My first true, pure love

A couple of months ago, I wrote about my love rules and exes; the difficulties that arise around relationships due to religion and my parents; how I don't even bother trying to date (let alone getting in a relationship), even if I have a crush on someone, because of my supposed impossibly high standards and endless checklist of traits; how I had only recently learned what -platonic- love is; and that I did actually find a guy that, minus a few things, lived up to all those standards and checked everything off my list, that I decided to take a chance with and that I was falling head over heels for.

Well... It ended. It was a long distance relationship that lasted about five months. Saturday 12 January we met. Tuesday 22 January I confessed my feelings for him. Saturday 6 April we saw each other again for the first time and had a perfect, magical night. Thursday 23 May we had an entire day together and even got to perform together, it was absolutely great. He said it was perfect.

We didn't see each other much, but we talked almost every day. I never had butterflies, but I was crazy about him and never stopped thinking about him. I pondered whether I loved this guy; if I should take a chance and tell my parents; wondered if I could go against my religion for him, or if I should avoid that thought until it was absolutely necessary to think about, because I knew it's something I can't do, and it'd come down to breaking up with him and I didn't want to break his heart (or my own).
It was different for him. On his side of the screen, the butterflies stopped and simply knowing I cared for him wasn't enough. I don't say that with any resentment; I understand that it's hard to be in a relationship with barely any physical contact; not even eye contact! After all, I had to go through it too, and I'd prefer it otherwise too!

At some point he started talking to me less and less, but I figured he was just busy with his projects and friends, and that he wanted to talk to me just as badly, but he just didn't have the time. Around Monday 3 June I noticed he wasn't just barely talking to me anymore, but he became was distant, curt ánd unaffectionate too.

Around Tuesday 11 June I decided I'd stop talking to him too, because I wasn't going to send him miles of text and put in so much effort while he did none. A week and a half of silence followed and I pretty much figured it wasn't going to work out. In this time, I prepared to detach myself from him, tried to end/shut off my feelings for him, and got used to the idea of just being friends, while I hoped I wouldn't have to like that. I was hurt and angry and wondered why he wouldn't talk to me, why he didn't even ask or wonder why I wasn't talking to him, why he didn't miss me, if I should ask him "Should I just assume this relationship degraded back to friend-status?".

I had to hear it from him to be sure, so Friday 21 June after the agonizing, too long lasting one-and-a-half week of silence, I asked him what was going on and he let the cat out of the bag. He told me how he felt; about the butterflies and the distance; about us not seeing each other often enough; him not being happy (in general); not really being ready to be in a real, serious relationship; not knowing what he wants from a relationship; not knowing what a relationship is really supposed to be like, what he's supposed to do and stuff; that he knows relationships change people and that he likes the way he is right now; and that he thought it might be best if we'd go on as friends.

I handled it very well: I was calm, rational and understanding, I didn't make a scene, I was honest about how I felt (okay, but a little heartbroken; I still had a lot of feelings for him, even though I knew I wouldn't have gotten past the religion thing and it couldn't work out anyway), I told him that it was okay and I knew it was for the best, and that the last thing I'd want for him was to be unhappy, much less feel trapped in a relationship with me. We talked about it and ended things on good terms. Our last conversation ended on Tues/Wed 25/26 June and I haven't talked to him since.

I wanted to talk about it to my niece; she was there with me when it all went down. The day I met this guy, she also met her boyfriend; the day I only confessed my feelings, they decided to already be official 'boyfriend & girlfriend'; they got engaged pretty fast; and when I had the breakup conversation, I happened to be with her and she invited her fiancée over, pretty much ignored me and didn't talk to me about it at all. By the way, this girl is only two years younger than me and she's like my sister; she and I are so close, have so much history and had me be there for her bad times só many times. What a friend she was to me, aye?!

Tornado
Anyway, I wanted to talk to her about it or to anyone else I was physically with, but I couldn't. I couldn't get a word out of my throat without trouble. I would've choked up or cried. And I don't cry in front of people, especially not about boys! Or I would have been incomprehensible, because there was too I wanted to say, too much going on in my head. I couldn't stop thinking. I could only stare out in front of me and let a million thoughts consume me. They went though my head, all at the same time, crossing each other and each one trying to be louder than the next. As if I was sitting, paralyzed, I didn't feel any lighter or heavier, relieved or full, better or worse. I didn't feel lost, but I didn't know exactly what to do then either. I felt like I had eaten just enough: I didn't need anything, I didn't want to do anything, I didn't want to think or nothing. But I did think. I couldn't stop thinking, because I sat, paralyzed in the eye of a tornado made up of loud ghosts, all trying to grab me and drag me along.

