Wednesday, June 24, 2015

I am at peace

Yes, it is true, I have actually died. Well, obviously not, but I've been saying that a lot lately for very boy-related reasons, but that's not what this is about.

I realized today, as I finished reading a book I've already read like 3 times before, that I was happy. And I looked at myself in the mirror and just said that- "I'm so happy." But it's not an ecstatic kind of happy. It's more a sort of... content.

I'm used to my job now. Work is slow and easy this week, none of those days where we run around doing thing after endless thing, staying until 4 PM (which is good since both my lab partner and I seem a little ill at the moment). I've reached some kind of... something with my lab partner- she seems to accept that there are certain times of the day that might just coincide with someone else's break times at their job during which I am very preoccupied by my phone. She tells me things now and then and I enjoy hearing them. I've stopped telling her what to do all the time- she knows what she's doing. Not as much as I do, because I've been there forever, but she does. The brilliant part about this is that she knows all the theory behind the techniques we're using, while I know how to do the actual work required. We make a good team.

I've seen friends several times in the last few weeks, and that makes me feel very normal. All through my childhood my mom was always telling me to just call people, invite friends over, throw a birthday party, and I was always too nervous to do it. I don't know why high school was what got me over my phone anxiety, but it was. I'd still rather text to arrange things, but I can call people now, and hang out with them, and since I can drive and I'm an adult and have a job and pay for my own gas and all that, I feel more like I'm allowed to. It's my car, I'm driving it, if I want to go to a movie with friends and then hang out at one of their houses afterwards, I don't have to call and ask my parents for permission. It's very freeing. But the best part is that I get to see my friends. Actually really see them, because I am forcing myself to make the effort this summer. And it's great.

And the weirdest thing was that I started running. Not very regularly, mind you- the combination of getting my period with weirdly awful pre-cramps and cramp-cramps AND getting sick this week kinda meant that I was out for this week- but still. Running. What the hell? I hate running. Well, I did. And I'm not letting myself feel guilty about the irregularity of these workouts, either. All that fitness inspiration crap all over the internet keeps saying that you have to stick with it and there's no excuses and never miss a workout and it's like GOD, GET OUT OF MY FACE, jesus FUCKING christ. I'll work out if I feel like it because I like doing it and if I don't want to then I won't. I have an exuse this week: I'm fucking sick. And that's OK, because I can just start running again next week. Besides, I've rapidly learned that nobody fucking cares if my stomach is a little soft or if I have cellulite on my thighs, so the only person who really cared in the first place was me. So why care? I'm fine. I'm fine. I mean, I am sick (it's ok that I can't run, my nose is doing it for me! *drum kit*) but I'm fine.

I don't even know what this post is, it's such a big rambly mess. But I feel very at peace with my life right now. I don't really have any problems- I got my relationshit sorted out earlier. The chips fell where they did, and I like where they fell, and I'm really really happy about it. And Ptarckas seems ok too, and that means a lot to me, because he really deserves that. I see my friends regularly. I work out sometimes. I've started making myself food (I don't really know what happened to my family's way of existing while I was away, but it apparently involves a lot more cheap crap fast food pizza-and-hot-dogs than it used to), because I get the sense that my parents are tired from work because their jobs are way harder than mine.

But I have to end this post now. As good as it felt to write it, I have a call I need to make, and I want to be able to get it in before getting a good night's rest (before I inevitably wake up at like 6 anyway because of this fucking skylight in my room... okay, so maybe I have ONE problem, but that's a small problem to have).

yer pal,
swegan :)

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Things made a weird amount of sense this morning

I have since chilled, which is what tends to happen when you spend two hours learning about radiation safety (which is now done, woo!). Yesterday was probably one of the more emotionally intense days of my life, but the result of the conversation I had was that I have one more reason to be absurdly excited to start next semester.

I can't stop listening to music, either. Every. Single. Song. Makes. More. Sense. I don't even know what's happening to me. I'm staying up until 1:30 AM on the phone even though it makes me sleep deprived and I'm making plans to do a million cute things which I never thought I'd get to do with someone I liked this much and I keep catching myself idly smiling when my mind wanders. I'm so far gone, it's not even funny.

