05-02-06 @ 8:30 am EDT

The second appointment was yesterday...I'm not really doing any better. In fact, feeling rather worse by now. -_-

Firstly, the incident I mentioned in the last entry. I just could not bring myself to call. I just can't call others when I'm not CERTAIN that they're going to be free to talk, right that minute, and that they're the only one I'll have to deal with, and that they'll REALLY want to talk with me about something concrete. I can't make conversation when I feel somebody's busy, and I can't make it on my own. Unless people are asking me direct questions, I honestly can't answer. This came up in the session today but I'll save that if I remember it. When people ask me general open-ended questions like, "So what've you been doing lately, anything interesting?" all I can give is the MINIMUM answer that takes up the shortest time because in my mind all I can think is, "They don't want to hear about how I sat and wrote 2000 words with my main character talking to a bad guy and they did this and then this happened etc. etc. etc."...in fact they wouldn't want to hear about what I do AT ALL. So all I can ever say is the bare minimum. "Nothing really, nothing interesting." And the conversation goes nowhere.

People think I don't WANT to talk? I DO want to talk. I want to talk a LOT! But the THINGS I want to talk about are so dreadfully dull that I just can't do it.

What if she was at work? Church? Busy with family? Busy with somebody else? Gone? What if somebody else would pick up? I can't deal with it. I figured, if she'd really wanted to get back in touch she would have contacted me another way. And I was just saving her the trouble. It hurt...I tried finding her online with no luck...but decided it was just meant to be that way. I cried and felt awful though because it seems like just another joke life pulls on me.

Some time later I got a snail mail and card from her. I smiled when I first got it, but then cried. Her life is, as I suspected, much better now. She has family now, and though I don't know for sure she seems to basically be doing better than me. Of course. I felt like dirt and wondered why she even bothered writing to me or trying to get back in touch. I mentioned recently not in here that this is what hurts me so much--I'm never going to be important enough in anyone else's life. I'll never be anything more than a third wheel. The penpal girl I got so upset about, who claimed I wanted to be "the sun in someone else's sky"? Maybe she was right. I can't stand competition. Even in other people's journals/diaries, they leave me notes, I go to leave them notes, and see all the notes their FRIENDS have left...and I end up just creeping off. I can't stand the thought of my stupid little note being left among all that competition from people who are ALREADY established friends and who am I but some random nobody? EVERYBODY I've ever known has ended up with at least one other person they can rely on--another friend, a boy/girlfriend, a significant other, a family member, SOMEBODY. And I just can't compete with any of that. All I can ever do is get shoehorned into somebody else's life and I never fit. Recall II? The "burning bridges" entry? SHE already had so many friends that I couldn't even get shoehorned in--she even told me herself. Michelle and Mya, who both tried getting back in touch with me? Both too busy with their families and new lives to fit me in. Everybody online? Ditto. I'm a johnny-come-lately and can just never be important enough to fit into somebody else's life in the way that I need to fit in. I'll always be SECOND most important, or third, or fourth or fifth...and it hurts me that I just can't be first most important in someone's life. But everybody already has somebody...including her...and why she decided to contact me when she already has enough good things in her life, I couldn't understand. All I do is drag down everything around me. I honestly don't understand the people who hint at wanting to know me better. In the first place, I just don't TRUST them anymore, but in the second place, I always ask myself, WHY? Just take a look at this journal and you can see why I can't comprehend why anybody would even want to try befriending somebody like me. Of course, they never stick around long anyway, but I don't understand why they bother.

I didn't understand why she bothered either. She said she was happy to try to get back in touch with me, but I can't believe that of anybody. HAPPY to get back in touch with somebody like me...? Well, she of course had no clue how TRULY shittily off I am by now...

She left an e-mail address in the letter. I e-mailed her from my Yahoo! mail.

It bounced back as undeliverable.

I e-mailed her from Outlook Express.

It bounced back again.

So I printed out the e-mail I'd typed up, and that very morning sent it to her via snail mail. That was April 26. She's still in town, so it should have reached her in a day or two. I gave her my e-mail address in it, letting her know that I have an anxiety of phones; I told her that I've been feeling pretty poorly, but I made sure not to be terribly depressing and not to write a huge letter dumping a bunch of boring stuff on her. I even limited my mention of writing to merely saying that I still write.

A week later now, I have not heard back via snail mail or e-mail.

I know it's early yet. Maybe she's busy. She DOES have a life and family now.

