what had happened. I couldn’t decide what to do. Finally, I decided to talk to Jim and get his advice, even though I didn’t want to tell him what I had done, as I was afraid he would be disappointed in me. I felt that I had committed the ultimate transgression, the worst act of irresponsibility ever. I absolutely wanted to crawl in a hole and hide. But I went in anyway, and explained the situation to Jim, and asked him if I should talk to Dr. Mikkelson. He said yes, and to explain it to Dr. Mikkelson exactly the way I had explained it to him. So I squared my shoulders, called up what reserves of courage I had left, which I can assure you were not many, and walked downstairs. I walked in to the band office, asked Lois if Dr. Mikkelson was still there, and tried to go talk to him, but he was on the phone. I waited. Julie came in with a question for him, and I let her in ahead of me. Finally, I went in. I’m sure he could tell by the look on my face that something was wrong. I didn’t have a clue how to begin, so I started with an apology. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the dress rehearsal yesterday.” “Yes, what happened, were you sick?” I smile slightly, more grimace, and say, “I wish.” I take a big breath, then plunge in. “I didn’t know about it.” He exhales a surprised laugh. “You didn’t know about it?” I explain, more apology than anything else. “I knew at the beginning of the quarter that it existed, and you must have announced it in band, and I know it was on the syllabus, but somehow I must have missed it...I didn’t know.” I have owned up to my wrong, and fully taken the blame, not shrugging out of anything. I am thoroughly, completely upset, trying not to show it, but it is obvious anyway. Dr. Mikkelson thinks for a minute. “The date on the syllabus was wrong, anyway,” he says, reflecting, a thought in passing it seems, an aside to himself, really. Here my memory is fuzzy. There were more words, then he forgives me. “Well, I don’t want to tell you to put it out of your mind completely...”he says, telling me to keep it in mind and be more careful in the future, but also to stop worrying about it for now. I talk some more, saying how terrible I feel, and he says that he can see that and that’s why he doesn’t want to punish me further or make me feel any worse. It’s obvious to me in hindsight that he tread very carefully, seeing with great clarity how bad I really did feel. I say a few more things, protests of a sort that he’s NOT that upset with me, trying to explain how wrong I feel, how remorseful I am. He smiles at me, then holds up his hand, fingers together, and makes the sign of the cross in the air in front of him, pope-like. “You are forgiven,” he says, smiling. I laugh, feeling a great weight lift from my shoulders. I thank him, say a final quick apology, and walk from his office smiling. I have done the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I survived it. I grin and bounce all the way home. An hour later I crash, all those terrible feelings of failure rushing back to kick me in the gut. I cry all night. My roommate doesn’t come home, thank God. I am sick to my stomach several times, and this feeling of illness lasts for two days after the event itself. It was absolutely terrible. I didn’t tell anyone about it, not my parents, not Mr. Conte when he asked me how things went when I saw him over Christmas. I was too ashamed, I don’t remember many times when I have been more ashamed. It was awful, and it continues to affect me in some ways. My confidence was absolutely shattered, I can’t really explain why other than I perhaps thought that I was infallible, that things had been going so well. But even now, I ask clarification on everything, double and triple check times and dates and every conceivable parameter, to avoid another error like that. I drove Chris crazy on the Wind Symphony/Symphonic Band tour, asking him over and over again what was happening and when, until, standing backstage after another endless question, he finally got fed up and said, irritated, “Don’t you EVER listen?!” “Yes, I listen,” I shot right back at him, tears immediately springing to my eyes, “ I ask because I don’t want to make another mistake like I did first quarter.” My voice broke the instant I hit the word mistake, and I almost lost my composure, but snapped it back together again right away. Too late though. “What mistake?” His voice was suddenly gentler, the irritation gone. “When I missed the dress rehearsal,” I said, my voice shaking. After a second, he started apologizing. I didn’t realize how very much that had affected me until that moment, until I nearly lost composure entirely over something that was over and done with, that I had been forgiven for. It still hurt, and quite a bit. This lack of confidence has affected me all year long, right up until the end of Winter Quarter, up until our last few concerts. There I finally began to shake it off just a little. My small amount of confidence regained is still VERY shaky, though. I get angry at myself very easily, feel like a failure a lot, and get very down on myself, as is evidenced a lot by many of the entries in this diary. This event really had a profound negative effect on me. I haven’t been wonderfully successful in explaining why to myself, it’s one thing that I really do need to work on. It’s time to let this go. Still, this is one of many negatives that I have held on to much too long with too much tenacity. I have to learn to accept myself. That is so hard, though. So hard. I’m really thinking that I do need therapy, perhaps Dr. Williams is right. THAT still hurts, too, and is hard for me to think about, but oh well. Life happens. Anyhoo, I’m being yelled at for still being up, so I’m going to finish what I’m doing online, then go to bed. It’s 12:14, I’ve ranted long enough.

6/22/01

11:40 PM

Evening. I just had an interesting conversation with a high school euphoniumist who it seems contacted me just to toot his own horn. I hate people who brag. Little bastard with a Willson...

Bobbola: hello

BethBrake: Hi.

Bobbola: so you play euphonium.... are you good?

BethBrake: I do play, yes, and people tell me that I'm pretty good.

Bobbola: hmm... thats cool...

BethBrake: Do you play an instrument?

Bobbola: yes..

Bobbola: euphonium in fact...

BethBrake: That's cool. It's a wonderful instrument.

Bobbola: its sure is

Bobbola: have any solos youre doing?

BethBrake: Jacob Fantasia, Carnival of Venice, Clinard Unaccompanied Sonata, possibly The Shores of the Mighty Pacific, if I can get ahold of a copy.

Bobbola: those are easy

BethBrake: What are you doing?

Bobbola: hummel concertos...

Bobbola: just finished blue bells of scotland

BethBrake: That's a nice piece.

Bobbola: have you done the one finger trick in the 4th var. of carnival of venice?

BethBrake: One finger trick?

Bobbola: yeah

BethBrake: I've never heard of it.

Bobbola: you can play the whole thing on one finger, as long as you have the 4th valve

BethBrake: really? That's pretty neat.

Bobbola: yeah

Bobbola: what kind of euphonium do you have

BethBrake: Besson Sovereign.

BethBrake: You?

Bobbola: willson

BethBrake: Nice. Eventually I plan to get a willson, but I just got my besson for a nice price.

Bobbola: theyre nice

BethBrake: I've never played one. I would really love to, but no one that I know owns one.

Bobbola: they have a very dark tone

BethBrake: That's exactly what I love.

Bobbola: did you get a scholarship?

BethBrake: Yep.

Bobbola: cool so did i

BethBrake: Where do you go?

Bobbola: i still am in HS

Bobbola: but UofA offered me one already

BethBrake: U of A?

Bobbola: arizona

BethBrake: Ah.

BethBrake: That's neat.

Bobbola: and i heard AZ state is checking me out

BethBrake: Nice.

Bobbola: yeah

Bobbola: home of sam pilifian...

BethBrake: He's something else. One of my friends studied with him for a long time.

Bobbola: i have, but just for a week

BethBrake: Impressive.

Grrrrr. He says the pieces that I’m doing are EASY???! Easy my ass. Blue Bells of Scotland, PAH! Fantasia kicks Scotland’s ASS! I would have said so, too, but it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t feel like getting in an argument over someone’s over-inflated ego. Goodness, why do I let people like that irk me? I guess it’s because I’m afraid that I really DON’T measure up... I’ve always been afraid that I’m not good enough, I deal with this issue every day of my life, and people like that get on my nerves because they instantly rocket all of my fears straight to the surface. :pout: I don’t like it. :-/

6/27/01

12:41 AM

All right, I’m upset for reasons that I don’t know. I’m feeling very tired, short tempered, and ill mannered. I’m trying to be a good person, I really am. But I am angry about some unknown thing tonight. I don’t know what it is or why it’s bothering me, I just feel punk. God damn it! I want to curse and shout and pound on a table or desk or wall or computer monitor or anything, but I am awake and no one else is, it’s not fair for me to wake them all up with my childishness. I’ve determined that I’m mad at myself, which is not unusual, but for what I don’t know. The words “being weak” just sprung into my head. Whatever that is in reference to. I guess I should just go to bed, it’s late and I’ve got a ton of shit to do tomorrow...yeah, fuck this, it’s bedtime. “Good” night. Ha ha ha.

6/28/01

1:20 PM

Last night was a horrible night. I decided about 7:30 or so to walk down to the creek and take some photographs of the area and try to catch some of the sunset. Victoria decided she wanted to go with me, and I told her to ask Mom. Mom didn’t want her to, but she relented and told her she could go if she put on sneakers. Tor changed her shoes (into black sandals, I didn’t know at the time that she’d been told to wear sneakers) and we walked down there. We had a nice time, I took a bunch of photos and she chased and caught minnows. It was about eight-thirty, and I was getting ready to head back when she asked if we could walk upstream a little ways. I agreed, seeing as how we both were having a good time and didn’t want to go home yet. She started on ahead of me, and I looked over at her just in time to watch her slip and fall. She had been standing on a dead log and it shifted and rolled underneath her and she lost her balance. She went down hard and came up crying and screaming and clutching her arm. My heart just about leaped out of my throat. I grabbed her and walked her the rest of the way across the creek, asking her questions about where it hurt and could she move it, and all that other stuff. I satisfied myself that it wasn’t broken, and we walked home. She bawled the whole way, and I felt horrible because she was really hurting. Tor’s a strong kid, and it takes a lot to squinch her face up in the grimace that was plastered on it. I got her home, faster than I’ve ever walked up that hill before, and Mom was sitting outside. She noticed right away that Tor was crying, and asked what was wrong, then immediately begins screaming and cursing at us, accusing us of ruining her night. I defended Tor, telling Mom it wasn’t her fault, then Mom said, “No, it wasn’t her fault, it’s yours!” She sent us both inside, me to wash dishes, Tor to “put something cold on it” while she finished painting the miniature garden fences. I gave Tor a bag of frozen vegetables and we “iced” her arm. I was sitting and holding her, talking to her, trying to make her feel better. Mom came in a few minutes later and washed her paint brush and tray in the kitchen sink, all the while cursing at me and berating me for being lazy and irresponsible, telling me I wasn’t “watching” her, and that “this would never have happened if you hadn’t dragged her down to the creek and had been doing the dishes like I told you to!” She cursed at me for about ten minutes, meanwhile Tor is sitting there listening to all this and getting more and more upset until finally the poor little thing bursts out sobbing and says “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault.” I picked her up and held her and told her that it wasn’t. Then Mom turns around and says “It’s not your fault, Tor... It’s your stupid sister’s.” I won’t even say all the things she called me then, but I will say that I wanted to hit her. I wanted to smash her in the face and make her SHUT UP but she wouldn’t, and every time I tried to defend myself she told ME to shut up and called me more names. This went on until I could finally get away and go hide in my room, but not before I was told that if Tor needed to go to the doctor and get X-rays or a cast or if she needed ANYTHING that I was “responsible” and I would have to pay for it. I said “Fine. Do whatever needs to be done and I’ll pay for it. I don’t put money above the health of my sister.” Mom turned and looked at me and said, mockingly, “Oh, you’re so high and mighty... ‘I’ll pay for it,’ sure you will.” and proceeded to finish out her repertoire of nasty, degrading names and statements on me, to which I finally turn around and walk away while she bitches at me, then I sequester myself upstairs for the rest of the night, coming down ONLY when Dad’s home from work and I KNOW she won’t start in on me again. I wanted to hurt her so bad, to beat her until she just shut up and stopped saying those things, to scream and shout and make her insides ache like she does to me with her words, to make her feel what it means to have someone you love rip you six ways from Sunday and enjoy it, get a high off of it...I hardly reacted at all. I kept my face carefully blank and stuffed everything I was feeling down inside and I walked away. I went upstairs. Then I gashed up my hand. Four nice good cuts that bled enough to make me feel better and let the pressure off. (They are infected today. I don’t care. No one noticed, not that it would make any difference if anyone did, they look like cat scratches anyhow. ) Then I came down when Dad came home, and sat and watched TV with him, and joked with him, and talked more with Tor, then apologized to her about her arm, to which she looked at me, surprised, with a look on her face that said that she was sad to hear me even think like that, and said “It’s not your fault...” That child is an “old soul,” there’s more wisdom in her little nine-year-old body than in most adults I know. She KNOWS things, she has an almost uncanny ability to feel when I’m upset, and she’s so intelligent. She scares me with her perceptions sometimes. What a hardship it must be for her to be “gifted” with a sister like me and a mother like ours...

