So, it’s been a while since I last posted. There’s a reason for that.
Somewhere along the line I got it in my head that I wasn’t helping anyone with this blog, and that, at worst, it was really just an exercise in narcissism, and at best, it served only to prove to me that I exist in some tangible way, and that my thoughts and experiences may or may not eventually become something worthwhile, like a book. Because books are valid publications that have the approval of others with money, and blogs, well, they’re just verbal vomit that others get to read for free.
I’ve realized the sad truth of the world that I’m living in… that I’ve learned that money = worth in the minds of the masses, and in the minds of most people. In the mind of me.
I guess that’s why when I filled out the forms to get out of my federal student loans stating that there’s no way for me to make money, and my doctor filled out the paperwork to go with it, as well as the paperwork for SSDI, saying that I am incapable of work to support myself, I started sinking in a way that I didn’t really know how to fight.
Over the last several weeks, I’ve received, for the first time in my life, letter after letter, asking me to explain, in detail, why I cannot work, what paid work I’ve done since being diagnosed with the seizure disorder… and every time that I fill one of those out, I get this horrible knot feeling in my throat and churning in my stomach.
I’m 29 years old, and I cannot work. My psychologist left me high and dry by saying analysis was really the only thing that could help me at this point, and none of these places that offer it is getting back with me. So for almost 2 months now, I’ve been going through this and wedding planning (which is an emotional fun time all of its own) all on my own. I think it’s time to find a new therapist, but I’m trying to get into analysis, which is getting a new therapist… but I think I am doing well on my own, all things considered.
I feel a lot better about the suicidal compulsion stuff I’ve had going on, because scientists have been able to track suicidal compulsion over EEG and notice beforehand. This suggests to me that it’s seizure related. In other words, not my fault. Not a personal failing of Rachael Renee. That’s why, despite the fact that I keep having thoughts about it this morning, I can shrug them off because I’m like, “whatever, seizure.” just like when my body ticks. It’s a lot easier for me to deal with. A whole lot less drama. It’s still annoying as all hell. I’d be lying if I said I was in a bright and shiny mood from it, but at least I can call it what it is, and medicate for seizures instead of going on some deep, psychological journey into why I would want to end my life.
Truth be told, I hate myself right now. I’ve always prided myself on being professional – since I was a kid even… professionalism is huge in music — and now, I am anything but. I feel like I’ve lost my identity entirely. There are a few spots in my life where I caught myself liking me, but then I’d get rejected or rebuked by someone I loved and find out I was wrong for liking myself. So that means that I’m only right for liking myself if someone else agrees. The really hilarious thing is that seeing that typed out makes me laugh. I mean, it’s ridiculous. How ridiculous is it to hate yourself? What a waste of personality. Why on Earth would God bother creating a Rachael Renee if she’s just supposed to do what everyone else likes and agrees with?
You know, all my life, everyone’s said “Be Yourself.” and I think I just got it. Because they say that when you’re young, and they don’t really mean it. They really want you to be good. I was good. But now that I’m worthless, there’s no reason that I shouldn’t dress like a weirdo in my own house and play electric guitar in the middle of the living room when I can, at whatever hour I want to, with or without headphones. But I’ll wear headphones when it’s night time because that’s the kind of person I am. A kind person.
And there’s no reason for my hair or makeup to be normal. I can Lady Gaga it up, but do it my way. I feel like I shoulda been doing it for my whole life. But I’m not brave enough to even do it alone. I have problems even practicing, to be honest. And I can lie and say that it sucks to hear myself sound bad, but the truth of the matter is that it’s a question of bravery. Am I willing to let myself learn a new instrument? If I learn a new instrument, does that mean I can earn money? What happens if I do? I don’t want to get in trouble for doing well.
I must be crazy. Look at me acting like I have enough energy or ability to get myself in trouble. Ha! Let’s worry about things as they come. I should TRY to get in trouble like that. Let’s HOPE for me to be doing well enough for me to have to pay back all my law school loans and not need SSDI!
At least I can have that hope now that I’m not having seizures all the time! They started disappearing while I was staying with Adam’s family in Worth, IL. (The irony of the name of the town just tickles me.) I had a lot of time to spend with his family and friends, and Adam and I went out and did a lot of things to plan for the wedding. But what I realized, when I came back to CA, is that being surrounded by family and friends was important and helpful to me feeling better. I feel lonely out here, comparatively. I know that I just need to contact friends though. I have to build a family. Adam’s family made me feel like one of them, and like they wanted me around. It was really nice.
*sigh* So what have I learned? To like myself I have to be able to earn money and receive validation from others. *knocks head on desk* That is the opposite of healthy thinking. I know the ideal is self-validation, and that worth can’t be measured in money alone. Why is it that you can know something logically and educationally, but your psyche can’t get it anyway? I wish I could talk with someone who had some answers for me… any kind of direction for me… but that’s just dodging more of the responsibilities of being an adult – hell, of being alive.
Really, I’d just settle for having someone to talk to, where the conversation isn’t how bad the economy sucks or the obligatory “So how are you feeling?” question. I wish no one ever asked me that question. I will almost always say “fine” unless I’m feeling real bad. The real answer is always the same: crappy. Varying degrees of crappy. Better than usual at the moment, but the devil disease still isn’t letting me go out at night and party. Best I can do is chill out on a couch and watch TV or play games, which to me, is actually a pretty good time with other people. I miss social interactions so badly.
Anyway, in that direction, and towards finding worth in my life, I chose to write today… and apparently, to write quite a bit. Thanks, those of you who have read. I don’t know how this could help anyone, but if I continue to get a bit better every day by being brutally honest with myself, and anyone gets to see my growth through this and it helps them, then that’s cool.
And if not, and it helps me, then that’s cool.
And if it doesn’t help anyone, and I’ve just wasted my entire morning, well, at least I felt, for a few hours, like maybe I was doing something that mattered, at least, for a little while.