July 9th 2015

I just want to point out that I typed 2014 at first. Seven months into the “new” year and I’m still trying to call it 2014. Jeez what does that say about me? However a quick search of Google and I’m not the only one, I was however trying to find out how long until you’re supposed to stop writing last year’s date.

050b577178fb1736757562f914aac1b9a90168-wmSo. Not much has happened to me as far as depression goes. I finished my IOP (intensive outpatient program) I’ve been watching the shit out of NCIS, all 11 seasons are on Netflix and I’m midway though season 3. I haven’t written or read much since devouring Codependent No More, I need to at least read a book or so every month.

Okay, discovered Whisper by accident, and tooling around with it, seems pretty cool until you realize that if you post anything sexual you’ll get dozens of messages asking for nudes or if you’re male or female. I suppose I’m just technologically naive. If I was more clever I’d realize that all forms of communication, even anonymous, people gonna wanna see your nudes. Sad it took me so long to realize this. Which is something I posted on Whisper and wound up in a nice conversation with someone. Lord, I’ll talk to anyone.

Speaking of talking to people, I’ve not been pushy in any of relationships, haven’t begged for attention and even mailed out some postcards to those I have addresses for. It is $0.35 to mail a postcard, I’ve somehow got all these $0.37 stamps. Might as well use em up and not to mention the 100 assorted postcards that are really weird.

Had a job interview on Monday, probably the weirdest and yet casual interview I’ve ever had. I dunno if I’ll get the job. The manager who interviewed me was not prepared at all. He had no information on me and asked me like 3 questions.

The 50 Scariest Books of All Time

Some of these I’ve read, some I recognize, others I’ve never heard of. My goal is to read all these of books, maybe not this year, but all of them.

Flavorwire

The air is getting crisper, the nights are getting longer, and All Hallow’s Eve draws near. You know what that means: it’s time to curl up with a book guaranteed to give you the shivers — or at least make you check the locks twice. Here, for your horrifying pleasure, are 50 of the scariest books ever written in the English language, whether horror, nonfiction, or speculative futures you never want to see. One caveat: the list is limited to one book per author, so Stephen King fans will have to expand their horizons a little bit. Check out 50 books that will keep you up all night after the jump, and add any other scary favorites to the list in the comments.

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Expectations

I don’t have a whole lot of friends. Those I have I want to keep, but I lack a really good friend, you know, a bestie. My life has run a course that seems to have made me isolated and seemingly introverted when actually I crave people. I crave contact. I’ve always been good at making friends, being kind, thoughtful and usually selfless, but I lack the ability to keep friends.

Two lessons I’ve learned in therapy (still having trouble accepting one of them) are 1, I can’t control other people and 2, it probably isn’t because of me. These lessons are a little difficult to jive together. I accepted the other day I’m a manipulative and controlling person, part of my codependency, because I have this vision of how things should be and I try to cajole people into doing the things I think they should be doing. Awareness of this is a huge step towards stopping this. I like to think I’ll have a better life, better friendships and longer lasting ones if I just let people be themselves and do what they do.

Now for the second thing, I’ll give an example, in 2014 I invited a couple over for dinner. I was going to cook for them, and then hopefully play Cards Against Humanity, which this event is the reason I bought the deck. I set a date and time, but the couple didn’t respond if they could attend, actually they didn’t respond for days. I took this extremely personally, as in what did I do that caused them not to want to come over for dinner, but to give me the silent treatment. My counselor said she would’ve never thought that way, she said she would have thought what was with them that caused them not to come over for dinner.

Of course now looking at my opening paragraph I sound like a victim and that is another thing is to get out of the victim role and accept my own actions, the role I’ve played all these years in why I don’t have many friends. When I was a kid, I really didn’t have much control because we moved around so much, but in the last 15 years, mea culpa.

I have high expectations of people, of how I think they should treat me, which I’ve mentioned this before and I need to clear out those expectations because people never meet them and I get depressed and resentful and I feel like they shouldn’t be my friend anymore.

Recently I had to end a friendship and I feel I had one ended with me. I had a toxic friendship and others had noticed how being his friend, and shouldering his problems was affecting me. I had more than one person, even outside of my family tell me I needed to end this friendship, but he was the closest I’d ever come to having a bestie in years. It was hard cause I cared, I still care, even still worry about him and still think about him. What made the relationship toxic? Well, I’ve been suicidal for months, and it is morally right to talk someone out of suicide but it is really hard, when you want to die too. He told me one night: “We should do it together.” I actually stayed his friend for weeks afterwards, even through my hospitalization, and it was a week ago I told him for my mental and emotional health we couldn’t be friends. He said he understood and I told him goodbye.

The friendship that I feel was ended with me is due to the person I considered my friend, has not been responding to me. I’ve since stopped contacting them, and accepted the friendship may be over, but it is again, hard. I had just recently started to consider this person a friend. I’ve known him for almost a year, but with a lot of relationships  I have, I don’t immediately consider someone my friend. I will miss him, he gave good hugs, had a great sense of humor, and a smile that was contagious. I spent a lot of time crying to him. Like my toxic friend, he’ll always have a place in my heart and if I’m lucky enough to have him contact me down the road, years later, I’ll be most excited and thrilled to make his acquaintance once again.

Coping with Myself

I pulled out my old journals from years ago. I’m a lousy journal keeper. I always try to keep one, but I forget to write in it, or things happen and I forget to write about them. I only found about 5 of them, and none of them are filled. My current journal probably has the most writing in it. Same with blogs, I’ll write everyday for maybe a week and then not post again for a couple months.

Anyway I was curious if I was always depressed. I don’t remember being as down as I was prior to being hospitalized except for certain moments like when my mother died, I mean that would depress anyone and depression is part of the grieving process. Well yeah I was depressed, had been for years. My journals are full of just raw emotions, most of the time I didn’t write why I was feeling depressed. They’re also full of daydreaming and fantasies. Also two journals are the internal conflict which spans a year and a half of myself dealing with crushing on two different men, I crushed on a third, but I only mentioned him once before I had stopped journaling. The oldest journal is from 2000 and it is mostly day dreaming.

I’ve journaled more since December of 2014 than I have in the past 15 years, well that is a bit of a stretch. Since becoming depressed I journal more. It is one of my coping mechanisms. Anyway I’ve been depressed for years and even just acknowledging it was for me a large step into accepting that yes I have a mental illness. I said in therapy that I should’ve been diagnosed years ago, I should’ve had a therapist for years, I’m still borderline if I need meds (yes still taking them) but looking back I’ve self medicated for over a decade. I was an optimist too, after I’d write, “I’m so depressed, I’m so tired of feeling this way,” I would almost always follow it up with, “I’ll get through this, I’ll get past this.” I wondered where that optimism went.

One of the things I’ve have to come to know even though it is so hard to accept since also being diagnosed codependent and low self esteem is I can’t control anyone except myself. This falls more in a how I want to be treated by people and it doesn’t happen that way and no matter how hard I try, it isn’t going to happen like that. I blame fiction for my unrealistic expectations of how friendship should be.