Anyway, Tor is all right. Dad took her to the doctor this morning and she just had a sprain. I’m so glad it wasn’t worse.

I don’t know what else to say, so I guess I’d better end this entry. I have no energy to ever raise my arms right now, I want to curl up in a ball, slice some veins and go to sleep while the blood drains out. I don’t even have the energy to get up now, though. I couldn’t stand up this instant if I wanted to, I’m going to have to drag myself out of the chair and douse my head in cold water in order to get up the energy that I need to clean this hellhole of a room. I debated last night whether I should take a bottle’s worth of aspirin and cut up my arms badly so they wouldn’t stop bleeding because aspirin is a blood thinner, or swallow a bottle or two of Tylenol compounded by whatever alcohol I might be able to locate in the house, or just go to sleep...pure fatigue won out, as I didn’t even have the energy to ponder what it would feel like to commit suicide, so I just went to sleep. And I slept until 10:40 this morning. I still feel like I didn’t sleep long enough, I could curl up right now and fall back asleep in an instant, and probably sleep through until dinnertime with no trouble, then get up for a few hours and go sleep the night through until ten or eleven in the morning all over again...some existence, huh? I hate myself. I hate it all so bad. I just want out. I would like to go back to school, even, anything to get away from feeling like I don’t deserve to live anymore, if one can call this living. I hate...everything. I don’t even know what to say anymore. So I’ll shut up now. Because I’m just wasting time and taking up space.

6/29/01

2:10 PM

Yelled at all day. Want to cry, have been crying. Suicidal. Thinking about tylenol and other things, combined may be enough. Slitting wrists? So sick of life. Sick, Too tired to think, don’t want to do this anymore. Never make it. Can’t teach, can’t play. Can’t be normal. Time to end it. Make everything go away, please? Gotta go now.

7/1/01

12:15 AM

I talked to Dad yesterday about the possibility that I might suffer from depression. He listened to me, and took me seriously. It was wonderful. He told me that Grandma in Florida suffers from depression, and that HE was on meds for it in college!!! He was taking Librium...he said in typical Dad fashion that he took them for three days and flushed them because he didn’t like the way they made him feel. That’s my Dad. He said he doesn’t want to be taking things all the time. Stubborn as a mule, but nevertheless, I admire him. I was so glad that he took the time to listen to me. I tried to talk to Mom about it later, and she immediately dismissed me. She laughed at me in utter scorn when I told her that I either have a thyroid problem or depression. “It’s not depression. You have no energy because you are a hundred pounds overweight, because you eat too much and you lie around and don’t do anything. You’re lazy.” She blames everything on my weight, and she blames my weight on me. She tells me that I’m a pig, that I eat everything in sight, and that I never get my “lazy ass up and do anything!” She laughs at me when I express genuine concerns about the state of my health, and refuses to listen to what I have to say even though I happen to own this body I’m living in, and I know what goes on in it better than she does...but no, she IS ALWAYS RIGHT! The Mother cannot ever be wrong, the Mother is PERFECT.

I had an interesting experience today. I swallowed wrong when I was drinking a glass of water and coughed, as is normal. But after I coughed originally, I could not stop. I hacked constantly for nearly an hour, and my chest practically shut down. I couldn't draw a full breath for several hours after that, during the fit I could barely breathe at all. Every breath was a struggle, and rasped as though I had pneumonia or asthma. I was actually considering asking my father to drive me to the hospital, I went as far as telling him that I couldn't breathe and asking him if they sold any over-the-counter bronchial dilators...Mom then tried to make me haul loads of topsoil while I was practically doubled over and gasping, and then called me names and refused to believe me that something was wrong, told me that I was just making it up to get out of work because I am a lazy slug, then had a fit when I held my ground and refused to move from the steps of the shop where I was sprawled. THEN a second later, since I wasn’t hauling dirt, she screamed at me to take the laundry down and fold it and take it upstairs and sort out every individual person’s stuff and put it away...and Dad backed her up and made me do it, even though I still couldn’t draw a breath, because he was sick of listening to her pitch a fit. He told me to “go in and sit where it’s cool, and fold it up.” I glared at them both, coughed my way over to the line, and managed to avoid passing out long enough to take everything down. Then I just went and collapsed on the couch and didn't move for an hour. I concentrated on taking tiny, nearly continuous controlled breaths, and FINALLY my lungs opened up enough to allow me to breathe again, but not before I had nearly panicked about a dozen times. I was pretty scared. I've never had that happen before. So, yeah, that was my day. Fun, right? Sure. Neither one ever came in to see if I was okay. They obviously care about me a lot. Anyhoo, I’m making Mom change doctors this week so I don’t have to go to Garg anymore. I’m afraid of him, the asshole who prescribed me antibiotics that I was allergic to... But we’re changing doctors, not because I want to but because MOM doesn’t like him either...so hopefully I can get in and get my thyroid checked, and get screened for depression. If I have to go on meds of any type, regardless of whether it’s thyroid or antidepressants, I want to be stable by the time I have to go back to school. I don’t want to be fucking around with fluctuating meds on top of new classes and a new school year. Oh, I lost another fish tonight...Patriot, my baby. Yeah. Whee. I want to scream. What a fucking awful night, and day, and life...ha ha ha. What a god damn joke. Why my poor fishies have to suffer is beyond me. Probably because they are mine, and anything that’s mine is doomed... I’m like a disease. I’ve lost nine of the poor little creatures, and nothing I did for them helped. I feel like a royal jackass, a huge failure. What the hell else is new? I ought to be used to those feelings by now, right? Right. Well, it’s time to go fight with sleep again. I would really like to get some sleep tonight, but I doubt that will happen because it’s about ninety degrees up here...like it has been for the last week. Sweat is pouring off of me and I’m just sitting here...yay. Sweet dreams, Beth. Oh, speaking of sleep, guess who’s sleeping on the couch? That’s right, poor Dad had managed to piss THE MOTHER off in some way. Nothing new there. I doubt he’s going to have a very nice night. That couch is small and his back hurts him. I’d offer him my bed but he’d just refuse it, like he’s done before. Ah, gotta love life. It fucks you over every which way and then comes back for more, laughing all the while. Ha ha ha. Merrily away we roll.

7/7/01

8:53 PM

I’m sick of fighting everyone and everything. And I miss my cat. Yeah, I know, big fucking deal. I miss Jesse. I wish he hadn’t run away. I’m not surprised that he did.

I got a ten gallon fish tank...and promptly got screamed at for getting it. I was supposed to get a five gallon, but the ten gallon was three dollars cheaper, so I bought it. Sigh. I like it, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I’ll make it work, we’ll get it to school and set up. Not a big deal. It looks really nice, all planted up, full of blue gravel and fishies. I got a really nice Whisper power filter for it, too.

My parents hate me. Some days I am thoroughly convinced of that. I know it’s not true, but that’s often how it feels.

My head hurts. Lots. I think I’m getting a migraine. I don’t WANT a migraine. :-(

Yes, right now this is just random thoughts. I’m actually supposed to be cleaning my room. I don’t want to. So I’m typing. Sue me. Mom kicked me off the internet ‘cause she needed to use the phone. I suppose I should go clean. I don’t want to. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. But it’s early yet. That’s just more opportunity for people to call me a lazy slug. It’s been raining all day, which means that nothing has been fun around here. I hate rain and the way it makes me feel. I miss my kitty. I want to give him a big hug, but he’s not here. I don’t even know if he’s alive, no one has seen him for months. Jesse, where did you go? I loved you...

I ought to go do something else, rather than wasting time rambling on and on about my petty feelings, and pathetic excuse for a life. No one wants to hear it anymore, not even me. I’ll shut up now.

7/11/01

12:37 AM

Hi. Posted on SI list tonight. Thought I should write it here.

***

Okay....

First of all.... Where's a knife when one needs

one???? or a razor blade..... I have those.. I just

have them hidden.... away from my eyes... so I can't

grab one and do the damage.... I am 28 years old.. and

still live with my mommy and daddy..... do you know

what that is like??? It's like being 5 years old

again... I have to tell them where I am going and who

I am calling.. and eating.... oh my God...

everything that goes into my mouth is watched.... Yes

I am obese... I was an obese child and am an obese

adult... I am killing myself with food..... I sneak

food all of the time.. how juvenile is that??? Why I

am at home you ask??? WEll the profession I have

chosen makes no money... I make 6 dollars an hour and

all of that money goes towards my bills so I have no

money for my own place... I have had the same bedroom

for 28 years.... oh my word... and I Am called lazy

and a bitch and it's just like when I was younger..

but no one understands why I SI because they see the

perfect home and family.... Oh please.... whatever....

Yes I got birthdays and Christmases..... but can you

honestly buy love????? that's what it feels like...

anyway... about this movie Girl Interrupted... do you

think it is a good idea to watch it over and over

again?? I mean it triggers me... and ohh how I wish I

were the Girl who hung herself and slit her wrists...

even though it was a movie.... things like that happen

all of the time.... NO I wasn't molested as a child

but I was raped as an Adult and it doesn't feel good

and people wonder why I am sooooo Fucking Angry all of

the time.... hmmmmm I Fucking wonder.... and then I

SI to get rid of the Anger and hurt.... but no one

fucking cares... I need meds... but it's a waste of my

money and time... all of the counselors care about is

weight..... I go to see them for more reasons than

that...Like my Anxiety and Panic Attacks....Ohhh I am

just waisting your time... I really just wanted to

talk about that movie and here I am going on and on

about bull shit.... I pray I get out of here soon....

before I go insane... I hope to move in with my

Boyfriend.... and I know how those of you who are

single feel... If this relationship doesn't work out

then I am done forever... I used to pray for someone

to come into my life... I found my bf on the

internet... I was lucky.. one time in my life.. he is

very caring and loving.. so don't give up.... your Mr.

or Mrs. Right is out there... belive me... please....

