Summer State of Mind

     These two posts are a snap shot of my summer feelings. My summer state of mind. They are kind of like journal entries although I never write in my journal this way - same topic, just a different style. 
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     I can never tell you. I can never tell you the truth. You can never know that I want nothing more than your attention. You can never know that it breaks my heart when you don't choose me. When you choose her, even though she has chosen someone else. 

     I can never tell you that I think I might really like you. It would complicate things too much. It would make things very messy. I can never say that I think you have the perfect body and a wonderful personality - you always make me laugh and I feel I can be myself around you. That what you think is unattractive, I find so beautiful. 

     I can never tell you because you don't feel the same way. Because we are just friends. I can never tell you how much I love when you pick me, even though I'm more awkward than she is. I can never tell you because it might ruin everything. And I don't want to ruin what we have now. Because it's really great, I think. So I'll keep quiet, it's probably best that way. 

     I wish I could tell you. I really do. I wish I was able to communicate my feelings and be sure of them. But I know I can't. So I won't. I'll keep it to myself. I will never tell you how much I like you.

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     I want to kiss you. I want to cuddle with you all night. I want to wake up in your arms and kiss you again. I want to scream from the rooftops that I like you more and more each day - that the more we talk the more I want you. I want you to feel the same way. I want to be the only person you see. I want to be the person that you like. I want tell you all of this.
     It's getting harder and harder to not show it. But I don't want to ruin what we have already - an amazing friendship. You are my best friend and I can't describe how much I like you. This can't happen. I can't like you. But I do, oh I do. I like you so much I want to cry because I know it can never happen and you can never know.
     Would you be freaked out if you knew? Would things be weird between us? Is there a chance that you might feel the same way? Then what? This could never actually happen. It makes my heart hurt.
     I'm not good at relationships. But I know I like you. I know that I want to kiss you and talk to you and cuddle with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to be with you. I want to post this. I want you to see it, but only if you feel the same way. It would crush me if you didn't. So I'm not going to post this and you're not going to find out, despite what I really want to happen.

The Lyrics

     When you died over two years ago I lost what I call "the lyrics". Before you died music was constantly running through my head. I was always writing lyrics down, always listening to songs. When you died, they stopped. The lyrics weren't in my head anymore. I was listening to a song when I found out. Maybe that's why. Maybe I was just so sad that there wasn't any room in my head. But long after you were gone they still did not come back. Losing you was awful. You were the first person that I lost that was close to me. You were my grandmother and I couldn't conceive a world where you did not exist. People did not die in my life. I was 18 and I just wanted you to see me graduate and move to New York. I wanted you to be there to see Justin graduate or even drive. You did not make it though. Although as Justin said at his baseball game right after you died - you've had the best seat in the house these last 2 years. I was so heartbroken when you died that the music that I so loved died too.
     I still listened to music. But the lyrics wouldn't float around my head all day at my disposal. I would have to try very hard to recall any snippet of lyrics. And these were lyrics that I loved. I wrote them all over everything. My physics binder is covered in lyrics. I have pages with lyrics and little doodles to go with them all over the place. But when you died in April that stopped. And then my childhood friend died and then my uncle. And the lyrics have been missing. They have been missing since April 29th, 2010 and things have just added to it.
     I think that things might be getting better though. The other day I caught lyrics going through my head. And I was surprised because that hasn't happened in a really long time. I don't remember what they were but I remember they were there. And even as I'm writing this lyrics have gone through my head. They are starting to come back. Maybe this means I'm happy again. I think it does. I think it means that my life is going really well at the moment. I feel like me again.

This Summer

     When this summer started I thought it would never end. The 4 months I was going to be stuck at home and away from the city and my friends seemed like torture. Now that there is 1 week before I go back to the city and school, I still can't wait, I just feel like the end is finally in sight. Almost to the point where I'm running out of time. I only have a few more days to sleep in, laugh with friends, stay up late, and watch endless amounts of TV. I only have a few more days before my junior year of college starts.
     When this summer started I did not think that this is where I would end up. I did not think that the day that I got to move into my apartment with my second family would ever come. I did not think that I would have some of the friendships that I have. I did not think Arts and Crafts was ever going to end and I didn't anticipate feeling sad about it or that I would miss some of the kids. I did not think I would end up liking someone and that she would be my best friend. I especially did not think she would feel the same way. I did not think that I would bond with one of my best friends so much but then feel like I was losing the other. I thought we could pick back up where we left off. I learned that that is not always the case. But I also learned that it can be okay. So many things have happened this summer that I thought would never happen and things that I thought would happen never did.
     When this summer started I had all the time in the world. Now this summer is coming to an end. Naturally I feel as though I am running out of time. I have 1 week left at home, only 3 days actually at home and the rest camping. I'm going to be spending time with people I love, people that I find infinitely entertaining. And then I will be off to the city and to a new school year, which I am very excited for. I'm excited to finally move in and stay down there, no more weekend deals. I'm still going to miss the people here, but I'm excited to get back to my life - the one that I have chosen. I'm feeling a bit conflicted as I'm running out of time because at the end of this week is something I want. 4 months ago I didn't think this summer would ever end, but here it is.

In the Dark

     Under the cover of darkness anything is possible. It is easier to do things than in the light. It is easier to admit feelings or act on them. In the dark barriers come down. We do things we might not do otherwise or things we want to do but don't have the courage to do during the day. It's almost like being drunk or inebriated in some other way - but it's not. The darkness doesn't erase memories, it just makes them easier to avoid. The dark makes it easier to kiss someone or touch them. It makes it easier to ignore implications or potential consequences. In the dark it feels safe to let what you feel show.

     The darkness shields us. I don't usually feel safe in the dark, but being with certain people can make me feel infinitely safe - my parents, my sister, and some of my friends. The darkness provides this level of protection that we all need. Things that happen at night seem like a dream. You have to keep reminding yourself that whatever happened actually did happen - it wasn't just a dream - and then feel everything come rushing over you again and again.

     The things we do in the safety of the dark are real. They don't go away when the sun comes up. But they do go to the back of our minds. We can ignore them or pretend they didn't happen. But how long can we do that? I can't do it for long and I don't want to. I've let the dark protect me before, we all have. But I want clarity. The dark can make things messy. It allows us to lead a double life of sorts. I don't want to do this again. Leading a double life will eventually crash and burn. The dark provides a temporary cover, a temporary shield. It gives us protection for a little while, but it doesn't last. After a while the things that the we do in the darkness aren't protected anymore. The darkness eventually stops shielding us and starts to make us crazy. And when that time comes, we're screwed. 

On The Fence

     I don't know and that is the problem. I feel like I have no identity. I cannot definitively say one way or the other. I can sort of say, and I know how I feel - I can tell if I'm attracted to a woman or a man. But I have no confidence in saying it and making a statement about it. I have no confidence to tell other people. I don't even know how it is supposed to feel. 

