Update 2.0

One year, one month, and three days. It has been that long since I last wrote a post. I’ve felt the urge, sure, but there’s always something holding me back. Usually lack of motivation. Sometimes I just think I don’t need it anymore. Other times I find something more interesting (but… really… the things I choose aren’t THAT interesting) to do instead and push all my feelings away.

Good news is; I’m still here. I left last time in a very dark and sad place. And I was really hurting for a while. I actually thought I had written since then, but I guess not. Most would assume that maybe I had actually done something I had planned to do which would have explained the disappearance. Sadly… for all 6 of my followers, who do not, in fact, know me and likely don’t follow that closely, I am still here. Or maybe not sadly. Depends how you see my posts, I guess. Could be disappointing, but who knows. 😉

Some things to catch myself up on from a year ago. Clearly, I have gotten over that huge hurdle I found myself trying to jump over. I am in an extremely better place mentally at this point, which is amazing for me. Just like back in elementary and high school, I dealt with it on my own. I didn’t need help. I didn’t need drugs that cost more than rent. I just needed to let myself sort it all out. And I did. Not to say I’m the happiest person alive, but my and myself? We’re on good terms.

Someone I’m NOT on good terms with, however, is someone who I was extremely close with. My best friend of… about 10 years. Honestly… I’m not going to dwell on this… Since October, I haven’t said more than 5 words to her. And they were said within the 5 months I still worked in the same building as her. Thank the gods for a career change. Not a great one, but that’s another story. This story is short. In retrospect, I should have kept it over years ago after England. I should have never contacted her again and apologized for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Cause… really… I didn’t do anything wrong. I realize now, after all these years, that I was used. I was only her friend when she needed me. Not when I needed her. I spent time, money, and a lot of emotions on someone who probably didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t even there for me when I considered killing myself, despite all the times I was there for her. So if that isn’t any indication of how things were, I don’t know what is.
But honestly… things just all kept adding up. Stacking on top of each other until I couldn’t carry them anymore. New boyfriends mean that she turns into the exact same person she was before and during England. And I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming, even when I told her to go for it. Because… I’m a good fucking friend. And obviously very stupid. So I snapped finally. And by snapped… I actually just closed up completely and severed all contact. One day, I just suddenly stopped talking to her. I honestly don’t even think she knows what happened, even now.
I guess… If you ever read this, Nicole… You were a shitty friend when I needed you most. Because you were yet again too sucked into a toxic fucking relationship like you always find yourself in. And when your engagement or possibly marriage (in however many years that takes to happen) fails, I won’t be there again to pick you up and help you fix yourself. I won’t be there to talk you down and bring you back to earth. You can rely on all your other fake friends. The other ones that have their own failed relationships and insecurities about bullshit their significant others haven’t even done yet. Dealing with it by posting 7000 pictures a week of them in loving embrace and posting their love to the person at each weekly milestone. I’m not petty… I’m really not. I’d rather be single than be insecure and feel the need to justify posting my claim on a human being every chance I get so everyone can be forced to see how “amazingly happy” we are together. I just hate bullshit. From them and you. And you really know how to pick the nastiest, smelliest pieces every time.

That felt good. Not gunna lie.

Now speaking of relationships, that’s not going too great either. I’m going to reiterate… I’m not jealous of those mentioned above. It’s not jealousy talking. It’s honest feelings of how unbelievably ridiculous human beings are in relationships these days.
As for my own relationships, things just keep going… the same, I guess. I think I’m realizing that I’m just the person that dudes would only want if they weren’t with someone else. But.. since they are… too bad for me. It is something that doesn’t fail. And I’ve heard it a thousand times before. And for some reason, every time, I forget. I’m surprised. And I self-sabotage. I know there’s things I shouldn’t do or say, but I do it anyways. Why wouldn’t I? I’m just so used to it. But because of this, I can’t get any further with someone than a short little fling or one night stand. Not because I want to, but because they just leave.
Part of it has to do with my anger when someone bails on plans. Though twice now, I’ve been the bad person for actually ACCEPTING it. And being cool with it. Maybe it seems passive aggressive? I don’t know. But twice it has happened where I gave a guy the benefit of the doubt and gave them an out. Or let their bailing fly. And what happens? I’m the bad guy. They stop talking to me… cause apparently I’m the jerk. Not them for being the ones to bail on plans for (in all honesty) really stupid reasons… no… it’s me.