Well am gonna go now as I've done bored the hell out

of you all. Take Care... Peace . April

Wow, April, I can tell you that I know how you feel on a lot of those issues. I can't stand being home from college for the summer because I am treated like a child, and everything I do is watched...I too am obese, I have hypothyroidism. If I want to enjoy a small scoop of ice cream after dinner once or twice a week, my mother looks at me and screams "You don't need that!!!!!" She has called me names so horrible that I cannot repeat them, and she has told me more than once that she is embarrassed to have me for a daughter because I am overweight, that I will NEVER have a boyfriend because "No one wants a fat pig like you!" (this she said when I was in seventh grade. I cannot get over it.) She tells me that I'm lazy and worthless and I will never amount to anything. It is constant. I feel about an inch tall when I am home, she screams at me all the time. EVERY NIGHT it is something else.

I too have anxiety attacks...but no one believes me when I tell them that I do. I suffer from depression...Mom LAUGHED at me when I told her that, and told me that I was making it up to get out of work, and to "BUCK UP AND GET SOME BALLS!!!!!!!" I need medication, but can't talk to anyone about it...I finally will get to see my physician on the 17th, and I am going to tell her about the anxiety attacks and the depression and see if she will refer me to a psychiatrist or someone.

I have suffered from physical, emotional, and sexual abuse in my 19 years on this earth... sexual from a neighbor boy when I was between five and seven years old, and physical and emotional all my life from my mother. The physical has stopped now...but the emotional continues, and always will. I SI to get rid if the intense anger and hatred that I have towards myself. I have hated myself since I was five years old, because nothing I did was ever "good enough" and I ALWAYS felt like a failure, even to this very day. I finished my freshman year of college this spring, and I sat down and reflected, and realized that my biggest enemy all year was not other students, or professors, or my parents...but ME. I was so scared that I would do something wrong, I held myself back all year, and did not accomplish much at all, besides making myself into a depressed, suicidal, nervous wreck.

It is difficult being home from school for me, because I have gotten used to the freedom, to being able to do anything that I want to do, to being able to determine the course of my own life...and then I come home and am treated like an idiot, like I'm completely incompetent to even LIVE my own life on a day to day basis. I have to ASK to spend my own money, to go out, to take a walk, to go on the computer, to use the phone. Mother tells me that I am "a guest in this house, and will be treated like one. You don't belong here anymore. You are no longer a part of this family." I am trapped in the house all day most days, because I am without transportation, even a bus does not run near me, out in the country. I spend the day writing, or if I can go outside, I walk. If I get too down, I cut. I've been cutting a lot. I've put in applications for jobs all over the town, but no one has called me back. I feel unwanted. I want to get out, and go back to school, far far away. Where I can determine my own life, and maybe start to convince myself that I am actually worth something after all. Maybe.

I understand how you feel. I understand the pain... and I'm so sorry that you have to deal with that. No one deserves to. No one. If you ever want to talk, I will listen.

With love,

Beth

AIM: BethBrake

BethBrake@aol.com

***

I feel like shit tonight. It’s raining, appropriate. I wish I could drown in it. I think I’m going to go to bed. I may cut if I can find a knife. I don’t know. I feel bad.

7/20/01

12:36 AM

Ah, another wonderful fucking night. I’m not going to stop to explain right now. I did want to write in here just long enough to update things a touch. As for the last entry, I did end up cutting, a nice two-inch long gash on my right upper arm that’s turning into a very angry pink scar. Now, what I’ve been up to in the last few days: I went to the doctor on Tuesday, got a full physical. She put me on Paxil, an anti-depressant, anti-anxiety med. I’m glad. I hope it works out for the best. Then I had to go to the Quest Diagnostics office and get blood drawn so they could run tests for thyroid and a few other things. It really wasn’t any big deal, but it was a poke. I have a purple dot on the inside of my right elbow. I went to the mall tonight, in the midst of a bad depressive mood swing. I got really low, then I came home to an e-mail that absolutely blew my mind. More on that tomorrow. I’m going to bed now, as I’m really tired and upset.

7/24/01

12:10 AM

Don’t want to write much. Just a little bit. I’m very tired. Tomorrow, I will paste in the e-mail that I got that upset me so much.

So far so good with the Paxil. No side-effects yet. I double the dose tomorrow from 10 milligrams to 20 milligrams, so we’ll see if that continues to hold true. Goodnight for now.

8/15/01

10:00 PM

Grandma is dead.

9/7/01

7:00 PM

I am very, very low today. I feel like I felt before I went on Paxil. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I really miss Grandma. She always understood me... I am completely exhausted, but I shouldn’t be because I slept until 11:45 today. I know, I know, I’m a slug. Who gives a fuck? I feel awful. I wish life would just go away. Mom sure doesn’t make it any easier. I’m sick of her ultimatums and tantrums and screaming fits. I’m so tired. I just want it all to go away. I can’t wait to go back to school, get counseling, and begin living a “normal” life. Whatever. I’ll never be normal. I don’t care, really. I just want to feel better. I’m going to see the doctor again and up my dose on the Paxil. I need to. It’s either that or give up, and Grams wouldn’t want me to give up. She always said “Keep your eye on the long-term goal.” I promised her I would, and I will. It’s just so hard sometimes. I wish I could hug her again. I never knew when I said goodbye that Monday night that it would be the last time I’d see her alive. I wish so much that I had stayed with her that week, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe I could have done something, maybe if I had been there she wouldn’t have gone up Tuesday afternoon to take a nap. If she started having problems then, I could have called 911. But she died alone. All alone. I wish I had been there. I wish I could have saved her. I should have known, I should never have left her alone. She was supposed to visit me at school, she was supposed to be there to see me graduate. She wasn’t supposed to just lay down and die. How could she just lie down and die? Oh Grandma, I miss you so much! You left me all alone here with people that don’t understand me. What am I supposed to do without you? How am I supposed to go on? I love you with all my heart. I feel like a part of me died with you. I hate life. Miserable, horrible, difficult to bear life. Why can’t you be here with me anymore? I wish I could have given you one more hug, one more kiss...another year, another decade, another life! I hope that you’re with Grandpa, I hope that you’re together forever. I wish I could see you again and meet him finally, this man who was your one and only. I admire your courage to go on so long without him, I know you thought of him all the time. Twenty-five years is a long time to wait to see him again, but how long am I going to have to wait to see you again?? I feel so lost and alone. I feel awful. I love you.

9/8/01

12:06 PM

I thought things were supposed to get easier with time, not harder.

I had a hard time getting to sleep last night, and once I did I had horrible nightmares. I think I’m more concerned about going back to school than I realize, even though I am looking forward to it. Right now I am filled with a deep unease that I can’t find a reason for. I don’t think it’s all school, even though part of it is. I just feel like life has gotten ahead of me, like everything is wrong, and this is all a bad dream that I can’t wake up from. When I first found out about Grandma’s death, I did not want to go back to school at all. I could see no future for me. Now, though, I want to go back, and get as far away from here and the events of this summer as possible. I want to see my friends again and get out and away, go places and do things that I want to do without relying on anyone else. I don’t want to lean on people, I want to be my own person. I guess I feel weak because I was so clingy when Grams died. I looked to Dad and Mom for support when they were both upset, too, and I think I upset them more. I should have stood upon my own two feet, and been brave. I don’t know, though. Right now, as then, I just hurt so badly. I want to sleep forever. I did not want to get out of bed this morning. I wish I felt better. I wish I could deal with life on my own, but I can’t. It all feels so hopeless, like this is just one big, cruel game, a game I have gone into with severe handicaps, a game that there is no way for me to win. I feel hollow, fake, pretend. Like I have to keep up appearances even though I know that I have lost, I have to keep going even though I know that ultimately it means nothing. It would be so much easier if I could just give up. I don’t know why I can’t.

9/24/01

12:20 AM

Hi. It’s been a while. I’m at school now, I have been on campus for a week. I made Wind Symphony again. I’m the first chair. The ONLY euphonium in the group. I’m excited and worried all at the same time. It’s been a good first week. All except for the fact that I am horribly sick. I feel like I have pneumonia. I’ve been coughing and sneezing all week, and Wednesday my throat was so sore that it felt like someone had scraped it raw with a metal file. That eased for my audition on Thursday, thank goodness. But I’ve been getting progressively worse instead of better, even though the throat is okay now. My head is so stuffed, and I have a deep, uncomfortable cough. I’m getting an ear infection too, I can feel it. It hurts. I slept a ton today, I was up for three hours this morning and took a nap, then five hours this evening and now I’m going to bed. The other day my back hurt very badly, low, it ached and burned and I was practically crying as I lay on my bed. Today I woke up feeling very thick and congested, and I’ve spent the whole day coughing and being dizzy, nauseated, and exhausted. I went to the health center today but it was closed. I didn’t realize they were closed on Saturdays. :-( Anyway, I’m going back ASAP on Monday. I need something to help me through this. I feel so sick, I think this is the worst I’ve ever been. I took a cocktail of three different cold/allergy meds today to try to ease the pressure in my head and ears, and make my nose stop running. I took cough medicine, Contac, and Aprodine. Then I fell asleep for a while because two of those contain antihistimines. When I woke up my ear didn’t hurt quite as badly, and I could breathe out of one nostril...I felt somewhat better but that didn’t last very long. Uck. I feel so gross. I’m going to bed so I can function in class on Monday...I really need to shake this thing. It just keeps getting worse instead of better. :-(

9/26/01

1:49 AM

I have a 7:30 class...I can’t sleep...I have the flu...I can’t sleep...I’m tired...I can’t sleep...

Yeah. I’ve been lying on my back in bed for two hours now. I can’t fall asleep, so I’ve been thinking. About what? Grandma. I miss her so much.

Yes, I do have the flu. I went to the health center Monday...missed all my classes except band...I got three prescriptions for the illness AND I raised my dosage on the Paxil from 20mg to 30mg. Or rather, the doctor did. I spent today (yesterday, really) sleeping, feeling spaced out from all the drugs mixing in my system...I slept until 2:30. Then I wasted time for a few hours. Ate some lunch, took a walk. Then I took a nap for a few hours. Went to a Pagan Student Association meeting with BJ. It was cool. Now I’m here and trying to sleep but it isn’t working. Combo of too much sleep and too many drugs. Yay. :-( So I think. And think and think and think some more. And I can’t stop thinking about Grams. I miss her so much. I want to cry but I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t...or I won’t. I guess I won’t, not can’t. What the fuck. Why does life have to hurt so much? No one understands me like Grandma did. I have no one left who I can really talk to. I don’t want to burden my friends and my parents don’t LISTEN. Grandma always listened. Mrs. Margaret Jean McIntosh was a very, very special woman. She was my grandmother. She was my friend. Grams always knew when something was bothering me, before I could even open my mouth. I was sitting outside with her, watching the shop and talking a week or so before she died, and she looked at me and began to talk to me about something that I had been thinking about but hadn’t said anything about. She knew me so well.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this,” she says, “but I take something for anxiety, too.”

