2019 has been a challenging year

Well, I accidentally deleted my original draft for this post. That sucks.

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2019 started off well enough. I went to a couple of events and hung out with friends. I went to Gameboi in February. To be honest though, I don't really remember the beginning of this year all that well. My focus this year was on my anxiety, my fears, my health, and my relationships.

2019 shoved me to the ground and kicked me to the point that I didn't know if I was going to survive. My mind has been in dark places before, but this year found me in some of the darkest and craziest. I felt like I was losing my mind and myself. I didn't know if I would ever find my way back to normalcy. Everything felt like an endless maze that kept shifting every time I thought I was on the right track.

I used to want to escape from real life. The party life used to help me do that. Now, I don't want to escape anymore. I want to be present and to face life, but my mind keeps trying to go off into some other place I don't want to be. It happens when I expect it to; it happens when I don't expect it to. It has been a struggle. I've cried, I've hid, I've prayed, and I've frozen in fear. I've hated myself for the choices I made that led me to this point of my life.

Now, I don't hate myself. I still cry. I still pray. I try my best not to freeze when I'm scared. I'm practicing having compassion for myself. Not always successful, but I'm not so hard on myself for continuing to struggle with my thoughts and feelings. I'm not as afraid of being alone. I still struggle to fall asleep, but it's getting a little easier to fall asleep every night. I have some safety measures in place in case I start to panic, but I haven't had a strong need to use any of them in a while. It's just nice to know they're there.

I'm grateful for my friends and coworkers who've become good friends. They've given me their time, warmth, and lessons. I'm blessed to know I have their support in my darkest moments. Who knows if and how I would have survived this year without these thoughtful and caring people (and therapy)?

Therapy has opened my eyes to a lot of the issues and obsessions I've had in my life. I've grown so accustomed to them that I didn't even realize they were problems. Or if I did realize, I kinda just let myself forget about them until they built up into an uncontrollable mess that got exacerbated by my partying ways.

Talking things out with my therapist and my friends has helped a lot. Steady pressure relief. It's nice. My sense of hope has returned. I'm trying to hold on to it and do things to help it grow. I'm trying to get myself to go out a little more again. For a while, I couldn't watch movies because of my overactive imagination. I've gone to see Last Christmas, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, and Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. Funny thing is the movie about Mr. Rogers probably freaked me out the most because of its realistic nature and a dream sequence it has; too reminiscent of some experiences for me.

Anyway, 2019 has led me down a foreign yet familiar path. I've had to deal with emotions and things I can't really explain, but I'm fortunate to have friends, who don't fully understand what's going on, stand beside me while I figure myself out and make changes to improve my situation. I'm relearning lessons and learning new lessons; hopefully, this time, I really keep these lessons with me and don't make the same mistakes in the future; and if I do, I hope I'm developing the strength to keep pushing myself to do better and not to feel sorry for myself.

I'm planning for a future that was always blurry to me. It still is blurry, but I'm hoping it gets clearer.

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I'm going into 2020 with some hope and plenty of friends. Hoping I'll turn hindsight into foresight. Hope into action haha.

I don't have any set plans yet. But I want to make 2020 a good year. I don't want to fuck things up again. I don't want to scare the people who care about me. I want to make better decisions. I want to take smarter risks and to take better care of myself.

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I wanted to go into more detail about this year, but accidentally deleting the draft just made me realize I don't need to focus on all of the details. I just want to focus on the journey and the progress of how I'm feeling.

Today, I feel better. And I know I can feel even better in the future. I just gotta keep putting in the effort.

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Thank you, friends, for holding my hand, holding me, and loving me when I couldn't do anything for myself. Thank you for all the goodness and strength you've shared with me. Thank you for reflecting all my goodness and strength that I couldn't see on my own.

Self-Diagnosed Anxiety: I Don't Know How to Ask for Help

Anxiety is hard.

I've probably always dealt with anxiety in some form or other, but I never noticed how anxious I really was until this year.

Now, my anxiety rises to unbearable levels sometime. And I feel like I can't survive it, but I also feel like I'll never be able to escape it.

I think I had a little too much caffeine (flavored Red Bull is dangerous) last night before RL Grime because I was tired from seeing Oh Wonder the night before. I was okay during the event. But the drive home triggered something in my brain. An overwhelming, almost paralyzing, fear started to creep up on me. I started having a panic attack while I was driving, but I was able to focus on driving home. I think knowing that I was the only one sober enough to drive was how I focused.

I'm lucky; I have wonderful friends. Ant stayed with me and held me while I tried to calm down and sleep. I could feel my heart pounding the whole night at weird paces. Tachycardia. It kept waking me up. But I didn't move at all because I didn't want to risk losing the comfort I got from Ant. I didn't want to risk losing touch. He was my anchor to reality.

