Tired

I really don't know what more to say.

I'm tired of trying. Really tired. I just want to give up.

I'm tired of always trying to please the people around me that way they think the best of me. I'm tired of never feeling good enough. Like, ever. I'm tired of people yelling at me because they don't get their way while I'm standing by miserably living each and every moment of my life.

I'm so tired of it all.

Like, fuck man.

I'm tired of having this stupid disease of the mind. I'm tired of having it affect me so much. I'm tired of it whispering evil thoughts into my mind just when it was finally starting to be at peace, like right now. I'm tired of never being good enough and never being wanted. I'm tired of letting other people get to me. 

I'm tired of having no control of it.

I'm tired of being on stupid medication for my stupid fucked up mind. I'm tired of the meds making me worse, making me think more evil thoughts, making me feel the highs super high and the lows super low, making me rather wish I was dead than living this stupid excuse for a life.

I'm tired of thinking I would rather be dead than have to suffer through another day. I'm tired of having as much control over my thoughts and actions as I do over the weather. I'm tired of people not understanding this. I'm tired of having to go to the Internet for my problems because I feel like no one cares about me and my stupid problems.

I'm tired of feeling like my problems are stupid simply because they are different from others. I'm tired of feeling stupid because I am depressed even thought I am a middle age white girl who lives in one of the most beautiful places in the country and works at the Happiest Place on Earth. I'm tired of having people compare my problems to other problems, to their own problems. And I'm tired of having them dumb mine down simply because it is a disease of the mind and not of the body.

At what point does being tired go away?

Does it go away when I finally take enough sleeping pills and pain killers to make everything go away? Does it go away when I fake being happy so that the people around me are happy? Does it go away when I finally give up and give in and let it consume me? Does it go away tomorrow? Does it come back the next day?

Does it ever go away?

I wish I knew. I wish that this feeling would go away just as much as I wish every day was cloudy and rainy and beautiful. I wish this feeling would go away just as much as I wish that I would be in love again. I wish this feeling would go away just as much as I wish that I could bring my dad back from the dead so at least one person would be there to comfort me in just the right way.

I wish all my feelings would completely go away forever.

The feelings of sadness and rage and being tired, yes. But also the feelings of happiness, joy and love. Because if those went away than maybe the negative feelings, or a lack of feelings all together, wouldn't hurt so bad. I wish I didn't feel so many feelings.

All I want is for this all to just end.

Reflection Staring Out

Chelsea posts a selfie on Instagram.

Caption: "Feeling pretty today."

8 likes.

0 comments.

Jenny Jennerson posts a selfie on Instagram.

Caption: "Sick in bed today. I'm hideous."

154 likes.

17 comments, 16 of which tell Jenny how beautiful she is, 1 hoping she'd feel better.

This has been my entire existence up until this point. 21 years of only 8 likes whereas those around me seem to be flocked with admiration.

Are you ready for story time?

Growing up, I was the fat kid. Of course, the fat kid never realizes she's the fat kid until someone points it out to her. In the first grade, some kid pulled my seat out from under me at the computer desk. I fell on my butt and he and my class laughed. He called me a beached whale. Kids can be so cruel.

My weight did not decrease as life went on. In seventh grade I changed over from sweat pants ("only fat kids wear sweat pants") to jeans. I thought it was average that I was a size 15 at age 11. In the 7th grade, on a day that I looked especially pretty, trying to impress the boy that I had my eye on, I got nervous and ate all the food I could in the cafeteria. Halfway through the class I sat next to him, I threw up french fries all over the floor and my clothes.

Later that same year, 7th grade, in an effort to keep with government regulated Physical Education, they weighed every girl in the class. At age 12, I weighed in at 179 pounds and a height of five foot, one inch. I ran the slowest mile in the class, clocking in at 15:39, every step aching my legs. Misery found me. The only days I felt better were the days that I was picked up from school by my dad, with a soda and a boxed cherry pie.

Halfway through the summer after that year, I realized I needed to make a change. I cut out soda. I cut out the pies. I cut and cut and cut. I took my dogs for walks.