I’ll explain the latest one: Went out with a guy, it was awesome… he came over the next night and things got exciting, to be vague. We made plans to hang out the next week. The day of comes around and I (after explaining how often this happens and how I hate people that bail and make me the one who has to message first on the first date we had) send him a message, asking if we’re still on. Hours later, I get a message saying his car died and he’s been dealing with that all day. Bit of back story, the plan was, I drive there and we hang out. Me. I drive. No second car needed. I also want to mention that all bloody week, I was sending the first message. And getting short messages all week. When normally, it was mixed between us both. Like something switched. So back to the day of, I tell him I totally get it. It’s not a huge deal. We can reschedule if he’d like, which he brushes off. So I remind him that it would have been me driving there anyways, so if he decides to hang out, he can change his mind. But he says he’d be bad company. So we’ll “figure something out later”. Well later never came. And I was stubborn and didn’t send messages anymore like I had been doing. So I got nothing back. A week later, I sent a message saying that I assume from the lack of communication that I guessed he wasn’t interested. He didn’t even bother responding. And I knew he wasn’t dead or anything… since his posts on Facebook would come up on my feed every damn day. In fact, once not long after I sent that text. Guess I wasn’t worth it.

Like I said… this shit just keeps happening. I’m the bad person because I tried.

So now I get to why i even decided to write tonight. Yet again… I’ve somehow let myself fall into the trap of thinking things were okay for me in this part of my life. Relying on another human to be actually decent. Thinking that maybe things would change. Thinking it would be okay to get excited again. And, as always, I was wrong. Once again someone bailed on me. And there’s still been no reason. No response. Talked last night about plans. I just had to wait for a message about it today. An address.. whatever. And of course… that never came. Two hours after the time we talked about. And it’s not like this hasn’t happened before with this person. It’s happened twice. And I’m an idiot and let it slide again.

Fuck I’m an idiot.

Like… I’m upset and shit. I’m bothered and annoyed with myself… but even after this short time, I may be fine. I’ll tell him off and hopefully be smart enough to cut him off completely. Here’s hoping. But why am I not mad? Because part of me thinks I might be in love (or something…) with someone else. With an ex (honestly don’t even know if we were actually “dating”, but we’ll leave it at ex) who chose someone else over me. Recently we’ve gotten back in touch. Recent being like… October last year… haha. But hanging out again is kind of new. And the first time was actually kind of hard. I missed it. I missed him. There were little things that made me feel something. Lingering hugs… A hand on my lower back. But I put those feelings away. The second time, things escalated slightly. Lingering lasted a lot longer on his part. We talked about him being unhappy. How he wasn’t sure what he wanted. And afterwards, when we were both home, he told me he wanted to kiss me. And I agreed. Maybe stupidly. But the last time… as he left my car, he did kiss me. And fuck that was painful. I drove home crying. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted it so badly. But I knew what it could screw up. and what if the people I had talked to about it were right? What if I was just an escape? What if I was just convenient? I still don’t know, even after talking to him about it. But I’m constantly wanting things I can’t have. People I can’t have. And I’m really just hurting myself, honestly.

I even tried to weigh the possibilities. Go after it and be an extremely awful person, just deal with it and always feel awful about it… or… just cut contact all together. And every single situation has cons that outweigh the pros. And I can’t decide. I don’t know how to decide. But what choice do I have? In all situations, someone gets hurt. Do I worry about someone else? Or just me?

Dear diary: I have a dilemma. And you can’t help me.

So that’s that for now. Maybe I’ll start forcing myself to write more. Really… this is all for me. Though reading back is… really hard at times. But It’s mine. And I want to remember. I may be in a better place mentally almost always, but still… we all have moments.

-Steffanie

 

Destiny.