Ghosts
They all looked the same, but some were ghosts of the past, trying to cling on to the relationship.
I had the near-perfect guy for me... and I lost him?! How can I ever possibly stop thinking about this? How will I ever stop missing this great guy? This one person I finally found that really understood me, that I shared so much fun with?
And some were trying to deny it, making the breakup feel surreal to me. I saw it coming for weeks beforehand, I already detached myself from him; I know it's over, I understand it, I realize it... but it doesn't feel like it's over or like we we're apart. How could it be? We're so perfect for each other! It's illogical for us not to be together! We're so deeply connected, we sensed each other! We understand each other! It just makes no sense.
Others were hopeful, in a hopeless way. It's okay. He needs his time and his space, it's all good. Maybe some day we'll be together again. When he's grown and knows what he wants, he'll realize it's me. Maybe we'll end up living closer together and it wíll work out. Or we'll have changed our minds in a way that we will be spiritually compatible! It's all possible of course, but it's only wishful thinking. I shouldn't hold on to him based on maybe's and what if's and some day's.

Spirits
I had mood swings every few minutes and I'm not even kidding, but the emotional roller coaster remained surprisingly high and optimistic overall. The thoughts were insanity inducing, but I never felt like things were completely hopeless and depressing, because luckily, there weren't only ghosts, but also spirits.
The spirits stayed close to me and kept trying to grab me as well, but instead of filling my head with thoughts, they tried to bring me peace of mind by lifting me up, all the way to the top of the tornado and launching me up above it, so that I might see clearly, and be out of reach of the ghosts and maybe get away from them and out of the tornado. It didn't work immediately, but it did work. Twice, I even hit high peaks and felt euphoric for a while. And at those high, intensely happy moments, I understood the very essence of the famous quote "'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." Or in simpler phrasing: I'm happier that it happened, than I am sad that it ended.

Love
You see, I realized... I do love him. Like genuinely, truly, purely love him. Not love in any way I've known before. Loving family is obviously different, I have expectations from them. Friends, I have expectations of too. Boyfriends, as possible life partners, I have the highest standards for and expectations of, and he... he didn't disappoint me at all. Which is a very hard thing to do, since I'm very easily let down and moved on from someone.
I really love him for him; for who he is, as a person. I want the best for him, and for him to be happy, and I would do what I could to make that happen. Not because I want something from him, or because I hope making him happy will make him like me or want to be with me, not because I expect him to love me back, to compliment me, to think highly of me, or to give me presents (?!). I don't expect anything or want anything back from him, I don't even need him to be in my life, if he doesn't want that. It doesn't mean that if he's happy, I'm happy; but if he's unhappy, it does make me unhappy as well.

Tears
If he hadn't broken up with me, ironically, I wouldn't have known that I truly wish the best for him, even if it hurts me. Because it did. And you know what? I did cry. Hard. And not just once either. I actually sobbed; bawled my eyes out over a guy. Several times. Let me recap that: I have cried my eyes dry, over. A. Guy. Repeatedly. Not in front of anyone, but still, can you believe that? That's not like me! And what's even more unbelievable, is that it's okay. It is. I don't feel bad about it. About any of it. I have no regrets, because he was worth my tears and everything else. He is not without flaws, but he's definitely exceptional.
And had we not been together and now apart, I would not have known that I love him or even that I have it in me to love... in such a pure way. I truly didn't know if I could love and I have doubted myself on that subject many times. It feels good. And I'm glad that I love him the way I do, because if I didn't, I don't know if I had been able to let go of him (irony is very present in my life). It made me feel so... unselfish, rational, loving... healthy. And stable. It was very refreshing for me to feel that way.

Confusion

The spirits also helped me see that there were so many good firsts! The first time I didn't settle for a crush, but waited for someone who was a genuinely nice and good great guy; someone I really clicked and sparked with; a guy I made a great match with; someone worth falling in love with and cracking my heart open for. The first time I felt sexually attracted to a guy (asexual; more about that some other time). My first love. The first time I didn't do the breaking up. The first time I can actually remain friends with my ex. The first time I really felt feelings like this at a break up. The first time I cried like that over a guy. 
But then a ghost grabbed me, I was being pulled between the two. It only confused me. This was my first love and it was over! Shouldn't I be more torn? I am torn! It sucks that it's over! But it had to end sometime anyway, right? This is love, I'm allowed to not be rational and feel like crap! But I can't be irrational! I hate when I am and nothing good ever comes of it; it only causes internal turmoil and chaos!

