Dealing with Depression Part 1

Chester Bennington died by hanging on Thursday, July 20th, 2017. The lead singer of Linkin Park went through a lot, there's no denying that. As everyone keeps saying, he was very vocal about his past, abuse, and unhappiness. Chris Cornell's death a few months ago clearly affected him, and while it took a toll on many people in the music industry, it seemed to really affect him enough to make him want to kill himself.

I went to a concert on the Saturday after that incident, and I listened to Jared Leto talk about how great Chester was and how amazing the conversations they had were. Hearing that made me really think. There was once a time when I thought about suicide. I had seriously considered it. I was barely a teenager, and I hated everything about myself. I was smart, so I got bullied. I wasn't the prettiest, so I got bullied. I wasn't social, so I got bullied. I liked to read and learn, so I definitely got bullied for that. Anything I did wasn't good enough for anyone. I learned easily so I didn't really need to study, but if I didn't read my textbooks, my father would punish me. I wanted to be social and hang out with my classmates, but my mother didn't have the time to pick me up from places. I wanted to be liked, but I wasn't invited to parties, or invited to dance at dances, and when I was invited, it was done as a dare or a joke.

By the time I was finishing middle school, I wanted everything to stop. I wanted the pain to end, I wanted to stop being unhappy, and if things couldn't get better by just getting through it, maybe it should've just ended permanently. I wanted to kill myself. I started cutting, dragging a scissor across my wrist, slightly knicking the skin. It would hurt, but I dealt with it; it was a pain I could control, and didn't have to worry about other people inflicting it. But I think I did it more for the attention. I ended up showing the scars off to someone at school, and the guidance counselor was called in. I spent time talking to him, and I tried to explain how I felt, and he brushed it off. How does a guidance counselor brush off the fact that a young person is blatantly stating that they are unhappy and depressed? I took a clinical dictionary off the bookshelf, and read the definition of depression. I stood there smirking; someone would finally believe me, after all this time. But I couldn't be depressed because (and I quote) "You're smiling right now!"

The only thing that saved me after that day was the saving grace of my baby sister. I love her beyond words, and I never wanted to have her hurt or feel the way I did. As long as she was alive and present in my life, I would not change that for anything.

I've been dealing with unhappiness for the last X years of my life. There are ups and downs, a lot more downs than ups. I've tried to get some help, and for about a year during college, I went to a counselor and talked about things. I cried during a lot of the sessions, but unfortunately things didn't get better. I thought about going to an actual psychiatrist, and looked into some, ones that had Saturday appointments, but no one followed up. So I gave up looking.

I know there is more to this story, but I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I think this blog post is over for today, but I will pick this story up when I get a chance to collect my thoughts.

Until next time - I'm Charlotte Carmichael and thanks for reading.

The Randomness That is My Life

Hello internet people. I am going to take the random thoughts I typed within the last month or so. I apologize in advance that these things do not completely work together, but it always ends up leading to the same conclusion. I am alone in this world, and I want to change that so badly.

 

 

 

I think a lot, and sometimes when the timing is right, I write a lot. I have quite a few notebooks that have my thoughts written down. What sucks though is that once I write my thoughts down, I never want to think of them (so to speak. I never seem to forget anything). So it sucks having a blog and not having much to write.

 

 

 

This year is my (insert multiple of 5) year high school reunion. It is coming up in one month exactly, and I have until the end of the month to register. The great thing is that since the registration is online, you can see who else is registered to go. So far there are 4 – count ‘em – 4 people from my year going! WHOA! But seriously, there is no one going. Which is why I’m not sure if I want to go or not.

Here’s my problem. I haven’t kept in touch with anyone I graduated with. I just happened to read my yearbook the other day, and the things people wrote were so sweet. The people that said “Oh we should hang out and meet up and blah blah blah,” I haven’t heard from them in years. I wish I would have kept in touch, but I have this feeling all the time that if I contact people, I’m bothering them. So I literally have one friend I went to school with, and we only talk two or three times a year.

I keep checking the list of people coming. It seems like I’m waiting to see someone’s name. Who, I’m not sure. But I know if I see that one name, I’m going to go. If not, I can wait another 5 years.

  

I get these random feelings sometimes. Almost as if the world is unbearable, and that if something would go right, I would feel better. Most of the time, it feels like I’m super nervous about something, it becomes a little hard to breathe and I get the butterfly feeling. And then as I try to calm myself down, I get this sense of dread. I am going to be alone for the rest of my life, and no matter what I do, my love life is going to be as dry and lifeless as it is right now.

I think that is why I want to move out of the big city I live in. It’s a huge city, with so many possibilities, and none of them are happening to me!

 

That’s it for this post. Until next time – I’m Charlotte Carmichael and thanks for reading.

The Longest Update Post You Will Ever Read

Hello people of the blog-iverse! I haven’t posted anything since June, and I have to admit, I missed this. I missed being able to type my thoughts willy nilly, without knowing who is reading them.

Let’s go back to the past a little so I can sum up everything for anyone that is reading.

I have videos playing in a browser usually during work, so I was “watching” this show called ‘Dating in the Dark.’ Now, I’ve seen the US and Australia versions, so I decided to take a crack at watching the UK version. Because of that I started thinking… why isn’t this show around anymore? I would thrive in the dark!