     I can identify what I like about people. I can tell what and who I'm attracted to. I can tell who I like and who I have or could have a connection with. I know how I am comfortable. But for some reason I cannot identify my sexuality or maybe I won't. I will not say one way or the other. 

     I'm indecisive. I'm afraid that if I finally say something I will be wrong, that I will have made a mistake. I know that sexuality is not set in stone. I know it can change and I know that it's not a hard or fast rule as to who we will like. You cannot help who you fall in love with. I'm afraid that people won't believe me if I do eventually make a decision. I'm afraid to say because I don't want to say one thing and then have it be completely untrue. I don't want to be a phony or a fraud. 

     I have feelings and I can identify them. I can acknowledge their existence, but only in my head. But for some reason I can't actually acknowledge their existence outside of that. I won't let myself. I know that I can't keep doing this though. I'm going to have a make a decision one way or the other. I can't keep bouncing around and avoiding how I feel. I don't want to make the jump though. I'm afraid to make the leap. I know that if I do though, I will feel better. I will be able to establish myself, just like everyone in my life seems to have done. But I have this nagging in my head that this won't happen for me. So I'm sitting here at a cross roads - getting sick of sitting on the fence, yet unable to fall one way or the other. 

     

Is This the End of the Road?

     After we leave high school things start to change. We go off to separate corners of the state or even further away from each other. The things that once held us close to our friends change or disappear forever. In high school we did sports together, after school clubs, rec. sports, we saw each other everyday in class. We are held together by the common experience of living in our hometown. 

     Once we go to college our relationship changes a little. We don't see each other everyday anymore. We don't talk much, if at all. We begin to live our own lives - each at a different school for completely different things. We miss each other, but we start to make friends and settle into our new environments. These are the people who know us. Our friends at our respective schools are the ones that see us everyday. They are the ones that we grow with and share things with now. They know the most current version of who we are and they share our most recent interests. They are into the same things we are.

     Then we all come back to our hometown. The one thing that seems to be holding us together still. We come back here after roughly 9 months apart. 9 months of barely seeing each other and talking even less. Sometimes we can pick up right where we left off. Sometimes we can't. Sometimes things change so much and there doesn't seem to be anything that can bring even a sliver of the past back. 

     It takes a lot of effort sometimes to be around the people we know in high school. The deeper relationship we feel like we once had doesn't seem to be there anymore. We don't connect the way we used to. The ease we had in high school seems to be gone. I'm not sure if we can ever get it back. Once we go off and start on our individual paths, can we keep coming together in this place that thrust us together in the first place. What about when we don't come back here anymore? What will happen to our friendships then?

     Coming back to our hometown - the place with it all started - thrusts us back together. Every summer we come back here. But being here shows how much things have actually changed. We are not the same people we were in high school. We all have different friends, live most of the year in different places, and have developed different interests. We all want to end up in different places. With all these changes, we still insist on holding onto the past. We insist that our history is enough to keep us together, enough to fight for. Well we can't keep living in the past. Our relationships change. Have they changed too much? Are we too different now? How do we decide? How do we decided if it's worth holding onto? When do we let the past be the past and just accept that this is how it is today? What does this mean for our friendships? 

     We want to hold onto everything. We want to hold onto the people that helped to make us who we are. They are our best friends, or they were at some point. It is hard to admit that things are not the same and that they never can be. It's even harder to admit that maybe things aren't working out anymore. I guess we just have to decide if we can make it work or if maybe this is the end of the road. Can we navigate our friendships from hundreds of miles apart and still maintain them? Can they survive the test of time? Is letting it go really an option? We don't want to let each other go. We don't want to lose each other, but you could never tell this by the way we act toward one another. 

Resolution

     I'm making a resolution. I'm taking control of my life. From here on out I'm done with thinking about cutting myself. I don't need to do it. I need to find other ways to cope. I can draw, I can talk to a friend, I can write, I can go for a walk or run. I don't need to hurt myself. My body deserves to be treated better than that and my mind needs to stop thinking about it.
     I'm ready to be happy and it is time to move on. So I'm making a resolution to stop thinking about self harm and to stop using rubber bands. I'm done with all of it. There are healthier ways to cope and I'm going to find them. I'm going to use the things I have now and I'm going to find more. I don't need to do this anymore. I don't want to do it anymore.
     I'm taking control of my life. I will feel anxious, I will feel overwhelmed, I will feel sad, angry, or frustrated. And that is okay, because I have people who understand and who can help me deal with these things. I'm deciding to be happy, even if it is just for now. I'm going to do my best to keep the clouds away. This is my life and I would rather be happy than sad.

Slip

     I have them just in case. They're hidden away, but I know where they are. They're there in case I slip again. Just in case it becomes too much to handle and I need that release. There have been moments when I thought I might need them, but I always change my mind. I choose to lay in bed rather than actually make the effort to go get them.
     I retrieved them right before a fantastic weekend. I was feeling awful and I thought I might need them. I thought I might need to bring them with me. But by the time I left, I promised myself I didn't need them for this trip and I left them behind. That this was going to be a good one. And it was. I didn't need them at all. Never had the urge once.
     I've been sticking with this feeling - that I don't really need them. But I won't get rid of them. Although I don't know if I'll ever use them. I want them. I want to know that I have the option. I want to know that they are there even if I'll never use them. A safety net of sorts. A last resort.
     I've decided to be happy. I'm sick of feeling cloudy and unfocused. But what if I feel lost again? What if I need to bring myself into the clear? What about when everything becomes too much again? I want them around when that happens. I want to have them ready. I probably won't use them until I lose it again. I haven't used them yet, but I might someday. That's why I won't throw them away. I'm not sure how long this feeling will last and I don't want to risk it. I don't want to slip and not have them. So I'm keeping them - hidden - until I need them.

A Stitch Away From Making It

     In the words of the Fall Out Boy song The Afterlife of the Party, "I'm a stitch away from making it and a scar away from falling apart". I feel like my life could go either way at this point. It could go either way in any given day or even hour. It's like the moment I start thinking about something too much I could easily tear my stitches out. I could easily create a new scar. What little is holding me together might not be enough.
     I feel like I'm in an unstable state. Being on the fence is a scary feeling. I feel like something that I see or hear could push me over the edge. I'm working on not letting things bother me, but sometimes I just get so overwhelmed that I can't handle it. Those are the moments when I'm convinced everything will fall apart and I'll slip back into the confusion and constant state of drowning that I feel like I just clawed myself out of.
     The last thing I want is to feel that way again. Like nothing I do will ever be right. Like I will never belong. Like I'm invisible. Lost and alone with no one to talk to and no one to care. My options are being okay, being happy, being around people I love, having direction in my life, being how I feel a lot of the time. Or I can slip back into sadness. I don't want to go back there, I just don't know how to stop myself from getting overwhelmed. I don't know how to stop myself from feeling the cracks. I don't know how to stop myself from creating problems in my head.
     I don't know how to hold myself together. And I know that not everyday will be a good day. There will just be days where it is overwhelming or something makes me sad or angry or frustrated. I know that this will happen. This is life after all. It's not all sunshine and rainbows. I guess what I'm afraid of though, is that one of these moments is just going to send me over the edge. I won't be held together anymore. I'm afraid that I can go either way so easily and it's a guessing game as to which way I will fall.