How was I going to survive this torture my very own mind was making me go through? I just wanted time to either stand still or speed up; anything that would just get rid of the agony! I didn't know what to do with myself, the inner conflict was so confusing. Feeling like you're still attached to someone when you aren't and not knowing how to let go, while at the same time constantly knowing and reminding yourself that it's not so bad; it's not the end of the world; there's someone perfect for me out there, this guy's only near-perfect; I shouldn't settle, because that would be untrue to my wants and needs ánd keep him from finding his perfect soul mate too! It was a classic case of heart vs. brain. Knowing and understanding that something is for the best, and even accepting it, doesn't mean that you'll feel fine and happy about it. Not immediately anyway.

Forever
I know I'll be fine. The breakup wasn't too long ago, and no day has passed without me thinking about him yet, but he hasn't been my main thought in a while now. Even now, as I write this, I think about the relationship, but not actively about him. I know that he's secured a place in my heart for sure, and it makes me wonder if all the feelings will come bubbling back up when I meet him or talk to him again, or if I will ever be able to really, completely move on. Let's just say I'll never get over him! And deem it true, because the moment I move on, a new forever starts. One thing's for sure though: he has set the bar very high for other guys, and it'll be incredibly hard to find someone that holds a candle to him.

But to give this post a positive, sweet closure, I'll say this:

The relationship started with great passion and magic, it ran its course without a single fight, and then it ended at a good time and on good terms.

Facebook: I don't care about your life

I've felt like deleting my Facebook for over a year now, because 99% of what I say, do, share and read on there is a worthless waste of time. But I keep it because it's convenient. The chat is the main way I keep in contact with a few important people, its groups are easy for school and other things I keep myself busy with (such as writing and gaming for example), and I simply don't have that kind of network on LinkedIn.

But actually, I want to forget about almost all of the people I know or have on there. They have so little to contribute and bring so much bullshit to the table. I don't want to think about what they could mean to me and my goals, because of their network and connections and people they know. I'll like your anecdote or the picture of you getting your diploma, but really... what difference does that make in my life? Thanks for the laugh and good for you and all that, but it's not like I'm hating on you or jealous or resentful if I don't like it. But also, what does it matter to you? If five people like it or fifty or five hundred, the people that really matter aren't going to love you or be proud of you any more or less because of it. It's nice that people can stand you, or like you, or think you're funny, or hot, but what does popularity matter? It's not going to make you a better person. It's only useful when you're actually trying to achieve something.

I stopped accepting people I don't know or don't like. And I try to clean up my friends list every once in a while, but since I started filtering people before accepting them, there aren't many to delete. Still, I don't like having almost 500 friends, so I decided to look at the list in a different way: whose lives are interesting to me and who do I really care about having in my life? It inspired me to write something that I didn't have the balls to post:

Why don't I be honest here, okay? Several, if not all of the following applies to you: I don't talk with you, I don't laugh or have fun with you, something about you annoys me, you don't impress me, you do the opposite of impressing me, you don't inspire me, what happens in your life doesn't really matter to me and most of your opinions probably don't either. 
It's nothing that should bother you; I'm not easily impressed, but I am easy disappointed. There's a handful of people I talk with, laugh/have fun with and care about; a different handful that impress or inspire me; and only very few people overall manage not to disappoint me. I'm probably not in your 1% either and that's fine. 
Why don't I delete you? Because anyone can be useful to me and my goals: because of your events, your connections/network, or just your support (that I now probably lost). Let me put that in nicer words: regardless of who you are, what you do, or what I think of you, you are never useless and I could need you. And aside from that it's because...
~I don't want to hurt your feelings or explain how I feel about you
~you and/or your friends look good and I just like to creep through the pictures; 
~we might hang out again someday like we used to, even though we probably won't; 
~you have a cool talent/skills or do something awesome that I don't mind supporting. 

It just states something we all do and know: we all use each other, even if we don't like each other, because we still need each other. Not many people say it or state it publicly, because it's an inconvenient, ugly truth and that makes people awkward. That makes it impolite and not socially acceptable. Especially if you add that you don't really care about the other party or even find them annoying, because it takes the general selfishness to a personal level and that makes it even more offensive. It will make people feel bad about themselves and about the OP for saying it; will it do anyone any good?

I know I'm selfish: I want people to do for me what I don't really want to do for the majority of them. It bothers me that I have this collection of people that I need, but rarely enjoy talking to or spending time with. I have to tolerate them and occasionally show interest in them for my own sake; for when I stop feeling hateful and feel loving and optimistic again, when I work on my dreams and goals and need them.
Because I will need them. To support me; morally, with words, by cheering, by attending, by purchasing my product, or otherwise. To view and review my work; to find me interesting and to appreciate or critique my work. To help me find a place to live. After all, that is the purpose that social bonds and networks serve.

