This is a letter from the subject of the blog. It is candid, not spell-checked, often stream-of-consciousness, and will probably not be the last that she writes. She asks that you be as candid as she is in any replies you might have to her thoughts.
I’m not just The Girl, I have a name. But I’m not going to tell you what it is. It’s short because my last name is really long. It’s old-fashioned because I was named after my great-grandmother.... great-aunt? I don’t remember. I was named after a great-something in the family and I think that, though I’m disabled mentally, I live up to that greatness. I could have been named Opal, after my great-whoever but my name is not Opal. Sometimes I wish it was. I really like Opals.
Today I read through the latest entry in the blog. It made me feel really sad. It’s weird to take a step back and to see how I was feeling at the time that things happened. You know, things like punching my boyfriend in the face. That made me really really sad. I curled all up onto the couch and hid under the blankets for a while. I was also sick today so that might have had something to do with it all. My nose was running like crazy and my throat is still scratchy. That meant I couldn’t go to the gym and swim. I really love swimming but my boyfriend doesn’t so I go with my mom.
My mom is shaped like an apple. I tell her so sometimes but then she gets really upset with me or, worse, she sounds all disappointed and that sucks so much more than her getting mad at me. I think I was on my way to being shaped like an apple too. I got fat from one of my medications and it really sucked because I dieted and tried really hard and all I lost was thirty pounds. After that, I couldn’t lose any more. I really wanted to be skinny again but I don’t think it’s going to work out that way. I really hate how my body looks. I wish my boobs were smaller and that I looked athletic. That’s why I started going to the gym again. I love it. I can only do upper body work though. If I do any lower body work, I will get myself into big trouble.
The girl who is helping me write all of these blog entries says that I need to take it slow at the gym. I do because, when my heart rate goes up too high I get scared. Then I have a panic attack and I don’t like those at all. They really suck. They make you feel like you’re gonna die but they can’t kill you. It definitely doesn’t FEEL like they can’t kill you. I always take some Xanax with me just in case I have a panic attack. Then I just have to sit down, drink some cool water, chew up the Xanax, and then swig it all down. In five minutes, I’m mostly better.
The other day I didn’t get to go on a ride at Sea World because I had a panic attack. It was no fun. I was in my wheelchair and they sat me wherever I wanted. It was one of those special rides that mimics the movie on the screen. It’s just like Star Tours at Disneyland. It’s fun. I like it. But I didn’t get to go because I started panicking. My friend was with me and she helped me to leave the ride but I was embarrassed. It felt like being the last kid to be picked to play a team sport. I was never the last kid to be picked unless it was football. I could not catch a football to save my life so I would get picked last and it made me sad. It was like I was being ostracized for sucking at football. But capture the flag... I was so small and fast when I was a kid... I almost always got picked first. It was great.
But anyway, I’m glad that this blog is on the internet. It’s shameful to see the things that my mental illness has made me do but it’s more important to me to have it out there. There are probably a lot of people who can relate.
I promise that there will be stories with happy endings too. Not EVERYTHING sucks balls in my life. I swear. I’ll make the author write a happy story about me next time or something... I have a lot of stories... so many that they could fill a whole book. Maybe this will be made into a book. That would be so cool!
Anyways, thanks for reading. I may write more, I may not... it just depends on what is posted and what I think of it. I always get to read it AFTER it’s posted so that I don’t get to change details to make myself look better.
I’m going to go take a nap ‘cause my eyes are getting heavy. It could be the medications I’m on too... I take more meds than your grandma. I bet you $10.
---Me
No comments:
Post a Comment