Snap Shot

     Last night I started reading Ariel by Sylvia Plath. The version that I have is the restored version with the forward by Sylvia Plath's daughter, Frieda Hughes. While I was reading it I began to realize that she was strongly emphasizing that Ariel contained poems that were just a moment in Sylvia Plath's life. All of her writing was an example of her feelings at a given time. A snap shot of the way she was feeling. And just because Ariel happens to contain some of her latest works - the ones closest to when she killed herself - doesn't mean that  these were her feelings throughout her whole life. Frieda does say that her mother was plagued by depression her whole life, but that the feelings that ultimately led to her suicide would have eventually passed, just as other feelings had passed before.
     This got me thinking about my own journal. I'm no Sylvia Plath. My writing is solely about my feelings. I cannot channel the energy into anything great - a poem or a novel. But like her poems and The Bell Jar, my journal is a snap shot my life from early December until mid/late summer. Everything I write is a freeze frame of how I am feeling. Some entry's are very sad, some are very happy, some are drawings, quotes, some are completely irrational, sometimes I color. All of this is held together in one little book.
     I got an unlined journal because it made me feel free. I wouldn't have to abide by the lines. I wouldn't be confined and obligated to write between them. With no lines I am free to write sideways, draw, color, scribble, write really big or really small. I like this. I like having that freedom.
     To go even broader an document is just a picture of a certain time and place. A journal or a scrap book. A newspaper, a book, a photograph. These all show a different time. A time that is now passed, even if it was just moments ago. That moment is gone forever, but it is still there in the story.
     My journal is a snap shot me as a 19 year old, a 20 year old, someone who is lost, someone who is trying to figure out who they are, someone who is struggling sometimes, someone who is fragile, someone who is on the edge of either really succeeding and figuring life out or failing and being destined to live in the fog of her brain. My journal tells who my friends are. It tells what I did. What I liked and didn't like. Someday I might be embarrassed to look back on it. But I'm not yet. I love looking back on it and seeing where I was in December and what the second half of my sophomore year looked like. Whether I like it or not my journal is a snap shot of who I was and who I am. It may not be an actual photograph, but it certainly paints a picture. My journal is a snap shot of me in one moment of my life.

Therapy

     My first experience with therapy was when I was a freshman in high school. After my mother discovered that I was self injuring (I wonder what she would say if she knew I never really got over it) and was quite depressed over losing my best friend. The relationship was really more than that, but it doesn't matter now. Only a few people know about that, none of which really had a say in the events at the time. No one really knows why I went so crazy. It was a really rough couple of months.
      Anyway off the therapy I went. We went once a week. Sometimes my sister and I were together, but most of the time we were separate. I don't think it helped much. In time I think I just got over the situation. Jenny taught me how to cope by snapping myself with a rubber band rather than self injure. I can't decide how I feel about this. I didn't get much accomplished in therapy at 16. I was really uncomfortable being alone and I think really unable to articulate what my feelings on the situation were. Anyway, hindsight is 20/20.
     Flash forward a few years. I've always been a pretty anxious person. Terrified of change or death. Or both. I guess they can go hand in hand. At the end of my freshman year of college my anxiety was starting to get a little worse. Like kind of at actual panic attack status. I had learned to manage the chest pains in high school. But over the summer it was fine. Enter sophomore year. I had a rough time adjusting to living with another roommate other than my sister. We drove each other crazy. First semester was awful. By second semester things had cleared up though and we were good again.
     I wasn't good though. My life had shifted in ways that I couldn't fathom. Now I'm alright with the changes, but at the time I felt like my world was crashing down around me and I couldn't even tell which direction it was coming from. I was just incredibly sad all the time. Nothing made me feel better, not for long anyway. So my roommate and I decided to try out going to the counseling center. I wanted to learn how to cope with change and kind of get my life back together and I think she just wanted to try it out because she was in a counseling class.
     I've always been a person that wanted to try group therapy. Watching movies like Girl Interrupted made it look very interesting. I'm also incredibly nosy. I want to know everyone's life. What better way to get that than to go to group therapy. So while I was doing my intake interview and group gets brought up, I get super excited. I've always wanted to do this, right?! Wrong.
     Group therapy was not really for me. It is an experience that I wouldn't give up, but I am not very good at speaking up and initiating talk about my feelings. I also realized I still had problems articulating when speaking out loud and I started to develop anxiety about having to speak up in front of the whole group. These issues all point to the fact that I should probably stick with group, in order to get over them, and maybe I will.
      My issues - anxiety about death and dying and trying to deal with separating from ones twin - are somewhat unique issues. Especially the twin thing. That is something that I guess is kind of hard to relate to. Or rather, maybe just not group topics. And maybe my feelings went deeper than these two things. Maybe I don't even know what I'm anxious about, because the list is constantly changing.
     I thought that going to group would be different. I had a romanticized version of how it worked. I did not really learn to cope with my anxiety and I only spoke up a handful of times. Hopefully the third times the charm. Maybe I'll do both individual and group therapy in the fall and see what happens. So far my experiences with therapy have been interesting. The second definitely an improvement from the first. So it can only keep getting better, right?

Laying Under My Bed

     I feel safe there. I've never done it before. Never thought to lay on the floor of my room and just slide myself under. I took a pillow and blanket with me and just laid there, staring at the bottom of my mattress, focusing on the metal grid that supports it. For someone who generally freaks out in small spaces, I felt incredibly safe there. I felt like my feelings were manageable.
    My room was just too large. Everything from my head was swirling around and filling up all the available space. Maybe going under my bed was a way of hiding from all of this. I guess it was. Because once I was under there I felt like if I just kept staring at the one intersection in the grid I would be alright. I could talk myself off the ledge. But only in this small, semi-dark space could I do this. My room was too much to handle.
     Of course I was freaking out over ridiculousness. I get overwhelmed and my brain can't handle it. Everything goes immediately cloudy and I curl up into a ball and cry or rather try not to. But for some reason going under my bed felt like a good idea. I had calmed down a little by the time I decided to crawl in, which I think helped.
     I was eventually talked off the ledge the first time I emerged by a friend. My friend did a fantastic job of making me feel better, because when I first came out I started to freak out again. But I took my phone and my computer back under my bed and everything was alright. She kept talking to me and I was able to start working and I was much calmer. I don't think she knows how helpful she was. I wouldn't have done anything without her help and encouragement.
     I can't explain these feelings of safety and security that came from lying on my dirty floor under my bed. It just happened. I was able to tell myself that it was going to be alright. That what I was overwhelmed about was really manageable. So between hiding in a space that came maybe 6 inches from my face for a while and my friend talking me down to a normal level, my night actually ended pretty good.

