12/12/18 after session thoughts
I am actually really proud of myself for talking as much as I did and for some of the times I spoke, with a somewhat decent voice that wasn’t too croaky. This is the most pride I have felt since that theatre performance I did back in October. My goal for next time is that I will be able to speak louder with a bit of confidence as if I were talking normally like I do with a friend or co-worker. Hopefully, I’ll be able to reach that goal. Since I was so seriously sleep deprived from that past week, it affected how well I was able to talk, and the filter my anxiety has over my mind was slowly deteriorating as the day progressed, so I was able to talk a bit more.
Answer to a question you asked a few sessions ago:
I think in the session before last, you asked the question about what it would look like if I could be who I wanted to be. I didn’t know what to say because I don’t know what’s reasonable or what it’s like for other people to socialize. I don’t know what it’s like to connect with someone quickly and be able to freely speak to them. If I could, I would not have this level of anxiety and depression, I would be able to freely move around, be able to speak with a strong voice. I would be able to go to sleep without worrying about having to get up the next morning; I would be able to wake up in the morning without wishing I hadn’t. I would be able to walk in public without wondering if I’m walking strangely or watching every step I take so that I don’t trip and fall. I would be able to go to class without worrying that my professors hate me because of late assignments or worrying that the other students around me hate me because I don’t participate or talk to them or worrying about making any noises that could possibly distract someone or disrupt the class in the smallest way.
I wrote this next paragraph up several weeks before I mentioned it, and instead of sending it, I attempted to verbally explain it. Here is what I wanted to say about Marshall and that situation but wasn’t completely able to articulate it.
One other thing I wanted to mention was my friendship with Marshall, well actually the lack thereof. Marshall and I haven’t talked much over the past several weeks. The last time I tried talking to him, was about four weeks ago probably a day or two after our session when you told me that our time was limited. I tried talking to Marshall because we hadn’t talked in a while and I just needed someone to talk to. The last time I tried talking to him was when I was in the hospital. I called him because I needed someone to talk to as I was feeling so scared and anxious. I didn’t know who else to call that I could talk to without causing more anxiety for myself. I called him because I thought maybe we could just talk like we used to when we hung out. He always helped me calm down by talking some sense into me, and he used to give me reassurance when my mind was spiraling out of control.
Several weeks ago, my former roommate told me that a friend of ours overheard Marshall spreading rumors about me and talking behind my back earlier this semester before my hospital stay. She said some of the things he was telling anyone and everyone were that my grades were slipping and that I probably wasn’t going to be a PD for the rest of this semester or next semester. When she told me this, it didn’t really register. The next day it clicked, and I realized what she said. It kind of made sense because we haven’t talked in several weeks, and anytime I tried to talk to him about stuff, all I got was a uninterested response. At first, it seemed really strange that Marshall would be saying things like that, because it wasn’t true.
That same day, I went to the dining hall and I saw Marshall and another friend sitting with some other people, so I went to join them. I walked up and after maybe ten seconds of being there the other friend acknowledged my existence and enthusiastically said hi to me. Then Marshall, without even looking up from his phone and in a very unenthusiastic and indifferent tone said hi to me. I sat down with them, none of them spoke to me, and I could tell I was clearly not wanted there. I tried to think of a way to leave, then my friend Bethany came up to say hi and asked me if I wanted to hangout. That was my escape, and I left without saying anything because they obviously didn’t care whether I was there or not.
Over the rest of the day, I kept thinking about what my friend told me, and I could not get it out of my mind. It’s not what he said that hurt me because I joke about that all the time. What hurt was that he was someone I used to consider as my best friend and now he was supposedly using me and now dropping me. I told him everything, and we were always hanging out doing homework or EP stuff together. So many people told me repeatedly that he just uses people, then when they are no longer beneficial to his life, he drops them like they never even mattered. I believed I was barely beneficial to him as all I had to offer was my friendship and creativity. I had nothing of value to offer in comparison to what he offered, but I gave my friendship and ideas freely, which before were locked behind steel walls I built between myself and others. I gave my presence when he wanted someone to study with or get a meal with, when he wanted a shopping buddy to go with him to Walmart where we would act stupid, wandering aimlessly through the aisles, or when he needed ideas for EP posters or events.
So many people told me that he was an “ass-kisser,” and he would do anything to save himself, even if it meant hurting others. I knew that it was partially true because I’ve witnessed him doing that to several people, but I never thought he would do it to me. I thought the friendship we had was different from the fakeness he had with others. I trusted him, and I shared everything with him. He was one of the first people I opened up to and was able to talk freely around. When I expressed concern about people always leaving me, he told me that he would always be there for me and that I could never get rid of him no matter how hard I tried. But where is he now? Not here, that’s for sure. It hurts to think that I’ve lost yet another friend and another person in my life. I always tell myself not to get attached, but what do I always do? I get attached, then they leave, and I never see them again. I’m always getting hurt, usually out of my own fault. At the end of that day, after pondering and crying, I texted Marshall to clarify the situation. He told me that our EP president Brooke asked him how I was doing and that he wasn’t saying any of those things to be mean or rude. I still don’t know who to believe, but I feel better knowing that there’s a possibility that I’m not completely hated.
12/17/18 Back Home
The first week back home was the hardest, but once that week was over, and my meds were finally back on track and more consistent, I started feeling more stable and able function. My family, mostly my mother, has been very triggering lately and thankfully, I’ve been staying at my grandmother’s house, so it’s been easier to avoid them when I need to. There have only been a few days that have been particularly difficult and that was Christmas Eve and Christmas.
As I have been writing and editing this update(?), I keep thinking that I should be writing as little as possible and that I should not be sharing anything because of the limited number of sessions left. My mind has been telling me that since the end is near I shouldn’t share anything at all and that I should keep everything to myself so as to protect myself and to not burden you. Even as I write this paragraph, my mind is screaming at me telling me not to share.