But I've told myself that a hundred other times with a hundred other people, none of whom ever got back to me. And I'm kicking myself for falling for yet another of life's big stupid jokes. It just seems like that's all any of these will ever be. And even if she does get back to me (a HUGE if I feel stupid even contemplating), all I am is that third clunky wheel and she'll lose interest as soon as she finds out how lousy I am. -_- They all do.

To get ahead of myself, even if I COULD get any better, get rid of some of this anxiety, which I do not believe for a minute--why bother? Life has just proven again and again that no matter HOW hard I try, I'm always going to be alone. I really have tried, repeatedly, in every way I know how, to make friends and keep friends, and to be as good a friend as I know how. I know I'm a lousy friend, but I did try. But it doesn't matter. Life, God, whatever, always throws me the same punchline every time I try--so why bother trying to get better if I'm just going to STILL always be lonely? Just because you CAN try to make friends doesn't mean you WILL. I can't even make a friend who lasts online, of all places, and now it's starting to look like nobody in real life would ever care about me either. So what's the point of trying to get over this? I honestly don't see one.

...

The second session wasn't very eventful and I don't even know what I can really say of it. Just more of me crying and staring at the floor. It all feels pointless. I hated telling her I couldn't fill out the goal sheet. I didn't have the strength to tell her that my only two goals were to 1. help pay the bills, which isn't working, and 2. just stop existing. But whenever she asked me about how I feel about treatment, and what I hope to get out of this, and if I could imagine myself being any better, that was all I could ever say...I just don't feel it's possible anymore. I don't even have any hope for it by now.

She wasn't mad about the goal sheet but I do feel I exasperated her a few times... -_- She keeps stressing that I'll have to work hard. I don't want to be lazy. But take a look back over all the above and see--what is the POINT in trying? I'm tired of trying. I've been trying little things all my life and haven't anything to show for it. Getting over this--even just learning to work through it--is a HUGE thing that I don't even believe is remotely possible. So I had to keep nodding yes, yes, yes, I'll try, I'll try, I'll try, even while inside I'm shrugging and telling myself, "Why bother?"

I guess we spent most of the session trying to come up with goals...not that they really strike me as goals...in my mind, trying to look someone else in the eyes (which she stressed that I practice as some sort of homework for the next time -_- ) isn't really a goal to be proud of--what good does it do to meet someone else's eyes? Yes, it says you're confident, but it doesn't help you do anything else. She mentioned going places more often, but that's practically impossible since my mother would have to do the driving and 1. she's always busy with work and such, and 2. gas prices. I didn't want to be accused of giving excuses though. When she asked if I wanted to move out, or drive a car, I shook my head NO because I honestly don't want to. I didn't get to say it because it's stupid and pointless. But if three little things could happen, MAYBE I could feel a little happier in life.

* If I could help pay the bills so we don't have to worry about money all the time and I don't have to feel guilty about not paying my way;
* If I could perform some sort of service to others that has some MEANING--even if it's just sharing my writing, and KNOWING that other people appreciate it;
* If I could have at least one friend or two who I can be IMPORTANT to, and who can be important to me, and who I can RELY ON and who can rely on me...friends I can talk to about ANYTHING and I will know I'm not boring them to death, friends who are into the things I am and who understand me...not a bunch...just one or two.

If I had these three things, I felt I wouldn't care that I live in the same house as my parents, that I don't get out much, that I'm so shy or anything. I thought that maybe if I had those three things, life would be worth it, and I could be happy.

BUT...those three things are never going to come true...and even if they did, by now I'm just so used to being unhappy that I don't think ANYTHING could make me happy again. Not beyond a short time, at least. Notice how even when people DO bother to comment on my writing I never believe them anymore. I've just stopped believing that, even if something good DOES happen, it will last. And so far I've always been proven right.

So I didn't bring any of that up because it's stupid.

She found out that I don't have trouble walking around outside if nobody else pays attention to me, and that brought up Mackinac Island. She was impressed that I've walked around the entire island (why??--ANYBODY can do that!--THOUSANDS of people do that every year). She asked if I'd like to go there more than once a year, the answer to which is of course, but it's not feasible (sic?). There are all sorts of places I'd love to go, but I can't. Transportation and gas prices being the reasons. I really wanted to go see the Estivant Pines in the UP but I realize what a joke that wish is now, it would take hours to get there, and we'd have to stay overnight, and that's just not possible. It's a dream of mine to spend a few nights on the island but that's even more utterly ridiculous too. I don't believe in wasting time on stupid wishes anymore.

