Angrizzle and the Dreaded M-Word

Now, I doubt anyone's actually going to read this, but just in case anyone does, don't take anything personally... I am just being a cranky bitch and I obviously have some issues to work out.

That disclaimer out of the way...

I fucking hate it when my friends have boyfriends.

Yeah, I know. That makes me a horrible person. I know I should be happy for my friends, especially as said friends have awesome boyfriends that I actually like. Only trouble is, remember that bit about how I'm a Scorpio? Yeah. That makes me extremely jealous and possessive, unfortunately by nature.

Not jealous of my friends for the fact that they have a boyfriend... matter of fact, I don't mind being single all that much. Sure, there are times when I get lonely, times when I'm horny, whatever. Yeah, I suppose it would be cool to have a boyfriend, but really, it's not something my happiness and sanity rests upon. I'm pretty fucking independent... and by that, well, I really mean I hate trying to operate as a unit. Functioning as a couple and trying to always think about the other person - i.e. not drooling over whoever in my chem class or whatnot - feels distressingly restrictive to me, and I don't work well that way. I may be a great friend, but I'm a terrible girlfriend, and I know it. I never let any of my boyfriends get past a peck on the lips - two if lucky - and I am well aware that that is nowhere near enough to satisfy the libido of any adolescent male. And I have this horrible tendency to freak out, feel like my boyfriend is way more into me than I am into them, and what do you know, we break up. Must be like a fear of commitment or something. Anyway, point is, at least in my experience so far, being in a relationship is a nice novelty for a while, but soon I get scared and it ceases to be enjoyable for me. Awesome, huh?

So, no, that is not why I am jealous. I am jealous of the boyfriends. They take over my friends lives, minds, and words, and pretty soon several things happen. I get pushed to the sidelines, I get kicked off the phone the second the boy calls, and my friends cease to be interested in me. Best friends? So what? The boyfriend is the priority, so kbai. And, due to my jealous, possessive (and emotionally insecure/low self-esteemed) nature, I soon get beyond envious and I feel cast aside. I realize that's pretty black and white thinking, but it's how I feel. Friend gets boyfriend, I become immediately second place, unimportant, the easy sacrifice. So my reaction? I get angry. Passive-aggressive angry, of course, because I know throwing a fit about how "how come you like him more than me?" would be incredibly childish, not to mention I don't have the balls to be that forward. So I glower, ignore, and come up with dumb excuses to snub. Two can play at this fucking game. I don't want to hang out with you anyway. You obviously don't care about me, so why should I give up my time of day to spend time with you when ALL YOU EVER FUCKING DO IS TALK ABOUT YOUR FUCKING BOYFRIEND???

(Because you have nothing better to do, Lauren? Because you're lonely as hell? And you have this whole spring break, sitting around doing jack shit? And doing it alone?)

Yeah, whatever. I guess being alone is better than being in the room with someone who has clearly demoted me to not-as-worth-my-time-as-my-precious-boyfriend status. At least for now, until I get over myself...

I know. I'm fucking insecure, childish, self-obsessed, self-centered, and plenty of other negative adjectives that would look fantastic on my resume. I know that. And that's part of why I'm so upset. I'm mad at myself for being such a fucking baby, not to mention a lousy friend... I should be happy for you, after all. But I'm just sad for me, jealous of Mr. Right and his use of your dear time.

And some of you have even been throwing around that M-word.

M-m-m---marriage.

EEEK. HOLY WHOA!! WAIT A MINUTE!! None of us are even fucking 21?!?!? What the hell is that word doing in first-person sentences?

I haven't even lost my goddamn virginity yet... not that I'm in any hurry to. I'm pretty sure if I just went out and got laid I'd scar myself for life.

Not the point. The point is, I don't want to be left behind... you people are getting married, even having kids, and here I am, have never even made out with anyone. But, more importantly, I don't want to grow up that fast just so I can be on that same plane with you. So, I don't want you guys getting married and leaving me!!! STOP IT.

I have one friend who is already married and has a son... and yes, I really am truly happy for her. I know she has been through hell and back a number of times, and I cannot think of anyone who deserves wedded bliss and a beautiful baby more than her. But, regardless, getting married vastly changes the dynamic of our friendship, like it or not. That whole thing about operating as a unit? She has to do that in a very big way... I don't just get her anymore, I get the whole family.

