Thank You, And I'm Really, Really Sorry

I, of course, have no idea what people are really thinking. So I'm going to be very, very speculative. And, so, sorry, if I'm speculating incorrectly. Also, the introduction here might seem like a critique on "you" but it's really a critique on me, so sit patiently and see where I go with this, okay? Okay, right, here we go:

Sometimes, it seems, people think that the best response to my sadness is to just let me sit with it. I totally reinforce this too; if you see me crying and try to hug me I will send the fucking angriest energy into your pores because how dare you touch me!? I glower at people as they try to reassure me--"This is really just an opportunity to make new friends!" "But you know that you aren't actually alone." 

Honestly. Who said you could comment on my sadness?

See? I totally reinforce the concept that, if I'm sad, I need to be left alone. Which is so very unfortunate. Seriously, 9/10 times when I'm sad it's because I'm lonely. And I really, really need people. But I don't need people to force a hug on me or demand I talk to them about my problems or to try and repair me. I just need to know that someone's there, someone who I could hug or talk to about my problems or ask for advice if I wanted it. Or someone I could just, you know, watch RomComs with and talk to about dresses. 

Unfortunately, it's very, very difficult for me to ask for another person's presence when I'm sad. Honestly, it's very difficult for me to ask for another person's presence when I just want to hang out with them and give them mix CDs, and asking for someone to sit with you and your sadness is asking a whole hell of a lot more out of them. 

So sometimes I kind of round about ask for someone's nearness. I throw little comments out into the universe and hope that someone notices and responds. 

It's super not fair, I know. I mean it's super, super unfair because, sometimes, I'll think, "Well, shit, when you were going through a tough time I put off homework to listen to your story and I put together a care package and you can't even call me and make sure I'm not crying myself off the highway?" And, don't worry, every time I've ever thought something like that I internally scold myself because how selfish, unfair, and petty is that line of thought?

Which is to say: I'm sorry about my blog yesterday. I feel really bad any time I indirectly ask for comfort or whatever, and I especially feel bad when I indirectly hint at maybe needing comfort and then hoping that someone responds. Furthermore, I feel bad about dumping all of that sad shit on you, dear reader. 

But I also wanted to say "Thank you" to a couple of people. Like, my best friend, Alli, who read basically all of my blog posts yesterday and then asked if I wanted to make pies in mason jars (which bee-tee-dubbs I have wanted to make pies in mason jars for forever and if we actually really do it sometime I'll tell you all about it and post pictures and it will literally be the happiest blog post I've ever written.) 

Look, this is Alli and I: 

Anyway, what I really appreciated (aside from the pies in mason jars suggestion) was that she addressed the whole loneliness thing without really addressing the loneliness thing. She really is the greatest.

And then my friend Michael and my cousin Anna both commented on the whole ordeal with a very empathetic or "This too will pass" outlook. And Anna got me a little reminiscent about the days when we were kids and got to run around our grandparents' forest. (Which is actually a lot smaller than I remember, but I haven't even walked through in ages!) 

So, thank you to everyone who showed me that they were here for me, 'cause I really, really appreciated it. And, thank you to everyone who read the post at all. It means a lot to me that you guys care enough about me to read me ramble a lot about my life.

Plus, I'm feeling a lot better today. Like, a lot, a lot better today. See? This is my very genuine happy face:

I always hate when I'm sad/lonely because I feel like it's so... selfish and petty, and then I get hypercritical about myself, which makes me feel sadder and lonelier and it can turn into a huge ordeal that lasts for days. But I'm feeling less sad and lonely and selfish and petty and hypercritical, which is good.

Plus! I'm about to go eat lunch with my family, and that will be fun. So I'm off!

Again: Thank you guys, and I'm sorry. <3

Inconsolable Loneliness

It hits me so rapidly that I barely have the opportunity to recognize its onset, let alone take preventative action. It always starts with a tightening at the base of my esophagus and then progresses quickly: spreading over my chest, quaking down my arms, spilling over my eyelashes. I move about in it, dumbly, for a while, wondering when it will stop and how I should go about stopping it.

"When did it start this time?" You might ask if you were here, although, if you were I wouldn't tell you any of this so you probably wouldn't know to ask.