Falling asleep was the worst though. The falling part of it. It would jumpstart my anxiety every time. Because I would lose touch with reality. I know that's normal. I mean we enter surreal dreams. But that's the part that scared me. I just felt like I lost control. That nothing was real.

I've been struggling to fall asleep at night because of this. For three months, I've had to listen to pop or acoustic music with lyrics to help me fall asleep. It gives me something to focus on other than my thoughts. And the music doesn't start sounding so weird or distorted as I fall asleep.

This past week, I managed to convince myself to go to bed without music. And I had been okay. Progress.

After last night, I'm worried about trying again. I don't have very much confidence in myself. Especially when I'm alone. Pretty sure my anxiety stems from being alone. And fears about the future, present, life, existence, etc.

I'm probably going to have to watch myself when it comes to consuming any kind of drug, including caffeine and muscle relaxers. They've had extremely adverse effects on my anxiety so far.

Normally, caffeine just makes me jittery. But now I think it's affecting me more than that, which sucks. Luckily, I don't rely on it often, just on those rare days I need it. I should probably just make sure I don't consume more than 30mg... that Red Bull I drank had 114mg of caffeine. Yikes. And I also got a vodka Red Bull at the show too. Stupid decisions.

I hope I can feel normal again in the near future. Anxiety is so crippling :/ I need to start making better decisions for my body and life.

Oh, I just remembered something. I found myself repeating the chant "Nam mô A Di Đà Phật" fervently whenever I woke up. It helped me focus and fall asleep a bit more easily. I just couldn't stay asleep.

Man, how do I find and maintain some inner peace? It feels reachable sometimes. And it feels impossible sometimes. I'm just really scared, and I don't know how to trust my reality right now. I don't know how I'm going to survive.

2016 Election

I woke up to the results at 2am. I'm still processing.

To see a man, who doesn't even treat the people in his personal and professional life well, win the presidency breaks my heart. I know he will not treat America well.

Who does he actually care about? Who is he willing to protect? Will he listen to those whom he now represents? Will he treat all of us, not just those who benefit him, with kindness? Many of the promises and deals he has made in his life, he has broken and will break many times over for his own benefit.

I do not see a lot of good coming out of this election. Everything is red. Executive, Legislative, and probably the Judicial eventually as well. But I know I'm definitely having an emotional reaction. But the fear is real.

I fear for the safety of my friends and family. That's really the only thing that bothers me in all of this. We have a lot we can lose. I don't know exactly what yet; we'll have to see what happens for sure, what kind of tug-o-war we'll get ourselves into. But I'm anticipating a loss so great that I can't even fathom it.

I'm not angry. These were the results. I get that. But for now, I cannot get over this overwhelming fear. This fear has always been present, floating underneath the surface of my mind, but now it has come out and been shoved in my face.

But give me some time. Maybe the fear will subside a little or invigorate me. I want to see what happens. I want to see what we will do as a people.

If they try to trample on our safety or treat us like animals with less than human rights, we will rise.

All I ask is to be treated as a human being. All I ask is that you protect my friends and family to the best of your ability. Defend your fellow Americans as if we are your family. I will do the same for you to the best of my ability as a fellow citizen and human being.

Feeling Uncomfortable.

I feel like I should know the answer to this. But if I participated in some religious ritual, but I felt uncomfortable or even violated anyway, am I reading too much into it? Am I the one sexualizing the ritual? Maybe it's a part of the ritual. How would I know, if I'm not familiar with this ritual?

I dunno how I'm supposed to feel. I just know I felt violated. I wasn't raped. But there was a bit of physical contact that I wasn't comfortable with. But I didn't say anything. Because what do I say to the face of a Buddhist monk who's supposed to be celibate and above all these human desires? What if he really is just performing a ritual I've never heard of and that specific physical contact is a part of it?

Except I'd done this ritual once before. He didn't do the same act then. And my mom had been present. The second time, she wasn't. A part of me is wondering if he did do it the first time, and I forgot; but I'm certain I would have noticed him touching me.

My mom wants me to do the ritual again next Saturday. I never told her about the last one (I never tell her about these kinds of experiences). I don't want to go. I just don't feel safe.

If I tell her I don't want to go, she'll just think I'm a faithless delinquent with no regard for my own life and fortune. If I tell her why I don't want to go, I fear that she won't believe me; she'll downplay my feelings and call it confusion and a lack of familiarity with Buddhist practices. Except I don't think she had ever heard of this cleansing ritual until she found this temple. I certainly hadn't.

What if she doesn't believe me? What if she thinks I'm making shit up because he didn't openly fondle or grope me? What if she thinks I'm reading into it wrongly?

Even if I am misreading his actions, I still don't want anyone, especially a man I don't know, to touch me like that. Even for a brief moment. Even if it's supposed to cleanse me. Even if other people think I'm overreacting. I don't want that.

But I fear she won't see it like that. She'll just see it as me shirking my duty as her daughter to follow her instructions.