Speaking with Caution

     I never tell people how I feel. I can't even tell a professor that I loved their class or that I learned so much from them. I can't even do this, so I definitely can't tell the people that mean the most to me, that they do. I can't tell someone that I love them. Not in the serious, I can't live without you way, let alone in an I want you way. 

     I feel like other people can do this so easily. They can walk up to someone and say "hey I like you". They have no problems talking to professors or people they look up to. I envy these people. They don't care if people know how they feel. They aren't afraid to just say what is on their mind and go for it.

     I don't do this. My friends mean the world to me. I couldn't live without them. The people that I surround myself with are the ones that keep me sane or insane, depending on your point of view. But I rarely if ever tell them this. I'm writing it here, but to say it out loud would be very difficult for me. If I felt something more for someone I would just assume take the secret to my grave. Vocalizing it would be too much for me to handle. 

     When we vocalize things it makes them real. It means that what you are saying is now a "thing". It's not just that thought in the way back of your mind that you had little to no intention of acknowledging. But then you say it. The words come out of your mouth, and sometimes you want to take them back before the sentence is even out. Other times it's a relief to finally tell someone else what has been on your mind. 

     Saying what we're feeling can lift the world off our shoulders or it can bury us under a ton of rock. I guess it depends on the person and the situation There are some situations where I can tell that what I say will either relieve me of a massive burden or make me wish I was buried under those rocks. Sometimes I can't tell at all. Those are the worst ones. Where you have to weigh the odds and risk ruining everything you've ever wanted. A situation where you can make things worse than if you'd just kept your mouth shut. I'm usually one to err on the side of caution, especially when it comes to people I love. So I'm not really one to say anything, if it could seriously change something. But by doing this, I'm just guessing as to what would happen if I did say something and I'll never know if that could make things better. That is the price we pay though. We have to make decisions that could change our lives forever, and what we say can decide one way or the other. 

Out of Control

     I've lost control of my life. It's barely even mine anymore. It belongs to everyone around me. I am their charge. Ever since I got home I've felt completely out of control. I can't seem to get a grip. I can't seem to regain control of my life. It's scary and stressful. It's frustrating. I'm worried constantly. I worry about money all the time. I worry about everything. I worry about pleasing everyone. I worry about being good enough. I worry about my relationships with people. I worry about time. I worry about never finding myself. I wonder when this phase will end. I know I shouldn't wish any part of my life away. But I feel so lost and I'm not sure how much longer I can deal with it. I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling like my life is in constant chaos. No matter what I do I can't seem to pick up all the pieces and put them back together. I can't wrap my mind around anything. And I know somewhere in the back of my head everything is going to work out and be okay. But I can't convince myself of this. I'm having a harder and harder time pulling myself back to reality. I'm not even sure I know what reality is anymore. I feel so far away from everything. Like there are things happening and I can't get to them. Everything feels all jumbled up inside my head. Usually I can keep everything separated and straight. But everything is nagging me. I've tried making 'to do' lists, but that doesn't really help. I can't stand feeling this out of it. I can't pin point my emotions. I don't know how to fix it. Take things one step at a time? Day by day? Hour by hour? I don't know how to manage my stress. I don't know how to get control back. And it's driving me crazy. It's pushing me over the edge.

Actually Happy

     Tonight I was really, truly, able to feel it happy. I saw the show Next to Normal at the Wood Theater in Glens Falls, NY. I've seen the show twice on Broadway. Once with Jessica Phillips and once with Alice Ripley. I loved both. I love this show. I love the music. Everything about it is so beautiful to me. I find myself relating to the topic despite not being mentally ill or having anyone close to me be mentally ill. I don't know what it is, I just love the story.
     I went with my friend Maddie and my sister. We had originally had plans to see the show while it was still on Broadway. That never happened though. We never saw it together. Tonight was Maddie's first time seeing it. I was excited to see it, but also a little eh. Essentially I had my reservations. But as we were sitting in our seats staring at the stage and waiting for the show to start, I realized how happy I was to be in that place, in that time.
     This never happens to me. I go through life relatively content, but not really blindingly happy. Tonight I was that happy, and I haven't felt that way in a long time. Getting $10 tickets and seeing a show I love with people I love was amazing. Being in a city no matter how small also didn't hurt. The cast was great, which definitely helped. It was a great feeling. But I know I couldn't handle being that happy all the time. I would go crazy. I was losing my mind. But now I know what it is. The feeling of tonight verses how I've been feeling lately were polar opposites. I need to have more moments like that. So for tonight I'm going to revel in my blinding, crazy happiness.

Waiting for the show to start in the park.

My Obsession With Fiction

     For anyone who doesn't know - I have an obsessive personality. When I find out about something and I like it I charge ahead full force. These obsessions are usually relatively short lived. They last for a while - some as many as years. But they are never as intense as when the obsession first starts. Although I suppose that is kind of obvious. Just a list of some past obsessions - Charmed, Grey's Anatomy, RENT, Wicked (book and musical, mostly book), volleyball, Next to Normal, The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath, The Good Wife, Rizzoli and Isles, New York City, Criminal Minds songs that I listen to until no one can handle it anymore, and most recently The Hunger Games. The list goes on and on. Some of these obsessions are still going on. Some aren't as strong. The only one that doesn't really exist for me anymore is Charmed. But I'm not one to turn down a few of the older episodes if I happen to catch them on the TV in the morning.
     As a child I loved fiction. Fiction was everything to me. I would devour book after book, practically living at the library. Good thing it is right down the street. I loved the stories. I loved reading. I still love reading. But high school and then college effectively pushed my love of free reading to the way back burner. I pretty much stopped reading much for fun. Granted, I did fall in love with Wicked while in high school and I did still read. But it wasn't at the rate that I read at when I was a child.
     Lately I have made my way more to nonfiction. Reading things about the abortion debate or feminism. Something that I never did. I was never a fan of nonfiction. I always wanted to be swept away to a world that wasn't real to be with a character that I loved. So falling in love with some nonfiction was a big change for me. The Bell Jar is semi-autobiographical, but still fiction and Wicked was definitely fiction. These have been my two books that I've been holding on to and refusing to let go. They were the books I would turn to when I needed that escape. I never sought out new books to read. But I've been waiting to find that story that completely takes me away. A story that I can lose myself in. It's been a long time since I was obsessed with a book.
     This summer, and by that I mean a few weeks ago, I decided to read The Hunger Games series. A friend had given me the book and I finally finished the book I was reading (Lolita). So I decided what the hell, I want to see the movie eventually and I want to have read the book first. And I had heard that they were really good. So I started it. And I couldn't put it down. I read the first one in 3 days - unheard of for me. The second one in 3 days and the 3rd one in 4. It was quite the emotional roller coaster. The first and the third were definitely my favorite. I liked the second one, just not as much the first one or the third one.
     The second and third books brought up a lot of feelings and questions for myself and my beliefs about politics. I resented the controlling nature of Snow and then of Coin. I always have. But my left leaning beliefs naturally depend on a larger government. Which leads to a lot of questions that I'm trying to work out. I loved Katniss from the beginning and I definitely was a Peeta shipper. I liked Gale too, but Peeta more. Which made some of the things in the third book upsetting.
     I loved them though. I was told they ended abruptly, but I didn't feel that way. I did have closure, which sometimes doesn't happen. And I can add them to my list of obsessions. It has been a long times since a book completely stole me away and transported me to another world and another time. It has been a long time since I fell so completely in love with a set of characters and a long time since I cried over a book. I love fiction and I found a series that has restored my faith in the genre as well as led to my most recent obsession.