It started, as it often does, when I was driving. Driving is a painfully lonely activity, if you ask me. I could make up some reasons for its timing. Today, for example, I was headed to a social gathering where I would, likely, find myself alone. I was leaving a place where I spent a lot of time with Renee, back when she was here. I could just have a little residual pms-heightened emotions.

Every time it hits me, when the lonely starts to swallow me in, I flip through a mental contacts list. I don't know why I bother. I've only ever turned to two people in my sadness, neither of whom is readily accessible these days. Honestly, it's more like a subconscious torture tactic: Hasn't Bothered Talking to Me Since May, Would Rather Talk About Herself Than Anyone Else Ever, Yeah Right, At Work, At School, Way Too Far Away, Don't Bother Her With That, Don't Make Life Worse For Him, Yeah Right, Yeah Right, No, Wouldn't Care, Has Bigger Issues...

Before you get all, "You can totally call me if ever you're feeling sad or lonely or whatever! I'd gladly be there for you!" You should know: most of them wouldn't have a problem with me calling them and saying that I was feeling a little bit lonely. Most of them would be relieved if I called them and told them that I could picture blades etching lines on my forearms, because at least they'd know that I wasn't etching lines down my forearm. Most of them have offered to let me call them.

I'm the one who doesn't let me call anyone. I just can't bring myself to do it.

Back to the story.

I always have this idea that I can totally prevent the storm, regardless of the fact that it's already started raining. So I numbly walked onto the quad, smiled at a couple of people, and grabbed a veggie burger and glass of water, and began searching for anyone I knew. I sat by the first friend I saw because the aching beneath my sternum told me that being near a friend would banish the loneliness.

We talked for a bit--this heat is unbearable, this food is good sort of talking--before he excused himself to get seconds. I waited until I couldn't bear to continue to sit by myself. I walked to my class, sat down, and waited.

A classmate came in and made a joke about the heat. I tried to match her joke with one of my own, but sadness was spilling over my eyelids--I've gotten pretty good at crying without it affecting my voice--and with a shocked look she asked if I was okay. Quickly, I dismissed myself. How cliche is this bit? I cried in the bathroom stall, and pulled myself together as quickly as possible. When I returned, she apologized and I dismissed my feelings--"Oh, no, I just... cry sometimes."

I always say that when people catch me crying.

From then until now I feel like I've just been pushing myself along. Caught in this cloud of hurt and lonely and trying not to let anyone else catch on.

I use these little phrases to key people in--"I was in a kind of funky mood" "I was just, like, sad earlier" "I'm really tired"--so they won't wonder about the redness of my eyes or the clumps in my mascara.

I don't know. It's just really fucking painful to feel this way.

Fair-Warning to a Friend: An Open Letter

Hello, Handsome.

This is a fair-warning. All right, that's a lie, this is a very unfair warning. Why is it unfair? Easy, I'm never going to name your name. That means that you could read this and think it's about you or not about you. Furthermore: I'm hoping you don't read this. Seriously, if it's really about you, I don't want you to read it. Did you stop reading? Damn you! Oh well, do what you want. Worst case scenario you read a letter that's for and about you. SIGH.

Here's the unfair-warning: I am already half in love with you.

Look, you've met yourself. You know! You're totally lovable. It's not my fault! For starters: the 90s taught me to love boy band members and the early 2000s taught me to love emo boys and you are somehow an Adonis-like combination of the two. (Seriously, wear eyeliner sometime and watch the girls swoon.) Besides that, you're an unrealistic compilation of attractive qualities. What I mean is this: you're smart and kind, and friendlier than anyone I have ever met. And super handsome. Seriously, ridiculously handsome. But don't get a big head about it, if your ego inflates any you'll be slightly less lovable. Only slightly though because oh-my-goodness you're practically perfect. In every way. You're really giving Mary Poppins a run for her money.

Oh hold on a second! I am not in love with you. Don't be ridiculous. My tendency to develop actual romantic interest in a person is slim, for starters. Plus you've never done anything to make me be actually in love with you. Maybe if you started reading more books (seriously: read something) and rescued a siberian husky and occasionally complemented my gorgeous hair. But, to my knowledge, you don't do anything of those things, so who cares about you? Oh right. Me. That's what we were originally talking about.

