I'm going back to using an old xanga: tearbox

Why? Because the user name better describes me. The word "leata" means "happy" and I don't feel right posting here anymore.... If you follow me, follow me. I'll see you there...

I doubt I'll be posting in this one very much anymore.

I need to vent. Rant. Rave. Whatever.

It's my journal. It's my thoughts. Not always logical, not always rational, not always consistent. Just my thoughts at the moment.

Blah.

I'm unsettled tonight.

Thoughts of hurting myself, suicide, but I'll never do it. I won't do that anymore. But there's another way out of life than just death. It's called, giving up. I am very much a cursed black and white thinker, and it has to be all or nothing. I can't get my mind around throwing myself fulling into life, if I'm not fully healthy. I cannot, yes, cannot get through another semester of half-living. Going to school, watching my precious grades fall, slacking on studying because I'm too busy dealing with issues in my mind, lacking in motivation for everything except destructing.... No. I will not go through another semester of that. I can't. I think about putting my future on hold. Stop going to school until I'm better and then I can focus just on school. Two years left of my undergrad. Then off to med school. I'm scared that I'm going to mess up this year with this shit. Because I need one more really good premed year. And I have two more chances... I feel like it all hinges on this year. It probably doesn't, but I feel like it does. On one hand, this is good. It gives me motivation to help myself, get myself to a good point before school starts and keep it going. On the other hand, I don't know if I can do it. And if I mess it up, damn the black and white thinking, it's all over for my dreams of being a doctor.

I am struggling with not wanting to get better. I tell myself that I want to get better. I tell myself to do this. But I don't want to. And then I sigh and curse myself and start again. It's like trying to get a toddler to eat vegetables. They're good for you, but you don't really want to put them in your mouth and eat them. Ewww. That is how I feel. Get better? EWWWWWWW.... *sigh* I hate my own uncooperativeness. Just cooperate with myself and this would be so much easier.... There is too much dividedness in my mind though, because of this tug-of-war. I need to choose one. And I find myself leaning toward just continuing to do what I always did. Why fight it if I don't really want it? It's so much easier, better, more comfortable to keep on with the same problems that I've always faught.

Take me past the outer courts, into the holy place. Past the brazen altar, Lord I want to see Your face... I hunger and thirst for Your righteousness, and it's only found one place... Take me into the holy of holies. Take the coal, touch my lips, here I am. Just to sit on God's lap for a moment. To be held. To be purified, and cleansed. To be forgiven...

I close my eyes, and I see Your face. If home's where my heart is, then I'm out of place. Lord, won't You give me strength to make it through somehow. I've never been more homesick than now. Strength. How much strength do I need? More than I have when the fight is against myself. I need more, a stronger fighter. I hate this world. I HATE it. But I'm supposed to, right? This isn't my home. This isn't supposed to some walk in the park, it's not supposed to be easy, that wouldn't be fair. I don't have to earn my crown, but I do have to run the race...

When I pray lately, I feel ackward asking for things, for myself or for other, as though I expect God to grant me my request. What right do I have to be so bold? But then I remember that Christ is my intercessor, along with the Holy Spirit, and if ask anything in Christ name, in accordance with God's will, it will be granted. And so I appraoch the throne boldly, with confidence, because I am God's child. He doesn't want me to grovel and beg at His feet, that would be annoying, and shows such little faith. But I still have faith. I still know He hears me. I know He answers my prayers. I just don't know what to ask for sometimes.

Unaware of my fears. Unaware of my shame. Nothing else matters here. But glorifying Your name. Unaware of everything, knowing You're aware of me. Tell me how I got here, I couldn't make it on my own. Just tell me I can stay, cause it feels so much like home... Your love is all I know...  I want to spend just a day in God's presence, in His love, in His arms. Out of this world, into His will. I miss Him. I'm unaware that I still breathe. Unaware of everything, knowing You're aware of me.

But I didn't want to make this venting about God.

I keep saying the same thing over and over. I'm getting annoyed with myself for writing it over and over again. It's so easy, Alexis, just do it. Why not? Why not give in and get better? Because I don't want to. I want to want to. And sometimes I do. But often I don't. But I still want to want to. *sigh* I'm being silly.

Can I climb up in Your lap, I don't want to leave... I'll never make it on my own.

rant ahead...you've been warned.

I don't want to go to Bridgepoint. I don't need to go. I don't need the help. I don't have a problem, it's all in my head.

I'm struggling with this, with everything. Because I can't live with it, but I don't know how to get rid of it. Because it's me who is the problem, and to get rid of the problem I would have to change me. Scary stuff. I want to run outside and scream at the top of my lungs that I don't want to be sick anymore, and then have all this stuff go fly away into the horizon...