Feeling Extra Twinny

I haven't had a post related to being a twin in a while. So while I'm feeling extra twinny and I'm in a good mood - a positive post about being a twin.

This is my tattoo. My sister has the same one. We got them in almost two years ago. This tattoo celebrates our love of the musical RENT, but more than that it celebrate us. I would consider this our "twin tattoo". They are on opposite foots and they face different ways. Where my "I Die" is, that is where her "Without You" is. I'm so happy that this was our first tattoo and that they are for us. This tattoo is a small sign of our twinship and I believe that it is true. We may not always be physically together, a fact that has been hard for me to  accept in it's reality, we will always carry the other with us. I will always carry Melissa with me, even if we are far apart. She is a part of me not matter what.

Some Nights

     Some nights I want nothing more than to feel the pain against my skin. I need to feel it take my breath away and take me screaming back to reality with a screeching halt. I need my anger, sadness, and frustration to go away. Inflicting pain seems to be the fastest, most effective way to do this.

     I would do so much more if I wouldn't get caught. If  no one ever had  to find out I would have scars up and down my arms. I've always loved scars. Loved what they symbolized. Concrete evidence of where I had been and what I was feeling. But I can't have scars up and down my arms. I have two conflicting sides in me. I just want to do it, but I can't have anyone know. Arms are too noticeable. People would see them and ask questions. Tell me that it wasn't normal and something was wrong. Maybe they would be right.

     Not that I ever got that intense. Really only scrapes or burns. But if I could, sometimes I think I could use something sharper, something more permanent. Something that would leave an actual mark and an actual scar. Not the faded trace of a scar that only I can see. I can only see one, although there are more. Though those ones seem to have faded away forever. 

     I don't use anything but rubber bands now. That's what the therapist told me to do. They don't leave a permanent mark. Only for a few days. Still hard to explain away though. If someone saw them I would have to admit that I never learned how to cope. That therapy didn't help. It just gave me a way to bring myself back without an lasting evidence. Supposedly better than "self injuring". But how is it better? Isn't it just a different way? A way that makes me look more normal? A way that doesn't reveal that there is a problem to begin with? 

     I never got over it. It is still something that I feel the need to do. It is my most effective way of coping. Sure writing helps sometimes. But there are times when I need that sharpness, that quick snap, the pain shooting up my arm. Those are times that there is too much going on to write. Times when writing won't bring me back. Sometimes I wish no one could see. That the scars that I would create would be for my eyes only. Because my fears of getting caught and being an outcast in society are the only thing keeping me from having scars up and down my arms. 

     If other people could see them then they would know something was wrong. It would be written right in front of them for the world to see. And I'm not ready to admit that something is wrong yet. I don't know what it is. I'm not ready to admit that I might not be normal, and not in a good way. I'm not ready to admit that something may have snapped in me when I was 16 and it hasn't been right since. I'm not ready to admit that the pain is like a punishment in my own twisted way. I don't want people to know that I'm not okay.

The Killer

     The killer is my irrational fear that someone or something is wandering around every corner and lurking in every dark space just waiting to get me. The killer is that bump in the night  - or day, the killer is the person who changed the book, the killer is the thing that tries to grab you as you leave a dark room, and the thing that pops up in the window after you shut the door and turn your back. The killer is always there - waiting.
     "The killer" started as a joke to kind of ease the tension when me or my sister was really scared of something - a noise, a funny shadow, an unexplained happening. We always say "the killer!" as if it will make us feel better. And it often does. It does relieve the fear and panic. Do I still check my entire house - yes. Do I lock the basement door - absolutely. Because what if the killer really is there? What if he is really real? Then what? I will carry blunt or sharp objects with me when I go to peep the scene.
     In my paranoid mind the killer could actually be there. He could be under my bed, in my closet, in the bathroom, outside my window. And he is always there. No matter what. He didn't used to be at school with me. But the longer I live somewhere the killer comes out. Even in a dorm - which is basically one room. My paranoia brings him there. It happened in my freshman dorm, the bathroom there, my sophomore dorm, the bathroom there and the closet. It is the worst in my own home because there are so many places for the killer to hide.
     I am afraid that he is hiding in the house waiting for me and my family to go to sleep and then he will strike. I create scenarios of where the killer is possibly hiding and why it makes sense that he would be hiding there. He would go to that part of the house because he can easily hide in the shadow or in that corner and he won't easily be seen. My mind goes wild with these plots. Which is terrifying. And now I've written this and I'm thinking about it. Scared. When I think about it too much it gets worse. It's like I bring my thoughts to my attention and realize how scary the situation can be. I can talk myself into being afraid of anything. This idea of "the killer" started as a way to calm and make light of a situation, but in the back of my mind the killer will always be real. Whoever or whatever it is. 

Happy and Sad

     I've been going through a hard time lately. I feel so lonely yet I am surrounded by people. I have friends but I feel like I am not good enough, or there is something wrong with me. My entire life I've felt like if someone liked Melissa they would like me - and they would like us the same. How naive of  me as this is not the case at all. We are completely different and people like different things about us. Yet I can't help but feel like the least favorite twin in every situation.
     I'm more awkward than Melissa and not as socially adept. I am anxious a lot of the time. I fear that I may be too much to handle or that I am that friend that no matter what I say or do I'm never funny enough or I don't say things at the right time. I feel obtuse. I feel like a giant slamming around in a doll house. I'm too rough. I don't make sense. But at the same time I still feel happy. There is a quote from The Perks of being a Wallflower that describes my life currently.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

     This is it. This is me. My life seems to be one big cornucopia of conflicting and confusing feelings at the moment. I feel happy, yet lost. There is the constant dull ache of something missing in place of the acute sharpness I usually feel when something doesn't sit right with me. I don't know how I can be happy even though I still don't know who I am or how I will figure it out. I don't know how I can feel sad, lost, and alone and still have the general feeling of happiness. Perhaps I shouldn't complain. It's definitely a step up from all around misery. But these feelings are still driving me crazy. Maybe that's alright though.

