Young Adult

Over the weekend, I watched "Young Adult" starring Charlize Theron. While it wasn't the best movie I've ever seen, it was a fearless character study. Charlize Theron plays a highly unlikeable woman, Mavis, who is obviously (in my non-professional opinion) mentally ill.  Once the most beautiful and popular girl in her high school, she is now 37, but still mentally stuck in high school. Her character is incredibly self-absorbed, and selfish. Just like a child to never think about anyone but themselves.

Her apartment is disgusting, and for some reason, this woman has a dog. A dog that she never takes for walks, never gives water to, and that she locks in her hotel room alone for most of the movie. Her TV is always on reality TV, mostly "Keeping Up With The Kardashians". Her appetite for TV that a 16 year old would watch is just another facet of her mental immaturity. She is consistently drinking throughout the movie, so it appears she has an alcohol abuse problem as well. I think, as we all probably know, alcohol is going to exacerbate every problem she currently has. She gets an email one day that her former high-school boyfriend has just had a baby with his wife, and that is her wake-up call. It's like the thought suddenly dawned on her that her ex was not sitting home alone, and crying because he doesn't have her anymore. In her mind, she is so beautiful that everyone wants her. Just like a high schooler to think something so naive. And just like a high schooler to think that beauty is the only thing that matters, and that beauty would make a married man leave his wife.

She gets in her car, and drives to the town she grew up in, intent on whisking her ex away with her to big-city life. It never even crosses her mind that this man is married, happy, committed, content. He will obviously jump at the chance to be with her again, and leave his wife. Sigh. There is a lot more that happens in the movie, but what I'm walking away fascinated with is her character. Her character is the author of a young adult book series, which is fitting for her. Because she is likely forever 16 in her mind, she writes in a high school voice.

Her newest book, about a beautiful popular girl, is how Mavis thinks about herself. She changes the names of her characters, but the book is her thoughts. She talks about how her character, Kendall, is envied by everyone and how she is better than everyone. This is exactly how Mavis feels about herself. At the end of the movie, when she is rejected by the happily married man, in order to make peace with her mind, she kills off the love interest in her book. This is how she deals with the fact that she was rejected. Just kills him off. Because, of course, it wasn't her. It was him. It's so interesting that she couldn't have a breakup in her book, she had to completely kill him off in order to go on with her life. Nothing else, but death could explain why her character Kendall is not united with her love interest. It also shows how closely Mavis's real life is entwined with her novel life.

I think what drew me to this character is how similar she is to fantasy-me. I've always been drawn to writing, and I regularly write stories in my head. While I'm getting ready in the morning, I'm imagining a story in my head. When I'm cooking dinner, I'm writing another story. Cleaning the house? Lost in my imaginary world. And my fantasy-me is so beautiful that everyone immediately falls in love with her. Exes pine and never get over me. They think I'm the one that got away, and they would take me back in a second. This is a part of me that never manifests itself in my real life. In real life, I'm shy, awkward, and I wouldn't ever think that every single man I see wants me. In my head, my ex would leave his wife and family for me. In real life, I know this person is happily married and would never leave them in a million years.

I was just so drawn to this character. In Mavis, I saw a part of me that only exists in my head. In my head, I'm extremely narcissistic. I just don't care. I walk around saying whatever I want, to whoever I want. But to be a narcissist, I'm pretty sure you have to lack empathy, and empathy is not something I lack. I'm very happy that this part of me doesn't manifest, because let me tell you, it wasn't pretty to watch in a movie. Her delusional behavior was just that. Delusional.

What Would They Think?

************Trigger Warning**************

This is triggering for me, it may be triggering for you.

Early this morning, around 4 pm, my husband got up because he couldn't sleep. He went into the den to watch TV. I went back to sleep, and woke up around 5:30 because I knew it was about the time he went to work. I got up, and went into the den to get him. He was watching the news, about a mass shooting in Colorado at the screening of the new Batman movie.

My husband went to work, and I went back to bed. It took me quite awhile to fall back asleep, however. I couldn't stop thinking about how disgusting the human race is.

Events where masses of innocent people die are a trigger for me. The morning of the massive earthquake in Japan, I cried and sobbed helplessly for hours. I remember when the shooting happened at Columbine in high school, and the shooting at Virginia Tech. September 11th. I don't know why I continue to watch the news when it upsets me so gravely. I'm depressed about the state of the world and humanity for a week after something like this happens.

I read the story on this latest shooting when I got out of bed this morning. I read how the gunman walked up the aisles, seemingly picking people at random. Children were shot in the face. People trampled each other to get out the theater. People saw other people die right in front of them. The panic and anxiety take hold when I read details like this. Pain wells in my chest and my throat. Tears are uncontrollable. I can't even imagine aiming a gun at a helpless child, and killing them. How can anyone do this? One mother said she didn't even think twice about letting her kids go to a mid-night movie, because before today, who would even think something like this could happen? At the movies. Where a lot of people just went to relax and have fun. Where families were. Where children were. Where babies were.