My complaint is this: being half in love with a person sucks. It's all... anxious and insecure and giddy and stupid. So we've got a half-full cup here, either fill it all the way up or empty it.

What I mean is this: it's totally possible that you like me/think I'm cute/whatever. Because, I mean, I've got a wonderful personality. (Guys always go for girls with personalities, right? They really like those smart-funny types, right? 'Cause boys be like, "Oh, gimme some of that literary analysis opened up with a quippy anecdote. Damn girl, that's some kick ass verbosity you got there.") Plus I'm one crafty mother trucker, which I think these Totally Rad 90s Sneakers prove:

So, as I was saying, it's completely feasible that you would want me to be slightly-more in love with you than I currently am. What with the smarts and the humor and the talents and the devilish good looks. In which case, you should definitely try and make it more apparent that you want me to be slightly-more in love with you. For example, you could try complementing me on my gorgeous hair or showing up at my house, hoisting a boom box up toward my window. Or, if you make out with me, I think I'd *really* get the idea that you liked me. Or you could try something more reasonable. Whatever. 

But then, chances are equally good that you don't want me to be any more in love with you, on account of you would just like us to be friends. Which I am so, so fine with. Seriously, I might be heartbroken about it if you read a little more and partied a little less, but as it stands, I'd be totally fine with the whole friends thing. 'Cause, I don't know if you know this or not, but smart and kind and handsome are all good qualities to have in friends, too. Anyway, if that's the case, you need to make that a little more apparent, too. For example: don't get too excited or happy about the fact that I just came into the room.

I know, that's hard, because I'm awesome. What with the smarts and the humor and the talents and the devilish good looks. I completely understand why you're always stoked to see me, really I do. But if you start toning that down a touch, some of this murk that I'm wading through might clear up. Also, if you would stop going out of your way to explain that the girls you're hanging out with aren't "girls" you're "hanging out with," rather than just girls that you're just hanging out with... I kind of lost track of where that sentence was headed. The point is, that's confusing. As your friend, it doesn't matter to me if you're hanging out with girls or hanging out with girls, but if you, say, wanted to make out with me, then there might be a reason for that clarification. You see?

Really, all I'm asking is that you make things a little clearer.

That's all.






P.S. Blog Readers, all jokes aside, I'm serious about my devilish good looks. See:

Internal Conflictions

Over the past couple of weeks, part of me has been very preoccupied with some personal concerns. What's worrying me? What am I longing for or missing? What makes me sad? What bothers me? You get the drift, it's very me-me-me. And then another part of me has been beating myself up about these self-centered preoccupations.

A lot of people who I love are going through some very hard times right now. I personally have gone through times much worse than these. And then, on a global scale, my problems are underwhelming. I ought to be more appreciative of what I have. Moreover, there are a lot better and more productive uses for my attention. What good does sitting around sulking do anyway?

But then a third part of myself is thinking a little bit more sympathetically. By which I mean, I am trying not to be too hard on myself. Sorry to get a little bit cliche here, but I'm going to quote The Perks of Being a Wallflower: "even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have." Sometimes it's hard for me to stop myself from invalidating my own feelings.

A brief example: earlier this summer, I turned 22. Months before I started planning a celebration. It would be outdoors, it would be based around Pushing Daisies, I would dress up like Charlotte Charles, and my friends and I would eat pies from mason jars while sitting on my back deck. But then, I learned, that such a dream was an unreality. My best friend would be a counselor at residents' camp that week, and oddly enough another one of my friends would be a counselor at church camp that week, too. Plus, my father had a surgery scheduled for the day before my birthday. In short, all of the people who would typically want to celebrate my birthday with me, wouldn't be able to. And I was really, really upset about it. But I felt so ashamed talking to anyone about it because my dad was having surgery, there were other, more important things we needed to be concerned about. Now, almost a complete month later, I'm still feeling both disappointed about my birthday not turning out the way I would have liked, and ashamed about the fact that I'm disappointed. (Seriously, seriously ashamed here: my dad is recovering so well and so quickly but I'm petty enough to be disappointed that only two people hung out with me on my birthday.)

So this is the first of my current, internal conflicts. Not the birthday thing, that was just an example. It's this: what's the appropriate amount of attention to pay to one's personal problems? My own happiness is important--that's something that has taken years for me realize and probably will take me years more to adequately conceptualize--but I really shouldn't let that monopolize my time and energy. Focusing on my personal problems makes me miserable... but then, when I pay them no attention, I can wind up feeling resentful, or I can wind up still upset about things that should have been over with a month ago.