Lost

     I look back at videos from when I was in high school and I cringe. It's not just the terrible haircuts or my unfortunate skin though. I look at these videos and see how much I wasn't my own person. I was just trying to mimic Melissa. I never realized this until Melissa broke out her video camera and we watched some old videos. I don't know how I had friends. I sounded crazy and like I had no social skills. I would like to think that that has changed.
     It's embarrassing and kind of sad to look back on how lost I was. I had no idea what was happening in my life or what I wanted. I had no idea who I was - but I so thought I did. I thought I had everything figured out. I don't know if everyone feels this way at some point. I feel like they must. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) I have evidence of this time on video. Unfortunately because I find it sad to watch. Fortunately because I can see that I've come quite a ways since then. Which gives me some hope that I can turn into an actual human being.
     In these instances I am essentially personality free. Which I don't think is the case, all the time anyway. I have spent this last year searching for who I am. I changed my major, started hanging out with different people, started walking a lot, I started writing in a journal. I started doing things to put the pieces of myself together. The puzzle is missing some pieces still, but I don't think it's ever done. The puzzle can always change. But I think I've got a preliminary start on this puzzle. I would like to think I'm a completely different person than I was in high school, or maybe I'm just a more complete person with more direction. Despite this,  there are still those times when I feel like that same lost kid I was in high school. Back at square one. And I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with that.

On Blaming Women

     We are a culture that blames the woman. We don't pay attention to the things that are wrong with the men, rather we focus on how clingy the woman is or how she needs to get her life together. Rather than saying the man in this story is a jerk who keeps ripping women around, who is controlling or aggressive. Instead of saying that we just idolize this man and wonder who will play him when the movie comes out.
     I had a conversation with one of my best friends tonight about this. As a society we blame women for the problems in relationships. We think that they shouldn't bother with these gross men. Well maybe men shouldn't be such assholes. Hows that for a radical notion. We need to stop placing everything that goes wrong or everything that is dysfunctional on women. Don't get me wrong, I do think that women need to smarten up and start picking people that are right for them. People that will treat them right. No matter who you are attracted too, that person needs to treat you with respect and dignity and you should do the same for them.
     But this is hardly every portrayed in movies or books. Instead we get an "overly clinging, doesn't have her shit together girl" and a "strong man" who happens to be an aggressive, controlling, cocky, asshole. And this is what our popular media tells us we should do. People bitch endlessly about how "oh she took her boyfriend back even though he cheated on her, or hit her, or did this or that" and we blame her for taking him back. This is what movies show! In any romantic movie you watch the plot is so predictable. They are going to get into a fight, break up, and then realize that they cannot live without each other. They second guess their decision. I truly believe that this is one of the reasons people get back together, even if it's not the best thing. Because this is what our movies, TV shows, and books show us. 
     There need to be more realistic relationships and characters portrayed in pop culture. And it needs to be shown to young kids. Because that is when our gender roles are instilled. We are brainwashed so young to know what society expects of us as either a boy or a girl and then for the rest of our lives those roles and ideas are enforced at every corner in every aspect of life. 
     We are a victim blaming culture. It was her fault - "she didn't say no loud enough", "she was wearing a short skirt or dress", "she had sex with him before", "SHE did this". It's never "HE did this to her and he is the bad guy for that". Or even in situations of same sex abuse, we still blame the victim. Because they were in the wrong somehow. They somehow asked for something terrible to happen to them. 
     My friend is a smart girl, she is aware of the way the world is. But we are all  guilty of this. Of blaming the woman. The specific conversation I had was about 50 Shades of Grey and the Twilight series. Now if anyone doesn't know, 50 Shades of Grey started as fan-fiction of Twilight. So apparently the characters are pretty much the same. I've seen 2 Twilight movies and didn't really care for either one. I think they are ridiculous. I've also never read 50 Shades of Grey. I've just heard people talking about it. And my friend expressed how irritating the woman is in the series. She said she reminded her of Bella and so on. Basically the girl too needy and  needs to figure out her life before she goes and has a relationship. Because these relationships are very unhealthy. I had to ask what the man was like. And she told me he was controlling - not a nice guy. Yet everyone I talk to fawns over him. They talk about who will play him in the movie. WHY DO WE LIKE THIS MAN? He sounds like a raging asshole to me. We idolize him and put him on a pedestal while being irritated with this woman. Why do we want our men to be aggressive and controlling. I for one would like to be in charge of my own life. Society blames her for being to clingy. Well people, it's time to wake up because she may be clingy, but that doesn't change the fact that he is controlling and generally disgusting. He obviously doesn't treat her with respect. 
     We need to stop doing this as a society. The cycle has to end. Children shouldn't be taught to idolize the tough guy who doesn't respect them. Women need to smarten up and realized that they deserve better than an asshole like Christian Grey. Men need to start being taught to treat women with dignity and respect. Actually the human race could use a lesson in this. We don't treat a lot of people the way the should be treated. And that is not okay. It is not okay to deny people the right to marry, it is not right to try and cut down women's rights every chance you get, it is not right to teach hate and fear of others. There are bad people in this world and they deserve what they get. We need to start consciously thinking about the way we talk about things and who the bad guys really are.

Climbing Mountains

     Growing up in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains, one would think I did more outdoorsy things. Things like hiking. I did not really hike as a child. And I certainly didn't hike while in middle school when puberty was hitting hard. But I have now been hiking 4 times. I believe I did go once as a child, but it is a vague, fuzzy memory that I'm not even sure is legitimate. Anyway, I've hiked Buck Mountain twice, Sleeping Beauty once and a place called Break Neck Ridge once. The most terrifying hike of my life. Buck isn't as hard as Break Neck but it is much harder than Sleeping Beauty.
     I hiked Buck most recently the other day. I did this with my dear running buddies - Melissa and Tim. We did this instead of our usual workout. The hike was much harder, but way more rewarding. There is a quote from Grey's Anatomy about mountain climbing:

They take pictures of the mountain climbers at the top of the mountain. They are smiling, ecstatic, triumphant. They don’t take pictures along the way cause who wants to remember the rest of it? We push ourselves because we have to not because we like it. The relentless climb, the pain and anguish of taking it to the next level – nobody takes pictures of that, nobody wants to remember, we just want to remember the view from the top, the breathtaking moment at the edge of the world. That’s what keeps us climbing and it’s worth the pain, that’s the crazy part. It’s worth anything.

     Now I realize that this quote is referring to legitimate, hard, real mountains. That probably involve life or death situations and actual rock climbing. But I'm a person who is all about the journey. Don't get me wrong. I can see exactly where this quote is coming from. And I do believe that it is right to an extent. Of course we want to take pictures of what we have accomplished and not the struggle and pain it took to get there. We want everyone to see that we made it, that we are hardcore enough to get to the top. But at the same time, it took a lot to get up there. The journey is where you learn things about yourself and the people you are with. You learn how far you can push yourself. Often times harder than you ever think possible. Now I'm not just talking about mountains. I'm talking about life.
     And I love this quote, I want to make that clear. Because it is true. However I do want to remember my journey. I want to remember the people along the way, the hard parts and the easy parts. I want to remember it all. I want to have the journey so I can make it to the top. I need to know where I came from. Every bump is important because it teaches you something. Every time you think you can't make it, but then you do. These are the moments that make the top so much sweeter. They make the accomplishment that much greater. The top is worth everything. But I believe without the journey, the top means nothing.

We made it to the top!

