Reason to Live

As stated in previous blog entries, my cousin killed himself June 25th. He left the rest of the family disillusioned, heart-broken, and shattered. Having my own psychological problems, I faced certain questions, like why should I live? What point is there? I'm so insignificant, why bother to live?
Frankly, I'm still searching for concrete answers.
I talked to my ex-boyfriend today for several hours and he asked the same question: what is the point of living if there is no point in living? This made me sad. I answered: Go buy a kitten and take care of it. Was that lame? Probably. But there is nothing more powerful than reciprocated love, even if it's just the adoration of a pet.

Having split from my boyfriend this week, I feel unloved. So I fill the void with you.You who are reading this. You got this far in the blog entry, you  must either be curious, morbidly curious, or seeking for the same thing I am: love, acceptance, happiness, understanding, and hope.

They say, 'take it one day at a time, one step at a time' and I hate that. There is nothing like a cliche to take the meaning out of perfectly sage advice. For me, I  have to set small goals for myself and wake up every day asking myself how I can achieve that small goal. For tomorrow it's revise a paper on British literature, eat less, exercise for 20 minutes, study the next chapter in my Arabic language textbook, and start looking into graduate programs for Fall 2012.
There are two ways I could look at this: either I'm a failure for not having a BA at the age of 28, or I can take this as an opportunity to earn around three thousand dollars each semester, tax free. To compare, at my last crappy job delivering pizzas, I earned minimum wage, plus tips, as a part-time worker. That came to about five thousand dollars a year, waaaay below the poverty level. Half way through the year, I've already earned about six thousand dollars, with another check coming next semester in September. In one sense, I'm a total failure. In another sense, I've come up in the world. Since I like to spend money, I am going to see this as a positive step.
Perhaps I'm way behind the rest of the flock. Perhaps I'm fooling myself with the illusion of job prospects. Perhaps I should just give up....but then how would I afford expensive computer software like Ableton Live music mixing software? I could either give up here and now and refuse to get out of bed, or I can wake up early tomorrow, brew some coffee, and start my homework, knowing that there is a check waiting to be deposited into my bank account if I successfully complete my work. AND if I raise my GPA by .1 (cumulative GPA is a measly 2.9 right now, due to  mental illness requiring in-patient treatment, but my University GPA is 3.6), I qualify for even MORE money. No, money isn't a reason to live, but it sure makes you feel better in the short run. Along with the money there is also my bachelor's degree, which I should obtain by the end of next spring. There's also the allure of a graduate program. At the moment, my GPA is the minimum for entry into the program of my choice at the State University, but with some hard work I can boost it up with the two classes I'm taking now, plus the next two semesters.

A friend of mine from high school gave me the best advice on coping with loss: distract yourself. Study, read, do whatever you need to so that you don't start wallowing in pain. I have found this to be true. That's actually the reason I started this blog; to distract myself, to vent, to heal, to accept what I cannot change and change what I cannot accept. Oops, I wrote an oxymoron, well, you get what I mean.

My aim for these blog is to bare my soul to people who empathize or relate to my situation in life, thereby making it easier for them to feel like they are not alone. I want to create a safe spot where I can grow to accept myself and to strive to better myself, and hopefully, by showing my struggles, other people will find ways in which to cope and grow. Does that make sense? I'm not doing this for profit. I haven't monetized this blog, though there is a little button that allows me to do so, nor am I hoping for a lucrative writing contract (I actually penned an erotic e-book through a publisher already and I know all to well that it's next to impossible to make a living off writing). What do I want from this? Attention? Maybe, if you're that cynical, maybe, but I was hoping for change. Not drastic, go-on-Oprah-show-and-be-an-inspiration-to-millions change, but to bring change to a couple of people would make me happy. It would be another reason to live. Yeah, you are the reason I choose to live. Well, you and that three grand I get every five months, and my mother, and my grandmother, and my cat who would be very hungry without me, but you get the idea.

Following a New Path Down Unfamiliar Roads

Well, I just re-read that last blog entry and it is totally a downer.

A few days later I feel super great. I did well on an exam, I found some great bras that fit my bust (Panache, 36FF and Cacique 38DDD, though that last one has cups just a teeny bit too tight near the armpits), and I wrote some nostalgic stories about my cousin who committed suicide on the 25th of last month. Writing about my happy times hanging out with him helped because it made me realize what a good person he had always been to me. Even though he's gone I still have that feeling of happiness he brought me. Plus, my counselor is back in town so I have somebody to vent to aside from the hapless innocents who accidentally stumble onto this blog. LOL.

PS Sorry to Dawkins for that F-Word blog entry...you may be a jerk, but you're not over-rated. :)

Empty

Dear online, public diary,

today I feel empty. My cousin died last week and I still haven't gotten over the shock that he chose to leave his family and friends by committing suicide. I was close to that abyss once, but I chose life, family, friends, uncertainty, financial insecurity, unemployment, and this: a futile attempt at making a connection with random people on the internet. I wish I could have been there at the last moment of my cousin's life to bring him back from that horrible wasteland of despair. But I wasn't. I feel from the bottom of my being that I have to do something; there is a terrible urgency pushing me out to seek people, to seek change, to seek help. What helps, though? This helps--writing to nobody, posting it online for anybody to find. Baring my soul and telling my truths are the only things that give me the courage to take my psychotropic medications nightly and wake up in the morning still myself, still flawed, still aching from grief.

Today I feel blue. I've been surfing the internet in my spare time and I realized how insignificant I am and how my beliefs and values are not shared by the majority of people. I would like respect, progress, peace, joy, social integration, equality, fairness, and lots of money. I get none of these things. This makes me feel blue.

Today I must find one good thing to write about. I'll write about learning.
Being in summer school has saved me from a potentially lethal combination of intense mourning and isolation. I wake up, I shower, I go to class and I participate. It takes my mind off the horror of death, and the pain of life. Instead of weeping again I pick up a book and learn new words in a foreign language. I'm learning the Arabic alphabet right now at the University, and I have to say it brings me serenity to puzzle over each word. There is no greater joy in my life at the moment then trying to figure out what the letter "Baa" will look like in initial, medial, and final position in a word. I can practice my cursive for hours. In this learning mode, I am firing synapses, strengthening my concentration, progressing in life, and experimenting with another culture. I get little boosts of serotonin naturally after a 2 hour session of struggling to recall the alphabet. I lose myself in the language.  I study, I train, I memorize. I heal.