We all need communities, but I think I really prefer the time of blogs, forums and MSN. On my blog I'll spam whatever I feel like saying, without worrying about likes or comments or whatever anyone else thinks. On forums I'll ask my questions and get my information and summaries and articles and other interesting things for school and for my interests and for whatever else. And on MSN (or Skype or Whatsapp) I'll talk and stay in touch with the important and interesting people.

The only thing Facebook really added, other than networking/people collecting, is easy stalking.

Sick

I'm sick. I'm barely eating, because almost everything tastes awful or makes me nauseated, I'm not hungry, or full after two bites, or I simply refuse to eat, even if I am hungry. I don't know if I'm lovesick, if it's the ADD, if I'm bipolar or if it's just from all the brain-wrecking. I've been feeling depressed for months now, but even more so the past few weeks. Which is striking, cause it's been peaceful at home and it's actually been warmer and sunnier, so logically, I should be feeling better and happier, but I feel worse.

It's as if nothing really matters, like none of my goals and ambitions are worthwhile, and I can barely get myself to do anything, cause I keep wondering what the point of it all is anyway. So I don't do anything and I don't care that I'm being useless, but it bothers me that I feel like an unmotivated, unambitious loser. What am I living for? What am I working towards? I don't know.
It just makes me want to lie in bed and be asleep, cause I don't have the energy to do anything or to think any more. So sometimes I sleep, or at least don't leave my bed, for over sixteen hours. Of course, I tend do that when I feel good as well, but lazing around and enjoying a stress free day is obviously different from hiding from the world and trying to escape into sleep.

I do have my happier moments, but they are fleeting. Sometimes they are enough to create a momentum for me and I start doing something. When I do, I try my hardest to stay in the game as long as possible and finish as much as possible and then some. It feels good to be able to cross things off my to-do-list and it makes me feel somewhat productive, but I still don't get much satisfaction from it. Mostly, I'm trying to keep myself busy by forcing myself to keep going as long as possible and refusing to go to bed even when I'm exhausted. Which is another thing I also do when I feel good, but then I stay up to have fun instead and don't go past the point of exhaustion.
Overworking and depriving myself of sleep seems like the only way to keep my mind at ease, as it's preoccupied with relatively positive things, rather than the dilemmas that keep circling in my head over and over and over again to no end. I know the way to stop these seemingly never-ending thoughts; I should talk about it with the people those thoughts are about. But I don't know how. It's scary. It will set things in motion and cause change. And since most possible outcomes are lose-either-way-situations, it feels better to stay frozen where I am. Except that 'here' isn't frozen and is becoming an increasingly awful place to be too...

I'm aware of the destructiveness of my behavior, but quite frankly, I don't care. I don't plan on changing anything about it. If anything, I'm curious about my limits, I want to know how long it will take before I can't stand it anymore and what will happen at that point. 

Maybe I'm just sick in the head...

Love

Oh the art of spamming! Had I known it's so much like freewriting and that neither has to be nonsense, I would have made much more blog posts over the years. I know I have a knack for not being able to shut up about certain things, but how silly of me not to realize I can vent that to the internet!

A current, perhaps interesting topic in my life is 'love'.

Let me give you the backstory:
In 2009 I had a boyfriend whom I broke up with after a month, but ended up staying with for two more months. It was short, but had a big impact, beause my mother found out about him just after we broke up. "Found out?" Yes, found out. My  mother is a very conservative, strict, religious woman and does not approve of me even talking to guys if it's not absolutely necessary. All hell broke loose and I've been quite traumatized by the event. Regardless of the trauma, I did learn a thing or two from the relationship alone, so I set up three rules for myself:

• I have to be 20 before I start even thinking about dating again. (Cause it all got way too serious, way too fast and I was only 16/17 back then.)
• I have to get to know him well enough before even considering dating him. (It was like a rock-star crush; I admired him from afar, but didn't really know him well at all.)
• No dating anyone in my circle of friends. (Similar to the 'not dating anyone you work with' rule.)

I could only break the rules if I was really head over heels crazy for the guy. About six months later, I decided that was the case, tossed the 'not before I'm 20' rule out the window and got myself into a relationship again. It lasted seven months and ended in June 2010. That was my longest, most serious and so far, last relationship. After that I added some more rules and actually, really stuck by 'em.

