who would have thought we were going to get this far?

Nobody blogs about going to therapy. I certainly don't.

I will, however, say that there are differences between liking yourself, and accepting yourself as you are. I don't quite have the balance as to what those are.

As actors, we have to embrace our darkness at times. That takes different forms in some of us. More to come on that later.

I realized that I made a long list of things I was committed to. Sometime, I think that list was too long.
Fuck. It would be so easy just to choose the safe way out. The easy way out. But nobody goes anywhere on that side. What the fuck.

because until yesterday, they didn't even have a stock market.

You know, I had this post planned out where I was going to ramble and naval gaze, and blah.

But I had a really great night last night. I'm not sure I'll ever get all of this paint off, and I walked into my apartment building this morning looking like a refugee from a smurfs war, but I'm so happy right now. I have all day today to chill, study for midterms, be around, and last night was wonderful.

I have some things to think. :)

not gonna write you a love song.

I don't think there's any point in the unpleasant morning-after feeling if there's not morning after. I need to make more mistakes. I need to not be a perfectionist. I need to have a messy personal life again, so that maybe I can get my professional life back on track. No? Yes.
I miss feeling compelled to call someone at three in the morning from another continent just because. I miss that. Where the hell did that feeling go? I used to fall so hard for people.
Now, not only can I not get that right, I can't get any work done whatsoever. What is wrong with me?
And why won't those doctors return my calls? I'm tired of grinding my stupid teeth in my sleep.

all of these things are true.

I make lists.
*Things that I am committed to:
-I'm committed to modeling
-I'm committed to therapy
-I'm committed to BNT
-I'm committed to Barack Obama
-I'm committed to French
-I'm committed to directing
-I'm committed to being there for my friends
I'm not committed to myself. I don't know how to commit to something I can't let down.

This is hard. It's hard to admit, but I can't be honest unless I say it. Can't feel honest unless I talk it out. I can't deal.
I'm stressed about directing. I'm scared I'll fuck up my scene and disappoint Stephanie. I'm scared I'll disappoint Lora Zane, and that she'll stop believing in me.
I'm heartbroken that Isis on America's Next Top Model got axed. She was one of my inspirations. She couldn't believe in herself enough. She's been through so much more than me.
There are so many people who are smarter, stronger, more confident, and more successful, and they have all suffered more than I have.
So what makes me so so afraid of measuring up? Of just being adequate? Why am I so against myself?
There's a difference between being 'good' and being 'good enough'. The trick is that you have to be both. No one wants to be married because she's just 'good enough' but no one wants to lose a competition and hear, "Oh, but you were still good."

I can't deal. I psych myself out, and there are days when I'm convinced I don't have any real friends. Or that I have one. I have so much trouble opening up to people. I'm a pro at sabotaging relationships, and now- now that I'm going through these nasty anxiety issues- I'm going through them alone. I just don't think it's fair to dump my issues on anyone else. They feel so trivial. I'm getting pro help instead.
I just want people to be happy and feel good. I try to facilitate that. I'm exhausted thinking about this.

My eyes are bright, and

Watching Juno got me thinking. You're having this baby, and it's beautiful, an amazing, and exciting, and a miracle, and you have all these expectations. And then it's born and it's wonderful. And then it grows up and it's nothing like what you expected, and all of a sudden it's 19 years later and how could you not be disappointed?
Some more things to know about me.
-I have anxiety attacks. Sometimes it's hard to move. Sometimes it's hard to breathe. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it. Deep down, I know it is, but that doesn't stop the wondering.
-I use modeling to cope with body dysmorphic disorder, not because I think it's a viable career. I have a hard time with self-efficacy, but god I just want to make the world a better place.
-Lora Zane talked to us about the importance of authenticity. The only time I feel authentic is when I'm acting. The rest of the time, I feel fake. I used to think it would be so much easier if people just saw me as a piece of ass, that I would definitely be more well liked. But then, I pick up a script or get in front of a camera, and I think, "Could a piece of ass do this?"
I wish I could just feel good about myself, more often than once a day or so. I try so hard to make things good for other people. I want you to be happy. I want you to be successful. I want you to be beautiful, and vivacious, and loved. I want to be a good friend to you. I want to save your life.
I want to save the world.
But I can't even save myself. I will never be enough.
Why is that? I'm just going to keep pushing until I fall apart. It's what I do. I dealt with stress by being all smiles in the daytime, and grinding my teeth so hard at night that they cracked. I burned myself baking food for people that didn't need it, or even want it. I put myself in and unsafe situation and managed to look both gullible and like an asshole in the same space of time.
I scored in the 98th percentile on the SAT. I knew even then that it didn't matter. My parents are proud that I made dean's list. Why can't they be proud that I make art?