View of Lake George

Sitting in a Clean Room

     This is a room I call my own. This hasn't always been the case. We shared the room I live in  now when  we were  babies and little kids and then when we were 8 my father asked us if we would rather move into separate rooms or he would knock the wall down and we would have one big room. I opted for the one big room. We could live on one side and the other would be completely dedicated to play. We could leave everything set up all the time. And we played all the time.
     The summer before 10th grade I decided I wanted the wall back up and we would have separate rooms. We each got to paint and decorate our rooms. I now have a better sense of what I want to do with it. But since I only live here over the summer and that won't be the case next year, I figure I can work with what I chose at 15.
     Sitting in a clean room always makes me feel like I have my shit together. Like I belong in a movie or something. Because in movies and books, they always have beautiful clean rooms that they spend all  their time in. I also never used to spend much time in my room. I do now though. I guess college has kind of done that too me. I used to never be in my room unless I was going to bed. Now I come up here and do whatever. Listen to music, write, watch TV, whatever I want.
      Today, I cleaned and rearranged my room. Something I do semi-frequently because I get bored and want a change. So I was long overdue. Sitting here it feels much more homey than before. When I came home from school I didn't really nest back in because, well I didn't want to be here and I figured its such a short time so why bother. But let me just tell you, I am happier than a clam.
     Yet, for loving the feeling of being in a clean room, I NEVER clean. Never. I will anything and everything to avoid cleaning. I throw my clothes everywhere, I don't put anything away. I make piles ALL over the place...the bane of my mothers existence.
     But here I am in my clean room happy as a clam. I feel like I can conquer the world if I want. Even if that just means reading my book and writing in my journal before bed. It's a good feeling. Maybe I should do this more often.

Love

“Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” - Robert Heinlein 

     To me this quote is what it means to be a twin. And it is a pain in the ass at times. Because sometimes you just want to be happy, damn the rest of the world! But for twins (of course not all) that can be nearly impossible if their co-twin is unhappy.
     Personally it makes me so sad to see anyone hurting, physically or mentally. But when it is Melissa those feelings are magnified by 100 times. I cannot live without her. She has to be okay for me to be okay. I don't know what else to say. I feel like the quote says it all. Melissa is my one and only. I would be lost without her. This quote just embodies twinness to me and I wanted to share it.

Talking to Another Twin

     I love talking to other twins because although every story is a little different and of course they have different feelings about each other, there are always similarities or situations or feelings. It's like twins can understand other twins even though all twins are different.     

      Last night I had the joy of playing a shameless, invasive game that involves being allowed to ask the lucky person in the hot seat any question you want for 3 minutes. I was hanging out with people that I occasionally see and one that I don't think I ever have. We went to high school together for 2 years and then he graduated and he also dated one of my best friends. He just happens to be a twin and the questions eventually turned to this and his experience. 

     Being 2 years older he is a recent graduate and so is his brother. But his brother is living in Chicago and will likely never come back to this area. He said that his brother needed to leave in order to find himself. I couldn't help but relate instantly. He said that he would have been fine, but that his brother would not have if they had gone to the same college. He basically described my life. Going to the same college is a double edged sword. On the one hand you have a friend and constant comfort. Someone to always look out for you. A roommate. That is how we did it anyway. Some twins go to the same school but room separately. Then on the other hand you have to watch that person flourish and you can't figure out what you're doing. It makes it hard to find yourself.

     It was interesting to hear another twin describe this. Because it means I'm not alone. It means that what I'm feeling is normal and that other twins feel that way too. Although this specific twin recognized it way sooner than I did. I can't change it now. For 1) I'm too afraid and 2) I'm invested in Pace and the community there. So leaving isn't really a viable option. Not for me. But we'll figure it out.

     I just fascinates me to talk to other twins. Because like I said, despite the differences there are bound to be more than a few similarities and I love it. 

When You Go With Other People

     And by other people I mean a significant other. Someone that you like. Someone who has the potential to take you away from me. A thought that used to terrify me. But I've learned that just because you go with someone else doesn't mean that I'm going to lose you. It doesn't mean that you love me less when you hang out with someone you like and it doesn't mean that you won't come back in some sense. I may be losing some of my time with you. But I have lots to spare.
      I've also reached a time in my life when I can hang out with other people and not feel lost. These people also have an abundance of time with you. It's okay to do your own thing every now and then. I have people that I want to spend time with and who I can do things with. People that will fill the temporary void. As long as I know your safe I'm okay. This might mean that I'll text you after you've been gone for 5 hours and I haven't heard from you. I'm sorry that's not normal, but that is who I am. I need to make sure that everything is alright. Then we can both continue on with our activities.
     So it's alright for you to do things with other people. They mean a lot to you. And no one should take that away. There are 7 days in a week. I think it's okay to split up your time accordingly. And you don't have to give more than you want to, but don't be afraid that by giving more of yourself to someone else that you are taking it away from the people who already suck up all of you. Because you aren't. Just open your heart up and let everyone in. You have a big enough heart to do that. I promise you there is enough of you  to go around despite your recent weight loss. I know this is scary, but you can handle it.

The Slow One

     Throughout high school my sister was always the "faster" one. In 9th grade after being cut from softball we both decided to join  the track team. The coach at the time was incredibly beautiful. He would always talk to two friends of ours and joining track was just the way to get his attention. After years of playing softball we both turned in our gloves in favor of being sprinters.
     We excelled at track. Neither of us are amazing, but my high school was small and we are hard workers. But she was just that much faster than me and she was placed on the 4x2 (each leg of the relay runs 200 meters) our sophomore year. I was an alternate for this race. But that really meant nothing, I would never run it. The coach had  his sites set on a school record, which he eventually got. This started for me the realization that we were not the same and that there would be things that Melissa could do that I couldn't. I think this is a hard realization for some twins. It was hard for me.
     The finality of this discovery hit when the 4x2 won a championship. This meant that they would get  their varsity jackets. In high school  this was something that I so wanted. I wanted desperately to be good at sports and to have a  jacket. Not many girls had them. So when they won their jackets that solidified in my mind that we were not the same and that things in our lives would not be equal. Our entire lives everything was made equal. We were painfully the same. Of course high school would be a time that this would change.
     Looking back I don't know why I was so upset. The details of it seem ridiculous now. But, it was the point. It was that realization in my mind, that for the first time, we were not the same. Melissa didn't wear her jacket for a while because I was so bitter about it. I feel bad that I put her in that position as she should have been proud and worn her jacket. But she didn't. Which was a nice show of solidarity. But in  the end I'm still the jerk that stopped her from wearing and being proud of her achievement.
     Flash forward 4 years to this summer. For the third summer in a row me, Melissa, and our friend Tim have started working out in the desperate attempt to lose weight. We are running to train for a local 5k that our town has at the end of the summer. I spend our time running and usually staring at their backs. This can get pretty  discouraging. Some days they do run with me, which I like. But they are both faster and stronger than me, which frustrates me to no end. Last summer we did Insanity and it was the same way. I couldn't keep up. Melissa has always been the more athletic one. It wasn't just track that she excelled in during high school. She was also a stronger volleyball player. To top  that off she played a more demanding, specialized position - setter. She was moved up to varsity the fall of our sophomore year (the same year she won her jacket in the winter). Not a good year for me.
     So I guess this is about how I feel like I'm always behind Melissa in every aspect of my life. This does not bother me as much as other things. I think that is because I've had a while to adjust to it. But I still feel like I'm metaphorically always staring at her back, desperately running to catch up.
    To end on a hopeful note - I do feel like I've started to pull myself out of this metaphorical slump (I still get frustrated about the running thing). I had to grasp onto something (anything) to feel better. I picked women's issues to be "my thing". This definitely helped to give me some direction and now I feel like I can branch out and do other things. I can have other interests and it's okay if they overlap with Melissa's. So I'm not always staring at her back anymore. Which makes me really happy because it kind of sucks to always be behind someone. I don't want to be in front of her, but it's nice to feel like I can keep up.

