I Can’t Do This Alone Anymore

I was on a bus going from Washington, DC to home last night. This past weekend should have been amazing, and for the most part it was. I saw friends, I saw family, I saw monuments and national cemeteries, I even got to see the inside of the Pentagon. It was everything I could have dreamed of for a trip to DC (except the Jefferson Memorial, that thing is the bane of my existence right about now!). But one thing I didn’t count on was thinking about a guy all weekend. Or having an existential crisis. Or having what might have been a small panic attack in the middle of said national cemetery. I didn’t think I would have thoughts about jumping in the Lincoln Reflecting pool at 10:00 PM while walking next to it. I didn’t think I would come to the realization that I need to get help. I need professional help.

I know I’ve talked about my moods a lot in past blog posts. But as much as I like to complain about it, I never really did anything about it. I never went to go find the help I should have gotten when I was 13 and making cuts on my skin. I should’ve gone to get help when in college I told my baby sister that I hated myself so much, but the only reason I wouldn’t kill myself is because I love her too much, and I never wanted to put her through that pain of losing me. Well, now that baby sister is a grown woman, and I’m starting to think about it again...

The thoughts aren’t always there. Sometimes I’m really super happy and things are going really well. Other times, I’m just content with how things are going, like life sucks sometimes, but I can pull through. And to be completely honest, I don’t know where these thoughts are coming from. I have a great job that I love with amazing benefits (like a free education) and have a chance to get a raise in, if not a promotion one day. I have a house that will one day belong to my sisters and I. While I could be doing more to save a little bit of money, I have the opportunity to travel and go places that I never thought I would ever visit. I spend money on tattoos that are beautiful pieces of art. I have every reason to be happy. And yet...

I realize the times I’m the most unhappy are the times when I’m alone, when the chance for my mind to wander is greater. When I’m not hearing about other people, or thinking about work, my mind thinks about all the things that, if I changed them, my life could potentially be better. If I wasn’t overweight, if I didn’t drink so much, if I exercised, if I went out more, if I actually used the dating apps I have accounts on, if I had a boyfriend, not just guys who call me when they want to have sex with me, if I kept in touch with friends more. There are so many ifs that I could change in my life. When I have nothing else going on (like right now while I’m typing this blog post) my mind harps on it. And it’s not like I can think it, go “You know what, grow up and be happy with what you have,” and actually move on. I can’t move past some things.

I think that’s my main problem. I can’t let things go and move past them. Every pain that I’ve been caused, every hurt and injustice that’s been done to me, seems to linger heavy on my soul. I don’t know how to change that. I don’t know what to do.

On December 1st, I will have my own insurance (through my job and not under my parents’ plan), and the first thing I’m going to do is find and go make an appointment with a psychiatrist. I really do think I’m at that point where if I don’t do something about this, I may end up doing something stupid. I need to get my mental wellbeing in check, and if that means giving up some vices and sacrificing some stuff, then so be it.

I cannot live another year of my life like this. Especially if I’m going to be by myself while traveling.

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

What’s in the Past Should Stay There, No?

Nostalgia is as common a feeling for me as happiness, sadness, hunger. I spend most of my time thinking back on my life: how many people I’ve met; all the chances I made; all the opportunities I missed. Did I make a mistake by not keeping in touch with the people I once called friends? Did I ruin things by having a friends with benefits, and not following through? Did I allow my emotions to get the better of me? Actually the answer to that last one is almost always yes.

There are so many things I wish I could have done differently. I wish I would’ve gone to a different school for college. I wish I would have had more experiences. I wish I would have stood up for myself and tried to make new friends when I had the chance. I wish I wouldn’t have been so picky about the guys that I wanted to date. I wish I would have watched my weight, tried working out more, really getting into fitness. I wish books and reading wouldn’t have dictated my life so much, and that I would have been more into video games. I wish I wouldn’t have fallen down the rabbit hole that is podcasts. I wish I would’ve stopped while I was ahead. I wish I didn’t go to concerts by myself. I wish I wouldn’t have been so damn annoying, and that I had friends to go on trips with.

But at the same time, those choices I made at those times made who I am today. Had I not gone to the college I went to, or if I had even transferred out like I wanted to, I wouldn’t have met the people I did, made friendships that still mean something to me today. Because I got my degree the way I did, it led me to all these other choices, like the decision to start temping, and that eventually leading to my first job. Had I not been miserable there, I wouldn’t have made a good friend I would bitch to, or look for (and ultimately find) the job I’m at now.

Had I not been big on reading, I might have never found podcasts, and had I not started listening to podcasts, I wouldn’t have found things I’m really interested in. I wouldn’t have found true crime podcasts, and found my random love of serial killers. I would’ve never read Thomas Harris’ series on Hannibal Lecter, or watched “The Silence of the Lambs.” I wouldn’t have found psychological thrillers, probably one of my favorite genres.

I would’ve missed all the concerts I went to had I not gone by myself. I wouldn’t have seen a The Smiths tribute band, or The Pixies, or Simple Plan. I’ve been able to see all these bands that I never would’ve dreamed of seeing. I’m so thankful that I got the opportunity, and it was because I went by myself that I got to see them.

I have so many past “regrets” that I now question everything I do and say in my present life. Does this person like me, am I making a fool of myself, does the person even care about what I’m saying, should I just keep to myself and not even reach out to anyone? Am I too fat for anyone to care about, does this shirt make me look bigger than I really am, are these pants too tight, does this hairstyle make me look stupid, should I change my whole outfit?

Nostalgia sucks, especially when you use it to look back and replay all your faults. But now the question is “What does this mean for me? How do I change the way I feel about myself?” I wish I could tell you I have the answer, but I really have no clue. I have to stop letting things bother me so easily. I have to stop thinking about what-ifs and shoulda-coulda-wouldas. I should be looking toward the future, not necessarily worrying about what could happen, but keeping in mind the idea that people, places, memories come and go, and that I shouldn’t try to change things already in motion. If I don’t try to change now, nothing is going to get better, and I’m going to end up miserable and alone way more than I already am.

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