• He has to be of the same faith as I am. (Both exes were extremely disrespectful of any religion and being a religious person, that doesn't work for me.)
• I have to be physically attracted to him. (As it turns out, I'm somewhat of an asexual, so I no more sexually attracted to them, than I was to anyone else. And they were sweet, but I didn't find them good looking at all. Regardless of sexual attraction, at least liking how your SO looks is still really important, I learned.)
• I have to be head over heels crazy for him. (Now really a rule, because this wasn't really the case and I shouldn't just go for any guy I have a crush on.)

Both of them got serious very fast, both started saying they loved me and both talked about the future a lot. Maybe I have commitment issues, but that freaked me the hell out. Both times I felt trapped, got awkward and uncomfortable and looked for the nearest escape exit. Staying with them while they were far more committed to the relationship than I was, just cause I was scared to break up didn't seem fair to me. Eventually feelings were going to get hurt regardless, so it was best to just stop anticipating the hurt feelings and just get it over with.

Even if I was the one doing the breaking up with them, it's still a bitter pill to swallow each time. I didn't want to do that again; hurt anyone when deep inside I knew from the start that that was going to happen... I decided I wouldn't get into a relationship again, unless I was sure I could give them a fair chance to get involved in something that wasn't doomed from the start. To make sure of that, I made an elaborate list of what's important to me in a guy, deal breakers, preferences, turnoffs and everything else I could think of. It turned into a description of what the perfect guy would be for me, and to keep it as accurate as possible I kept editing it and adding to it.

So far it's worked wonderfully. It may be a defense mechanism, it may be putting the bar unrealistically high, but holding on to The List and The Rules, I learned to control myself and avoid hurt feelings by putting knowledge ahead of feelings. I also found out that I get crushes all the time, but that they always pass, because there's always something about them I really don't like or some point that we clash on. The guys never made it past my rule about religion, and that became a deal breaker, pretty much ending any crush I had on anyone. Once or twice I'd get a bigger crush and still really like them, but since religion is incredibly important to me, I actively checked my list for other things the guy didn't correspond with. That seemed to do the trick, at least, to keep myself from acting on the feelings.

Now, not all the items on The List are equally important and of course I'm willing to look past minor things, but nevertheless, I run a tight ship when it comes to love. The home situation and my parents' approval greatly contributes to and affects the way I handle things. This goes back to the whole 'not getting into a relationship that never had a chance', because I know of myself that I'll find it incredibly hard to against my parents' wishes, still don't want to do things secretly and because of that will probably find my feelings for the guy to be less important. That may sound harsh and dumb, and with all the pondering about moving out recently, I've realized that I do let my parents have far too much influence on me and that I should stand up for myself and for what I want more.

But keep in mind I love my mentally unstable parents and their happiness is important to me. They don't even ask for much; just that the guy be of our faith as well. Luck has it though, that those guys never seem interesting to me, at least no more than as friends. I also realize that you might think that if I really love a guy, I'd choose for him, since I'd have to spend my life with him, not with my parents. But I'd like to keep both my parents and the guy in my life, and getting disowned by my parents for staying with the guy, is not that and would make me miserable. However dramatic that sounds, it's not an exaggeration, unfortunately.

Aside from that, I've only recently learned what love is. As I mentioned, the exes said they loved me, but I rarely replied or only hesitantly. I didn't really know if I loved them. I realized afterwards that I didn't and I wondered if I would ever experience love for anyone, if I could ever feel that close to and strongly about someone. I'm happy to say that I do and I understand it now. It's not a romantic love however, it's platonic. The guy I've been calling my best friend for maybe six months now, I love him. He knows me better than anyone and accepts everything about me; though some of his views are different from mine, I accept him for everything he is and I'll support him if he needs me to; I feel comfortable telling him anything; he never makes me feel bad or guilty about ranting and venting to him; he knows how to cheer me up, even if he probably doesn't know that; he supports me; he tells me his secrets and troubles as well, which makes me feel confided in and important to him; and I could go on and on. Around month ago I realized I never told him I see him as my best friend and I told him. He was happy about it and didn't say I was his, but that's perfectly fine. Because it doesn't make him less important to me, it doesn't change that I care about him, how I feel about him or how I treat him. (FYI, it's not a case of friend zoning, cause he doesn't swing that way, IYKWIM.)

It took a good three to five years to build up the friendship and finding myself loving him. And after realizing what love is with 'best friend' as my measure, and thinking about the situation with my mother and how I feel about it, how I want to handle it; only after all that I realized that I love my mother. How bat shit crazy is that? Maybe the thing with my mother is more like Stockholm Syndrome, because she's my mother and even though she makes my life hard and awful, we'll always be connected and it's better to love her than not.