Me vs. We

     My entire life I have been a "we", never a  "me". "I" has meant almost nothing to me my entire life. Sure I would use it when writing a paper or when stating an opinion. But it was always our mother, our father, our dog, our, our, our,  we did this, we did that. And this was never a problem. We were always together so it was always clear who we was. All of this made sense until college. When we were not together all the time and we would meet new people separately.
     This is when this me vs. we speech became a problem. I would be talking to people and I was say something like "we did ____ this weekend". It would just come out. And then I would feel like we...WE...WE!?!. I felt like I must sound as though I belonged in an institution. I pictured the person I was talking to to be like "We? Who is we? The voices!?!? What is wrong with this person?". Of course that was just my slightly paranoid, over-thinking brain kicking into action. Hence my quest to become comfortable with the me/I thing instead of the we/our began.
     This was/is a strange thing for me. I feel like when I'm talking about my parents, I'm really talking about our parents, for example. So it feels very strange to say my. Because they aren't just mine. They are my sisters too. But regular siblings don't seem to have this problem. I'm in the current state of flip flopping between the two when it feels comfortable in the conversation. I try and check myself and when I catch it I try and say me/I as not to sound like a crazy loon. I often think I end up awkwardly stumbling over the whole situation in the fashion of "we..I, I mean I *blank stare, some blushing from embarrassment*, did  ____" or "our *beed  eep boop  bop,  more blushing and embarrassment* I mean my ____". Awkward and embarrassing situations come out of this...in my mind anyway.
     So as is the story of my life, this is a work in progress. Perhaps I'll eventually train myself to use I/me with ease and comfort. If not I'll be doomed to this constant state of limbo where I interchange I/me and we/our possibly making myself sound crazier than before. Or I will just revert back to we/our permanently. I don't see this happening. I would like to be a "normal", I use this term loosely because - define normal, functioning member to this society who does not have terrible conversations filled with awkwardness, stumbling, and red faces because I'm trying not to sound nuts. So this shall be one of my many works in progress until it is not, whenever that day will be.

Update

     Since I haven't posted anything since November, it's probably time for an update. I'm now 20. I just finished my second year of college at Pace University. I decided what my major will be - History and Women & Gender Studies (my sister is doing History and Literature). I gave up on the psychology, but I would still consider it an area of interest.
     As I may have mentioned before, my sister and I lived in a triple with a girl who had been a friend from our first year at school. The first semester did not go very well but the second one did. We started to finally get along. It was an adjustment to live with someone else but a valuable lesson. Just before the Fall semester ended was when things between my sister and I started to get rough. I felt as though I was being left behind. She was finding herself and I was not. She was carving out her space. I felt like she had better relationships with our mutual friends. She had recently come out and I'm still trying to figure out my sexuality. I felt very left out. In short, we were starting to separate. Our paths were starting to diverge. And I were watching it happen. This was very hard for me, but it was also hard for my sister to see me that way and feel like she had caused it. She didn't want to stop what she was doing (I didn't want her to either) but she didn't want to see me hurting. It was difficult.
     Now we're home for the summer and things seem to be better for the most part. We're still in the process of separating. I think things may only be better here because we are forced into the same box and it's hard to branch out here. We'll see where things go. We're both trying to navigate the route of separation. There is no map, no hard or fast rule. There is no set time it's supposed to happen and no set way that it turns out. But when it happens things may not be bad, but they will never be the same as they were before.

Rant on Boys

      Boys always seem to think that they will win the heart of the desired twin if they can get all the information about said desired twin out of the other twin. This always seems to happen whenever one of us starts talking to a new boy. Not that this happens that often, and perhaps it is only a certain type of boy that does this. I didn't realize how annoying it was until I was on the receiving end of it.
      Boys don't seem to realize that this puts the twin in an awkward place. You want to help your twin out, but its not really your place to tell this other person all of the personal inter workings of your twins thoughts. This can get especially messy when the boy is bound and determined that he is going to get what he wants, on his terms.
     Like a situation that just happened to me, there is a boy that really likes my sister. I know who he is. Hes a nice guy, but he is quite overbearing. And he is just trying to figure out my sister. Which isn't going to be easy and he may never figure it out. But by asking me questions and wanted me to tell him what she has been saying, not cool.
     He didn't figure it out BTW. She told him she didn't like him that way. And now he feels the need to vent to me - assuming that 1) I won't say anything to Melissa and 2) that shes not sitting with me reading his conversation. I don't know why boys don't think that is going to happen...
     It takes a special person to deal with twins. I think that this is true in any area - friendship, romantic relationships, and so on. Twins can be difficult to deal with and it can be hard to feel involved. Boys have a tendency to say "Oh yeah I get it, you and your sister are really close...blah, blah, blah." They don't really get it. And instead of just saying, "This is something that I don't understand." they feel the need to pretend to understand, while not really getting anything at all.
     This is annoying and frustrating for all parties involved. So moral of the story - don't pester someone about their sister and her feelings. It's something you have to figure out for yourself.

A Place Where Twins Get to be Twins

So cute. I wish the whole episode was online. I think that Dr. Nancy Segal is awesome. Reading her book Entwined Lives made me want to be a psychologist and study twins. When I read this book my sister and I were going through a period where it became obvious for the first time that everything was not the same for us and that there were areas that one of us was better at then the other. My sister was the more athletic of the two of us, and that was hard for me. She won awards and got moved up on teams, while I felt I was left behind. In my attempt to find answers I got Entwined Lives. I loved it. Now I don't want to be a psychologist, after a year of studying it in college, but I think that I will do something that involves twins eventually. 

This makes me so sad. I can't imagine losing my sister. What do you do when you lose your other half? On another note, I love when he says that "twins get to be twins" about the Twins Days Festival. I think there is so much truth in that statement. I've never been to the festival but I think it would be so nice to just be able to be who I am, and not try to be like everyone else, because I would already be like everyone else.

The videos are from Our America with Lisa Ling. http://www.oprah.com/own-our-america-lisa-ling/our-america-blog.html