Me: look of amazement. “You do?”

“Yes, the doctor put me on it after I had my surgery. I didn’t feel anxious, but he said with everything I’d just been through...it was kind of a trauma.”

“Gee.”

“So don’t you worry about taking anything. I take it too.”

Not the whole conversation, and not the same drug, of course, but the idea was there. She knew I had been getting some flak from my parents about taking it, and she knew that I was feeling kind of bad that day about needing it, so she shared with me and supported me as only she knew how. I always knew I could count on her. I always knew she’d be there for me...at least, I thought...

Oh God, I miss you Grandma. I miss you so much. My heart just aches. I want to go back in time four or five years...I want to go back in time four or five months...or to August 15th. I want to have stayed over at your house that day, and I want to have been there...

If I had been there I could have saved you. I could have saved you. I could have gotten the nitro out of your purse...you told me that it was there, remember? I could have woken you up, or maybe you wouldn’t have tried to take a nap at all, and if you started feeling bad you could have told me and I would have called someone...but no. No. Here I sit, at 2:11 in the morning, unable to sleep, typing and crying because I’m missing you so badly because life IS NOT FAIR and you should have had ten more years at least but you didn’t. Here I am. I don’t know what to do, or how to cope, or what to say. I stuff it all down inside where it eats at me and I pretend everything is okay but it’s not. I pretend I know what to do with my life. I pretend to grieve for those who died in New York and Washington on September 11, and it was horrible, yes, but I can’t bring myself to really care because I am too busy missing you. Yes, they’re dead. So what? So are you. And you are more important to me than a hundred thousand other people, than a million. Because you are my grandmother. And you are gone. And that is as big a tragedy to me as the deaths of all those people are to this nation. I’m sorry for those families, and the friends of the people who died, but I can honestly say I know how they feel. Your death was just as sudden, and shattered me just as much as the worst of them. You were my world, and I’m so lost without you. I can’t even look toward tomorrow. I know you wanted me to go on with my schoolwork and get me degree. You told me over and over again: “Keep your eye on the ultimate goal.” I promised you I would. But I thought you’d be here to see me graduate. I thought you’d come down and stay for a week with me this year, now that I’ve got a single room to show off. I thought we’d get to go to the symphony together, and I could show you around Columbus, a city I love almost as much as home. You told me often how much you looked forward to the day that I would get my license and then I would drive over to Kenmore by myself and take you out to lunch...and now we’ll never get to do that. And I cry and cry and cry but no matter how much I cry I can’t bring you back and it wouldn’t be fair to you if I did, because you finally got to see Grandpa again and I couldn’t take that away from you. I’m sorry, Gram. I don’t even know why I’m sorry, but I am. People back home would tell me to buck up and get on with my life, but how am I supposed to when you were worth SO MUCH to me? I can’t even express...

When it gets to be too much I just swallow down another “happy pill” and go on with things. But nothing ever gets resolved. I still miss you so much every day that it feels like the walls are caving in, regardless of whether I acknowledge those feelings or not. So yeah. Go on with my life? HOW? It can’t ever be the same again. Change is NOT good. You would have been so proud of me, Grams...your sophomore granddaughter is now the first chair euphonium player in the top band at a big ten university. Yep. I’m the ONLY euph. in the wind symphony. I called Mom and Dad right away when I found out, then I called Mr. Conte... You would have been the FIRST person I called if I could have. You know that. I can’t stand the fact that I will never answer the phone and hear your voice on the other end of the line again. I just bought a cell phone with free long distance, and free nights and weekends...we could have talked ‘til our hearts’ content, and we would never have had to worry about charges. I just wish I could talk to you at all, just one last time. I wish I could tell you in person how much I love you...and how much this hurts...I wish I could give you one last hug and feel your soft skin against mine and worry about you again because you seemed so small in my arms. Small, but you were NEVER frail. So thin but so vibrant. I thought you were healthy. We all did. You made such a spectacular recovery when you had that stent put in last year. How could you go the fair with us the Thursday before you passed, and been so healthy and happy and wonderful...how could you go to the eye doctor on Monday and get all checked out and say that you were ready to have those cataracts taken care of... and go out with your friends Tuesday morning and been “bubbly” as one of them said that you were at the luncheon...and then how could you go lie down and fall asleep, and die? I don’t understand. I’ll never understand. How could you just lie down and die??? You walked around every spare minute when you were at our house...remember our game when I was very little, “Circle the property?” You wanted me to walk with you a few times that week, even brought up our old game, and I told you I didn’t feel like it. I wish I had. I wish I’d gone up to the flea market that Sunday with you, and the Sunday before, instead of staying in bed to sleep a little longer and telling everyone that my stomach hurt. How was I supposed to know that it would be my last chance? You weren’t supposed to die yet. I hate God. I hate him. I’m sorry. You were always so religious, so quietly religious. You never pushed your faith, but you lived it. That was example enough. Please tell me, please explain, why, if God is so loving, WHY he’d take you away from me so early? When there were others in the family who were so much sicker, and so much more miserable? You were HAPPY. Why did he take you? I can’t accept that. You were happy. You were with us. There were so many plans, so many things left unfinished...I wanted to paint your porch for you, honest I did. Blue and white, like you wanted. It would have been so pretty...

They’re selling your house, and all your stuff. I can’t bear to see it go. I know logically that it wasn’t you, the house always felt like home because you were in it, and it’s not really Grandma’s House anymore, but it was home to me. It was home. The only place in the world where I could really feel safe to be myself. Even at our house, Mom and Dad’s house, the house where I spent much of my life, I never felt as safe as when I was at your house. I’ve never been able to share with Mom and Dad what I’ve been able to share with you. I wanted to be home for the estate sale, I wanted to see it go, because that would maybe be some finality for me, painful yes, but final. I didn’t want to be there, too. It’s better for me to be here, at least Mom thinks so. I guess she’s probably right...I grudgingly admit. Nevertheless, I still wanted to be there. I wanted to be involved in the WHOLE nightmare, beginning to end. It all started the morning of the fifteenth when Dad took a phone call, and then called Tor and me into Mom’s room, and I heard that tone of his voice that I had never heard before...and it ends, at least partially, with the sale of the estate. But it really doesn’t end there, does it? I mean, I have to live with this great gaping hole for the rest of my life. Ha ha, joke’s on me. Ha ha ha. Fucking life. I know you hated that word. I know. I’m sorry. But that’s how much it hurts. There aren’t words to describe it, and when there aren’t words humanity as a whole turns to things like that. Things that only BEGIN to reflect the depth of the pain and despair, the hopelessness, the anger, the utter blackness. Two words, “Fucking Life.” That says it all right now, that says rather eloquently how hard I am finding this, how sick I am of this struggle to survive in order to live a life that I don’t even want to be living. Why do I do it? I do it for you. But you aren’t here anymore. So why do I still do it? I do it for you. Because I loved, I do love, and I will always love YOU.

9/28/01

12:08 AM

I’m tired. It’s late, and I should be sleeping. I’m not. I’m puttering. I spent much of today being exhausted and nauseated. That’s okay, though. Know what? I really, really need a hug. I just want someone to hold me for a few minutes. I wish that person could be my grandmother, but we’ve been through this already. I wish I could hug Mom or Dad or Vicki, but I can’t. I guess there’s no point in lamenting over it, but I do want a hug. I’m missing that. I’m missing...something. Human contact, perhaps, though that is not exactly the word I’m looking for. I feel so alone.

Anyhoo, I’ve been messing around all night, watching TV. Playing with Snow Rat. Watching more TV. Being really really bored and unmotivated. Wishing I could go online and moping over the fact that my ethernet port here in the room seems to have fried itself. :-(

Sigh. What a meaningful life. I feel like crying and I don’t really know why. But I feel like crying. I think I’m just going to go to sleep instead. Escape a little. That’s what I usually do and I shouldn’t, I know. I’m just too tired to face anything right now. I’m gonna take my meds and go to sleep.

2:12 AM

Okay, does anyone have any idea how uncool insomnia is???! God Damn it! I WANT TO GO TO SLEEP!!! I’m tired. I’m nauseated. I want to sleep. Beddy-by. Sleepy-time. Zonk out. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tired tired tired. Getting up early have lots to do need sleep but can’t instead sitting here typing because I’m going nuts thinking and I can’t make my brain stop long enough for me to get some sleep because I can’t get comfortable to fall asleep so all there is left to do is think which isn’t helping!!!! Random thought: I want some Tylenol PM. Lots of it. Chain-of-consciousness writing gets really interesting at two in the morning. Sleepy sleepy sleepy. Self-hypnosis? Maybe that will work. Maybe getting drunk out of my mind and passing out would work, too. Why the hell not? Oops, forgot, I can’t drink on Paxil. And I don’t have any alcohol anyhow, and I’m underage. Some plan. La la la la la la la. I could run naked through the halls...not. I could jump out a fourth-floor window, but that would only hurt and certainly wouldn’t get me any closer to sleep unless I hit my head upon landing. Let’s see...I could...pick my nose...or write a poem, nah that requires too much thinking. I’m trying to stay away from thinking. I could sing a song...but I have neighbors that I don’t really want to kill me. I could run in the bathroom and puke, which is what I feel like doing...I don’t think that prescription cough syrup is agreeing with me. Somewhat sedating, my ass! Lol. I could pee in a bottle and throw it out the window at the garbage truck that just arrived to make lots and lots of noise underneath my window in order to ruin even the SMALLEST chance I had of actually falling asleep tonight...but that’s really gross. Even for me. I could scrawl random graffiti on my walls in multi-colored gel pen...but then I’d have to pay for it later. :-P Ha ha ha ha ha. As if I don’t pay the university enough already. I could bang my head repeatedly against the wall in the hopes of knocking enough sense into my brain for it to realize that it should be asleep right now, like NORMAL PEOPLE’S BRAINS! Or I could hack more yellow shit out of my lungs and paint an impressionist piece on my dorm room wall with it. Yep, I feel GREAT. Flu sucks. I could end this admittedly bizarre rambling here and now or I could go on for another hour or so...*cough cough cough* Growl. *smash* Yes, folks, that was my head making a hole in the wall. Why? Ummm... ‘cause I’m bored and I don’t have internet and I can’t sleep and I’m sick with the flu and my Grandma’s dead and life SUCKS! I guess I could peel off all my skin and amuse myself by counting my bones...ewww. *thump* Head hitting desk. *thump, thump* :-( I wonder how long the longest booger anyone ever pulled out of their nose was. I wonder if I could burp bubbles if I drank a bottle of shampoo, or if I would just be really, really clean inside...perhaps I could wash my soul that way. Ha. I wish I knew where my Pepcid was, because if I did I’d add yet another drug to my system in the hopes of ending the wall of acid slowly creeping up and eating the lining of my esophagus. Garbage men are yelling outside my window. I wonder what they would think if I opened the curtains, flashed them, and yelled obscene things? Perhaps I should throw the trash that has collected in here from this week of living here being sick down at them...they are garbage men, after all. Snow Rat is sleeping, why the hell can’t I? She’s curled all happy under her tissue nest, sleeping soundly despite the noise outside and the clacking of my restless typing. *thump thump thump thump thump* Emergency Stress Relief Kit: Bang Head Here. SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!! *drool* Want sleep....NEED SLEEP!! *Whine, whimper, moan and groan, complain, bitch* Fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck. I’m tired. La la la la la la la . I wonder what life would be like if I were a pig...did you know male pigs have curly dicks?? No?! Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t know that. What do you MEAN you’ve never seen a pig dick? Well, I’ve never seen one either, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t curly. My pal told me they were. And if anyone should know, she should...