I returned to school in 8th grade at 160 pounds. But still that year I was not considered pretty enough to be a lead in the school play. I was Pageboy 3. By the time 9th grade rolled around, I was 145 pounds. Things were looking up, I felt healthier. I got two lead roles that year.

In 10th grade, after suffering a year of depression, I was 125 pounds and my mile was 10:54. But despite all this growth, I was still not pretty enough for the guy that I liked to even pay attention to me. No one told me I was pretty. I was Pageboy 2 this time. Misery again.

The end of my senior year found me at 113 pounds. Five foot, one and 113 pounds and a 9:13 minute mile. No one to love me, still. And no one who admired by beauty.

I remember the first time in my life that I ever felt pretty. It was Senior prom. I arrived in my A-line, black and white ball gown, with my hair up high in a $50 hair style. You could see my shoulder blades and my arms didn't jiggle when I walked. I walked into prom and walked around the second floor with my friends, only to have every eye on me. Five people told me I looked beautiful, and just stared at me with awe.

As if they couldn't believe that ugly little Chelsea could actually look like a beautiful woman.

For the first time in my life, I felt pretty.

That feeling is rare in me.

All throughout my first two years of college, I felt anything but pretty. My weight escalated again, eventually finding me at 135 pounds at the beginning of my Junior year. I had decided by this point that beauty was more than skin deep, something I still wholeheartedly believe.

I am beautiful. Even if I'm not always pretty.

At the end of my Junior year, that's when I felt pretty again. It was a more than average day, a wonderful day. At one point, a selfie was taken of me and the person I was with at the pier at the beach. And when I saw that picture, I was blown away by how pretty I looked in it. How pretty I felt. It's amazing how the people you're with can make you feel as if you're the most beautiful girl in the world.

Since then, the feeling was fleeting from now and then. And then a few days ago, having lost some 25 pounds in the last few months, something happened. I went to work, wearing a new eyeliner and put a smile on my face. The first person I saw just looked at me and said "Wow, you look really nice today." I'm brushed them off as if they were making fun of me, something I'm afraid happens more than not. But, here's the weird part: Every single person I worked with that day called me really pretty. Some tried to figure out what was different about me. And the answer was nothing. I am still me.

But I felt pretty. My ego boosted.

And this happened again the next day. And the day after. For three days in a row, every single person that I work with has called me pretty. And I don't know how to take it.

What has changed with me?

I'm the same old Chelsea.

But for some reason the reflection that I've always seen in the mirror seems to be reflecting outwards. More than pretty, lately I feel beautiful.

I still only have 8 likes, but sometimes life is about more than just likes.

it's about self-worth.

Gooooooal

The title is ironic because I am morally opposed to the World Cup this year. But that's a different story entirely.

This blog actually has some purpose to it right now though.

As we all know, that this recent graduate has absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life. I have no direction, other than the goal of being a wife and a mother. But I've gotten to thinking lately that that can't be all that's in it for me. For some reason or other, I actually have to do something with my life.

I have to prove myself.

I have to make my daddy proud and be better than my mother before me.

Isn't that every parent's wish? To see their children do better than them. It's already for me--despite not having children yet, or even a person who wishes to procreate with me. I want my children to do better than me, even though I am so young. I want them to have everything that I have not been able to have these past 21 years, including a fighting chance.

But in the mean time, I need to do something for me.

As we all know, I've been misguided for the past few years, having gone through a Creative Writing program that ends with "well, none of my students for XYZ number of years I've been teaching have ever had their works published". Seriously. That's the almost literal words of one of my professors on one of my last classes of 4 years of working towards this goal.

That's such a hard way to end at a school you seemingly wasted $200,000 of student loans on. And then when you graduate, you realize that you have 10 years to pay off all that money plus interest, and seemingly no job options because you definitely chose the wrong major to make any money off of.

I'd be lying if I said I haven't hyperventilated over this idea more than once.

But I'd be lying if I said that writing is truly what I want to do with my life at this point.

It isn't. Not anymore. I had 4 years of being torn down, being told I wasn't good enough by my peers, given little constructive feedback from my professors who would rather watch up grow on our own accord. I've been forced to write, rewrite, and rewrite the rewrite until I'm so fed up with the story becoming different from what I intended it to be. I've given up a piece of me. If anything I need a break. Or to write something for myself other than a blogpost.