I no longer care if I should wait some required amount of time before jumping into another relationship. If people are going to judge me for that, they obviously don't know what the situation is. I don't plan on changing anything until the end of the summer, just because I feel like that's a good idea and something I want to do. But in the meantime, my phone is full of cute messages I read and reread when I'm bored and tumblr has stopped updating.

The other weird thing is that I feel like I have all this energy all the time. The fact that I started running this summer was weird enough (I have hated running until now), but now I find myself wanting to do it because I have all this pent-up energy and I just GAH I have to get it out and singing along to the radio in my car is no longer enough.

I feel completely crazy. I'm scared out of my mind because of that. This entire situation makes me beyond insanely happy, and that's weird, and I'm terrified and excited all at the same time. And yet there's still things I keep to myself because I feel like they are too much, too soon, and I can't ruin this.

I also have nothing more interesting to blog about because, as of late, I have become a COMPLETE and total pathetic loser with no life, but then again, he has too, and we're self aware of it, and the fact that I can say we is making me weirdly happy right now, so that should be an indication of how much this is messing with my head. It's just a pronoun, swegan, calm the fuck down.

yer pal,

Monday, June 8, 2015

This blog is slowly degrading back into public journal entries

My mom, the other day, said to me that she doesn't think I've ever really been in love before. Her qualifications required that losing that person would tear my life apart, and I was stumped. I couldn't argue- not because I felt like she was right, but because I felt like she might be wrong and I didn't know why.

It's not like I haven't told people I love them before. I tell friends all the time, but that's not what my mom was talking about. I love my family, but again, I still don't think that's what she was getting at (despite the fact that losing either of my parents or siblings or any extended family to whom I am close would obviously tear my life apart). I told Ptarckas I loved him, and I meant it, because at the time it seemed like the only thing there was to say, and I felt like that meant it must be real.

Obviously, I'm still sorting out how I feel about Ptarckas. I broke up with him just a couple days ago, but to be honest, nothing feels super different. It feels like I can't talk to him as much, not that we were talking much anymore. It's just... weird. I'm OK, which I didn't expect, but this is weird. But more in the sense that I was just used to having him around, which I think is expected of any relationship. And now I don't really "have him around", and it's weird for me.

Fortunately, we both seem OK, but that raises the issue of whether or not our relationship was ever really serious to begin with. I haven't cried about this since it happened (although crying while our relationship kinda fell apart was standard). I remember one time standing in my apartment, and getting so upset at the thought of breaking up with him that I had to remind myself that I didn't have to do that. Now, I've done it, and I think the distance is acting as a buffer.

I don't know what it's going to be like once I get back to school. Seeing him has become such a part of my life, and I was dating him basically for the entirety of my university experience thus far. What's troubling me isn't that I don't know how to university without him, per se, but that I don't know what it's like to university without being that close to someone and having that kind of relationship. I'm more than certain it will be fine. I mean, yeah, it was really great while it lasted. Our relationship didn't end because it was toxic and twisted and bitter, or because either of us no longer cared about the other (nor did it end because I developed feelings for someone else, despite how it may look that way). Our relationship ended because he made it very clear that he didn't feel like this was going to last in the long-term, and that sucked all the serious out of it. It also made me realize that I didn't want to stay with someone if I knew it was going to end.

I'm not interested in casual dating, not interested in having flings with people that I fully expect to end at some point. I'm not the kind of person to keep myself from getting emotionally invested (I get emotionally invested in everything). And I guess that's the good that came out of this relationship, is that I understand more of what I want now. Maybe not much, but something. So maybe that means mom was right, and I've never been in love (on her terms, anyway). It sounds terrifying, but then, so do plenty of other things, like Being Financially Responsible and Acting Like an Adult, and I'm still game for those.

The other problem I'm having is that I still feel guilty about having feelings for someone else, even though it literally no longer matters. There's still a sense of I can't do anything about those yet, I have to deal with this first that was there the past few months, and I don't know how to get rid of it. I don't know what there is to get over here, just that there's something, and I owe it to myself- and to Ptarckas- to at least wait until I feel like I'm fully done. Furthermore, I don't want to try and go after someone else if there's a risk that I'm not done here, and that because of that I might fuck it up with that someone else. That's not fair to anyone.