I need to shave my underarm hair. It’s shaggy. My legs need help, too. Lol. Do I care?

I’ve never seen a purple cow, I’d never hope to see one. But this I’ll tell you anyhow, I’d rather see than be one.

That’s all , Folks! Same time, same channel. Tune in next week for more wacked-out ramblings. (God help us. God help us all.) Buh-bye!

PS: Happy three AM, crew. Goodnight, and God bless. What God? Oh, sorry, forgot.

10/1/01

1:27 AM

*Sigh* I’m sitting here being not able to sleep and feeling lonely and angry with life. I did something a few minutes ago that I’ve wanted to do for a while but haven’t allowed myself to do. I called Grandma’s house just to listen to the phone ring, to make it real to me that she isn’t there. Only problem was, the phone was busy. Whether my uncle left it off the hook on purpose so anyone calling would think there was someone there, or if he has someone staying in the house, I don’t know. But it makes me even sadder, because I can almost imagine Grandma chatting happily with someone, perched in her chair by the telephone with her legs crossed and her pink slippers on, her short slacks showing her white socks to all who would see. I can imagine her answering the phone, then saying “Oh, hang on a sec while I turn down the TV.” That’s what she always did. Or she’d run up from doing laundry in the basement and answer it...I can hear her footsteps on those wooden stairs now, hollow-sounding, then the shuffle-slide of her slippers over the linoleum in the kitchen. Maybe she’d stop in the living room walkway to fix a rumpled throw-rug in her path before reaching for the phone. That loud “Hel-lo?” two toned, happy, perhaps a clearing of the throat briefly. She loved to talk to people, she’d even be nice to the salespeople. I wish I could call there and hear her pick up the phone again, hear her call me Bethy, and chide me for not calling sooner...

For a millisecond my heart leaped and soared when the busy signal sounded. But reality intruded, as it always does. I’m never going to get to talk to her again, no matter how often I call there. I’ll just end up annoying the new owners of the house. Yes, Mom told me last night or whenever I called her that the house has been sold. What a horrible word, that word sold. Something that means a change of everything I’ve ever known. It’s almost as bad as death. Almost, but then again not nearly. I can’t believe it. This whole thing has been a nightmare. It seems so unreal. I keep asking myself when I’m going to wake up and realize that it was all a dream. A horrible, vivid, hellish nightmare of a dream, but a dream nevertheless. Why can’t it be a dream?

I’m tired. Not sleepy, but tired through-and-through, bone weary. I don’t want to walk this road anymore. I’m lost. I don’t know where I’m going, and I’m walking blind because I go minute by minute. I can’t think of tomorrow, I see nothing to look forward to. Even my future graduation means nothing to me right now. I am nineteen years old. I can’t imagine living another nineteen, I can’t even imagine another nine. As I feel now, I would welcome release. Yet I just keep plodding ahead. Plodding and plodding, dragging my weary bones down yet another twist or turn in the road, not caring a whit about what looms around the next curve. Good or bad, it means nothing to me. I no longer live in the now, I’m stuck in the what-could-have-been, mired in the I-wish-I-had. Old mistakes don’t die. Just old friends. The good things are the ones that end too fast, and the bad just drag on forever, coming back to haunt just when you think you’ve finally shaken them. They come back laughing. And they leave me crying. What do I do now? Please tell me.

10/3/01

12:22 AM

Ugh. I am so...just ugh. I feel like crap. I’m very depressed, I have NO energy. I have no appetite, I don’t eat. I can’t sleep at night, but I end up sleeping through classes during the day... I can’t concentrate on anything, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I have anger inside that won’t go away, and I can’t express it. I wanted to write a piece of music, but I couldn’t. I can’t even start to. I have no inspiration at all. All that feels good to me anymore is lying on my back in bed, either reading or watching TV. I have this uncontrollable urge to scream! And scream and scream. I want to cry or shout or hit something. I’m nauseated. I feel very hot, flushed...and tired. Tired tired tired. :-( I’m yucky. Sad, yucky, sick, sad, sad, icky, awful.

10/8/01

1:30 AM

I don’t want to go to sleep. We went to war today (yesterday, really), lobbing missiles at Afghanistan. Bombers, cruise missiles...and they’re wondering if this will provoke another strike by the terrorists here on our home soil. I’ve dreamed these last two nights about planes, lots and lots of planes, and chemical and biological attacks. And I have dreamed also about Grandma. Last night I dreamed that I was standing in the living room back home talking to her like it was perfectly normal, like any of the numerous day-to-day conversations that we had. I dreamed that she was still alive. I later dreamed that I was sitting next to her in the car coming home, overjoyed...I dreamed that she had been thought dead, and seemed to be dead, and placed in a coffin, but then surprised all the funeral directors by banging on the lid of it and climbing out, alive. It had all been a deep coma. In the dream, though, I could not figure out how she had survived the embalming process...I was confused. Then I woke up, and I was so foggy-headed that it took me a good three to five minutes to realize that it was just a dream, and that she was not alive, but buried in the ground and never coming back. This dream disturbed me in ways I can’t even put into words. It’s bothered me all day long. I slept very, very late today. I got up at five at night...yes, I know. I feel guilty, but on the other hand I really don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I’m lost in my own head. I’m hurting so bad, and now there’s a war. I’m frightened. I don’t want to go to sleep because I’m afraid I will dream again. But I need to go to sleep. I have a throat infection now. I just was getting over the flu and now I have a throat infection. Which means more missed classes. I already e-mailed Dr. Mikkelson telling him I won’t be in band tomorrow. I have a fever that’s been hovering just below 100 degrees for the past three days. I’m going back to the health center to get antibiotics tomorrow. I slept most of the weekend, didn’t go anywhere or do anything. I never even got out of my pajamas today. I ate one meal, at 11:40 at night, that I ordered from Wingslingers. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. And it tasted good, once I actually sat down and ate it. Now I need to go to sleep, which may not be so easy. I’ve had to drug myself with over-the-counter sleeping pills in order to get any sleep at all these past few nights, and those still do not do anything about the dreams. I must say, though, I did not want to wake up today. I wanted to stay asleep and sit and talk to Grandma forever. I wanted it to be real so bad. God, how I wanted it to be real! Well, I’m going to take my magic pills now and wait for them to carry me off. Maybe I’ll be really lucky this time, and I WON’T wake up. Hey, you never know. Grandma didn’t.

10/10/01

3:01 AM

Ha ha ha ha ha. After an agonizing two hour search through the shit in my room, I FINALLY found my Paxil. Ha. Really funny. Relax, Beth. Right. HA! God damn it. You know, I don’t remember the last time I took the stuff. I think it was the day before yesterday, but I can’t be sure. Little blue happy pill, the savior of sanity...ha ha ha ha ha. I’m really fucking losing it here. I can’t take the nightmares anymore. Constant inundation all day long with “Is America prepared for another terrorist attack?” or “Are we REALLY prepared for a biological or chemical attack?” People putting a run on gas masks. Buying guns, weapons, stockpiling food...and War. Awful, terrible, “justice” war. Retaliation is all that it is, a strike back like a child who hits his brother for grabbing his favorite toy. Innocent lives were lost, yes, and the bastards who did it should be made to pay, BUT WE ARE KILLING INNOCENTS, which makes us not much better than those “terrorists.” I’ve been having a lot of nightmares about biological and chemical attacks. Not a nice thing to think about. But as they keep telling us on TV... “It’s not IF it will happen, but when.” What a wonderful, beautiful world we live in. The human race is such a sick, twisted, bloodthirsty group. We use the guise of religion, a “Holy War,” to slaughter any opponent. Bullshit. War is not Holy. Ever. It violates EVERYTHING that is held sacred, in many religions. Holy my ass. And retribution isn’t any better.

Nightmares, yes. Not just about war. Not even mostly about war. Mostly about Grandma. They aren’t really nightmares as in frightening...more disturbing. I hurt so bad. I really do. In my dreams she's still alive, and I know in my heart that this shouldn't be as I carry on conversations with her, but it's still a miracle to me and I feel that everything is okay. I convince myself that everything is normal, that she IS alive and everything is fine, and I just imagined her dying, that her death and funeral and everything was all just a bad dream. Then I wake up and it takes me a few minutes to realize that it was THIS that was just a dream, and she's just as dead as she was in August, and it hits me all over again. It's like hearing those words for the first time all over again. “Becky found her. She’s dead.” The five most awful, heart stopping, life changing words I have ever heard in my whole life. The last dream I had I was sitting on her stairs in her upstairs hallway as I had many times before, and she was sitting next to me and we were just talking. I don't even know what we were talking about. And it was like she was THERE, like it was real and she was alive just for that second, then my brain turned on and reality intruded, even in the dream...this isn't real...the thought deep and painful, that she ISN'T alive. That she won't ever be alive again, that I'm not talking to her and all I'm doing is dreaming. And I feel that I shouldn't BE dreaming. Not that she's alive, anyway. It just hurts more. I feel that I shouldn’t be having such a hard time with this. Mom and Dad aren’t, at least it doesn’t seem that way. These thoughts are consuming me. I can’t concentrate, I’m ready to just give up. Give up everything. Sometimes I think I should be hospitalized. I cut really bad the other night, a cut about a half-inch long and more than a quarter-inch deep. It was gaping, and bleeding a lot, and I probably should have gotten stitches for it. I didn’t because of the other scabbed-over gash on my arm that I made only 1 or 2 days before the newest one, and the still-pink scar from the one I made right before I came back to school. I could explain away one gash, but not the evidence of three. And not the old scars that are still noticeable if one looks hard enough. Those new cuts are all on my left arm. About the same time as these newest ones, I cut a half-incher almost as deep into my right upper arm. The same night that I made the cut that should have had stitches, I very shallowly carved the word HATE in my right thigh above the knee. There are still paper towels stiff with blood on the floor of my room. My room looks like a war zone, no disrespect intended. My head feels like one. Since coming to campus I have had the flu, and this past weekend I came down with a throat infection. I have paid for five different prescriptions at the health center; two different antibiotics, cough syrup, decongestant/expectorant, and my Paxil, whose dosage I upped to 30mg. I have had insomnia for over two weeks, helped only by the sleep caplets that I bought at CVS and drug myself with each night around two or three in the morning when it becomes obvious that I’m not going to get to sleep naturally. When I do sleep, on the days that I haven’t been going to class, I sleep for twelve to sixteen hours at a stretch. Yesterday or Monday, I can’t remember which, I woke up at five in the afternoon. I lie on my bed staring at the ceiling waiting for the stupid drugs to kick in and I suddenly burst into tears for no reason. I isolate myself in my room all day if I can get away with it. I dropped my sociology class, I may be forced to drop piano methods if I can’t catch up...That means I will be down to 13 credit hours. Mom would be so disappointed. I don’t care. I sit here and write this and my heart and head are pounding. I feel like leaping out the window, but it’s not high enough. At least I have enough reason left to understand that. It would only hurt, not kill. I certainly don’t need more pain. I haven’t been eating right, I am hungry only rarely. I eat a normal meal and that will last me all day. But when I feel bored or upset I eat anyway, even though I’m not hungry. I kill all feeling with Oreo cookies (ah, old bedtime snack at Grandma’s house) or candy corn that I bought from Target (‘cause Halloween’s coming, you know, and we ALWAYS spent Halloween at Grandma’s!), or peanut butter bars from Buckeye Express, or snack cakes of every shape and size imaginable. Or those goofy red gelatin cups that they have at Buckeye Express...I ate four of those last night. About two hours later I had the pleasure of watching the lovely antibiotic-induced diarrhea that I had run RED. At first I thought I was bleeding. It was disgustingly fascinating. Ha. At least I haven’t hit the purging stage yet. Hopefully that will be NEVER.