It has been around a year and a half since I’ve written something. To post, that is. I’ve written quite a few things over that span of time, yet I’ve shied away from posting my feelings or left them unfinished, collecting e-dust in my email. I wrote about love and hate and pain and all things in between. But I don’t have any desire to go back and finish them. I’ll just get frustrated all over again. But I will say this…

I think I’m destined to be alone and unhappy.

I’m not saying this for attention. I’m not saying this to be funny. I’m saying this because I honestly feel that way. It feels as if I’m cursed in life. the moment I feel a semblance of happiness, it gets taken away. My excitement is constantly replaced by disappointment.

In a way, I feel like I’m being “left out” of life. Does that make sense? Who knows.

Every relationship I’ve tried to had ends up dying faster than I want them to. And I can’t understand why. It’s not me ending things. I’m not trying to destroy them myself anymore. I’m trying to get somewhere. But the moment I get excited or feel happy about anything, it gets taken away by fate. If I talk about the person, it’s like I’m jinxing the whole thing. If I find myself talking about them a lot, SOMETHING happens and it all gets taken away. If I’m happy, life seems to find a way to change me back to being miserable. It’s fucking draining.

I just shouldn’t feel excitement. I shouldn’t be happy. Because it leads to heartache. And that all builds up until I crack. And I did.

About a month ago, I was extremely close to killing myself. Wow. Thinking about that and rereading it written on my laptop just brought back all those feelings. That’s actually kind of hard to admit in writing. I haven’t told anyone. So the first to know are a bunch of strangers who don’t even know me. Or nobody, depending on whether this is actually seen. I feel two ways about that… Sad that I feel I can’t confide in people actually around me. And glad that I can finally write that it happened.

I had (have?) been feeling so incredibly worthless. Like I wasn’t worth anything to anyone. That my parents would be better off not having to deal with their daughter living at home anymore. That they wouldn’t need to be searching for a place to live with me being a factor.

Well fuck… looks like I still feel that way.

I’ve felt many times that people wouldn’t care if I was gone. That’s pretty clear, since bailing on plans is something people constantly do to me. I feel slighted all the time. Yes, people have things that come up. But when it’s a regular thing, then you find yourself wondering if you’re just a piece of shit.

You’re not worth anything, Steffanie. You’re better off gone.

That little nagging voice in the back of my head got so fucking loud that day. It was deafening. After a fight with my parents about how fucking pathetic my financial situation was and how I couldn’t afford to renew my licence or my stickers for my car, to which I asked for those as my ‘birthday’ gift, that voice came in strong. I knew they wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the night. I knew they wouldn’t really check on me after a certain point. I knew that they wouldn’t find me until I was already gone. And in my brain, I glamourized the fuck out of that idea. I was happy that they wouldn’t be able to save me. But then I thought… if I did it closer to when I knew they’d check on me, that they would have time to potentially save me… or just be seconds too late. And I honestly debated which I wanted more. Overdosing was possible with all the medication I had. Anything with blood would be putting people out too much, which was what I was trying to get away from in the first place.

That first night, a Sunday, was really hard to get through. I think I just forced myself to sleep. Pushed everything back just so I could wait until the next day to maybe deal with it. And deal with it, I did not. I worked that Monday. I can’t even count how many times I went into the bathroom the cry. And then all the thoughts would come rushing back.

Steffanie, you’re worthless. It would be better if you were just gone. Work would probably appreciate it too.

So I thought about the medication I had in my purse. The needles on the walls of my work room. All the things I could use in that very bathroom I stood in, trying to get myself to stop crying, while making the tears worse in the process. I thought of how often people come into the bathroom. Not everyone was in yet. The office wasn’t full enough yet to have a lot of bathroom users through the day. I could do it and doubted anyone would notice or even find me, if I did it right. But somehow, the day ended with me not doing the scenarios I had running through my head. I made it home without crashing my car, another thing I had contemplated on the way to work and back home. That night I don’t even know what I did. But clearly I’m still here.

So… what was it that saved me? What helped me push back the thoughts I had of no longer being alive?

My niece and nephew. Kinda weird, coming from a person who doesn’t usually like kids.