The last time, she'd asked if I felt I was any good at ANYTHING. To which I truthfully answered, "I used to think I was good at writing, but not really anymore." This time writing again popped up and she kept trying to ask me about it but I couldn't answer in any detail...

Her: "How often do you write?"

Me: "Every day."

"About how much?"

"I try to write about two thousand words."

"Well, it sounds like you can kind of stick to that, so that's like a goal you've set for yourself. ((To which I'm thinking, "Big deal.")) What is it that you write?"

"Fiction."

"Anything in particular that you're working on?"

*squirming* "A couple of serials."

"Those are like stories with lots of chapters, or they go on for a while...?"

*nodding*

"What kind of things do you write about...?"

"Just fantasy and stuff."

"And you share this with other people on the Web, you said...?"

*nodding*

"Do you ever share it with anyone else? Family or parents...?"

"They're not interested."

"I notice you don't seem to feel comfortable sharing it with me..."

*squirming and grimacing* "I don't want to bore anybody."

"I'm not bored; I find this interesting. I would be interested in you talking more about that; it helps me learn more about you and what's going through your mind..."

To which one part of me was screaming, I REALLY WANT TO TELL HER EVERYTHING I'M WRITING!!, and the other part was screaming, FOR GOD'S SAKE JUST SHUT UP AND DON'T BOTHER!! The latter part won out, of course. Experience has taught me that 1. stating an interest in something does not equal actual interest in said thing, and 2. she's a therapist, and has all sorts of patients who demand her time and interest; don't suck up more time that she can't rightly spare (especially since I'm not PAYING). To this day, I hate myself for practically forcing one of my novels on Mrs. R., my old psychologist. She did read it and comment on it, but like she had the time or desire to do so. I feel she was exasperated that I did that. I feel I owe her an apology.

I hated that she thought I didn't WANT to share my writing with her...I DID want to...but I just couldn't do it. The fear of boring people who have too little time anyway overrides that. As well as the fear of experience. How often, again, in the past have people claimed they were SO interested in what I have to say or share, they DEFINITELY want to see it, only to read like two chapters and then bail out and I never hear from them again? I'm sick of that. It hurts too much. I don't want to take up her valuable time, and I don't want to bore her senseless, and I don't want to get up false hopes that somebody will actually give a crap about what I do.

It was hard to keep myself so silent on it. But I'm getting used to that. -_-

However, later on in the session it popped up again...even more stupidly...she asked if I ever daydream? In the context of, do I ever daydream myself being better, doing things, accomplishing things? To which I said, "I daydream, but not about me." And it's true. She asked about who then. And of course the answer is my stupid characters. Who else? I didn't state that I kind of "roleplay daydream," in which I AM my characters, because I didn't want to give her the false impression that I believe I could ever do things like any of them...it's just childish pretend. That's all. (Just because you pretend you're a horse doesn't mean you feel you can BE a horse.) She asked me, what characters? And I could only shrug because there are HUNDREDS OF THEM, and I did not wish to start blathering, "Well, there's Damien, and Charmian, and Francois, and the Trench Rats, and Moon Wolf, and Anubis, and the Apsiu, and bla bla bla bla BLA BLA BLA!!" So I just shrugged like I didn't even know who I was thinking about. (She isn't even aware that I write an assload of different things; it must have sounded like I just write one story. Oh well.) "Is there any character in particular?" she pressed. Again I had to shrug because there are a TON of them. And I already said that I can't answer open-ended questions. She seemed to catch that because she said, "Did you write today?" and I nodded and she asked, "Was there any character you wrote about today?"

I had earlier on finished off my required 10kb of EFMI:122. In this scene (not that anybody on WC will ever read it, nobody's even read Part TWO in the past f**king FIVE MONTHS, so I quit posting it), Charmian is talking with Little Wind, trying to convince him to switch to their side and stop following the evil medicine man Mishosha. That's the gist of it. But I couldn't even elaborate that much. Don't want to bore anybody. Plus it makes no sense out of context anyway. So I just said, "Charmian." And felt like squirming and grimacing again because even that's talking too much. So she started asking a little bit about Charmian.

"What was she doing in this chapter?"

"Talking." More than that, yes, but I can't bore people with details.

"What is she like?"

"Not like me." I wanted to make this clear...because I'm sure that at least a few people who bothered to READ the thing suspect that Charmian is my "Mary Sue." I. e., that she's my own version of an ideal "me." While I do kind of live through her vicariously, she is NOT my Mary Sue. She's my exact opposite in terms of temperament and behavior. She's what I would ideally LIKE to be, but I know I never WILL be so no, she's not an ideal "substitute" for myself in my writing. I didn't say all that to the therapist. But I did stress that she's nothing like me.

