I truly don't understand how God does it. I know I'm not supposed to know, but it would be a really cool trick to learn. I know, I know, BLASPHEMY!! But admit it, you've thought about it too. Just the idea of being able to experience every. single. thing. that goes on in the universe at the same time, and then also have a say or be able to interject your will over any event that goes on would be, needless to say, the single most kick ass thing ever.
But the reason I say this is, not because I have some sick delusion that I will ever obtain this power, no matter how much I wish, but because God always seems to be able to skew things just that certain way, every single fucking time. No matter what personal crisis I'm going through, no matter what the event is, big or small, subtle or just a big ole slap to the face, He always seems to get his point across, and gets it across good.
All us Baylor kids may groan at the thought of Chapel, I myself included, but we should never, ever, doubt that God is there amongst us at every single time we all gather in that hall. He finds a way to speak to us, whether we want to be spoken to or not, whether you feel as though you deserve to be spoken to or not. Now, I'm not gonna be a fucking hypocrite and sit here and say that everyone is equal in His eyes and blah blah blah. I sure as hell would love to believe that, and maybe deep down, I do. But I also believe in a Hell, and really, if you think about it long and hard, the two ideologies don't mesh together real well.
Ah, but my religious rants can be saved for another time. Faith is just one of the many things that seem to be falling apart in my life, and God hasn't showed me anything about it yet, so I have no wisdom to impart on the subject. All I do know is, well, damn. Chapel today was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. And I don't mean the content was scary or anything, it's just, it was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears. I have this rule, that I do not cry in front of people, you know, for those of you who are less wary of sharing your emotions than I am.
Seriously though, I have been thinking about going and seeing a counselor here on campus for several weeks now, and the past week has seen my determinacy to go fade a whole fucking lot. And just this morning, I hit that point where I had an excuse for every possible reason that I could think of not to go. And that probably would have been the end of it. But what happened in Chapel today? The head guy from the counselling department of Baylor comes and talks to us about how important it is for us to recognize the signs of suicide and how help is the best way to get better.
...well fuck me sideways.
I literally just sat there for the 30 or so minutes that this guy talked, shaking like a leaf, and using all of my energy to just keep it together. It...I just...I was simply dumbfounded, and still am to this moment. I mean, it's not everyday that God kicks your ass into reality and gives you a good stern talking to.
Now, this part is going to sound sappy, but it's gotta be said. As soon as I got out of the building, the tears just came, and there was no stopping them. The only thing I could do was get to a spot where I could be alone, or at least think. So I made it to the benches on Founders Mall, and just let em come. When I had calmed down a little bit, I was sitting there, being generally miserable, when this group of girls came up to the bench across from me and put a little foam bear on it, and walked away. I had no idea what the hell it was, or why they put it there. All I knew is that I, for whatever reason, really wanted it. I didn't move, and wasn't planning on going over and getting it, why? I really don't know. But this is where it gets to the supernatural. After about 15 minutes of me just sitting and staring at this bear, the wind picked up. Not like hurricane force or anything like that, but it was stronger than it had been the rest of the time I was sitting out there...and it was blowing right at the bear. This sounds retarded when I type it up, but...at that moment, I just felt so at peace, so happy, for the first time in a long time.
Turns out the bear was a promotional for the counselling center that they handed out after the talk in Chapel.
God's a great guy, aint He?
Monday, November 8, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Generalized Anxiety Disorder
Welp, it may have actually finally happened. There may be an explanation to whatever the hell is wrong with me. As was suggested to me earlier today...yesterday, it could be very possible that I am afflicted with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or GAD. And after reading a little bit on it, and by a little I mean the WebMD and Wikipedia articles on the disorder, I have this to say: it would explain a whole fucking lot about a fucking ton of shit!
Let me give you a quick rundown of some of the symptoms according to Wikipedia: fatigue, not every single day, but a whole hell of a lot of the time; fidgeting, look at me closely next time, I'm mostly likely doing something with my hands or feet; headaches, got em; nausea, got it, a lot more than I would like; sweating, you don't even wanna know; and then there are some others that apply to me and a couple that don't.