Which is one of my new goals. I've decided to start writing at least a page a day of a new story until I finish. I've asked my friends to give me a prompt and I'm just going to start. I will start and then every day I will post it. If I don't, feel free to bust my balls. Feel free to call me out and say "Chelsea, you stupid whore. Write dammit!" I'm going to write a page a day until I finish something. And from there, we'll see where life leads.

But even if I do become a writer, that's not really a career. It can't be right now. I need some sort of goal in order to achieve something.

Which has led me to thinking about my passions. I've always said that I want to make a difference in the world. If only for something small. Then I began to think of all the changes at work that I'd love to see happen. Then I began thinking of all the input I hear from people I work with that rarely make their ways to the tops of the ranks because of a number of different reasons. Then I began thinking that someone needs to listen to these ideas, and maybe Disneyland might be a better place to visit and to work at.

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

I've had this goal before, but I have lost touch with it, in and out, refusing to believe that I'm destined for this type of life. But the more I work, the more I realize that it is inevitable. My goals have solidified themselves today, at some point when I was sitting on the toilet.

I want to be a manager at Disney. More than that, I want to someday be the President of Disneyland.

That's a job. That's a possibility. That's a goal.

This is what I'm setting my sights on. Me and thousands of others. But, someone has to do it. Why not me? I'm strong enough, and I care enough.

There was a quote that I heard yesterday. "If you know what you ultimately want in life then every decision you make from this point on must be in service of that goal."

I'm making this dream my new goal. I'm going to do everything I can in order to achieve it. But I constantly must remind myself, that it is all about the journey, not the destination.

Maybe this will happen, maybe it won't. But I'm sure as hell going to enjoy life up every step of the way. As long as I have a goal, I have something to work towards. Something to fulfill myself with. But I'm not going to get upset if not everything ends up exactly as I plan it. I'm going to say "yes" whenever I can, instead of fighting against it, because you never know what's going to happen. Life is crazy and as soon as you get comfortable it tips you down the stairs and forces you to climb them all over again.

It might happen from where I'm at right now, or it might take time and a new approach. I might have to leave behind what makes me comfortable and start something new.

Who knows?

I certainly don't.

No one does.

And if you do, you should really tell me some things about my life that I'm curious about.

Emergency Contact: [Blank]

I don't really know where I want to go with this.

The last two weeks have literally been some of the worst two weeks of my life.

Do you ever get the feeling that everything would be better that if just one thing worked out, then everything else would fall into place and seem to suck less (or that you're at least in a better position to take it more positively)? That's where I'm at right now. 

Or how about the feeling that if you were able to just have a hug, a cuddle, and a long cry, you would feel a million times better? That's also where I'm at right now. All I want is to cry. And cry. And cry.

And I guess I have been. Especially the last two days, I have been crying nonstop. When I wake up, as I get ready, during my drive, on my breaks, when I get home, as I lay in the bathtub wanting to drown, and as I go to sleep. That's all I've been able to do.

And I hate that too.

I didn't used to be a sad person. Yes, I've suffered from depression for 7 years, but I haven't been sad. I haven't often thought that giving up on life would be the better alternative. I haven't felt so lost.

I've accomplished so many great things lately. I graduated college. Became a trainer at work. Moved. All wonderful things, and yet they seem to mean nothing to me. And I don't get why. I want them to mean something to them, but when I think of my accomplishments, I think of them as just another action that I'm not able to feel.

I can't feel any of these things no matter how hard I try. They seem to mean nothing to me. All I keep thinking is that I don't have anyone to share these accomplishments with. And what's the point of accomplishing great things if you can't go home and celebrate with people who matter. If you don't have someone to go home and cry to? I was in a car crash the other day and it hit me that I didn't have anyone to help me. What if I had gone to the hospital? No one would have known.

Emergency Contact: [Blank]

Most days lately, I contemplate just moving back home. Giving up on my life here, and moving back home with my mom, the only person in the world I have. But then I scoff at that because I would be miserable at home. I hate home, more than I hate life itself.

I've sacrificed so much over my life time to make it where I am now, and even if it feels like it doesn't matter, I'm not about to just let it go and run home.