Not that I don't love the family. Her husband is a very cool person, and perfect for her, and her baby... well he's an angel. It's just that it's so very different than it was, and I don’t adapt to change very well, unless I initiated it. I have to plan "us" time around three people now. And, of course, I'm no longer the first line of communication, the one to be there for her. That's her husband now. On the one hand, I guess it's nice not to have that responsibility, but it's kind of distanced us. I hardly know what's going on in her life anymore, and as the baby gets older and more demanding, I'm sure that will only intensify.

And what about my other friends, the ones with boyfriends-but-not-husbands... yet? Will you marry yourselves away and leave me behind to access you through your families and the barrier of knowing I'm not the first one you call when you're crying, or the person that means the most in your life?

I know that's selfish, but I need people to need me. If they don't, that makes me useless. Purposeless. Superfluous and, well, why don't I just go away? Yeah, it's not quite that simple; I know it's not that people get married and don't need their friends anymore. But I will cease to be needed on the level that I've come to know, and that it very unsettling to me.

I'm the fucking perfectionist from hell, and feeling like a second-rate companion simply will not do. I know I can't be everyone's best friend, and that's fine, but the people that I do call my best friends and vice versa... well it really hurts to feel as if this boy, who you've known a fraction of the time you've known me, has taken my place. Hurts like hell, and I can't help but want to retaliate in defense... how making you feel unneeded will make me feel any better, I don't know. I guess I'm just a control freak. I like having at least some shred of control over an outcome... if I have none, I feel helpless and small... invisible and disposable.

Friends, if you read this absurdly long rant... way to go, I guess you have a shitload of time on your hands. I love you. I really do. I'm just a mess and I'm feeling abandoned and unwanted. I honestly feel like no one likes me sometimes, and I have to feel accepted to accept myself... I have a long way to go to get there, and I suppose that's why I'm hurting so bad.

You don't have to change anything. It's your life, and I can't and won't stop you. Choose what you will. I'll be here.

Exercise-Induced ARRRGH!

Here's a little, very uncensored, piece I wrote earlier today. Warning: extremely whiny, self-loathing, and painfully honest. Yeah. Apparently I'm suffering from depression... so say the five dffferent self-tests. Anyway. Here's this:


Is This Vulnerable Enough?


I feel like I’m ruining everything I touch.

I started researching asthma as a way to get away from the vomiting obsession. I thought that would be a good way to redirect my attention so that I could do something else with Tory’s poor health, thus not making her throw up all the time and feeding my obsession.

So. Asthma. Totally different. Perfectly logical alternative, right? No.

It was fine at first, but then, just like with the vomiting, I became afraid to say the words, became more likely to dance around the words, just like

Throwing up and motion sickness and nauseous and all those words I don’t want to say out loud, because then I’d be talking about it. The thing I obsess about. Shouldn’t talk about it. Humiliating. Foolish. WEAK.

So then I didn’t want to talk about asthma that way, even though it had no history. No phobia. No old obsessions. No Zac Hanson having trouble breathing on stage and me flipping a bitch about it. Just an idea, a diversion to get me away from the real obsession. But now I can’t talk about it either. It’s become another fucking keyword. And why? Because I tried to fix the first one. What next? Will I torment someone with chronic headaches and become unable to say the words “headache, ibuprofen, pain”? Or maybe a fear of heights. Or snakes. Or anything. I could touch anything with my attention, make anything my distraction, and then kill it, make it any damn keyword, another thing I can’t say, another thing I get both giggly and panicky about when it comes up in conversation, online, on the silver screen…

But then I had an idea. Maybe it was a good idea. Maybe it was just that stupid empathy attacking me again. I’m a terrible runner. Terrible. Can’t run for more than a minute or two without wiping out. Feels like I can’t get enough air, no matter how easily it slides down my throat. Not satisfying. Can breathe, yes, but can’t obtain enough oxygen. Maybe asthma, a mild form, of course, was attacking me while I ran. Yes! It had to be true. It would make sense of everything, the shortness of breath, the chest discomfort I had always blamed on my heart, and been told over and over again was not anything to do with my heart. And my cousin had just been diagnosed with exercise-induced asthma, for the burning pain in her trachea, just like mine, and it all made sense, I was so sure…

But it wasn’t. And now I feel completely invalidated. I need a REASON for being such a horrible runner. I hate that no matter how much I run, swim, I still am no good, I run a TEN MINUTE MILE, not even sure I could do that well now… and it’s not my heart, and now it’s not my lungs either? THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS IT? The only reason I can come up with is that I am really as pathetic as I seem, that I really am in such horrible shape… that I am no better than my whiny little sister that always says she can’t do it, she’s gonna die, no more exercise, boohoo I’m a fucking wimp. Am I the same as her? Does everyone feel like I do when I run, but they just deal with it and I can’t? Am I that pitiful? It’s not my heart, it’s not asthma, so what other answer do I have?

