Friday, September 21, 2012

Tonight I Wasn't Very Sara

I went back to my psychologist today. It had been about five years since my last visit.
Honestly, I was never "fixed". When I was eleven and I got out of that terrible depression that I was in, I wasn't done being depressed or having anxiety. Instead, I had learned how to cope with it.
Sure, I didn't think I was going insane anymore, but I was still thinking about how many horrible outcomes each day could have.
I didn't want to go back to the psychologist for the longest time. My mom would mention it on the days when I couldn't hold it together that well, but I always said no. I honestly thought that I could work through it on my own, but I can't. I think I tricked myself into thinking that everything was fine, that I was going to work through everything by myself. I was very wrong.
As I was talking to my psychologist today, I think I finally understood how long this has been going on. Basically, I've had terrible anxiety my entire life.

Today I wanted to go to the football game. It was a home game and all of my friends were going to be there.
It was going to be fun.
But on the drive home from the appointment, I started feeling really bad again.
And by feeling bad, I don't mean a headache. I was upset over so many things all at once.
I was sad for my parents worrying about me. I was sad about my friends probably thinking that I'm crazy because they don't understand how much anxiety affects my life, etc.

When I got home I decided to play Minecraft and try to get myself thinking happier thoughts, but that didn't help anything. My mom was going on a walk around the block and so I decided to go with her.
But as I was getting dressed, my friend Paige called me.

On and off for an hour, I had been debating with myself on whether or not I should go to the game.
Then I messaged Paige and told her that I wouldn't be coming.
I was just so upset and I still am upset. I didn't want to be around people at all, even the friends that I am very grateful for. Lately, since this has been progressively been getting worse, I've been making up excuses to get out of social events. It doesn't matter what the setting is. From a football game to going to Sonic with my friends, it doesn't take much to throw me into anxiety mode. And because I was already having a hard time with it, I knew that I would most likely be a blubbering mess in the car and that I would probably leave the game early. Half the time, I make up some excuse about my mom wanting me to come home when I'm out with friends. I say that I didn't do the dishes or that I have some sort of homework to do, but really it's because I get sad and worried even more than usual. I leave because I know that if I stay, I could potentially start crying or get very quiet and then my friends would ask me too many questions.
I really don't like answering questions when I get like that. Partly, it's because I can't put how I'm feeling into words. For the most part, it's because I know that I'll start crying again. I don't like to cry in front of people.

So when Paige called me and asked why I wasn't going to the game, it was all I could do to hold myself together. The reason I wasn't going didn't have to do with wanting to write, or play video games, or reading.
It had to do with the fact that I was just too fragile to go anywhere in public.

After I had myself mostly pulled together, dad watched Doctor Who with me. It meant a lot to me since both  of my parents hate that show. But we watched Blink, and no one is allowed to hate that episode because it's awesome.
I love my parents so much, and I'm very thankful that they try their best to help me not to be so sad and worried all the time.

Hopefully, this can provide my friends with the answers to why I've been absent from social functions lately.

Now that I've started going back to a psychologist, I think that I'll start to get better soon.
At least I hope so.

Peace, love, and socks,

Monday, September 17, 2012

The Post I Should Have Posted A Long Time Ago

This past Mother's Day, I wrote a post for my mom and I thought to myself, "When Father's Day rolls around you'll have an awesome post for dad too!" And then Father's day rolled around, and I didn't have a post for my dad. I was thinking about that the other day and it made me feel bad.
Especially with a few events that have happened recently, I figured that it was time for dad to get his own post. 

*clears throat and pops knuckles*

My dad is the person who taught me to stand up for myself and for my friends no matter what.
He taught me to never give up on my dreams and how to be tough. 
While my mom introduced me to music and writing, my dad introduced me to nature and I feel that it is equally important. 
He taught me how to explore and how to get lost in the trees behind our house that I used to call the "forest". 
The woods have always been a completely different universe for me and I think that if I hadn't grown up with them, I wouldn't have the imagination that I have today. 
They were always more than just woods to me. They were places where faeries lived on moss hills. They were where mermaids and mermen swam in the nearby river. Sometimes they were inhabited by dreadful beasts and hooded, wicked goblins. 
Even today, I find it hard to believe that there isn't some type of magic there in the trees. When the light from the setting sun comes through the trees, the woods become drenched in faerie dust. 
But now I'm talking about the woods, so I'll get back on track. 
My dad was the person who taught me how to swim and ride a bike. He taught me how to solve multiple problems too. Most of them involve life or death situations because my dad is a police officer and police officers worry about these types of things. He taught me how to break out of a trunk (in the event that I was kidnapped), how to leave clues of my DNA (in the event that I was kidnapped), where the pressure points are on the human body (in the event that I was jumped, kidnapped, or just needed to know), how to jump out of a car (kidnapped), that you should always go for the thumb first if someone won't let go of you, and how to jab someone's eyes.... in case I was kidnapped.
He also played Twister with me. Now, I'm not talking about the floor mat game with colors and a good understanding of yoga, I'm talking about pretending that we were in the movie Twister and a tornado was chasing us. Back in those days, I wanted to be a storm chaser. This was after I had moved on from wanting to be a skydiving ballerina. 
This is the same man who taught me how to catch mice in butter-bowls and release them into the wild (our next door neighbor's yard). In our old house, we had a mouse problem in the winter months. Because I am a lover of all animals, no matter the species, my dad found a new way to get rid of them. I couldn't stand to see them dead in the traps. 
But most recently, my dad helped me bury my cat Peeta. Even when I type that now, it doesn't seem real. It seems impossible that my mother could have called me a few weeks ago and told me that Peeta was dead. 
But my dad, he helped me come to terms with the fact that I would never walk around the backyard with Peeta at my heels again. Dad listened to all of my sobbing and all of my sadness and he never once told me that I should toughen up. He knew how much Peeta meant to me. 
On the day that Peeta died, dad brought home flowers for Peeta's grave and sushi to try and cheer me up. 
I don't think I'll ever forget that, either. I love you dad, and I don't know what I would do without you.
Thank you for reminding me again why you'll always be my best boy, and for teaching me that I should never give up on my dreams. 