It makes a pretty strong case. I mean, the more I read about it, the more I can say 'holy shit, that is so me!' But, of course, because it can't let even one thing rest as it is, there is always that STUPID little voice that's telling me that, because I'm recognizing the possibility that I have this disorder, then I don't have it. Isn't that true? If an 'insane' person admits that they are insane then they aren't really insane? Although, now that I think about it, there has to have been a serial killer somewhere along the way that has gone 'now wait a minute, what I'm doing just isn't what normal people do. now why could that be?'
But even if it isn't GAD, there simply has to be something wrong with me. If what I go through on a daily basis is what the rest of humanity goes through on a daily basis as well, then I just may begin to preach the whole 'earth is the only hell' thing, because...I mean, there's just no way. I'm not trying to belittle anyone else's problems in any way or anything like that, I'm just saying, being me isn't fun. At all. Friends tell me that everyone has the irrational belief that people hate them from time to time. Alright, I can buy that, but does everyone have the irrational paranoia that everyone, your closest friends, your family, even people that you do not even know, hate you, cannot stand you, but out of pity's sake, they are nice to you? Do they devote hours before going to bed going through conversations they've had during the day to make sure that they didn't say anything that could possibly have made the other person upset with them? Do they do it while the conversation is going on? Because I do. Every day.
Does everyone do things to please people, in any way possible, even if people don't tell them to do it? Well, I can't honestly answer that, because I don't know what people do, but I can tell you what I do, and then maybe you can deny me my disease. If I want to please a person, which is usually anyone, anytime, I will go to extreme lengths to do so, even stepping out of my comfort zone and doing things that are completely out of character for me to do. Normally, this does not constitute anything that is physical pain or stuff like that, but it can be extremely emotionally wracking, especially when trying to live up to family expectations. I hear people say that them and their parents are like best friends, and I can't help but envy them. If you were to put mine and my parents' relationship into a quantifiable situation, it would be something like the people who are in each others' life because they have to be. Or, at least it was for me. I don't tell my parents anything about myself. Nothing. Nada. Grades, nope, they could figure them out for themselves. Social life, my mom would just wreck it. Personal life, well, there's really no other excuse other than I'm afraid they would completely reject me because, as hard as it is to believe, as much as I may say I dislike them, they are my parents, and if they don't love me, what hope do I have with anyone else?
I'm sure by now, you're thinking 'wow, this jackass is in some serious need of therapy,' and you know what? I'm almost 100% positive that you are correct. But you know what else, unless you wanna be the one to sedate me and then drag me into a therapists office, then you can go shove it in your ear. Because I'm also almost 100% sure that I'm not going to a therapist out of my own free will, I get my pride from my good old dad. So, like I said, I will have to either be sedated or dragged there, kicking and screaming. And when I got there, I would probably play master of the mask, as I have become so accustomed to doing over the years, and just nod my head and say yea, ok, nothing's wrong with me, so shut up. Healthy? Hell no. Realistic? Most certainly.
If you can't tell from my diction and tone, I am just a little bit pissed off at the world right now. Everyone is under fire right now, innocent and guilty, god-fearing and atheist, black and white, young and old, rich and poor, dead and alive. But I really can't help it. You see, I have this thing I like to call my 'man period'. Ladies, you know kind of what I'm talking about, and guys, I'm sure you get it too, you just don't admit it or you don't know it yet. Basically what happens is my emotional tolerance for things goes just plain out the window, caused, most likely, by a hormonal imbalance that I don't really care to think about, i simply accept that it's there. But anyways, it's not a regular thing, but definitely a reoccurring thing, and I'm on it now, so put up your forcefields. I'm rapin erybody up in here.
My man period matters in this situation because I would most certainly not be posting this kind of thing in a blog post. Usually, this kind of thing would go straight into my journal rather than risk being exposed to the public. However, I'm sitting here at 3:45 in the morning, in the dark, waiting for fucking registration to start, and I really didn't feel like getting my journal and making the effort to write all this shit down. So there you go. Enjoy. Or don't, I really don't give a flying fuck.
Let me give you a quick rundown of some of the symptoms according to Wikipedia: fatigue, not every single day, but a whole hell of a lot of the time; fidgeting, look at me closely next time, I'm mostly likely doing something with my hands or feet; headaches, got em; nausea, got it, a lot more than I would like; sweating, you don't even wanna know; and then there are some others that apply to me and a couple that don't.