In short, I’m cracking up. I’m completely losing it, and I know it, but that isn’t stopping it. I wish I could have gotten into counseling earlier than next Monday. That’s still five days away. I don’t know if I’m going to make it that long. With the way I’ve been cutting, I’m likely to be missing a limb if I do. I can’t explain away these scars and open wounds.

I want it all to go away. I don’t want to deal with people, or life, or feelings, or eating right or at all, or even the fact that the sky is blue or it is raining, or any of the other things that encompass day to day life. I want to go to sleep, and sleep forever. I won’t say I want to die, because I don’t necessarily want that. I just want the pain to go away. I want to feel capable of living my own life again, of being normal. You know what, though? I’d settle for a hug. I just long to be held. Held and hugged for a long time, so I feel safe for a little while. I don’t feel safe. I feel frightened. Life is too uncertain. Things change too fast. Grandma proved that, and the attack on September 11th reinforced it. Strongly. I don’t like change. I’m having a very hard time trying to work through this. It’s too much for me to go it alone. I want to talk to Mom and Dad about it, but they’d just tell me to get over it. Dad would tell me to “get out of my own head.” I find that difficult. After all, it is my head. It’s my perceptions of the world, and the natural way I react to things. I hate it.

Anyway, it’s now 4:07. I have to get up at 6:30. So I’m going to try to get some sleep. Note try. Fuck this. I’m just so fucking tired of EVERYTHING. Goodnight.

10/11/01

1:33 AM

Random Poetic Ramblings:

Don't think filling masks is an end.
The mind forgets nothing.
Beneath all transparent intangibles,
We are but tokens.
Blurry remembrances
Surface,
And carry us away
To a carbon-blackened rebirth
Into nothingness.

merely a pill,
the end etched in it
before diagnosed.
Eternally remains
only Eons,
not
Love.

Tall and short together,
White branches reach up
Searching for gold in the heavens.

Ivory petals fall as snow,
Warm on the skin,
Un-melting,
A gentle caress from Nature's hand
On my upturned face.

Low branches wrap around me,
Enfold me in their softness.
My eyes close.
Sweet sun-warmed fragrance washes over me,
God-like in it's beauty.
No Icarus,
But Athena warm in all her glory
Carries me away on radiant wings of golden Light.

Darkened saddened shadows
Lurk beneath the trees,
Shy away,
Hiding,
Drowning in the cool breeze.

Purple churning sky,
Turning towards the black,
Gathers,
Sinking,
And then begins to crack.

Morning sky risen,
Gives a shuddering sigh.
Gashed, it
Shatters
And in mourning cries.

Driving rhythm
Pounds,
beats
down the sidewalk as the rain-melody
flows and washes clean the air,
the beat
powerful,
incessant
moving-turning-twisting
percussive and beautiful together,
sonorous sounds of nature
in the life of the world.

They say it’s not good enough.

Didn’t try hard enough.

Failed again.

They say I’m not good enough.

Didn’t do well enough.

Failed again.

They say I’ll never make it,

Never reach my goal,

Never make my dream come true.

They say

“You think you can?

Well, won’t you be surprised

When you find out what we say is true...

You’ll never do.”

And though I know it’s wrong,

A part of me starts to believe them...

“It’s all you fault.”

“You’ll never make it.”

“You’re too stupid.”

“You’re too fat...”

“I’m embarrassed to have you for a daughter.”

“I’m sorry Momma,

I’m sorry Daddy.

I’ve failed again.

I know I’m not what you want me to be.

I know I’ll never be good enough.

I know there is no hope...

I’ve disappointed you,

And I’m sorry.”

But what can I do?

It’s a part of me.

I’ve failed again

And will fail many times before I’m through.

I can’t be good enough for you.

I only do what I can do...

So I pack my fears away and hide them in a closet.

Pretend that everything’s okay

While all my dreams and hopes are stuffed behind a shoe.

There, only the pain shows through.

This is what I do.

Stuff everything down and pack it inside.

This, at all costs, this I must hide.

The fear and the pain and the hopes and dreams, too

Are all there

Stuffed inside

Hidden under a shoe...

Yes, this is what I do.

There comes a time when the closet door won’t shut.

What’s hidden inside just won’t stay put.

And this is when I cut...

I cut out the fear and I cut out the pain.

I push it outside; I can handle it there.

I flush out the anger and cover the stain.

And after it all I am even more scared...

But I find, that for now, there is room to spare.

I pushed everything out but I don’t despair.

For, now I can put more in there.

When the fear comes back

Along with the pain,

I can lock it away,

Safely

Closeted

Again.

( I think this is in here before, but I’m putting all my recent poetry in one spot. Sue me.)

And here’s a poem by a woman I admire tremendously, Maya Angelou:

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wings

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn

and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I had a poetic moment. Or hour. What the heck? I mean, it’s not four in the morning yet, so I couldn’t possibly go to sleep, right? It’s only 2:07. Damn, I’m fidgety tonight. I can’t seem to stop moving, I’m either jogging my leg up and down or rocking my chair. I’m WIRED. I also hate late-night TV, so there isn’t much for me to do. Craig Kilborne drives me batty. I don’t like him. How the hell did he get a talk show anyway? Lucky bastard.

I’m really hanging on by the skin of my teeth here, waiting for Monday and my counseling appointment to arrive. I’m trying not to think about it, though. So I spend time editing and rearranging my poetry. Or writing random quotes in my journal. Or shredding paper, or crushing styrofoam packing peanuts into itty-bitty pieces. Or eating everything I can get my hands on. Insomnia sucks. I’m thinking I have to take sleeping pills again tonight. Last night I didn’t, and I was up until 5:30 or so. By the time I fell asleep it was time to get up again. Then I couldn’t get up because I was so exhausted, so I ended up skipping all my classes. I said I was sick, which was no lie. I still have a throat infection. I hate missing things, though. It was a lose-lose situation. :-(

So now what do I do? Sit here and pick my nose until I finally get tired enough to pass out? Pull my hairs out one by one? Sometimes I do that anyway. Come on! I mean, even the RAT is sleeping, and they’re nocturnal!! About 12:20 she got tired of biting my toes through the blanket as I lay there watching Letterman, so she curled up and fell asleep. Oh, just listened at the window. The garbage men are here again, here again diddely dee! Noisy buggers. Oh well, they’re just doing a job. Better than me, I don’t even have a job. I’m supposed to...but how can I do that and keep my sanity if I can’t even handle 14 credits worth of school??? Someone shoot me. Time to swallow sleepy pills and stare at the ceiling for a few hours. G’night, mates.

10/16/01

2:10 AM

Howdy folks. Here I am again. I know, I know. “Don’t you ever sleep??!” you ask. Well, no. Not really. Not anymore. An hour or three during the day. Twenty minutes here and there at night. I think my sleep cycle has both fragmented and reversed. Yah. I had my first counseling appointment today. I filled out paperwork and talked to a nice guy named Jonathan for a while. Background and history and all of that. A foundation to work from, I guess. Now I’m tired and I can’t go to sleep. I miss Grandma. Get over it, you say? Sorry, no can do. Anyone got a wall? Maybe I can bang my head until I knock myself out. But that would hurt....damn. I’m tired. Quit complaining, I know. But no one is asking you to listen. Ha, fooey on you. You know, I never have figured out exactly WHO it is I’m writing to when I write these things. Perhaps ghosts...Halloween IS coming, you know! Muah ha ha ha ha. (<------Evil Laugh!) I hate Halloween. I used to love it. Even last year I loved it, though it was my first holiday away from home. This year I hate it and dread its coming. We always spent Halloween at Grandma’s. And I can’t stop the memories. I can’t stop the thoughts of her. I’m not even sure I want to...I just want it not to hurt so damn much. Hawk says that hurting is part of loving, and I guess he’s right, but I don’t like it one little bit. I want her back. Lord God Almighty, I WANT HER BACK!! I hate you, God, you hear me? I hate you. Not that I ever really knew you anyway, that’s not the point. Grams loved you. But you took her away from me. I can’t accept that. I can’t. I want to hear her laugh again. Please, I can’t remember her laugh...I’m starting to lose the sound of her voice. Please...

I don’t know why I write in here. I just end up more upset than when I started. I start out numb, and when I write I FEEL. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to remember. I just want to sleep, why can’t I sleep? It’s almost 2:30, and I have class tomorrow, as always. I just want to sleep. Sitting here crying is certainly not helping me do that, not that I’m really crying. I can’t cry the way I want to. My eyes get wet, but I won’t let tears fall. I won’t let myself cry for real. That’s too much. A few seconds is okay, a manageable slip, but nothing more.

Baby dry your eyes,

No more tears can fall,

I can’t see you pain,

‘Cause I see you stand so tall.

The look upon your face

Is deep but masked somehow,

And the shadows in your eyes

Seem not to be there now.

I know that you must hurt;

I know you want to cry.

I know you can’t reach out;

I know you’d rather die.

The pain you feel inside

Is far to much to bear.

Please reach out, my girl,

And know that I’ll be there.

Momentary poetic slip. :-) I’ll stop, I promise. Okay, I lied.

Grandma,

I don’t see you anymore,

I can’t recall your voice.

I cannot let you go,

But I don’t have any choice!

Your hugs are gone from me,

The magic of your touch,

The smile so full of joy

That always meant so much.