Either way though, it's safe to say I'm not very experienced in love and that I don't let people get so close to me very easily. At all. This also shows in the fact that I keep people at a distance with the aid of a freakin' list and in that I may get crushes all the time, big and small, but have never really fallen in love (which, in my understanding, is not the same as loving someone). Hence 'being head over heels for the guy' is a rule. I don't think being critical and demanding is a bad thing. It keeps me from doing things I'll regret and makes sure I'm available when the right guy does come along. As someone who believes in soul mates, I do believe he really will come and when he does, I will fall madly in love with him.

Now here's the kicker... A guy has come along and from day one I knew I was in trouble and that I would fall hard for him. And I have. He's absolutely amazing, almost everything I want in a guy, we're ridiculously compatible and he's just as crazy about me. He's not of the same faith though and along with that, there are some other important things we don't match on. But being in love now, I don't know if I should give it a chance anyway or stick to my principles and let him go...
He agreed on not doing things in secret and with him living three hours away, so we didn't take on an official relationship status and haven't met up since we got to know each other. He understood it would be hard for me to tell my parents and told me to take my time with it. But now over two months have passed and, although I know and can't stand how hard it is to be so far apart for so long, his patience is starting to run out. Do I take a chance and tell my parents? Do I wait and hope he'll be patient enough? Or do I take it as some sort of sign and stop things now? Just thinking about the latter makes my heart sink... But telling my parents would put everything in a rapid and make things a fuckton more serious in an instant. Which would mean that if things didn't work out, it would be that much more painful to put an end to it.

Jeez, man... Is life always going to keep throwing such dilemmas at me at such a  rate?

Misery

I can't take it anymore... I don't even know what to write. I feel exactly like I did back when I was twelve. When I was depressed. I hate this. I don't wanna fall back into the pit. But I feel like I'm being pushed and put down, pressed into the ground till I'm in so far deep, I'm back down in that hole anyway.
I've been crying far too much and smiling far too little.
I don't want to listen to the music I did back then and relate like I did back then. I was past that! I moved on. I thought I could be happy...

I see all these inspirational quotes about being happy and being a loving, forgiving person and I completely agree, but it just doesn't seem to work on a depressed, irrational mother. I want it to work and I don't want to give up on it, but I feel like a fly trying to get outside by consistently flying into a closed window. I know it's there and I want to get there so badly, but it's just not happening.

Back then, I didn't have anyone to turn to. Now I have friends, but I don't know who to turn to. They know my story, but who understands? I keep hearing how I should just leave, or just not care and tell her exactly how things are. Or contrarily, how I should not take it so hard or take solace in the thought that I'm really not the only one that goes through this.

My mother keeps telling me I should behave properly, like a girl from my background and our religion, not like a black girl or a white girl or a Christian or a Jew or anything other than 'what I am'. Certainly not like a blond, blue eyed white girl. And that none of those girls act the way I do. Hearing what a terrible daughter I am - in perspective! That sure is motivating...

She keeps talking about how, other than the people in this very household, your first family, no one can't be trusted. That she wants to protect me. And I have indeed been hurt by girls I thought were my best friends, but I've learned from it. I've grown into a stronger, wiser person because of it. No thanks to her though.
Wasn't she supposed to be the one person I am always supposed to be able to go to for love, support and understanding? While I felt hurt and betrayed by my first and only friends of five years, she was clueless of that fact and kept on trying to 'protect me' from the outside world, by trying to scare me and putting me down.

According to her, I can't do anything right and I will never be able to live with other people being the way I am. That's what I've listened to over the years. For years I was anxious about my clumsiness and awkwardness, but I've grown more confident than most people around me. I'd gotten over the idea that I can't do anything right, I've learned people accept me with all my weirdness, clumsiness and silliness and I've learned to accept myself. But only now do I realize I still believe her words. To her I still can't do things right and I'm scared to move out, because I'm scared I wont make it on my own and I'm scared to live with roommates, cause I fear I'd be too difficult to live with.

Of all the people in the world, she is the only one who keeps hurting me over and over and over again, the only one I've allowed to hurt me for such a long time. So why do I keep letting her? Why do I still want her approval? Why do I feel like I'm the horrible person here for wanting to leave?

This situation sucks. I feel stuck. Whatever I do, it's wrong. I never know what she'll think. There are rare occasions when she's rational, or at least tries to be and I have hope that that side of her is who she really is underneath all the crazy and that it's the depression that takes over and makes her be insane. But that's what I hope, I don't know if it's true. Maybe she really is the way she usually is.

