6/9/19

Music is such a big part of my life now. I don't or can't tune out silence like I could before... there always has to be something in the background or life itself starts feeling awkward. It helps me get into the flow of things, it's nice and distracting, good for the hundred miles an hour anxious mind. 

Since summer break started, I've been struggling with such bad anxiety, which I assumed would last all summer, like it did last year. But it seems to be lifting, thank god, due in no small part to my efforts I'm sure. Last summer was hellish because I never quite acknowledged the problem and preferred to distract myself from it. 

Still, depression is a lingering issue, and for the first half of today it made seconds unbearable to live, constant pressure in the mind, or a burn, the pain never stops. In the past, speaking to counselours and other education minded adults about my portfolio or essay or gpa or scores or whatever has helped. It did today. Have I mentioned my all-encompassing, ravaging, damaging lack of confidence in my work? I suppose she convinced me I'm not terrible at it. Or at least somehow above average, despite its quality. So if others are more terrible than me, then I suppose my work is not quite so terrible! Haha. 

And there's the thing. I've always had such high expectations of myself. I see things as they could be and not what they are in practicality. Which is great if I can temper it with some practicality and control. It's great for ideating and knowing what I want to mold and shape from the void of creative material. It's not so great at telling me how to get there. 

I'm very tired. I have been since thursday. Two social outings, art classes, allergies, and portfolio stuff has left me drained... I pick up a pen then drop it without realizing, then pick it up again and leave it to the side to browse Reddit. It's difficult to concentrate. I stare at the paper absentmindedly, what I was doing dancing in the back of my mind. Music plays, further distracting. My room is its own universe. If I open the door, it wouldn't surprise me to find a black void. Peppy music with depressing lyrics bounces off the walls and draws the confines of this universe. 

I got a haircut. Its a bit too short, and I can't tie all of it up. Now I wear a little high ponytail with bits of hair sticking off the base of my scalp. I suppose it's like a self-rebranding, I definitely somehow feel different, which seems strange considering all I did was chop off some of the strands growing from my scalp. But its a more lighthearted, innocent look than the low, scrawly, messy ponytail I sported before, which brought to mind a depressed rat who never left the house. I don't know if it befits me. 

I haven't been able to sleep early. I always have to drag the time to 12 or 1 before I feel it's the right time. Otherwise, its as if I'm wasting hours of life by sleeping early. Sleeping is like giving up time to the void. My logic has been that it's best to sleep as little as healthily possible so I get more time to be awake and conscious and living. I see how this logic is flawed, since sleep is pretty important to quality of life. I think the whole thing is an extension of my anxiety in grabbing as much time as I can and not wasting a second to be productive. 

Sometimes I'm afraid of my mind's ability to float straight out of the average plane of thought to another universe. Nonexistent. The feeling of "this is strange" disappears. I'm embracing it to some extent in this journal. 

I'm slightly overweight. I have had issues with my body since I was very young. Even when I was an average weight, I was shamed constantly by my parents for what I suppose is just my build. Chunky thighs, wide shoulders and hips. I guess stress over the years, partly from negative body image, caused me to gain weight. I don't have much faith in losing weight, though I still hold on to that hope. For my health, and for my body image. Years ago I'd eat one meal a day in an effort to starve my body into consuming some fat. Even that didn't work. I lost hope then. Too much pressure. Too much stigma. Too much lifetime experience surrounding this subject to commit myself to losing weight at the moment. Yes, I will excercise and eat healthy, but not for that purpose. Because there's so much negativity clouding the thought of it that I don't want to try. What I do... should be for my health, not the abstract thought of weight loss. There was a point in time I couldn't look in the mirror without experiencing absolute shame. I don't believe in such a thing as a soul. Our thoughts, feelings, personality, what people would refer to as a soul is neurons firing in the brain. I believe in the separation of body and mind, but I still think that the two are physically the same. So... my body is "me". The flabby disgusting meatsack was me, and I hated it. 

Nowadays, I still struggle with oscillating body image, sometimes I'm okay with it, sometimes I find myself attractive, sometimes I feel disgust. Better than before I guess. 

I'll accept that I'm a person who's average to ugly. I was never the type to draw people in. Neither charismatic nor having the looks. I've grown to prefer that over being a people magnet. I like it when people stay for personality. 

I'm tired. Tired. Tired. I've fallen into some shame over stress eating. I've had the urge to munch on something a good chunk of my 24/7. I've kept it more under control than in the past. Still feels terrible.