My beliefs and opinions are my own. I'm not going to berate or belittle anyone for their opinions, nor would I try to change them. I expect the same from everyone else. But, immediately I thought of a piece I saw on the "Today" show yesterday. A doctor had a near-death experience, and said she saw heaven, Jesus, and angels. And they sent her back to continue living her life. Really? Really? How can anyone think that, and then look at this awful event in Colorado and justify to themselves that God is everywhere? Really? God let some monster walk down an aisle, pick a 3-month old baby, and shoot them? He let him shoot a 9-year old girl in the cheek? He let people get trampled in a flood of panic and adrenaline? He let children die slowly, bleeding out onto the floor because some psycho kid got bullied in school? Please. I don't understand how anyone can have unshakeable faith. I think mine was shattered when I was a child, and has only crumbled away as I've aged. By now, there is nothing left. I overheard my husband's aunt on the phone yesterday while she was watching this "miraculous" near-death experience on the "Today" show. She was talking to my mother-in-law (her sister), and telling her that me and my husband don't believe in stuff like this, and it's such a shame. How can we not when we see "powerful" evidence like this? Ha.

If anyone could step outside of the human race, and look at as a whole, would they think? I think they would be repulsed. Humans are an angry, violent, cruel species. When people can shoot 60 innocent people, when people can kill others because they think their religion is right and yours is wrong, when people can crash planes into buildings just to destroy life, how can that be right? 1% of the population lives like kings, while billions of people are sick, poverty-stricken, homeless, abused, and forgotten. It makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me panic. It gives me anxiety. It's days like today when I rock myself and tell myself hundreds of times, "You are only one person". I am only one person. I can't save everyone. I can't save every animal. I honestly am better off sticking my head in the sand, like an ostrich, and being ignorant. Because when I see stuff like what I've seen today, my heart breaks. It hurts in my chest. I can't stand to look at or talk to another human being. I can only cradle my dogs to my chest, and cry.

I will step off my soapbox now and again, I must express that my opinions are mine and mine alone. If you believe something different, that's fine with me. But on days like today, I can only cry that we (humans) are being allowed to continue to evolve. Because, honestly, what's next?

Possibly Temporary Peace?

I'm feeling pretty good. I've been feeling pretty good for about a week. I'm not sure what to attribute my peacefulness to at this point. I had one bad day last week though, and it was a doozy.

It was Thursday. I had a doctor's appointment in the am. I was seeing a new doctor due to the fact that my previous doctor moved to another branch of the hospital, about an hour away. I decided to see her replacement, instead of moving with her. I didn't like her very much anyway. The new doctor was interesting. She was very nice, but she had one of those soft, gentle voices. I couldn't get over the way she was talking. Almost like if I said anything, my voice sounded vulgar next to hers. She did do 2 positive things, however. One, she called another psychiatrist while I was sitting right there and made me a new appointment, and two, she gave me refills on my prescriptions. This way I don't have to call their office once a month, track down a doctor to refill my prescriptions, drive to their office to get the prescriptions, drive to the drugstore to refill my prescriptions, wait at the drugstore to have my prescriptions filled, and finally, go home. This area of the South is really archaic in the way they do some things. It was a big deal, getting this done every month. And I would be really anxious until this task was completed every month.

Now that I've went off on a tangent about my doctor's appointment, I will tell you that I felt nervous and anxious the rest of the day. My husband's aunt, who we are living with right now, decided we should have cocktails around mid-afternoon. She can only be described as "alcohol dependent". I wouldn't call her an alcoholic, but if alcohol is around she will drink it, and she will drink a lot of it. The cocktail of choice was decided to be margaritas. I don't drink tequila. I drink wine, beer, or vodka. That's it. But oh, I drank the margaritas. And another. And another. By the time my husband got home from work, I was blacked out. What's scary is I made dinner while I was blacked out. I grilled hot dogs (so not safe), and made macaroni and cheese on the stove. I remember snippets of the night, mostly of puking my guts out, some of sobering up, some of going to bed. What I do remember is the next morning. Cotton mouth, pounding headache, and a sore, achy body. A hangover from hell. My husband told me the next day that I had a meltdown while I was blacked out. Screaming at him that there was something wrong with me, I wanted to die, and I didn't want to live here anymore.

Wow. That's a lot to scream at someone. Needless to say, my husband was terrified. He didn't know what was going on. I told him the next day that I didn't mean any of those things, that I don't know where they came from. And I really don't. I mean, it's pretty obvious something is wrong with me, but like I said, I've actually been feeling really good.

So here I am, thinking about my behavior on Thursday, wondering where it came from, and how long will this feeling good last? I just don't know at this point.

Looking For Answers, Found More Questions

So, my conversation with my dad last week...

It was a really, really hard conversation for me to have, but I'm glad I did it. I'm proud I finally got the courage to ask my dad the things I needed to ask. I almost backed out the morning I was supposed to have the conversation, I was one button push away from sending a text to my dad saying I couldn't talk that day. My husband talked me down however, pointing out that my dad probably had a sleepless night anticipating out conversation. He made a good point, and I went through with the phone call.