But it doesn't work like that.

Fighting it, always fighting it.

Went rollarblading for over two hours last night with a friend. She's scared of the bikepaths. She won't take them when she's alone or when it's dark. Funny, I love those paths. Like secret passageways away from the real world. And when it starts getting dark you can almost forget that the otherworld really exists. Your thoughts come and go and fly away into the abyss between the real world and this temporary retreat...

I can hardly move today, I'm so sore from our adventures...

I wish September would come. I find myself bored, almost. Granted, I still have two finals to write next week, left over from April. But I want to be in school again. Ha! Couldn't wait to get out, can't wait to go back... I'm even going so far as to look into summer classes. Blah... Maybe it's just that I don't know how to take time out just for me. Just to focus on getting me healthy. There's always been so much happening, that I just did whatever it was that i was going to do, and I didn't think about what I was doing. Here I have the opportunity to work on myself without distractions, and I don't really know how to do that... Blah.

Just one more, that's all you need, but what are you to do?
One more what? Just which deed are you addicted to?
One more line across your skin, another scar to try to hide?
Or another bottle of deadly pills for another suicide?
Or one more lie to ease the pain from the truth you won't quite face?
Or from your looks just one more pound, so easy to erase?
Yet, when you give in to that one, you feel no better than before.
It's strange--now that the deed is done--how you still want one more.

I wrote that three years ago. Back then, it was never enough. I remember thinking to myself that when it gets bad enough--when I'm sick enough, when I've hurt myself enough--then I can stop. Funny how I never got sick enough. I just got sicker. And sicker. And sicker. But it was never sick enough to allow myself to stop. Before everything I did, every attempt to myself that I made, I thought that I would be able to stop afterwards because then I would have proved to myself that I was sick enough to be able to stop. Cutting deeper, overdosing on more and more, drinking/taking poisons, even jumping off a parkade. I thought to myself, "I can stop after this, because then I will have done enough to myself." Strange how it wasn't enough. There was always something more--something worse--that I could do to myself, and only then I would be able to stop. 

Why did I hate myself so much? To want to destroy yourself like that...

I've done everything except kill myself. I can honestly say that. I have done everything I can think of to hurt myself except that which will definitely kill me. And the amazing thing is that I am still alive.

I shouldn't be.

Do I still hate myself? Surprisingly, no. I am ok with myself. I accept myself. Do I still need to hurt myself? I'm hesitant to say no, because it's what I've known to do for the last many years. But I want to start again with myself.

I'll be honest with myself, and admit that I've never really walked the hard road to recovery. I've wandered onto it a few times, even taken a few cautious steps. But then I turned around and jumped off. But to do the work, endure the pain and the storms, and continuously put one foot in front of the other, never looking back... I've never done that.

There is "do" and "do-not". There is no "try." (Star Wars)
I'm ready. I really am ready. I don't want my life ot be a pathetic existance of pain. I want to be a butterfly. I want to know what else there is. I want to see my dreams come true. I want to cry because it hurts and have that be ok, because the pain is valid. I want to stop being my worst enemy. I don't need this anymore. I'm turning my back on it, and I know that can move on.

If I could give myself three wishes, what would they be?

To be happy, healthy, and free? But then, is it too much to think that I'll ever live without this? Should I ask for something a little easier? Strange how when you put something like money next to happy, healthy, and free, getting money is so much easier and so much less desirable.

Do you ever get tired of this? Do you ever want to just be better already? My heart is there, ready. But my mind isn't. When you want it bad enough.... I'm going to try anyways. I don't want this anymore. Will I fail? Probably. But if I keep trying, someday I'll succeed.

My heart, described by a beautiful, strong woman....
I am going to try this on my own. Taking all that I have learned in the past year, past life, and move on. It doesn't have to be somewhere else, just moving on. In my case, taking it further, going somewhere. This time, I am going to be a little stronger, a little wiser. Perhaps make mistakes, even the same ones. But I know, I just know this for sure. With all the tears, all the disappointments, that even with all the mistakes made, lessons learned, I am still going to risk it again and again. And live. God made me in mind with a purpose, and I am going to try. I a going to leave all things in His hands and let it go and ask God every morning as I wake up, "Teach me what I need to know..."

*sigh* What is life like? How can you leap towards something when you aren't sure which direction it's in? I guess that's why people search for themselves. Blind faith. Or, as stated in psychology, ill-defined problems which don't have a clear goal state at the end of the road. Just walk away from where you are, and you'll end up somewhere else--somewhere new. Speaking of which, I have a final exam today for that class (cognitive psychology), so I should be off...