Why do bad things happen to good people?

I don't understand that. I am a good person. I've sacrificed so much. I've worked so hard. And yet nothing I work towards seems to work out in my favor. I am always hurt. I am always laughed at. I am always left feeling empty. 

I want to give up.

I just want the pain to stop.

My body has been nonstop killing me the last two weeks. I've had multiple 100* degree fevers, have passed out twice, have thrown up multiple times, suffered three migraines, have literally shit everything in my system out at once, and my spine is committing suicide as we speak. I know I should go to the doctor about this all, but I am too scared, particularly because I have found a lump that I need examined. I don't want to find out the worst. I don't want to know the end is near.

Emergency Contact: [Blank]

Mentality is everything. I'm 100% convinced that cancer only hurts after you find out you have it. Cancer only kills when it's diagnosed and you try to get rid of it. My dad wasn't sick until he found out he had an invader in his lungs. By the end of the summer he was gone.

These are the things I think about on Father's Day at the end of 2 terrible weeks in this life. 

I don't want to die. But living is hard. I don't want to leave behind friends and family, but I wish I had them to enjoy while I'm here.

Emergency Contact: [Blank]

I wish people would stop asking me what I want to do with my life now that I've graduated. Half of the truth is that I don't know. I'm 21 and I'm still young and I have no idea how to take care of myself and make sure I eat breakfast, let alone try and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. It's too hard and I can't do it. I have nothing to feel passionate about anymore.

The other half of the truth is that I had a plan. I knew what I was going to do and it was going to make me the happiest person alive. I was going to get married and have kids. That is what would make me happiest. But that's not acceptable from a young woman who earned her BFA in a very short time. It's not like that was all I had planned, but the difference is that nothing else would have mattered as much so long as I had someone in my life to share it with. That was all I cared about. I could've been a writer, or a lawyer, or a librarian or a teacher, or a manager at Disneyland and been perfectly happy, so long as I had someone to love me and stay by my side.

I wish none of this mattered. 

I wish it were easy for me to put a smile on my face, and go on with my day as if nothing else mattered.

But it isn't easy. Nothing good in life comes easy. I know full well that even if that one thing in life did go well all of a sudden, it still wouldn't fix everything else that's wrong with me.

But it certainly would help. 

A hug is all I need. A hug, a cuddle, and a good cry might not fix my problems, but it sure as well would help me feel better.

All I want is someone to fill in that blank beside Emergency Contact and remind me that I am not alone.

Power is Knowledge

I've been on a binge lately.

My problem here is that I'm tired of people with power. This being said, I'm one person with some form of power. But I'm not fed up with me. I'm not fed up with people like me. I'm fed up with the people with power who decide to start believing that they're so much better than everyone else.

I'm sure that there's a statistic out there about the number of people in the world that will go corrupt when they are given power. My guess is that about 90% of people with power will go corrupt at some point, start believing like they are God.

Ok, I Googled it. There is no statistic on the first page. So we're going to go with 90%.

90% of people who are given power will go corrupt.

I tread this ground carefully. I'm in a position of power right now. I've worked extremely hard for a number of years to get to this point. And even if I stand in it, I begin to wonder if it was worth all that hard work.

Do you ever have those moments where you want something so badly, but once you do get that thing, it's not as amazing as you thought it would be? I don't say that I hate what I'm doing. Not in the slightest. I love it.

I love it because I feel like I can actually make a difference. Isn't that what working hard and having power is for? Making a positive difference in the world around you?

But too often today, I see the opposite.

I see the people who should be making the difference still fighting it out, trying to prove their worth by jumping through worthless hoops that will mean nothing. I see people who aren't mature enough for their power, but who want to make a difference, getting their power, but getting too swept up in the game that they had been playing before.

That game ends.

At least it should.

But too many people are still playing that game, or better yet, trying to get others to play the game because they think it's fun. People with power love to be idolized. They love to think of themselves as something greater than the sack of fat, flesh, bone, and water that they actually are. They put themselves on a pedestal and then expect others to do the same.