Or worse… do I just want to have it the way I want to have every other damn problem so I can understand? I have a hell of a history with that one. I want to understand motion sickness. Understanding on an intellectual level isn’t enough. I have to feel. I have to experience. I have to truly get it. It was the same way with eating disorders, cutting… as ashamed as it makes me, the fucking empathy is probably half the reason I did any of those things in the first place to understand… not because I was a cutter at heart, or anorexic, but because I wanted to feel what it was like… so I did.

At least I think so. It’s a fuzzy line now. One cut is all it takes to fuel an addiction. I may have done it out of empathy, but now it’s done, and I want it, I want more. I want to hurt myself more than anything right this minute.

Actually, I would rather know what the hell is wrong with me. But if the answer is still NOTHING than I would gladly settle for slicing into my skin over and over and over with the sharpest razor and drinking my blood until I throw up, and then I’ll have experienced everything. Maybe I’ll even panic so much I’ll stop breathing for a minute and then it will ALL make sense.

But I’m not going to do that. I promised too many people I wouldn’t. Including myself. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I do. I want terribly to cut right now. I want to cut because I hate all of this. I hate feeling pathetic, like my sister, I hate not knowing, I hate not understanding, I hate that I want to understand, I hate the empathy, I hate how fucking obsessive I am, how I draw everyone’s problems into my body, as if my own weren’t enough.

They’re not, right? My dad moved to California and isn’t paying for college. But he never hit me. He wasn’t the abusive alcoholic absent father many kids suffer. I have a weak stomach. So what? Some people are allergic to everything in the grocery store, or are handicapped, or have cystic fibrosis, and I’m complaining about a little sensitivity to dairy? So the fuck what? Nobody cares!! My complaining is useless! Sure I have problems. But there are NOTHING next to the misery I see all around me… and that’s what makes me so fucking miserable… the fact that everyone else is. I have to be miserable too… or else. And yet I hate it. I hate this empathy. I want to feel my own feelings, be glad that I can read in the car and breathe the free air, and I can walk where ever I want without a wheelchair or anything, but instead, I’m crying about that tiny ounce of fat over my stomach, the fact that I have no breasts, bad skin, am too tall… does any of this really matter when I could have NO legs, eczema, Marfan’s syndrome? It shouldn’t! But here I am feeling sorry for myself! Wanting to HURT myself. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Speaking of UNDERSTANDING, and other stories

This last week at my family's house has reminded me so much of my life in high school, and believe it or not, I actually kind of miss it.

On Wednesday, I got all dressed up in my old goth(ish) clothes, particularly my "old faithful" boots and the torn-up skirt that I wore like, every week. It felt very much like high school, and getting ready for the Evanescence concert reminded me of those parts in between the drama, stress, depression, cutting, and suicide threats that didn't suck. The parts where people I didn't even know called me "Evanescence girl" in between classes, or when I sat in my car in the driveway singing my heart out to the music I loved. Correction: Love.

Being at the concert was, in so many ways, going back in time to the height of my love of the band, and fulfilling the dreams of the high school me that never got to see them live. It was a little weird being at the concert with the temporary musicians - when I saw Ev in Vancouver, it was when John and Rocky were still in the band - and it definitely felt a little more like "The Amy Lee Show" than enjoying the whole band... but then, I suppose, they are called Evanescence after all... that just so happens to mean ephemeral, temporary, like vapor. Everything does change. My life. Her life. The band. And that's okay.