This is already pretty long, so I'll just briefly outline some of my other internal conflicts.

1. To what extent do I work for what I want, and to what extent do I just trust God? Because, obviously, you can't just sit around thinking, "God will work everything out" that's really not fair to Him. (It's like that story about the man whose drowning but he trusts God will save him so he lets a helicopter, a boat, and a bunch of other things leave and then, when he dies, he's like, "God why didn't you save him?" and God's like, "Why didn't you get on the boat/helicopter/everything else I sent your way?")
2. If an individual has really hurt me: do I forgive, forget, and let them back into my life--because not forgiving makes me miserable--or do I just cut them out of my life--because having them in my life has repetitively made me miserable? Is there some middle ground? And how do I deal with the middle ground? 
3. I believe that personal pride/happiness/comfort is very important...but I also believe that God wants us to care for and serve others. And what's the middle ground there? Actually, I think this one could be solved if I could just find a whole lot of pleasure out of having other people talk to me... how does one get a lot of joy out of other people talking to them? 

Huh. I was kind of thinking that after I typed all of this out I would come up with some sort of balanced-based conclusion, but I didn't.

Magenta Hair and Apologies

So, a couple of days ago I stated, "Personally, I like to begin everything except menstruation with great optimism." Then I went on to explain how not-optimistic I was about the beginning of the semester. But, actually, we can probably chalk that up to menstruation.

What I mean is just: I had a surprisingly good second day of school. It had a lot of the missing elements from my first day. I had two upper level English classes, which are entirely comprised of people who I have been in classes with for the past four years, and one class with Kelly Bean! (Character introduction here, Kelly Bean was one of my roommates last year, and she's the absolute sweetest person.) While running errands around campus, I happened upon another friend. Then in the evening I spent some quality time hanging out with Molly. (Character introduction here, I met Molly about fourt months ago through one of my best friends and she is just wonderful.)

Side note: My friend Molly dyed my hair last night. It was a lot of fun, and check out these magenta braids!

Woah! THAT is one good face. (jkbutsrsly)

Today, I had yet another upper level English classed filled with a small group of people with whom I have attended classes the past four years. And then, best of the best, I ran into Jacob. (Character introduction: Jacob is one of my best friends. He's tall and skinny and will complain a lot if you let him. I always let him because when people complain to me, I feel slightly less petty. He also writes and sings really well.) Okay, okay, I didn't "run into" Jacob. I literally walked through the theater lobby, like, eight times in the past three days hoping to "run" into him. Whatever works you know? 

So the past couple of days I got to be pretty socially, which has been good for, like, my soul or something. ANYWAY, that brings me to the really important part of this blog post:

An Apology

1. I realize that, if you are reading this blog post, you probably also watch my video blog. And I really, really appreciate that! Because spend a lot of time making those videos, and the intent is for people to watch them. You know, if they want to. Which means: I realize that Renee is not the only person who watches my vlog. 
2. Thank you for watching my vlog! I LOVE YOU GUYS. 
3. There have some boys in the past who liked me. Hypothetically. Actually, I've never had real, solid evidence on this one, but I guess there may have been some boys who at some point in time might have kind of liked me. If that is the case, if you are a guy who liked me, I am so sorry for discounting your feelings//implying you weren't a boy. 
4. No one actually accused me of that one. 
5. I don't really know how to do this blog-thing yet, but I'm gonna work it out. And once I do, it's gonna be awesome. 
6. Wait! That wasn't part of the apology. No, it kind of fits? I don't know, maybe I'm sorry about adding that one to this apology and maybe I'm not. 
7. I'm sorry I keep using menstrual derivitives. It's not, like, a theme of the blog or anything. I just have a uterus and well, if my calculations are correct, I've menstruated approximately 110 times--woah! HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF THAT? That's weird. That's a ton of blood to lose. 
8. I'm definitely off-track now, and I'm sorry about that.

Well. That blog post was all over the place. Oh well. I'll do better next time. 