"What is she like, then...?"

"Not afraid of everything." My face scrunched up and I started crying here, I felt so STUPID. Because that sentence made it seem DOUBLY like she IS my Mary Sue. But she's not!

"What does she do?"

I couldn't answer that. I wanted to say, "Helps people," but that sounded utterly stupid. If I did answer (I can't remember) it was something like, "Talks to people"...but I don't recall, I felt too stupid to say much.

"How old is she?"

"Fifteen."

"So she's younger than you...where does she live?"

"Petoskey." For some reason it felt weird saying that, I don't know why. Maybe because she spends more time AWAY from Petoskey...? I didn't elaborate that she in fact spends time on a fantasy version of Mackinac Island, fighting demons and evil spirits. Too much detail. And I didn't feel comfortable first telling her that I like Mackinac Island, and then that I like to write about a FICTIONAL Mackinac Island, because that just seems pathetic.

"That's not too far from here...does she go to school, do things like that?"

*squirming because this answer involves elaboration* "She goes to school, just not in the story..."

"So the story isn't about school..."

*shaking head*

If there was more I don't remember it, doesn't matter anyway. Long story short, she said she was interested in learning more about this but I didn't offer anything else because it was open ended and I can't bore people.

I don't know why it still hurts keeping quiet about my writing, I should be used to it by now. I don't even blather about it in Skew anymore.

I can't even recall what else I planned to say about this session. Oh. Eye contact. -_- I stared at the floor the entire time. My neck began to hurt so much that I really wanted to lift my head, but to keep my eyes shut or look to the side when doing so...I couldn't do that because I knew she would notice why. I kept rubbing my neck and she found out anyway. She asked if I could look up at her and I could only shrink in on myself. She added, "For five seconds?" and that was even WORSE! Five SECONDS?? That's ETERNITY when you're looking at someone! I thought at most just a quick look-up-look-down...I couldn't even manage that, especially not after she'd asked me to. I felt so stupid. I know I was disappointing because I couldn't do a simple stupid thing like that. So she asked that I try to practice making eye contact with my parents in the meantime and work up to looking at somebody for TEN MINUTES (!!--I don't even TALK to anyone for that long!) or some such...little steps, she said, but it's still excruciating, and I know I was disappointing, and I feel like it doesn't matter anyway. Even if I could peek at somebody else's eyes I still won't make friends.

I was reduced to nodding-nodding-nodding by the end, because I can't rightly sit there and say that I don't think I can do it and I don't see why it's worth the trouble, because why would I even be there...? Who cares. She again talked of medication and of scheduling an appointment with a "doctor," by which I think she means psychiatrist. I really don't see the point of the drugs angle. They didn't help me before. -_-

I hate how many times she asked things like, "Do you think you can do that?" and all I could ever say was, "I don't know." She said, well, at least that's an honest answer, but I must have seemed stubborn and resistant and lazy. The real answer to all those questions? "No, I really don't believe so." But I didn't want to piss her off even more.

No, she wasn't rude or mean or pushy. But everybody gets exasperated with a negative person at some point.

I think I see her again the twelfth...or something. She put the treatment on a limit or whatever of one year. I don't know if that's short or long, but I don't hold hope of improvement. Even when I was in therapy with Mrs. R. and Dr. C., I did a little better, but then I had to leave, and take a look where I am today, much worse off than I ever thought I'd be.

And I'm agonizing that I'm being avoided by somebody lately, which also hurts in addition to all this crap.

I feel like apologizing that I don't ever reply to notes. I want to, but I feel stupid doing it. Stupid in that I'll have only trite, parroted "Thank you's" to say, and that I'll agonize over exactly what to say only for the note-leavers to lose interest in this journal within a few entries anyway. This isn't aimed at people who've been reading for a long time and who've contacted me personally (even though I feel they get bored of this too, who wouldn't), but at people who just come across this and leave notes. Glance back at what I mentioned also about everybody already having friends and etc. etc., every time people I don't know leave me notes they seem to have all kinds of friends and I just feel utterly stupid even replying because I figure they'll lose interest soon enough anyway. It's just less painful to not reply, and have people lose interest out of disgust, than to reply, and see people lose interest anyway.

I hate how bitchy I'm sounding, I'm just trying to explain and probably not succeeding.

Aside from writing and reading, the details of which are too boring to go into, that's pretty much it. -_-