Another Day

Yesterday was a storm- I spent the day whirling through stages of anxiety, depression, and dissociation, and had a long ass talk with my upperclassman-friend and began feeling so much better. I realized how much I've been relying on him lately, so that he has to support part of my weight too even as he stumbles across life's frozen plains. I'm ashamed of myself.

I've always wanted to be a strong person. Somehow, I feel like that goal is impeded by my being female - I've always been fed stories about girls being saved, praised, doted on, and with all this equal rights stuff lately it seems more critical than ever to be able to hold an image of a proud, independant girl. But I end up not getting help when I should, and trying to be strong alone. Lately, it's almost like it's impossible to be strong because of this body I was born with. 

I was always the type to run away from reality and engage in fantasies - more of an enneagram 4 in my earlier life. My reality seemed hopeless, so I'd immerse myself in wonderful dreams where I was successful, where I became the master artist I'd always wanted to be, where I found a "savior" to lift me up and bring me somewhere better. I became ashamed of my actual life because they could never live up to my dreams. The thoughts of the "savior" were selfish and irrational, hurtful, but they were still a guilty joy to think about. 

The savior came. He came years and years after I stopped wishing for one, having given up and started trying to live my life out and wring out of it what i could. I suppose it's wrong to call him a savior, as he is not supposed to "save" me and I should not expect him to. But he was in every aspect and every bit what I thought a "savior" would be, the type of character you only ever read about in cute stories for girls to drool over. Kind, considerate, thoughtful, always looking out for me and worrying for me. But he has his own problems too. I'm deeply ashamed for falling into the trap of seeing him as perfect, as someone to lift me up. I have to contribute. I have to be worth helping. 

I tried to help him yesterday. I don't know how successful I was. But I tried my ding dang hardest and no one can fault me for trying. I want him to be able to rely on me like I rely on him. I want him to see me as a source of strength rather than a liability. Yet, I don't know if I'm strong enough to be those things. Yet. I just have to give it my all, try my best. If I don't I can't face myself or the people around me. 

Today, I went back to normal. I'm 40% full right now ; the rest of me was washed away by the inexplainable emptiness, the dissociation. "Who I am today is worse than other times." But I've tried and tried and even though the hopelessness drags at my being and soul I've held on today and I've not given up. I'm not letting go of the lessons of yesterday. I'm not going to trouble my important friend with things I already know the answer to. 

I have to become stronger.