The talks we have no more,

Those lazy days of old.

Time has slipped away,

More precious than solid gold.

I do not understand

The wisdom of this way;

I cannot see the forest

For the trees today.

I know only that there’s pain

And loneliness inside

And no matter what,

How hard I try to hide,

It shows upon my soul

There for those to see,

Only those who have the eyes

To look deep into me.

I dream about your face

On nights so dark and dim

And in my dreams they always say

That you have gone with Him.

But I feel differently,

To this I cannot lie.

To me you are not there,

High up in the sky.

The ground has swallowed you,

Never more to see,

And many days I wish

That it so too would swallow me.

Some day in ages hence,

When I look up at the sky,

I’ll perhaps believe you’re there,

And then my soul will fly.

But now I cannot look,

Can’t lift my eyes from earth,

I swear I’ve seldom hurt this much

Since the moment of my birth.

I stand upon the ground

And feel so very lost,

This thing, this Death,

The price that it has cost!

I don’t know where to turn,

What more that I can do,

For I cannot go there

In order to bring back you.

I guess I shall go on,

My burden for to bear,

And when I speak again,

I hope that you will hear.

I love you, Grandma dear,

And no matter where you are,

Although I can’t be with you,

My heart is never far.

***

More than momentary poetic slip. Stupid verse and childish rhymes, but artful I’m not, and I am incapable of expressing in any other way. Words that I want to speak knot up my heart and catch in my throat, and will not come out. I must write, that is all that I can do. If I do not write, it builds to unbearable levels, and I end up hurting myself for a quick release, or sinking so far into blackness that I fear for my own life. Two weeks ago I was more than half considering asking to be hospitalized. I was too low to do anything other than sit and think about the pain. I cut 19 times in a few short days. 16 of those cuts aligned to write the word “hate” in the flesh of my thigh. What I hate, I still don’t know. That’s the word that came. Those were shallow, and though ugly, they were not serious. I cut my right upper arm fairly deeply, though not enough to require stitches; the same with my left arm about halfway between the wrist and elbow. Then later I cut perhaps two inches above the top of my wrist, and I went deeper than I should have. I frightened myself, as it indeed should have had stitches, though I did not go because I could not explain the other cuts, and I was afraid. One cut can be explained away, many in varying stages of healing cannot. I must smile at that, or grimace, because the cuts DO heal. But my heart does not. It simply festers, biding time until it becomes possible to overwhelm me, and then overwhelm it does. Hard and fast and completely. I fear there are more days ahead with considerable shadow in them, as Grandma is not coming back, and I have not yet come to terms with that. When the storm does hit, I am afraid I will not be able to swim. I can only hope that counseling can provide a life preserver. Here I will end this, as it is now 3 AM, and high time I crawled into bed to attempt sleep. Hark, is that a garbage truck I hear? They’re late today.

10/22/01

5:28 AM

I need sleep. I want sleep. I’m tired. Why can’t I sleep? Can’t shut my brain off. Can’t get comfortable. I went to bed at one, and fell asleep shortly thereafter. I woke up at 3:20, and fell back asleep. Then I woke up at 3:48 and have been awake since, rolling around in bed thinking strange, nearly-delirious thoughts. Got nauseated, too hot, too cold, headache, felt like crying, then got up to write. Think I’m going mad. Don’t like it. Keep thinking about hurting myself. Suicide looks GOOD right now. Want to sleep. Hate nights. I hate nights. Hate nights. Tired. I want a hug. I want someone to hold me. Lonely. Can’t sleep. Sad and lonely and scared. Tired. Help me someone, why isn’t anyone there? Why am I so alone? Need sleep. Fuck this. I hate this. Grandma, where are you? I miss you. Hug me, please. Want to cry. No good, none of this, nothing, no good. Want to go away. Want it all to go away. No more hurting. No more doubting. Want to be happy. Why can’t I be happy? I’m a bad person. Bad bad bad. I must be. Why else would life hurt so much? No more. Too much. Tired. Want it to go away. Sleep, where’d you go? Why’d you go? Why am I stuck here typing instead of sleeping, feeling sick in the middle of the night, wanting so bad to take a rest...why won’t you come? Want to cry. Want to scream and shout and cry and hit a wall or a pillow or myself. Have this urge to scratch my face. No no. Too hard to hide. Cry cry die die why why? Bad, bad, bad. I’m tired. Too tired. No more. Don’t want to do this anymore. I’m stupid. Hate me. Yucky yucky yucky Beth. Please make it go away. I miss. I want a hug. Why isn’t there anyone to give me a hug? Why am I hated so much? Please hug me, someone, anyone. I’m scared.

10/23/01

4:51 AM

Oh happy insomnia. I wish I could die. I’m wide awake and it’s the middle of the night. Sleep isn’t even an option right now, I’m as awake as if I just got up an hour ago after a good old eight hours of restful sleep. Unfortunately, I haven’t experienced restful sleep in many a night now. This is not cool. I’m sitting here wrapped up in the sheet off my bed, typing, and wishing I could be doing what normal human beings are doing right now. Damn it, I’m not nocturnal. Why am I still awake? This isn’t funny anymore. It gives me too much time to think. I don’t want to think. La la la la la. I don’t know what to do with myself. If I try doing homework I just get depressed and upset. Damn. I’m hungry. I’m not supposed to be hungry. I’m supposed to be sleeping. The days just keep blending into one another. I can’t find my OTC sleeping pills; I shouldn’t need them, and it’s not healthy to take them all the time, but it’s really, really nice to sleep when the rest of the student population is. Hmmm hmm hmm. Humph, pout. Yeah, I’m grumpy. I have every right to be. I’m feeling a major freak-out coming on. I won’t let myself think of Grandma because when I do I start to feel like I’m going to lose it, and I get panicky because I don’t want to. Therefore, everything is trapped in a bottle, yet boiling and boiling until the pressure gets so great that it threatens to explode. I feel like I’m gonna explode! The slightest thing is going to lead to a big bad thing. Yup. Not good. I’m really tired and this isn’t helping. Why do I type in here anyway? Okay, what else am I supposed to do at five in the morning? TV sucks. I can’t listen to music because I’ll wake people up...not that anyone else on the floor has the slightest courtesy anyway, but it’s the principal of the thing. I’m too damn nice. >:-/ La dee da dee da. It’s 5:05 and I’m alive, yippee yahoo yawhee! Do I want to be? No. Not at the moment, anyway. Does that matter? No. Okay, I’m running out of ways to waste time. I REALLY WANT TO GO TO SLEEP NOW!!!!!!! Life sucks. Pah. I wonder how much it would hurt if I jumped out the window. I’d have to cut the screen, though, and it’s not really high enough to do much damage. I’d break something, probably, but other than that I wouldn’t be accomplishing much. Time to file my fingernails down to the quick for fun. Maybe I’ll even pull off all the cuticles. There’s a productive early morning activity. Why can’t I go to sleep? It’s not fair.....whine. Whine whine whine whine whine whine whine grumble groan gripe sigh cry. I hate life.

10/24/01

1:17 AM

I just wrote this letter to Jim:

Jim,

I’m writing this instead of saying it because I don’t trust myself to be able to say what I really need to. I’m having a very hard time right now. I don’t really know what to do. I’m uncertain about my career choice, my major, and just about everything else. It seems life has decided to kick me in the teeth of late. You know I’m on medication for depression, as I told you. I’ve been struggling with that for a while, and it’s been getting progressively worse. I told you that my Grandmother died in August, but I never really spoke of that beyond the initial statement. Her death has been so hard on me. We were very, very close; I can honestly say she was the best friend I ever had. She understood me. She was the only person in my family who was always willing to listen to me, always there for me, and never hesitated to give me a hug. I was closer to her than anyone else in my world, and I feel so very lost without her. I haven’t even begun to come to terms with the idea that she’s gone. It feels like a bad dream, and I keep wondering when I’m going to wake up. I can’t even stand to think about her. I think about things like last Thanksgiving, when she put on one of my goofy hats and she and my aunt and I laughed ourselves silly over how funny she looked, Grams laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks... then all I can think about is how we won’t ever do that again, or anything else that we did together.

I don’t sleep regularly anymore, I haven’t for more than a month and a half now. I didn’t sleep at all Sunday night or Monday night. I fell asleep about six in the morning on Tuesday, (today), slept through my alarm (which is why I wasn’t in studio) and woke up at 7:15 PM. Yes, PM. The nights that I don’t sleep I lie there staring at the ceiling, having too much time to think, usually ending up in tears because I can’t get thoughts of my Grandmother out of my head, or being semi-delirious because I feel really nauseated. When I do sleep I have nightmares consistently. I wake up after no more than a few hours of sleep and end up in the middle of a panic attack. This happens night after night; most nights I get between one and two hours of sleep, and some I get none at all. Eventually it builds up until I crash and sleep an entire day. I get disoriented, all the days blend into each other. Sometimes I look at the clock and it takes me a minute to figure out whether it’s morning or afternoon or the middle of the night. Over the counter sleeping pills either don’t do anything unless I take a lot of them, or they make me feel strange and give me more nightmares. It’s getting really hard to function on a day-to-day basis.

I started counseling through the school, but it is irregular. I’m left on my own for long stretches, and I have no one to talk to about anything. I don’t talk to my friends, and I can’t talk to my family. I feel completely alone. I’m fighting really hard to keep going, but it isn’t working. My grades are falling, practice requires so much effort it often feels an insurmountable task. I seldom can concentrate on or understand homework, particularly in Theory. I’m supposed to have a job this quarter, but I don’t. Just another in a long line of disappointments to my family. I’m currently carrying 13 credits and am barely keeping my head above water. I’m not enjoying music anymore, and am having serious doubts about my ability to make teaching my career. I had no idea it was going to be this hard, yet I have no idea what else I would do if I were to pursue another course. Music is all I’m really good at, and it’s all I ever loved. I love children and I really did want to teach. I don’t know what to do now. I feel like I’m losing all sense of direction, not to mention losing my mind.

These last few weeks have felt so dark. Everything seems so uncertain. What’s been going on in our world of late sure hasn’t helped, though my concerns generally lie elsewhere. I look at life, and the path that I’m on, and I wonder if it’s worth it, if I’m doing the right thing. These answers don’t come, and the questions don’t go away. This summer I was seriously considering not coming back to school, even though I honestly do love it here. When I tried to talk to my mom about my depression and the feelings and doubts and fears I was having, she blew me off and told me to buck up and take it. It wasn’t her problem so she didn’t consider it to be important, and wouldn’t even take the time to talk about it; she was too busy. Dad told me to get out of my own head, and walked away. Neither was willing to just listen, even when all I needed to do was talk. Grandma was always willing to listen, and indeed I had several long talks with her in the weeks before she died, talks about my doubts and fears, what I should do with my life, that endless search. Then she died, suddenly and unexpectedly, and I lost the only person in my life who ever really listened. And I felt like the world was falling down around my ears. I still do. I didn’t talk about her death, didn’t cry much at her funeral, didn’t acknowledge what I was feeling. The thing I needed most was a hug, just someone to hold me, but my family was wrapped up in their own grief, and the one time that I asked to talk, my mother refused, saying angrily “I just lost my mother!” among other things, and basically telling me to go away, as if it were just her that was hurting, and just her feelings that were valid. At the funeral, people, strangers and “family friends” who I barely knew kept telling me to ‘be strong’ and not be sad and ‘know’ that she was with God. That doesn’t really work when you’re not too sure if God exists, but I just kept my mouth shut and nodded...So I stuffed everything inside. Now, I swear it’s eating me alive, and I just want everything to go away. I can’t make it go away. I just bottle it up further every time it threatens to come out, and instead of crying or getting angry I get sick to my stomach, or I get panic attacks, or nightmares. I feel like I’m falling and I can’t stop. I’ve even considered asking to be hospitalized, but I can’t afford it. I’ve done a decent job hiding all this from most, though. The only thing I’ve talked to until now is my diary.