I've experienced firsthand that you control your own happiness -to the most extent anyway. It's hard to do something about fucked up hormones and neurons, like when you're depressed. But you can choose whether you're reactive or proactive; you can choose how you react to things, events and other people. I find that adults should know this and be in control of their own lives and emotions as much as they can be. I try to be that way myself, but I know my mother isn't. Based on having lived with her for almost 21 years, I feel like leaving would make her feel out of control, stressed, angry, guilty, sad, even more depressed and lonely... I've heard her cry before and I've seen her curled up as a tiny little ball, crawled up in a corner, crying before... It's heartbreaking. It's my fault. I never know what to do. And knowing my actions (moving out) would cause that in tenfold can't get past my conscious.

I don't fucking want to abandon her, but I can't fucking stay here either! I know I'm not in control of her happiness (clearly, or I would've done something right), but apparently I do affect her misery. Negatively. I can keep trying to be the perfect daughter to her, but well.. I already covered that in the last post...

Moving out

In less than two months I am going to be 21. The earliest record I have of not wanting to live here with my parents, is from back when I was 14. It's a list of things I'd need to bring with me to survive and live properly if I were to run away. I know it had been on my mind much longer than that, but by then I started considering it more and more and taking the thought more seriously. I remember I never being much of an impulse buyer, but I started becoming even less materialistic, so that when push came to shove, I could just grab everything I needed and wanted and get outta here. Minimalism, a desire to be on the move (migrate, travel), relying on myself and becoming as independent as possible... They've all become some of the most important parts of who I am, along with the thought that everything is evanescent.

That may have a depressing tone to it, but it's just as much liberating. It helps to not become too attached to anything and to think things through before you consciously decide to bond. It helps not to get upset about little things and opens you up to see more important things. Not letting yourself be defined by your possessions, your income, your clothes or looks does wonders for your self esteem and confidence. I started looking within and wondered what I had to do to become a person that could survive.

I realize that it sketches a rather gloomy image: a fourteen year old girl worrying about these things instead of about typical things like grades, what to wear, whether that boy notices her and that misunderstanding with her friend. But I was depressed back then... Grades weren't the top of my concern, but I got by on average grades. I didn't care much about looking good or cute (refer back to the previous paragraph), had too low self esteem to consider any guy would ever notice me and I didn't have any friends. Aside from surviving, I also wondered what I had to do to become a person I would like to be friends with, someone I would admire, someone I wouldn't find annoying... but that's all a different story.

For years I wanted to run away, but I never once did. As I got older and less depressed, the plan changed, little by little. At one point I was counting down the days till I'd turn 18. The dream was to buy a hippie van, find a friend with drivers license to get it to my house at midnight on my birthday, help me load in all my stuff and just bail. But the more I approached eighteen, the better things got at home. I was also in the middle of my high school exams and I wasn't going to mess that up after so many years of convincing myself to wait with the running away, cause I didn't want to be a high school drop out.

After high school I worked for a year and my mother completely mellowed out for some reason and the desire to move out wasn't so apparent anymore. I started seeing things differently and should I leave home, I wouldn't run away and cut off all contact, but rather move out. When I started going to college after that year, things got stricter again and since I started actually doing homework and needed to do more outside of school, I realized I wanted to be more independent, to live by my own rules and in my own space. I wanted to move away, but for inherently different reasons than before. Because I behaved a little more responsible, I grew to act a little more adult, I cultivated a desire to grow up even more. And the environment wasn't optimal for that.

And now, halfway though my second year of college, I've thought about moving out quite often; one time being absolutely certain I should, the other time doubting whether it really is such a good idea. I've made a list of pro's and con's, with calculations and considerations and I've come to the conclusion... It's hard either way.

Living with my parents is just as easy as it not. I don't have to do all the grocery shopping, I don't have to cook for myself, I do my own laundry, I get nagged to help around the house more, but rarely really have to and I get reminded to do something about my faith, which is done in an annoying way, but I appreciate the thought. I can live the lazy life! That may sound nice, but as a person that has lots of goals, ambitions, dreams  and desires to be more, it's not so great.
I feel like a caged bird with clipped wings. I don't mind eating the bird seeds my owner feeds me, but I want to spread my wings, fly over large fields and eat worms I fought for and berries I found on my own. I want to see the world, sing the songs I like and fly with other birds.
I want disapproved clothes to stop disappearing, sleep and eat when I deem it's the right time to do so, walk around in my underpants and sleep naked. I want to be able to study and do my things without being bothered constantly. I want my trustworthiness to stop being called into question constantly, to stop being affected by my mother's mood swings, stop feeling guilty and overly conscious of everything I do because of her emotional blackmail and to stop being bothered or jealous of the thought that my brother gets favored.