Peace, love, and old photos, 

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The Lies of Procrastination

I am a huge procrastinator.
I'm not the absolute worst, but I am pretty bad.

Take right now for instance. I should be studying psychology. I should be answering the questions for English, finishing the study guide for History, or a number of other things. But what am I doing? Writing a blog post that will not make any major contributions to society. In fact, this blog post won't really do anything at all besides outline the typical lies that I and my fellow procrastinators tell ourselves.

Meh, there's plenty of time: Wrong! Most likely, there isn't plenty of time. But I am very good at deceiving myself into thinking that I have all the time in the world before a deadline. Sometimes, when my life gets very difficult to manage, I make lists of everything I need to do in one day. Does it ever get done? Only sometimes.

I'll just do it tomorrow: This one usually isn't a lie for me... depending on what is actually due the next day.
If the assignment is due the next day, I go to great lengths to see that it's finished. As a Professional Procrastinator, I feel that half of my job description says, "Get the job done by any means necessary... when you feel like it".

Pinterest/Blogger couldn't hurt: False. False, false, false! No matter what I tell myself, Pinterest and Blogger are HUGE time suckers for me. Usually, I'll get on Pinterest with this in mind, "I'll only stay on for a few minutes and I won't start pinning anything". An hour and 100 re-pins later, I snap out of the hypnotic powers of the internet, and get back to work. Until, that is, I remember Spotify.

I'll just play my playlist: This almost never happens. Because, when using Spotify, I quickly locate the "related artists" tab and I can't resist clicking on it. I end up surfing through the software, listening to bands I've never heard of, and finding new favorite songs. Consequently, I make a new playlist to hold all of my findings, and the process starts over again.

One episode, and then back to work: Netflix is a very devilish invention. It lures you in with its promises for unlimited TV show episodes, and then it ruins your life. Why? Because you become addicted to these shows. Or at least I do. I know I'm not the only one!  Every single time I decide, "Hey! I've been working hard. I deserve a Doctor Who break!" I not only feel like some sort of geeky addict, but I know that one episode is never an option. Many episodes must be watched. Even if I have seen the episode about ten other times.

What about you? Can you think of any lies that you tell yourself to just keep procrasinating? Or are you someone who has learned the secrets to NOT put things off until the last minute. I'm curious, so drop me a comment or email me on the Say, Sara page.

Peace, love, and felines,

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Jerks, Toilets, and Other Things That My Phone Is Attracted To

Have you ever had the privilege of meeting someone who will seemingly pop right out of existence, and then BOOM! They decide to be back in your life again?
Unfortunately, I have known quite a few.
But while reading past posts, you have been unknowingly reading about the boy that I'm going to talk about today. Read something about him here.
It's a very long and boring story that I won't go into right now, but basically, this guy dug himself into a hole.
His pattern goes something like this:

Hey! I'm going to text you all the time.
*A month goes by*
Yeah, I'm just going to totally stop having conversations with you period.
*Three months go by*
Hey! I'm going to text you all the time. 

You see how stupid it is.
I really don't understand this boy at all. He just doesn't make any sense at all.

In other news, I dropped my phone in the toilet this past Wednesday! I know, I know, contain your applause. Some of you may have already known this if you follow me on Twitter.
But yes, I dropped my phone into a toilet.
Literally, not even a half second before I heard the dreaded splash, I had been wondering where I had put my phone.
Apparently, I had stuck it in my back pocket where it had somehow worked it's way to the very top. When I walked into the stall and turned around to hang my purse? Splassssshhhhh. Into the loo it went!
My face probably looked like I had been shot, and I grabbed my phone out of the toilet.
Luckily, there was nothing in the toilet besides toilet water.

It was at that moment that I had to make a very important decision. Should I go to the bathroom and hastily clean my phone in the less than two minutes before my class? Or should I just not go to the bathroom and clean my phone?
I cleaned my phone.

After I got home and left it in rice over night, it worked totally fine. Yay, rice!

Peace, love, and daleks,