Every time I needed to push away that dirty, nagging voice in my brain, I thought of them. I thought of my family. I thought of my sister having to tell her daughter why I wasn’t here anymore. Having to explain why her Auntie Steff was no longer in family photos. I thought of my brother telling his son that he actually had another aunt, but she’s gone now. I thought of my sisters unborn child… telling him why he never got to meet his aunt. Having my sister-in-law and brother tell their future children that the person no longer in family photos is gone because she’s dead.

That killed me. And it still does. How selfish I would be to put them in that position. Maybe someone WOULD care. Maybe putting that kind of thing on someone else’s shoulders was worse than my feelings of being a burden. Maybe it was a worse burden. I wouldn’t want someone else to have to explain how I felt to someone else. Because nobody knows. Because I don’t tell people what is going on in my head. Because I don’t want to put my problems and feelings on someone else’s shoulders more than I already have. I’d want to be the one to explain why Auntie Steffanie was no longer around. But I can’t do that unless I AM around. Kind of a dilemma, in a way.

So here I am. Thoughts pushed back. The nagging voice pushed back into a dark closet where I can’t hear him. For now. Of course there’s days when I can hear his whispers through the cracks. But I’m continuing on. I’m pushing through the days.

But seriously…

I need a fucking break.

I need a fucking miracle.

-Steffanie

 

Being Used is for The Unwanted

It’s been a while. I suck. I know. But writing hasn’t been much on my mind for my angry days lately. Hasn’t been on my mind any day, really. But today… Today I had something really bother me. To the point where it stayed with me all day. My mood was terrible at work and I actually think it made me feel ill. It’s just something that bothers me because it happens to me a lot. So let’s get right into it, kids.

I have a few friends, one in particular today, that use me. I know that they use me because it is quite clear. Today, I was used for my social connections in the film industry. I know a person who wants to do stuff related to it and has been trying to get some kind of ‘in’ with the business. He also was looking for some kind of partnership with a place I know of to get some freebies going and interest in both businesses (his and theirs). A while back, I introduced him to the people I knew at a convention, since I work with them at cons throughout the year. They told him to email and they’d go from there, hooking him up with some freebies. My job should have been done there. But it wasn’t. Since then (around May/June), the only messages I got from him were asking about the people I introduced him to. He had emailed, but heard nothing back. While that sucks, it’s not really my problem. But I said I’d email them anyways.

My issue here is this; why would you think it’s cool to send someone a message only to ask them for something? Everyone does it, yes, but having that be a part of EVERY conversation you have is just stupid. I admit… I had a thing for this guy for a while. He’s super attractive and fun and all that bullshit. But I realize now that he was probably only making nice with me to get to the people I knew. And that’s a shitty thing to do. It just makes me feel so completely unwanted and useless. Todays conversation went as follows:

Him: “Hey. I’m at work and can’t talk.. but I haven’t heard anything from your friends?”
Me: “Yea.. I know they’ve been busy. It’s busy season. I’m sure they’re getting to you.”
Him: “Probably. Just wanted to know if you’ve heard anything?”
Me: “Nope. But I guess I could email them for you..”
Him: “Great. That would be awesome. Thanks.”
Me: “Yup…”
a few minutes later.
“I better get to work now.”
Him: “Okay… enjoy work!”

I don’t know. I might be being irrational.. but this was basically most of our conversations the past two months… if there’s any conversation at all. I try sending a message to just chat, and I get ignored. But when he wants to talk, I jump on it like an idiot. And then feel like shit when the conversation turns to “you could do something for me and that would be great”. I’m just at this point where I don’t want people around me. And I try to avoid everyone as much as possible. I stay home and in my room so I don’t have to talk to people and be disappointed by them and by my life. It’s frustrating having people only want you around for your connections. Or have people pretend to be your friend and then never respond to you or only talk to you when it benefits them. I’ve cut a lot of people out of my life like that. I guess I better start again. Admittedly, though, I miss my younger days of going out and having fun. I haven’t done that in a long time.

Also… dating sites are useless and stupid. Just an FYI. We’ll get to that subject another time.

I’m done. Night.

Steffanie