gayassbeenthings-blog

[gayassbeenthings-blog]

chance

What is up. I’m back at you again with another vent session. Well, I guess I can’t exactly call it venting. More like a revelation I had today. One of my teachers was talking about his late assignments, and he hit me with the whole “Just because it’s quarantine doesn’t mean you can have late work. Y’all are seniors” talk. Well, that wasn’t what resonated with me (even though I’m one of the ones he was referring to.) It was what he said after that that did it for me. He said that this time of our lives really defines how determined we are to do things. At first, I was like well that’s stupid. Why would this determine that when we can’t really DO anything. I then realized that, without the busy-ness, I don’t know who I am or what I’m about. All I’ve been doing since this whole thing started is sitting around either moping because of what it cancelled or wishing for things that I can’t have right now which includes but is not limited to my own apartment, a pretty bedroom, and some quality life I’ll probably never have. I’m not meaning to say this like I’m morally or logically superior to anyone. Fuck, I’ve been sitting in bed all day giving myself a headache while watching stupid videos I’ve seen on repeat. I’ll probably do most of the same tomorrow too. But back to the original topic, I realized that this is the chance I’ve been looking for. A long period of (mostly) freetime to figure out who the fuck I want to be, who I am, and who I most admire. I want to take my depression head-on and really challenge myself to take care of me. Before, while I was busy, I would use being busy as an excuse not to take even the slightest bit of care for myself both mentally and physically. I wouldn’t give myself much needed breaks until I was completely shutting down (for lack of a better term). I would ignore showering and basic hygiene with the excuse of no time. Well, guess freaking what. I have all the time in the world, and I STILL DON’T DO THOSE THINGS. Except now it’s not the breaks that are the issue. It’s getting started that is the hard part. Finding the motivation to even begin on my schoolwork, to play my uke and guitar knowing I won’t play for anyone who cares for god knows how long, and just generally getting myself out of bed so I don’t feel like shit all day. Which happens A LOT now. I truly and honestly believe that this is the unhealthiest I have been in my entire life. I went to therapy the other day, and she told me not to push myself too hard. But good god, if some pushing doesn’t start happening, I am going to ROT. The worst part of all of this is that I can’t see my therapist in person anymore. We are going to try zooming, but whatever. It’s not the same. I am super grateful that I still get to see her. I can’t imagine myself being alive without her. It’s not that she really puts ideas in my head on how to get better. She validates or vetoes the ideas I have on my own. Anyways, all this to say I’m going to try to be better. I did this once before, but I pushed too hard and didn’t have anyone to say “Hey Jess, you are doing so well now! Also, did I mention how proud of you I am? Because I really am.” I think I’m going to take things slow now and be gentle with myself. The problem is that I never know how much pushing is going to lead to good things and how much is going to lead to a horrible mental breakdown. I might ask my therapist. I’ll try to write more, but I don’t wanna push too hard on that and not want to do it anymore. Just some food for thought. Also, this goddamn laptop is the best gift my little writer heart could have ever wanted. I type all my ideas as they come to my head, and this is my saving grace. 

[gayassbeenthings-blog]

Love?

I don’t think that I love my parents anymore. In fact, I don’t think I love the majority of my family for that matter. When I think of or feel love, it’s this overwhelming feeling of happiness when someone is around. Either that or it’s when you look at that person, and you just know that you would do absolutely anything in your power to make them the happiest and safest they can possibly be. For instance, I love all of my friends. I love my pets. I love my brother. I love Rachel despite what she did to me in the past. In her case, she has more than made up for it with everything she’s doing and has done for me. I know that she loves and supports me. Maybe love has to be a mutual thing. Like, why would you love someone who will never as long as you live love you back. My parents might love me, but maybe that is just because I’m their kid. Hear me out here. I think family love could be the strongest love. Like, imagine spending the majority of your life with someone and not even somewhat loving them. That isn’t always the case though. I guess I’m the exception. My main issue is that sometimes I can’t differentiate love from appreciation. Like, I really and truly do appreciate all that my parents have done and still do for me. I really do. I definitely don’t hate them to any degree, but maybe that’s just because I’ve been conditioned to love them my whole life. I barely know anything about them and vice versa. However, I can’t in good conscience say that I full-heartedly love them anymore, and that’s just because they have not given me a solid reason to. They don’t care about what I’m doing with my life if it isn’t what they want me to do. They don’t even care about the progress I’m making to do what they want. It seems like my parents only care about me for bragging rights. I won’t deny the fact that I am a good student. I take notes, put in the effort, turn in assignments. It’s all a hoax though. My natural intelligence and ability to memorize are more to blame for that than anything else. I am also talented in music, but only because it was there when they weren’t. My grandpa died when I was 11. My uncle died a week later. I was devastated. This was the first time I had ever lost someone. My parents went to my uncle’s funeral in Alabama, and I don’t blame them for that. They left us kids alone. My sister came to take care of us, but she wasn’t my mother. She wasn’t the comfort I needed. I used to believe that I didn’t deserve to have them there. That I somehow had to earn their love. Let me give you a piece of advice. Hell, I’ll even bold it for you. NO CHILD SHOULD HAVE TO EARN THEIR PARENTS LOVE. I whole-heartedly believe that. Everyone is worthy of love. “What you went through made you a stronger person.” Fuck. No. It DID mess me up, give me unhealthy coping mechanisms, and make me terrified to express any feelings I had for YEARS afterwards. Fuck being strong. I was a kid. I wanted to feel valid. I wanted to feel loved, and I NEEDED to feel safe. This probably isn’t the last I’ll write on this, but oh my god did i need to get that out. Life sucks when you feel alone. This kind of got off topic, but whatever.