Remember when the whole Bill Clinton/ Monica Lewinsky thing happened? Cuz I don't. I was a baby at that point. Bill Clinton, a great man, a fearless leader, got too swept up with his power and position as president that he loved the feeling of being idolized. He toyed around, got loyal followers, and was able to watch them perform like circus animals.

I see that happening so much to people I know and care about now.

And all I have to say is that that is bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

There is no need to force people who want to be doing something great to do a meaningless task. If you're someone who's trying to work their way up in the world, my biggest advice is not to let people take advantage of you. It can happen in a variety of different ways. They can tell you that you need to chase your tail round and round in circles and that is the only true way to prove your worth. Sometimes, you might be pressured into uncomfortable situations, physically, sexually, or mentally. GET YOURSELF OUT of that situation. Immediately. If you're feeling pressured and abused, is that really something that you want to be a part of?

But next, I want to talk to the people like me, the people in power. But I want to talk to the other 10% of people.

Do you remember when you were young, before you had your powers? Do you remember all of the changes you wanted to make in the system? Do you remember thinking "man, if I get up there, all of this is going to change"?

Dude, why haven't you fucking changed everything?

If you noticed something needed a change a long time ago, chances are, it still needs to change. If you've jumped through the hoops to prove yourself and become a person of power, but you haven't done a thing to change these situations, then there is something wrong with you. Something so completely wrong. You can preach one thing and practice another.

But more importantly, to those of you who have lost their way, I want you to remember this: YOU ARE NOT GOD. YOU ARE A SACK OF MEAT, COMPROMISED OF FLESH, BONE, AND WATER. THAT'S IT. You are no greater than anyone else within a 100 miles of yourself. In fact, sometimes you are worse.

If you hold a position of power and you decide to make other people jump through hoops for your own enjoyment, you are a disgrace. If you have ever forced someone to physically, mentally, or SEXUALLY please you, telling them that that's the only way up to the top, then fuck you. I've been that person, sexually abused, being told that that is how you make it up with the big boys, and it's the worst. Like, actually. Because you feel like it's a trap.

If you hold a position of power, and you are a sleazebag, then you need to take a step back and reevaluate your life. If you think it's funny to make fun of people for being somehow "less" than you, if you think it's amusing to put people in uncomfortable sexual situations because you have some sort of fetish, then you deserve nothing more than the deepest pit of hell. If you've let the people around you change who you are, you need to fucking remember who the fuck you were. You need to remember the person you were, the person full of hope, and you need to get the hell away from the people around you and become that person again.

I repeat: You are nothing more than a sack of meat compromised of flesh, bone and water.

The person next to you, no matter who they are, no matter who you are, is exactly the same: A sack of meat compromised of flesh, bone and water.

The first step is acceptance.

What I really, REALLY don't get is why we, as the people who are somehow "less" than those of power (again, we're all made up of the same inside stuff) accept this type of treatment. I don't get it. We don't try and do something about it because "that's just the way he is" or "that's the way the world works". We sit idly by while people who are corrupt try to corrupt us. And we let them. All because we remain silent.

Does that make us corrupt in a way? By silence? I'm not sure.

All I know is that with what I have, I am not going to change myself. I absolutely refused to stop fighting for what I believe in and to make the changes that I see fit right now. Because if I noticed them to be a legitimate problem now, then there is no doubt in the world that it actually is.

And I will stop at nothing to get this done. Unlike the other 90%.

#endrant #butnotreally

If You Can't Beat It

Here's the thing:

I've always thought that I was stronger than my depression.

But lately I'm not too sure I am.

 It's been obvious that I've been suffering since somewhere in 2007, with a diagnosis still on it's way. Whenever it called, I would kick it's ass and try to make the best of life.

But lately, I'm having a hard time doing anything: Sleeping, being awake, getting out of bed, smiling, going to work, attempting anything more than 50% when all I want is to give my all.

And it sucks. Because I want to be stronger than depression.

But it's not that easy. People tell you, "smile, everything will be ok if you try". And I try and I try and I try, but it doesn't work. When you're completely miserable, inside and out, it's hard to fake a smile. Most people in my life, however, wouldn't know that I suffer from depression. They write it off as my quirky attitude and keep on going.

And that sucks.