It was actually my dad that called me, and about an hour earlier than we'd discussed. We made our usual small talk, what's going on out West, and I updated him on what's going on here out East. Eventually though, I bit the bullet and asked him what I needed to know. Was he aware of any incidents that could have occurred when I was a child, with Uncle S., that I might need to know about?

I got that long pause again. It was with some hesitation that my father told me that my uncle was my primary babysitter from when I was age 1 to about 3. I was with him exclusively from 7:30 am to 5:30 pm, Monday through Friday. My dad told me that they took me out of that "situation" when they realized there may have been an "issue".

My heart sank and I felt sick. An issue? I asked. My dad said he wasn't aware of any specific events, but that him and my mom were "suspicious" something had happened.  I asked him to be honest, point-blank, did he think something happened? He said yes. We continued to talk about my uncle for awhile. His drug use, his mental illness, the fact that he identified as a homosexual, and his relationship with my brother and I.

We talked for more than an hour. I felt good when we ended the conversation, mostly I think from the fact that I've been needing to have this conversation with my dad. I didn't really get any direct answers, and now I have even more questions, but for some reason, I feel better.

What's next on my bucket list? Sigh. Making an appointment with another psychiatrist. You could say I've been nursing my bruised ego from perceived "rejection", but it's time to move on in my journey.

The Aftermath of a Panic Attack

Well, I meant to write a week ago. To talk about the conversation I had with my dad last week. An emotional conversation with my dad, unplanned errands, and a panic attack pretty much changed the course of my week. I seem to get a hangover effect when I have a panic attack. I have little energy and am, in general, just depressed for  a couple of days after a panic attack.

My panic attack was triggered by an impromptu visit to my sister-in-law's house. I'm normally triggered by her daughter, my niece, at her house but this time, she had something that triggers me far beyond children. Animals.

I don't know why I'm so triggered by animals, but I'm so badly triggered by animals, I can be sick for a week after a panic attack regarding an animal. My trigger is animals that seem to me to be in pain, abused, or mistreated. My sister-in-law got a new cat. Not a cat, a teeny, tiny kitten. The weather has been rotten here, we are in the middle of a heat wave. It must have been 100 degrees that day. My husband and I were walking to his sister's door when I noticed this tiny kitten huddled up against the house.

I knelt down, I couldn't stop myself. I put my hand out to let the kitten sniff it. The kitten was so weak, it didn't move. I ran my hand over it's small body, it was so hot. I looked around for a water bowl. There was none. My blood began to boil. I went inside and immediately got the tiny animal a bowl of ice water. I took it out to the kitten and began to rub some cold water into it's fur. It was able to get up then, and drink a voracious amount of water. I petted the poor kid some more, I could feel it's bones under it's fur. I was fuming. I looked around again, there was no food for this tiny cat. How could they be keeping this tiny, tiny animal outside? In the heat? Without food and water? I picked up the poor kitty, and held it to my chest. It began to purr like crazy, and I felt a sob rise in my chest. I went in and got the poor thing some food, and brought it out to him/her. The kitten ate a ton of food.

By this time, I was seeing red. My husband had come out of the house, it was time to go.  I felt tremendous amount of guilt leaving the animal there. I knew I couldn't take it with me, but it took everything I had to leave it there. I felt such hatred for my husband's sister in that moment, I couldn't even look at her.

As soon as we were in the car, driving down the street, the attack came. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, and my heart began to beat fast. Then faster. I began having trouble breathing. I was almost dizzy, and I felt so claustrophobic. The thought crossed my mind to jump out of the moving vehicle, just to try and make it stop. My mother-in-law was in the car with us, and I just tried to calm my breathing down. She was trying to talk to me, but I just ignored her and concentrated on my breathing. My husband knew something was wrong, and picked up the conversational slack.

It lasted about 20 minutes. And then I was drained. I told myself to think about something else, anything else. The next day was bad too. I felt hopeless, tired, and my whole body was sore from tensing up during the attack. Nothing much changed for the next couple of days. I'm finally starting to feel better now. I think.

I found out 2 days ago that the kitten had passed away. It was hit by a car in front of my sister-in-law's house. I have mixed feelings on this. Extreme sadness for such a short, innocent life. A little bit of relief because I don't have to watch this animal continue to suffer. I also feel a little bit of reality, because the reality of life is that I can't save every animal being abused. This is a hard fact for me to accept, and this thought destroys me a majority of the time.

I don't know why I'm this way. I've always had a special place in my heart for animals, I like them more than people. I can't stand to see an animal, innocent and defenseless, being abused by ignorant humans who seem to like to cause pain and devastation. I hate people for this reason. I hate my sister-in-law for letting this happen under her roof.

Anyhoo, the point of all this is that I didn't get around to the post I wanted to write. I was too depressed to open my computer, and move my fingers. I'm sitting here, wondering why I'm so different from other people, that something like seeing that kitten, could send me into a depressed state for days? It sounds so stupid, there are so many bigger problems in the world, but this... this gets me.

I'm hoping to write tomorrow, because I really did have a productive discussion with my dad that I wanted to talk about. Fingers crossed.