It makes a pretty strong case. I mean, the more I read about it, the more I can say 'holy shit, that is so me!' But, of course, because it can't let even one thing rest as it is, there is always that STUPID little voice that's telling me that, because I'm recognizing the possibility that I have this disorder, then I don't have it. Isn't that true? If an 'insane' person admits that they are insane then they aren't really insane? Although, now that I think about it, there has to have been a serial killer somewhere along the way that has gone 'now wait a minute, what I'm doing just isn't what normal people do. now why could that be?'
But even if it isn't GAD, there simply has to be something wrong with me. If what I go through on a daily basis is what the rest of humanity goes through on a daily basis as well, then I just may begin to preach the whole 'earth is the only hell' thing, because...I mean, there's just no way. I'm not trying to belittle anyone else's problems in any way or anything like that, I'm just saying, being me isn't fun. At all. Friends tell me that everyone has the irrational belief that people hate them from time to time. Alright, I can buy that, but does everyone have the irrational paranoia that everyone, your closest friends, your family, even people that you do not even know, hate you, cannot stand you, but out of pity's sake, they are nice to you? Do they devote hours before going to bed going through conversations they've had during the day to make sure that they didn't say anything that could possibly have made the other person upset with them? Do they do it while the conversation is going on? Because I do. Every day.
Does everyone do things to please people, in any way possible, even if people don't tell them to do it? Well, I can't honestly answer that, because I don't know what people do, but I can tell you what I do, and then maybe you can deny me my disease. If I want to please a person, which is usually anyone, anytime, I will go to extreme lengths to do so, even stepping out of my comfort zone and doing things that are completely out of character for me to do. Normally, this does not constitute anything that is physical pain or stuff like that, but it can be extremely emotionally wracking, especially when trying to live up to family expectations. I hear people say that them and their parents are like best friends, and I can't help but envy them. If you were to put mine and my parents' relationship into a quantifiable situation, it would be something like the people who are in each others' life because they have to be. Or, at least it was for me. I don't tell my parents anything about myself. Nothing. Nada. Grades, nope, they could figure them out for themselves. Social life, my mom would just wreck it. Personal life, well, there's really no other excuse other than I'm afraid they would completely reject me because, as hard as it is to believe, as much as I may say I dislike them, they are my parents, and if they don't love me, what hope do I have with anyone else?
I'm sure by now, you're thinking 'wow, this jackass is in some serious need of therapy,' and you know what? I'm almost 100% positive that you are correct. But you know what else, unless you wanna be the one to sedate me and then drag me into a therapists office, then you can go shove it in your ear. Because I'm also almost 100% sure that I'm not going to a therapist out of my own free will, I get my pride from my good old dad. So, like I said, I will have to either be sedated or dragged there, kicking and screaming. And when I got there, I would probably play master of the mask, as I have become so accustomed to doing over the years, and just nod my head and say yea, ok, nothing's wrong with me, so shut up. Healthy? Hell no. Realistic? Most certainly.
If you can't tell from my diction and tone, I am just a little bit pissed off at the world right now. Everyone is under fire right now, innocent and guilty, god-fearing and atheist, black and white, young and old, rich and poor, dead and alive. But I really can't help it. You see, I have this thing I like to call my 'man period'. Ladies, you know kind of what I'm talking about, and guys, I'm sure you get it too, you just don't admit it or you don't know it yet. Basically what happens is my emotional tolerance for things goes just plain out the window, caused, most likely, by a hormonal imbalance that I don't really care to think about, i simply accept that it's there. But anyways, it's not a regular thing, but definitely a reoccurring thing, and I'm on it now, so put up your forcefields. I'm rapin erybody up in here.
My man period matters in this situation because I would most certainly not be posting this kind of thing in a blog post. Usually, this kind of thing would go straight into my journal rather than risk being exposed to the public. However, I'm sitting here at 3:45 in the morning, in the dark, waiting for fucking registration to start, and I really didn't feel like getting my journal and making the effort to write all this shit down. So there you go. Enjoy. Or don't, I really don't give a flying fuck.
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