tell her we need sterile gauze

It's been a loong and unpleasant week, and I feel like I haven't really even done anything. I have been meaning to write this for a while though.
Things you should know about me:
- I make lists. This is one of them. Other notable ones, all ongoing in my head include:
*People i credit with saving my life (this is one I was actually going to type out for you, but now I think it's best if I just let you wonder if you're on there. I do want to give a special thank you to Alex M, Tal F, Mikey Y, and Sky (??) who are the only people who may have -actually- saved my life when I may have accidentally given myself alcohol poisoning).
*People I'm not giving up on
*People I have given up on
*Things I wish I'd done sooner and probably never will
*Fun but completely irrelevant facts that will probably never be useful to me (The capital of Latvia is Riga. 31 countries in the world speak French)
*Humanitarian causes I want to be involved with (There are too many for me to focus, and sometimes that makes me feel completely useless)
*Things I want to learn but don't have time or finances (Photography, Cosmetology, Piano, Violin, Drawing in 2d, Russian, Tagalog, Arabic and Hindu, Pilates, Ballet, it goes on)
*Reasons to live- There was about a month and a half during my junior year where I actually wrote these down. It helped, an I was always scared of the day when I wouldn't have one. Now just breathing, walking, speaking is enough. Most days.
-I meet cute boys at concerts.
-I eat an ungodly amount of fruit. It's just always around when I'm hungry. Like right now. I'm so about to go for some.
-My hair is blonde and fluffy, so people think I'm sweet. I wear really short skirts sometimes, so people think I'm easy. SugarySweet and SuperEasy is the ideal woman for someone who's never actually met me, so I get a lot of attention from mostly blue-collar guys on the street. It used to be an ego boost. Some days it still is. Mostly now, it's just kind of frustrating. A little upsetting too. (For the record, I wear short skirts because I have short legs and they need as much sun as I can give them. The end).
-When I'm sad, I buy books. Sometimes clothes too, but mostly books. This week, I bought eleven. I've started four of them and finished two.
-I want, more than anything, to make the world a better place. I want to make people happy, and sometimes I think that if I smile at enough people, say hi to them, that their days will be better and the world will get happier, like a ripple effect. Some days now it feels like it isn't enough and the world is sliding into hell. That's a metaphor and it's over dramatic. I don't believe in hell.
-I think religious people are lovely. I'm not one of them. I don't intend to be. If I mock your religion, well, that's probably because you're Catholic and I spent 12 years in Catholic school.
-I'm a really great girlfriend, but I make excuses to stay out of relationships. I'm over opening up to people.
-I have a feeling that last one could get me into trouble, but I don't think anyone's reading this far.
-I accumulate clutter. I recycle things, and so I save them. It provides a very nice metaphor.
-I don't like people who have no ambition. No goals. No drive. No creativity. To me, those people are basically dead. I'm pro-choice, and RtD. I'm very liberal. I'll defend my position, and I respect your right to defend yours.
-I hate my thighs and I feel inadequate if I don't write anything for a long time. Like now. Mhm. I haven't written for way too long and the last thing I started working on isn't finished. I'll be okay though.
-I used to be a poet. I don't write down most of my ideas anymore. I miss being a songwriter. I secretly always wanted to be in a band. I used to be really confident that I could sing. Now I don't feel so great.
-Despite everything negative that I just wrote up there, I'm really really happy. I'm so happy. I love California. I'm home.

so long, so long

I finally learned why they tell you to rest. I pushed my thigh to the point of collapsing, and I just fell backwards. Lucky, I caught myself on my bed and I'm okay, but it was a wake-up call. No one is Superman. I don't know why I never tell myself it's okay to rest. I still believe it's not.

So, I sprained my ankle. They took my to the CA Hospital Medical Center and I sat around in triage for four hours. It was probably one of the best experiences of my life. I'll start from the beginning.
I twisted my ankle running to catch the light at Jefferson and Hoover. It was already red by the time I started crossing, I didn't care because I was preoccupied. During the show that I was watching (good job everybody), I had made the decision to go to the Psych center on Monday and ask to take the test to see if I qualified for Prozac or Zoloft. I'm pretty sure I would have.
As soon as I hurt myself, I sprang (metaphorically of course) into action. I didn't scream; I didn't cry. I called for help, they sent me an ambulance and I went to check it checked out by a doctor, because I knew I couldn't fix this on my own at 10:00 at night.
Sitting in triage, experiencing firsthand the inadequacy of the US Healthcare system, I watched Level One trauma patients get treated in a hallway because there were no rooms for them. I met a man named James who had been waiting for eight hours with a broken arm from fighting and a rattling cough that never went away. I saw a gang member who had been sliced up by barbed wire, another who was having a bad reaction to PCP. I saw a pregnant woman who was scared and excited. I saw a man and his friend come in covered in someone else's blood. I don't know if that person made it. I saw a couple of people who didn't.
Sitting in a wheelchair with my entire right leg immobilized, I felt so incredibly lucky. For the first three hours that I was there, I kept a smile on my face. I wanted to brighten people's nights. They were doing such important work, and I wanted them to know that. By the time they got to me, I was so exhausted I wanted to cry. It was about 2AM. I still felt blessed to be there, and proud of everyone around me. I can't honestly say I recommend getting injured sot hat you can spend the night in a public hospital, but I learned a lot about myself and other people. As I was sitting there, I no longer felt like I needed the medicine. It was like I was filled with light, because I was in a place where people were doing good and healing in the face of so much bad.
Truth: There were terrible situations. I'm not happy about mine to say the least. I'm sad and worried about James, because I have no way of thinking that he'll make it to the end of the year. He wasn't the only one I saw like that. But even through all of that, he showed me kindness and I reciprocated,
I just wish everyone could have been there that night and seen what I did. Met the people I did. It was a stupid reason to go to the hospital and maybe this is a stupid story, but I feel validated. Maybe not changed, but I feel a better side of myself. I'm going to do better, and I'm going to be okay. I know what I want to be doing, where I want to go, and what I need. I can prioritize and get things done. If I can make it through college without going on Prozac, I can make it through the rest of my life. I can't promise that I will though. I never thought I'd admit that publicly, but I'm a big believer in honesty these days. Don't ask me why.

I had more thoughts, things to say, but at this point I think I've said enough. People have definitely heard enough from me for one night. I just think it would help. Some things need to be heard.
I've learned a lot this weekend.