Moving out seems like a simple choice if you see that, but I know living on my own wouldn't exactly be a walk in the park either. Attending class, having an internship, doing homework, doing the groceries, cleaning, laundry, dishes, cooking for myself and other household chores, taking care of myself, working a job to pay for everything, keeping up with my social life, working on religion... It would be stressful and downright exhausting! But I would be making myself useful, I would become much more responsible and independent, which is something I would love a great deal. I'd struggle and fall on my face a lot, but after a while I would get the hang of it, have my own system and manage just fine. The only way to fail is giving up instead of getting up!

However, the bigger ordeal is my guilty conscience. Having a depressed 'single' mom that doesn't approve of anything you do is tough. I keep trying to get her trust, to not upset her or disappoint her, maybe even make her proud, but that's hard when there's no foundation to build on. When I was younger, she didn't tell me stuff, because it would be inappropriate to tell a child, but around the time I was nine, things happened, so I shut everyone out. Especially my mother, cause she never had an idea of how to handle me when I'm upset and in fact made everything worse. My childbrain thought that she should just know that and use those mother instincts she was always talking about. Eleven years later I still don't tell her anything, because she still doesn't know how to handle me, still treats me the same way, still doesn't tell me anything and still is one of the main reasons I usually feel bad.
I would like to have a bond with at least one of my parents and due to my dad's illness, I have even less with him than I have with my mom. But going for a mature mother-daughter relationship when she doesn't want to leave the parent-child stadium doesn't work. I find myself to be stuck in this stadium, cause it's hard to break ingrained habits of reacting a certain way. It takes conscious effort to change the patterns and not fall back and it's even harder when those efforts are met with counteraction, that in turn are irritating to me and lead to one of those knee-jerk reactions I'm trying to unlearn.

Disappointing, upsetting, angering her, making her unhappy, breaking her trust, causing stress or anything similar to that is the last thing I want to do! Especially because of her depression. Since she does not approve of me moving out, this causes quite a dilemma. Trying to live up to expectations that require me to be a completely different person... None of my options seem realistic or doable without causing unhappiness.

• Do I keep trying and keep hiding who I really am and what I like?
  I can't imagine going on like this much longer and certainly not forever...
• Do I try harder and give up who I am?
  How do I stop being me without dying on the inside?
• Do I stop trying and stop caring about what she thinks and start living for me?
  I can't not care, I don't know how to turn off feelings. I'd feel like a horrible person for abandoning a depressed person and a terrible daughter for turning my back on my mother... 

I came up with a plan a while ago. It was a way to get permission (or at least understanding) to move out, by making an offer she wouldn't be able to refuse. It covered what mother wants and what I want, creating a win win situation. I got feedback on it from several people and it is indeed a very fair, reasonable deal. I was excited and hopeful about it, ready to grow some adult balls, sit with my parents and talk to them like a mature person would and hope for the best outcome!
But after an odd fight/discussion with my mother (that occurred while writing this) my hope is crushed. She somehow managed to mentioned almost everything I had included in my deal, while making it clear that her opinion is that I do nothing to make anything better and it got clear to me that everything I thought was reasonable, isn't.
It made me sad and angry and it's when I feel that way, that I want get away from here the most. But I don't want to run away. I don't want to do things or make decisions out of spite or anger. But I can't stay on this roller coaster any longer either...

5 years

It's been 5 years (+1 day) since I started this blog. Time flew by. And the fact that I'm writing right now only means that, at least for this day, not a single fucking thing has changed. I still can't do shit on new year's eve and again I feel shitty and lame enough to write a post.

I hate new year's eve. I really fucking do. Every year, for no particular reason, I feel like hell and I want to do something, but I feel to cranky to enjoy anything.

My family, including my brother (whom with I still live in the same house), is gathered in a city that's a two hour car drive away from where I am. My parents are antisocialites and go to sleep around 00:30. The rest of my family is ehm, not on the same page as I am, so to me they are boring or lame.

I can't go to my friends, because my parents don't find that appropriate. I can't go to parties -including public/open air celebrations- either, cause that's dangerous and also inappropriate.

So, I sit in my room, at my computer, just like I do every other night. Only now, no one is online and I only get to see posts and pics about new year.

And when I think '2011' nothing special comes to mind

It makes me feel like a pathetic, lonely shit.

The year I started skateboarding.
The year I got my first job.
The year I started studying.
The year my confidence had a major peak.
The year I realized I'll never not be depressed completely.
The year I knew I'll never -really- fit in. Anywhere.
The year I didn't cave when it came to crushes.
The year I realized I wasn't as strong as I thought I was and I have to work on that.
The year I figured out my passions.