Because more than anything, what I want is a hug. Not a "oh I hope you feel better" hug. I want a hug that says "I will never let you go, not until we beat this thing".

People say you don't need anyone else but yourself. But when you're like me, you can't rely on yourself to be the only positive influence in your life, because it simply won't happen. When you're like me, you thrive off of the people around you. I thrive off of touch, and off of understanding, and off of feeling.

The best feeling in the world to me is the feeling of being loved, despite my flaws.

I don't have that right now. That hurts. I want to be loved.

There's a lot of things that get me down lately.

I just graduated and all my friends are doing these great things with their lives and I'm still working at a job, not a career, and I'm going nowhere fast. It's almost impossible to make rent let alone eat most months and that's simply embarrassing. I stay for the people but the people are changing.

I just don't know what I want to do with my life, except for get married and have kids. That's what I really want to do, but that doesn't seem to be an option anymore because I don't want to fall in love again.

Other than that I don't feel connected with the people around me. I've debated more than once just uprooting myself and moving back home where I was miserable just as much as I was here, except out there I have my mom who I hardly get along with and absolutely no career prospects.

I just want to do great things with my life. I want to make a difference in someone's life like the people that came before me. People who may not have a made a difference in the world as a whole, but changed individual people. My dad was so good at that, but he's been gone for 3 years now and I have nowhere to turn, because my mom can't talk about him without crying and my brother didn't realize how great of a man he was until after he was gone.

I want to feel proud of myself. I graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts from a private university. Nothing like this has ever been done in the history of my entire family, except for me. I am the first person to graduate with a degree from a university in the thousands of years my family, and extended family stretches back. And yet I don't feel a sense of pride at all. Graduation felt rushed, and not worthwhile.

What's the point of accomplishing great things when you don't have anyone to share it with?

I keep dealing with this issue. Because nothing seems worth it anymore.

And maybe that's the loneliness and depression talking. Actually, I know that it is. But I don't know what to do about it.

There's so many things I would do if I had the chance, if I could do anything. I'd bring the people that mean the most to be back into my life, we'd discuss our issues, and try to move forward with something that works for both of us. Because right now I feel like I'm the only one suffering and I know that that's terribly selfish of me, but I'm not succeeding in anything at this point.

I know what I want in life, but everyone is telling me that it's the wrong thing and so I have to change my ideals. I know that I want to grow up and get married to the love of my life and to have kids and I'll be happy doing anything at all as long as I had them. But people tell me that that's wrong, and that I am a grown, educated woman and I went to school for a BFA and not an MRS. And so suddenly I have to become something that I'm not. But I really mean it when I say that if I had the right people in my life, nothing else would matter.

Nothing else mattered.

I want to feel alive again.

I want to feel the sun on my face, the warmth hitting by body, the wind in my hair, and to raise my head high to the sky, smile, and feel life rushing through my veins. I want to feel nervous excitement again. I want to feel giddy when I talk about life and how exciting it is.

Depression is terrible. Unless you've suffered from it, you'll never understand. And if you can't beat it, it will drag you under.

And I just need someone in my life. I just need someone to hold me until it is better. Because that's the only way that nothing else will matter again.

City of Angels

In the City of Angels

You could be anything,

Say anything,

Do anything

And through all that time

The only thing I wanted

Was to be in love

Like a scene from a movie

I had a love

I had a passion

And we kissed as we hiked to the Hollywood sign

And we fell in love walking down to the pier

And we knew we were soul mates as we held hands as we sat in traffic

Love was perfect

Love was good

And we could be anything in the City of Angels

But with good love

It can grow sour

One day, in the City of Angels,

You can wake up and not know who you are

You don’t know who you’re waking up next to anymore

In the City of Angels

You could be, say, and do anything

You can be anyone

And what I wanted to be was a woman of passion

But that passion turned sour

We texted in traffic, rather than holding our hands

The walks to the pier were not the same

And we barely noticed the Hollywood sign after some time

In the City of Angels you could fall in love

But in the City of Angels you could fall out of love

I wanted to love

And I forgot how to love

And now I look at the time gone by

And I wonder who I am

Who you are

And I wish I could wake up next to the people we used to be

In the City of Angels