empty

I know it's not right to think you're better than everyone else, but I think I've taken it to the opposite extreme.

I always feel like everyone else is better than me. It's like a pathology. Every woman I pass on the street, I think to myself, her hair is better, her body is better, her career and life and relationships are probably better, she's probably a better this or that...and I feel so small. Worthless.

There. I've said it.

I know I should say "I'm not worthless," but it doesn't feel that way. I feel insignificant. Unimportant. Like no one would miss me if I wasn't around.

That's not to say I'm contemplating suicide or anything like that. No. Even if I was, I'm much too afraid of sealing my fate in Hell to try and do that.

I saw a quote from Stephen King the other day.

"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't."

 I feel like I'm in the blue and lonely section now. I'm surrounded by people...friends who text me, a boyfriend, my dad, ya know, the whole shebang. But I still feel like something is missing. It could be God, or it could be my mom, or it could be both.

I feel like I have no direction. Like I'm just existing, but not moving forward. I see everyone else around me getting married, or traveling the world, or just doing amazing things or living their dreams...or even just having a stable job and able to pay their bills. What's wrong with me?

Why can I write so freely on here, but can't seem to focus to complete my novel or even just September's blog post on my science website?

I kind of want to narrow it down into what I want, now. Although it feels like I narrowed it down too far, and all I want to do is put my head down on the pillow and fall asleep.

I miss being able to sit out on my roof outside my bedroom window. I miss it a lot. I miss the time when my mom came out there with me...it was after we had gotten bad news about the cancer spreading. I made her climb out there, even though she was afraid, and afterwards she thanked me.

God I miss her.

I think that's the problem. I think I'm still grieving. I've got tears streaming down my face right now...

Who will I be at the end of this? When I come out the other side of the tunnel? I'm so much better now than I was before; than I was last year when I couldn't eat, when I lost 30 lbs, when I spent days and weeks at the beginning of this year sitting on my bed and alternating between staring into space and crying my eyes out...obsessing over unnecessary things and being completely unproductive.

I'm much better. But at the same time...it's like the grief has taken a new form. It's on the back burner, because I've gotten used to my life the way it is now, sans mommy. But now it's like a dark monster, lurking in the corner of my chest and mind, telling me that I'm alone, that I'm not good enough for myself or for anyone else, that I'll never get married because somehow I'm doing it all wrong...or other detrimental ideas like that.

I really do wonder what I'll be like at the end of all this. I can see that I've changed, already. A lot. The other day I was scrolling through my instagram, looking at all my old pics, going back to 2014. Even when I was dealing with my mom's illness, I was happy-go-lucky, smiley, joyful. Even when I was stressed, and in a bad mood. There was still a child-like joy that shone through. To the point that I got the nickname "Sunshine" from my director at work.

Then my mom died.

And she stopped calling me Sunshine.

I'm cynical now. Sarcastic. More outwardly independent but inwardly dependent - on others - in an unhealthy way. My personality type (the MBTI) switched from INTP to INFP. I'm less able to control my emotions...it feels like I've lost the on/off switch. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. I think I learned compassion, but I have an escapist mentality now. I run away from what hurts or what's hard.

But at the same time, I purposely do things that make me vulnerable, emotionally, when it comes to my relationship because I think that's important. I dunno. It's just weird. When I talk to my dad, I find myself acting less like his "little girl daughter" and more like an equal adult, and to notice that change, it's weird.

I don't read as much as I used to...well, novels, anyway. I've been doing more reading than usual but it's been research. I think I've read pretty much everything online about MBTI and INFJ/INTP/INFP.

When it all boils down, it comes to this: I just want to be okay.

I haven't been okay in a long time. It's either been up, or down. But it feels like I'll never be okay again.

I talked to Ms. Joholley about it the other day. I had a bad day, that day. Broke down crying, couldn't pull myself together for a while. I ended up going to her house to talk to her because she's the only person I know who has lost their mom and can actually tell me how to get through it...I didn't want to call my dad because he was at work, and I didn't want to ruin his day.

She said you never really get over it, losing your mom. But that it won't always hurt as bad, and that it's okay to be happy sometimes.

You know what I've realized? I may have mentioned this before.

It's possible to feel more than one emotion at once. Like bubbly about one thing but at the same time wanting to lie down and curl up in a ball and not move.

I think I'll write tomorrow. My novel.

Can you believe tomorrow is Sunday? Today feels like it was Sunday because my dad was  home and we went to a wedding at a church and I tutored the little girl who I usually tutor after church on Sundays. Feels like tomorrow should be Monday. I guess I have an extra day in my life, in that case.

I'm going to curl up, now.

Laters.

It's been a long time since I blogged on here. It might not have been that long, but it feels that way.

Since I was last on here, my mother's second birthday in the sky passed. That was last Monday. Hit me harder than I expected...kind of had me down in the dumps for a few days. Doesn't help that my period is starting today, so I know by now that the week leading up to it I'm usually an emotional wreck regardless of outside circumstances.

I've been kind of low on funds...tutoring is not making ends meet since I only have three students instead of eight. I would say I wish I didn't drop the two brothers, because it would have been five, but they caused me so much stress that I couldn't deal with it anymore. It was making me anxious.

The problem is, Uber has been cutting pay, drastically. And increasing the amount of work you have to do to get the measly amount of pay you do get. I've applied to drive for Lyft, but my background check is still running.

Sigh. I'm hungry.

I'm at Cal's house, because I hate being at home lately. Something about there is just so...empty. Dark. Might be the lack of windows, fresh air and natural light. Might be the fact that my mother isn't around. I thought for a while I had gotten used to it...I don't know.

Then I feel bad for my dad being there alone, and so I want to try to be there when he is. But...he works most of the day.

I want to move to a place that has lots of natural light. Isn't it a shame that that costs more? Big windows, being able to enjoy the planet we live on? How crazy is that? Who invented this thing called money and managed to decide that those who don't have as much of it aren't entitled to the PLANET?

Sigh. I'm still hungry.

You know what I want to do? Make the apartment beautiful and homey. Cozy. It might be tiny, but it has the potential to be so nice. I want to keep it clean...to have stuff not be broken and not ugly, dirty doors and holes in the wall and broken down tiles behind the stove and a front door that can't lock.

Just feels so impossible to do when I'm actually home. It's like I can't think when I'm there.

Or it could just be PMS, and I'll be a thousand times better in another five days or so.