So. Why I’m telling you this I don’t even really know, other than the fact that I trust you. I don’t know who else to tell. I doubt anyone cares. I’m sorry. A word of advice, or something...I don’t know. I’m being honest now, completely honest, for what it’s worth. I’m hurting. I admit it, more to myself than anyone else.

~Beth

*****

Yep, I just wrote this letter to Jim. I already said everything I feel like saying tonight. Gonna go stare at the ceiling for a while and hope I fall asleep.

10/24/01

6:36 PM

Good evening. (Said in a Transylvanian Dracula-like drawl.) No, I do not vant to suck your blood. EWWWWW! Muah ha ha ha ha!!!! (Gorsh, I didn’t realize how many ways there are to misspell HA until now! Try typing really really fast and repeatedly. Muah ha ha ha ha!) (Yeah, “gorsh.” Come on, it’s Goofy! Remember him? The big stupid clumsy dog-like guy? Okay, fine. Pout.) Lol. Yes, surprisingly, I’m in a GOOD MOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!! Damn, you ask, how come?! Why the sudden change of pace? Why no gloom and doom? Well, I just came from counseling, after a brief stop for help with my theory homework. Yeppers, that’s it. Talk about catharsis. Encarta world english dictionary: “Catharsis: 3. PSYCHIATRY purging of complexes: the process of bringing to the surface repressed emotions, complexes, and feelings in an effort to identify and relieve them, or the result of this process.
[Early 19th century. Via modern Latin from Greek katharsis , from kathairein "to purge, cleanse," from katharos "pure, clean."] ”

Yeppers! The gentleman that I have been speaking with is named Jonathan Harker. He’s cool. (Hey, wasn’t the guy in Dracula named Jonathan Harker??? Yes, yes he was...) I’m liking this talking thing. Talk is good. Very very good. There’s a song in my heart and I danced back to the dorm while performing umbrella juggling. Do you have any idea how many different ways there are to catch an umbrella?? No?! Well, why not?! What’s that? You don’t regularly juggle umbrellas? Pah. I bite my thumb at thee. OUCH!!!! Okay, damn it, I DON’T bite my thumb at thee. Nevertheless, you really must try umbrella juggling. You’ll get the hang of it before you lose BOTH your eyes. After that, it’s really fun!
Playing with the rattie. She’s being spastic again. Zip, zing, swoosh, nip, squeak, jump, fly, plop, leap! Lick my nose, bite my fingers, crawl on my head, wrap tail around my neck, crawl on the keyboard, steal my ring from my desk and hide it in the blankets, chew on my watch to try to do the same, sniff my ear, stick paw in my ear whilst I squirm away cursing and yelling “Snow, stop it!” Get picked up by the tail and placed gently back into the cage, only to crawl out again five seconds later. *Sigh.* Grab and eat teabag, shredding it all over the floor and bed. Get picked up by the tail and placed gently back into the cage, only to crawl out again five seconds later. Climb on lap, and repeat cycle from beginning.

Note to self: Get lobotomy before ever considering purchasing another rat...

You know what they say: I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy. (It’s not mine, I heard it first in the musical “The Mystery of Edwin Drood!” In fact, Doug said it. My pal Doug, the guy who taught me what I know about stage managing and various other theatrical things, the guy I worked most directly under at Summerfare Theatre for two years. So hah! I blow raspberries at thee!*nasty rude sound, unfit to be repeated in polite company* Lol!)

With that fine note, I close this for the moment to go get some dinner. I’ll be back. Muah ha ha ha ha!

8:32 PM

Well, now that my crazy giddiness has cooled somewhat, I am utterly and completely exhausted. I may actually sleep tonight. That would be fantastic. Anyhoo, time for some thinking. And analyzing, mayhap.

What I feel when I think of Grandma:

1) Fear

2) Nauseated

3) Profound sadness

4) anger

5) confused

6) pain

7) anger

8) doubts

9) fear

10) anger

11)hatred

12) pain pain pain pain pain pain pain

13) nauseated.

14) tired

15) loss

16) hurt

17) loneliness

18) anger

19) sadness

20) tired

21) uncertainty

22)ummm...I dunno. I just had to add a number because I didn’t want to stop on 21 because that number is said to be representative of life. Kinda ironic to stop there when what I’m talking about is death. >:-/ Numerology sucks. Worthless and pointless, but what the hell.

Things I wish I could have said to Grandma one last time:

I love you. You mean the world to me. I love you. I love you I love you I love you.

I wish I had more time with her. She was everything to me...

Random thoughts:

I hate Halloween. I think I already touched on this in a previous entry, but...until last year we spent every Halloween at my grandmother’s house. Last year I did not because I was in school, of course, but the rest of the family did. This year my sister is going trick-or-treating at her pal Jane’s house. No one cares to mention the reason why. It remains unspoken and unacknowledged, even though we all know what it is. Grandma is gone, and her house is no longer her house. It has been sold for $76,000 or some like sum to the next door neighbor’s daughter. To me it was priceless. To them it’s a house. I feel like I’m losing pieces of my childhood, losing a home and a way of life on top of the loss that I have already suffered. In twenty years will I even remember what her house looked like inside? How about thirty or forty years? I hope I will, but I doubt it. Little bits of memory slip away so easily, along with little bits of time. It’s agonizing really, to know that it’s ticking by inexorably without stop and there isn’t anything that anyone can do to stop it. So you don’t think about it, because that is a crazy thought. Only strange, eccentric, “interesting” people think thoughts like that. What makes a person crazy? Really, honestly, what makes one crazy? Is it not being able to function in generalized society? Who’s to say that the individual isn’t functioning, though? To them things may be perfectly normal. Or is craziness when a person’s behavior disturbs and frightens others so much that they MUST label that individual as crazy rather than admitting that there is any chance that this person is just a little bit like them? “Because if he or she is this way, gee, couldn’t there be a chance, just a small one, that I am also this way?? No, no, that can’t be! He’s...he’s...he’s CRAZY!” Is that what defines crazy? A label? An upsetting thought.

Hmmmm. I’m waxing philosophical again. Damn. ;-)

Anyhoo, back to what I was talking about...wait, what WAS I talking about? Who the hell knows. Forget it. *grumble* Regular fuckin’ lunatic.

Hey, do you know where the word lunatic originated? Originally it was believed that “craziness” had something to do with the cycles of the moon...full moon and all that jazz. Therefore: Luna; moon...gave us lunatic! Useless trivia strikes again. Well, I did title this section “random thoughts.” Give me a break!

So. As you can see, my good mood has not dissipated entirely. My unusual brand of wry humor is shining bright tonight. Forgive me, I ooze sarcasm on a good day. Today I seem to be drowning in it. The cynic in me is alive and well. Thank you, Dad.

Yoink. Back to normal-thought-land. Riiiight. Happy nine o six. I waste more time writing in this thing...think of all the homework I could be doing right now!

9:29 PM

*Sigh.* I just read back over all of my entries since August 15th, which was idiotic because now I’m depressed. Sometimes I wonder if this diary does more harm than good.

9:42 PM

What the hell am I doing?? Besides sitting here waiting for Wolf Lake to come on? Oh, I forgot...NOT A DAMN THING BECAUSE I AM A LAZY SLUG!!!!!! Hi Mom. So, what planet am I from again?? I don’t know either. Random quote: I have issues. Random thought after looking outside: Wow, it looks like it’s blowing up for a tornado! I’m going to go stand out there! Maybe lightning will strike...after all, I have a magnetic personality! Riiight. AGGH! Rain coming in window! Wet! WET! I’M MELTING! Meeeellllltiiing! Oh what a world... *thud*

10/25/01

1:36

*buuuuuuurp* ewwww. I just ‘ate lunch.’ It was more like stared at lunch. Ate bits and pieces, got nauseous, and threw out lunch. Yum yum. My belly hates me. I’m very thirsty, though. I guess that’s okay, at least I’m consuming something. Hey, guess what? I SLEPT last night! It was awesome! I actually slept. Then I skipped my first class this morning and slept some more. I got about 11 hours of sleep total. It was beautiful! I so did not want to get up at all to go to studio, but I told myself I needed to, and I did. Good Beth. God, it’s windy here today! And chilly, too. But the sky is blue and the sun is shining, so all in all it isn’t too bad. Well well well, I have hit page 99 of this strange odyssey. (and I figured out how to spell odyssey! Spellcheck rules!) A feat indeed! How do I feel today? Hmmm. Hmmm. I’m foggy-headed, for one. Detached feeling. And somewhat sleepy. But I’m all right. I think. (That’s always a loaded gun.)

Let’s see...do I talk about things and think about them, and then get myself all depressed? Or do I walk in blissful foggy numbness for a while? Or do I just go back to bed? The latter is most tempting. *snore* Oops. No, I need to go to my 2:30 class. Have to be good today. No more skippers. Es necesario ir a la clase. Or something like that. I miss Spanish, I’m losing all that I knew because I haven’t spoken it in so long. C’est la vie. Ooops, that’s not Spanish! Lol. ;-)

I miss Grandma. (Numbness slipping...noooooo.) Sleepy. Go back to sleep...NO. Go to class! Must go to class! Sleep...class! Sleep...CLASS! Ugh.

Anxiety today? Scale of 1-10... approximately 2. Not bad at all. My most anxious thought right now is that I might get called on to sing in aural training and make an ass of myself as usual. That and I want to go back to bed. Bed is slowly winning, here. Damn. What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m really tired. But I really, really need to be in class because my grades are slipping, and I don’t want to think about what I’m going to have to tell Mom when I come home with bad marks. It’s always a battle, even now that I’m in college. Even now that I’m an “adult.” *sigh* I’m TIRED.

I’m bouncing like a freakin’ yo-yo here. I hop from tired but happy to unhappy to pensive to tired to numb to foggy to happy to giddy to depressed to exhausted. Kill me now. I’m just going to go back to sleep. God damn it. Okay. Bed wins. Now I feel guilty because I’m missing yet another class. Why do I even have to fight this fight? Normal people do not do this on a day to day basis. :-(

Why do I do this to myself?

I’m going to sleep, now that I can. Tonight, who knows?