It just feels stupid to be thinking about this, like how can you possibly like someone else?? you just broke up two days ago!! What's wrong with you? and the answer, of course, is nothing, nothing is wrong with me, forgive me for being human and liking people in a way that makes me want to date them, heaven forbid I do something like that. (I'd like to take a moment here to apologize to the guy on the receiving end of said feelings, since he reads this- I really don't want to weird you out, but this is my blog, and I'm not trying to weird you out).

So I guess I am a little troubled since I broke up with Ptarckas- just not the kind of troubled I expected to be. I was expected melancholy, weeping, that awful, awful feeling of heartbreak... but no. I just feel overwhelmed with guilt, and apparently stressed out enough by that that my back is fucking itself up again.

I'm just not really sure how to navigate feelings at the moment. I'm trying to enjoy the fact that at least some of this makes me happy (I mean, come on, learning someone you like reciprocates those feelings at least a little weensy bit is a pretty good feeling), and I'm trying to be reasonable with myself. Is it normal to feel guilty? Probably. Should that stop me from living my life forever? No, but at the moment, I am living my life, and I'm fine. I have the whole rest of the summer before I even have to run the risk of bumping into either boy involved in this situation, which makes everything easier. Hopefully by then, I'll feel a bit more OK about all of this.

Sometimes I'd like to think that people are right when they say I seem mature for my age, even though it still feels arrogant to think that.

yer pal,

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Here again

Ptarckas and I are a couple no more.

This had been a long time coming, to be honest. Yesterday we had a very tear-filled Skype conversation, and after that I asked for some space. Which I was given, and during which I had four conversations which all came to the same conclusion. The one with my mom was the longest, and more complex than I had initially thought. It's no secret that my parents didn't like Ptarckas (not as a person, they just had concerns about where he was headed, which I can't lie and say I didn't share), so I was expecting the conversations to be pretty blunt and one-sided, but they were much better than I expected. I guess I didn't give my parents enough credit.

Of course, all but one of those conversations ended with the same question which was a totally ridiculous question to be asking, because of course the answer was not now. I am weirdly fine about the whole thing; I think I worked myself up to it for a long time. I'm waiting for it to hit me. I don't know if it ever will, not in the same way the last one hit me right away like a sledgehammer to the chest.

I still worry about Ptarckas. I didn't want to do this, and I'm sure he's taking it a lot harder than I am, and I'm endlessly sorry that I had to hurt him by doing this. The last thing he deserves is to be hurt.

Currently, I just sort of want to blast music really loudly and run until I fall over, or dance, or do SOMETHING. I feel like I have all this pent up energy and I want to get out of my own head. Work will help with that, as work always has, by being an interesting distraction. I might get my name on a paper yet...

Things are gonna be ok. Of this I am certain. I was ok last time, I'll be ok this time.

yer pal,

Thursday, June 4, 2015


I'm willingly listening to One Direction. I don't know what's happening to me. I have told everyone I know.

I tried to fix my relationship problems last night, and it turned out differently than I expected. In fact, I think everything is about the same as it was, only worse. I've been a mess all day. I can't concentrate on anything. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, and I've exhausted the only option I thought I had.

I'm starting to wonder if I should just let go. If I should just let the chips fall where they may, and wait until I have a better plan of action than nothing at all. Part of me is tempted to just run away from all of this and just be alone. The rest of me knows that that's not possible.

So instead, I'm sitting here listening to the fourth album of my sister's favourite boy band, because the title is relevant to all of this. Also, because this one is distinctly less pop-y than the rest, and I find that I actually like it more than I thought I would.

Still not entirely sure how this is the problem I am having, of all the problems I could be having in my life. This feels too weird and stupid and ugh. Like, seriously? This is like a bad teenage novel, or an even worse rom-com.

At least I'm writing again, even if it's just angsty journal-like blog entries that I have recently learned are less subtle than a gun. I'm going to make a bunch of little heart badges and just sew them onto the sleeves of everything I own, because that's about where I'm at right now.

yer pal,

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

I want to leave this behind

Work ended early today, like before-the-end-of-the-school-day-early. Consequently, I decided to try and go visit some teachers. I had two that I wanted to visit- both at different schools, unfortunately. I decided to try and visit my favourite teacher from middle school, one of very few good teachers that I had during that time. Unfortunately, she wasn't in, so I left a message with the receptionist (without a phone number or email god dammit oops) and walked back outside.