Beginning on the Right Foot and the Wrong Mindset

Today was the first day of the last year of my undergraduate collegiate experience. And, personally, I like to begin everything except menstruation with great optimism. "SEVENTH GRADE IS WHEN BOYS WILL FINALLY LIKE ME!" "Eighth grade is when boys will finally like me." "HIGH SCHOOL IS WHEN BOYS WILL FINALLY LIKE ME." "SENIOR YEAR! This is SURELY the year boys finally start liking me." "College is when boys will finally like me."

Yes. All of my optimism has always been that boys will finally like me.

No, I'm just kidding. My optimism is about all sorts of things:

• This year I'll get good grades and be highly engaged in all of my classes.
• This year I'll make loads of new friends.
• This year I'll finally get someone other than Renee to watch my video blog!
• This year I'll stop craving chocolate and start craving kale and water or whatever it is that makes people skinny. (Jokes on you, I already crave water. Water and chocolate.)
• This year my cat will finally start liking me. 
• This year my depression and anxiety will all just fall away and I'll be happy all year long.
• This year I'll find a group in which I really feel I "belong."
• This year I'll finally get invited to those magical-unicorn-rare-mystical-college parties that I've dreamt up: you know, the ones where everyone wears costumes, dances, mingles and plays games without getting drunk. 
• This year God will transform me, faith and devotion will be easy, and everyone who meets me will just see God's love radiating out of me. 
• This year I will be kinder, more patient, more forgiving, happier, and calmer. 
• This year, this year, this year is gonna be different. 

But this year is already different. And no, sadly I don't mean that boys have already started liking me. What I mean is: this year I'm not feeling so optimistic. 

"How can you even begin on the right foot if you aren't your typical levels of naive optimism, Kat?" 

For one thing, you move your right foot first. But, for all intents and purposes I started the year on a good foot. I went for a walk this morning, I ate a healthy breakfast, I left for school at an appropriate time. I somehow managed to find a parking spot! I went to both of my classes, was pleasant, attentive, and, most importantly, I participated when appropriate. So the good foot is all in there. 

But I'm feeling very, unfortunately, pessimistic about the semester, socially. Academically? Most of my classes seem like they will be interesting, and I'm pretty psyched to be taking a couple of them. I'll get to have two out of my four favorite professors, which is fabulous. So academically I'm stoked. Socially, I'm all shades of anxious. 

This anxiety extends to a couple of different places. To begin with, last semester one of my very best friends and the person I was closest to on campus graduated. And if that's not enough to put me in a depressive slump, she also had to move back home. To Australia. (Her beautiful, wonderful, best-friend-stealing homeland.) I'm pretty introverted, so it's challenging for me to make friends in the first place. Most of my friends come from a group that was formed our freshman year, one that I happened upon through luck and only a little determination. 

"Oh, you have a friend group! Why are you even worried then, Kat?"

Here's why I'm worried: last semester I caught "the bitch." By which I mean, a series of unfortunate events caused me a great deal of sadness, anxiety, loneliness, frustration, and annoyance, and as a result I wasn't very nice. I thought about this a lot today. See, I didn't really know anyone in any of my classes, which is lonely enough, but I also didn't happen upon any of my friends--it's a small campus, usually you can happen upon just about everyone. Some of my friends I haven't seen or really spoken to since last semester ended, and I was really hoping to see them to just to see if things were still "cool" between us. 

Before you get all, "Well you shouldn't be mean to your friends and then expect them to still like you" let me clarify something here: I wasn't the only mean one. The series of unfortunate events I mentioned? I'm still very hurt about a lot of that. And part of me is worried that some of my friends won't be able to forgive me, and I won't be able to forgive the other ones. 

But mostly I'm worried that it won't matter whether or not my friends still like me, or whether or not I can get past what some of them did that hurt me: I'm worried that I won't even get to see them. I live off campus now, and I'm pretty worried that I'll miss out on all the late-night-Applebees-runs, all of the mass TV viewings, and even all of the times everyone gets together but does their own thing while hanging out in the same room. And I'm worried that missing out on trips to Walmart and midnight viewings of movies will change our friendships even more. 

Look, I spent almost my entire high school career on the outside. And I'm not optimistic that this year won't parallel all of that pain. 

Then again, who knows!? MAYBE THIS IS THE YEAR BOYS FINALLY LIKE ME.