*Now I’m not ugly, but of course the only way you as a reader would believe that would be if I posted a picture of myself. I’m definitely not doing that, so think what you want about my physical attractiveness.*

Anyway! I started picturing the type of guy I would like to meet, and if he had an accent, it would be perfect! So since there is no more this show, I decided to do the next best thing – a pen pal. You’re probably thinking, “Who has pen pals anymore? That’s lame.” For the most part I agree with you, and honestly, I didn’t really have a reason to do it besides having no one to talk to and feeling lonely. So I plucked up my courage and picked someone that sounded kinda cool (which were few and far between). I emailed a guy, let’s call him Marcus. I emailed Marcus, and a few hours later, he answered me back. I didn’t want to come off as super eager to have a new friend, so I waited a day to answer him.

I had no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship over the internet. Of course the idea crossed my mind, and the idea that this would be a perfect “Kids, this is the story of how I met your mother/father” story may have entered into my conscious thought. But we wrote back and forth every day for a week, writing almost novellas. He wrote beautifully, the way his words flowed through me, I almost fell in love. He stopped answering me for a week, and I freaked out. My self-esteem fell through the floor and I felt like I had done something wrong. When he finally answered me, he apologized and explained. He was moving, and was packing and finding a new place. So we continued talking.

We talked about a lot. We talked about my fears and his. We talked about depression, and happiness. We had covered so many topics in the span of two weeks, it was unbelievable. I started falling for this guy I didn’t know, this guy that knew nothing about me. I ended up telling Marcus about this and we had a chat about it. Long story short, I slowed my feelings down and we started talking about random things again.

I think the reason I started falling is because he was someone that was listening to me, someone that was giving me attention. When I started the pen pal thing, I wanted to find someone I could tell everything to. I wanted to feel wanted, needed, loved. He made me feel that very easily.

One thing I had wanted was to keep what Marcus looked like – and what I looked like – a secret. But I got curious. Very curious. I admit I may have been a bit stalker-ish. I wanted to see if I could find him, just for fun. He had told me his real name from the get go (well his first name, his last name was in his email address), and in one of his letters, he had told me his sister’s name, which was Marissa. He had also said something about Facebook, and where he is located. So I started searching, first for Marcus, then for Marissa. I went through so many people. I scared myself a bit to be honest.

And then I found him. I had written something because I wanted to tell someone, but I couldn’t tell Marcus, and I wasn’t posting stuff on this blog because I had mentioned it to him once and he hadn’t answered if he wanted to read it (now I don’t care if he reads it or not). So this is what I had written:

“I found him on facebook. Only one person knows I found him, and she doesn't seem to be interested. I can't post this anywhere until I know he won't look. It makes me look like a stalker. I mean I literally hunted. And I didn't even look for him, I looked for his sister. I mean, who does something like that?!
He looks like one of my exes. He looks so like him it's weird. He has blondish hair and that face. I don't know how to explain it. He would definitely look better if he were a little skinnier. And he's short, I think. Plus, it looks like he has a girlfriend. His profile hasn't been updated in a year, so they may not be together anymore. But watch that he is.
I have no idea what to do. I know I have to put my guard up, which sucks. He was supposed to be the person I will tell everything to. Now I'm going to have to watch what I say. No more romantic stuff. And now that I know what he looks like, I can't get the picture out of my head, and I'm going to judge him based on his looks. Ah fuck.”

So there was that. I spent many a night worrying I would slip and type something that would give it away. But I wanted to confront him. Did he have a girlfriend? When he told me he wanted to hold me in his arms as I fell asleep, what did that mean? Was I looking too much into it?

This whole thing was in July only. August was where it went downhill. My job has a happy hour for its employees that are 21 and over on Thursday after work. So I went to one, probably the first or second one of the month. This super hot Australian guy was serving drinks, and in my state of slight inebriation, I started talking to him. However it honestly went no further than, “Ooh nice tattoo!” I felt like the biggest piece of crap in the world. So I wrote Marcus a slightly drunk email about my unhappiness with myself (that seems to happen every time I’m drunk. Guess I should just stop drinking alcohol).

Marcus sent me a reply email the next day. Here was the problem, I wanted to just forget I had ever written it, and I just wanted it to be more info for him to know about me. Instead he decided to try and talk to me about fixing my problem. You know how they say hindsight is 20/20? Well looking back now, I realize that what he wrote was probably the worst thing he could have written, and I should have told him off. But I didn’t. I went on vacation instead.

In my defense, the place I went had very bad service for my phone, and the resort had no free wifi. I’m sorry but I wasn’t paying to get on the internet. But I ended up waiting a little less than a week and a half to answer his reply. I had sent him a cautionary email saying I was going on vacation, and I was busy at work when I got back, so when I answered him, it was the only time I had free.

It has been over two weeks since I sent him that email, and I don’t know if I want an answer back from him. Countless times he has told me he isn’t trying to patronize me, but that’s exactly what his statements sound like.  I really don’t need to be told that if I believe in myself, I can change. That stupid shit isn’t what I wanted. I wanted a person I could trust to just listen. I have enough people giving me their opinions about how I should handle situations.

You know, when I first started this blog post, I wanted to write about how unhappy I am, and I probably will in my next post. But I’m glad it panned out the way it did. I feel a small sense of closure writing and finally telling someone about a pen pal I had high hopes for that, in the end, disappointed me just like everyone else in my life.

Well, that’s it for this post. Until next time – I’m Charlotte Carmichael and thanks for reading!