Coming at that time of day was probably a bad idea, but I didn't even stop to think of it. Leaving was much harder than going in. It was just that the din of voices was exactly the same as it was back when I was that age, all the kids shouting stupid stuff and going off in their different directions. The worst part was that getting back to my car required me to walk past a group of boys who looked to be about 12 and athletic.

As much as I've moved on from the specific people who used to bother me, that type- 12 year old athletic boys- still makes me nervous. And I've had people telling me that it's not healthy to still be wallowing in this, and that makes me so mad- I know it's not healthy. You think I like this? You think I like being unsettled by 12 year old boys in gym shorts? I have literally never met a 12 year old boy who is good at sports who isn't the worst kind of person. I don't want to feel that way, I don't want to have to make that judgement, but my experiences with 12 year old boys when I was 12 were the fucking worst and as a result I just can't handle being around 12 year old boys, apparently.

Driving away was therapeutic. I tend to talk to myself a lot- out loud; not the kind of talking where I'm having a conversation with myself, but more that I like voicing my train of thought when I'm alone. Doing it in the car is even better for some reason, probably because I'm definitely alone and not wondering if someone else can hear me. But I talked, and the closer I got to my high school, the more and more I realized how happy I was that I made the choices that I did.

Eventually I started crying. Because I was driving farther and farther away, because with every passing day, every passing second I get farther away from fucking middle school. I know it's ridiculous to be upset about this, especially because so many other kids had it so much worse than I did. But when lots of people tell you that you're a loser for three straight years as a kid, I guess some of that kind of sticks with you forever.

And this is why I thank the universe every goddamn day that my sister didn't go through that. She had her own group in middle school, she did her own thing, worked hard, made friends, and had fun, and I am so, so, so unbelievably glad that she was spared my experience of being a short nerdy loser. I know that to some extent, that experience made me who I am today, bla bla bla. But I still wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I had to take a few seconds to compose myself when I finally reached my old high school, because I was still crying about how happy I was. I never have to go back. I never have to go back. I went to a good high school and met people who just genuinely liked me for who I was and I think I have finally unlearned all the nastiness I was starting to adopt as a mechanism for trying to appear normal. I'm finally freeing myself of the idea that being normal matters, that I have to be a girl in a certain kind of way for people to like and accept me, or for my life to be rich and full and happy. To my friends in high school: I don't exaggerate when I say that you all rescued me from a potential future of me being nasty and bitchy and lonely.

I remember distinctly a moment near the end of 9th grade when I thought, so this is what it feels like to be happy, really happy, right at your core.

And university's even better, because I finally start to expect that people will be pretty decent and nice to me and even stupid stuff, like that boys will like me and not look at me and call me ugly and faggot and shove me into lockers and call me fucking bitch and that girls won't be nice to my face and compare me to the boys who talked about eating worms and worshipping noodles when they thought I wasn't listening. God, middle school was petty.

I know it sounds stupid. It really, really does. But I'm the only one who's allowed to feel that way, because when other people say it I'm like do you think I like this? Do you think I like that I'm still upset by things that happened 10 years ago? It's the fucking worst and I feel ridiculous any day that it bothers me. But it just gets smaller and smaller as time goes on and life keeps going up, up, up and I keep meeting more and more people who treat me nicely and I keep doing more and more and more of the things that I love. It doesn't feel like I've finally reached some place where my life is perfect, it feels like my life is good and it's going to stay that way and continue to be filled with genuine people and happiness forever and every day that I realize that is the best day of my life.

I don't spend all my time thinking about this, no. I have bigger things to worry about. But sometimes it gets to me and I get all emotional about it. It's probably also ridiculous to be so happy about the quality of the friends that I have, but I don't care. I've done more happy crying this year than I ever have before and that is fine with me.

As a closing note, before I start happy crying again: my dear, dear friends, you mean more to me than words can say.

yer pal,
swegan :)