The most powerful moment all night was when she sat down at the piano and played Lithium and Good Enough back to back. If Amy and I had sat down in a room together, figured out one emotion we had in common (as if there were only one!) and decided to write about them, those two songs would have been the result. Basically, those songs express the absolute truth of so many of my feelings... her lyrics could not have captured them more perfectly. So needless to say, I felt incredibly connected to her knowing that the words we were both singing were entirely from the heart, and I felt like our voices were crossing in mid-air and blending... I could see her face so clearly from where I was standing - maybe 20, 25 feet from the stage - and that emotional connection was amazing. I don't suppose I'll ever know if she knew what I was feeling, but I guess that one way connection was enough for me. I felt it. Towards the end of the song, I could tell she was breaking up at some of the phrases, being such an emotional and personal song. To see this person that I've looked up to and cared about so much all these years, almost crying at the song that connected our hearts was about the most incredible and emotional thing I could have ever prayed for.

And course, just her saying "Good evening, Seattle," was the fulfillment of something I've waited years to hear. She even said, "Wow, there's so many of you here! Thanks!" She sounded rather touched... it was sweet.

At the end of the show, when the crowd had finally called the band back for an encore, she sat down at the piano again, and I thought, hm, they must be doing Your Star... that's what they played at the Vancouver encore. But then I heard an organ... an organ? There was no organ on The Open Door... not even on Fallen, really. Not much, anyway.

I thought for a second - really? Are they really--are they seriously--is this actually--? It was. All at one second, Nikki and I looked at each other, and SCREAMED!!! OH MY GOD THEY'RE PLAYING UNDERSTANDING!!!! For those of you that don't know, Understanding was the first Ev song ever to be played on the radio, back in (if I'm not mistaken) 1998. It's off their first EP album, so needless to say, rare and not exactly recent. At the end of the song, Amy said, "Wow, I'm surprised any of you knew that song!" And I was thinking, "HELL YEAH, that's me!!" Way way cool. And then they did Your Star, which is awesome live. The whole show was incredible.

November 21st was the Someday of my high school life, my high school dream. And who knew how far the both of us would have come! In 2004, I don't think either of us could have forseen feeling Good Enough. And yet, there we've both arrived.

So then, on (Black) Friday, I was hanging out with Nikki and Sam, just like old times, talking and laughing and innuendo...ing, and just generally goofing around, in my family's house, in my old room. It still feels like home, even though I've called the dorm, and now my apartment, "home" since last fall. I miss living with my family, living in that room, even if it is nice to have the freedom to run my own life and my own schedule. Having my old room and my high school friends back kind of made me want my old life back. It's so boring at college. To be honest, the "new life," the "real life," whatever you wanna call it, kinda sucks. Competitive majors. Jobs. Realizing how much debt I'm going to have to pay off when I graduate, thank you $50,000 education. Wondering what the fuck I'm going to do with said competitive major in order to pay off said $50,000 education. Not to mention, I never seem to have the inspiration to do anything interesting with the little free time I do have, at least in that creativity-killing, pathetic excuse for a city.

Even things that aren't inherently bad are still huge changes that are going to take a lot of getting used to. I mean, one of my best high school friends is now married and has a baby. A baby! She has an awesome husband, and I'm totally happy for her (and comfortable around him) and her baby is a little angel and I love him with all my heart... but my high school friend wasn't a married mother. She was an angsty kid, just like me. And it's not that I want the angst back. I'm very glad to not have to be the suicide hotline anymore. That's great. But even so, our lives and our friendship have changed. We're on opposite sides of the motherhood line now, and while we're still very close, it's different. And while it's a good different, I still miss the old, uncommitted, single-person friendship we had. And I know we'll never have that again.

On top of it all, uhm, my sister has changed. A LOT. It's not really my business, so I'm not really at liberty to spill all the beans here, but let's say my mom and I are scared, hurt, and totally unsure of what to do. It's scary and depressing.

I'm also depressed that I have to go and endure 2.5 more weeks of the most boring town on the west coast, starting in a couple of hours. And then, at least six more months after Christmas break is over. Ugh. The move to Seattle, providing it all goes as smoothly as I hope, cannot come soon enough. Heh... that reminds me, I still have to figure out how to get around my lease. Gulp.

Alright, so life doesn't totally suck. I think my wounds about the holidays from years past are starting to heal, and I think I might actually enjoy this Christmas season, and, well... it could be worse. I could have literally lost friends, and I haven't. I guess I'm okay. It's just hard, and life's just different. A lot of times, I need change, but especially if I don't instigate it, I always have a hard time dealing with it.