I don't know how my mom would react if I told her any of this. Honestly, I don't think I've ever thought she would believe me or be on my side in any of the situations I've been in. I really believe she'd find a way to tell me that it was my fault. She does it in every other situation, like whenever I had car issues; I brought it upon myself somehow when the truck reversed into my car. So if I tell her I felt violated by a monk that she trusts, I feel like she won't believe me or she'll somehow blame me for feeling that way.

In the back of my mind somewhere, there's a thought that she'll believe me but tell me to just not give him an opening to touch those parts of me. Or she'll stay in the room and I should still do the ritual.

I want to say no. I don't want to go.

But I don't know if I have the resolve to keep saying no and to deal with her putting me down. I wish I knew how to not internalize everything she says to me. I love my mom, but sometimes it feels like she's thrashing me from the inside with her words and her looks.

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I think I will tell her I won't go. The thought is making me anxious. But I can't go through that. I thought about it. You know, do it once more to see if it happens again. Once is whatever, but twice is the start of a pattern, right? But I don't want to go through it again just to decide if I should feel comfortable or not. I don't feel comfortable.

Damn, I haven't felt this anxiety in such a long time. I used to feel it whenever I'd ask my mom for permission to do anything. It would take me hours, sometimes days, to work up the courage to ask. Permission for such small shit, and it always felt like I was asking her to not punish me.

I hope I find the courage this time. I hope I have the resolve. I'm an adult, but I still feel like a child with my mom. I'm an adult when she thinks I fucked up; but I'm a child otherwise.

How the fuck do other people do this? How do you tell your parents you think you were violated by someone they trust? How do you make them see that it's not some minor issue and that you're not overreacting?

I've always thought survivors were brave for coming forward. But I never truly realized the immense courage it required. I am lacking in courage. Why? Because this wasn't rape; it wasn't coercion; I don't know if it counted as groping or fondling. It just feels so minor, not serious enough. I don't know who would take it seriously. I don't even know if I completely take it seriously. Because what's the point if the people, who should take it seriously, don't?

I just don't want to be near someone who makes me question my safety, even if they wear an orange robe and are revered by everyone else.

I probably strongly dislike my job.

I was a mostly-A student, but I've never felt smart.

School taught me how to follow the rules and pass tests. I don't think I learned how to create my own. I don't know how to think on my feet.

The workforce wants innovative people. I just know how to think inside a pre-defined box. Even if I find the courage to step out of that box, where the fuck do I go?

I feel stuck. Again. I've trapped myself here. And I don't want to help myself get out because I'm too scared.

I don't know what I want to do. I just know I don't like my job. I used to think I'd be okay just working some job and getting by. But now I don't feel that way anymore. But I don't know how to figure out what I want to do.

To be honest, I just dislike my job because it has been changing too often and it now requires me to interact with people outside of my team. Even if it's just email interaction, I can't stand it. I don't know why. Before, I was emailing members of my team. Now, I'm emailing a few more people. It's such a minor change, but it feels like my mind and my body are having a major adverse reaction to it. And I can't make my mind not react the way it does.

What is wrong with me?

My mind is all over the place again. I'm unhappy with my job, but I feel like I'm only unhappy because it's slightly pushing me out of my comfort zone. It's just a small test. A normal person would learn the new work and get used to it.

A lot of people would be willing to take my place at this job. Maybe I should let them. I surely don't want this job. I just need it.

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I just want some peace of mind. I want to feel like I'm doing work that actually adds some good into this world. But I also want to make enough money to live comfortably.

But again, I'm too afraid to explore. I don't know where to start looking. I'm afraid to fail. But I also feel like staying where I am is slowly killing me.

I either need to suck it up and do something soon or just wait until I explode to do something haha. I should make the healthier decision, but you know I've always been the opposite of smart and courageous.

My Lack of Creativity and Passion

I've never really felt like a creative or original person. Even when I was a little kid, making art or telling stories. I just looked for patterns or formulas that worked and repeated them. I created what I thought I was supposed to create. For the grade; for the good impression; for learning. (I learn well through repetition.)

My life is routine, but I made it that way. I don't give myself ways or seek any avenues to express myself or inspire my creativity.

I've always felt like I lacked a lot of things. Creativity, passion, dedication, motivation, confidence, courage. I've had plenty of great people in my life who did their best to fuel the fire and inspire me. I have always been amazed by their enthusiasm and passion. I thought I had felt inspiration many times; looking back, I don't know if I ever really did.

Teachers and friends were always encouraging me to explore and try new things. So I've tried new things here and there. I've enjoyed most of the activities I tried. I was actually pretty decent at some of them. I was a quick learner when I focused. Many times, I have thought, "If I keep this up, I could be a pro." I enjoyed feeling accomplished. But I never developed a passion for anything.

Maybe I'm not trying hard enough to find my passion. But I really never felt strongly about anything I did.

The most extreme feelings I've had were for my relationships with people. But I don't think I can really compare that to the passion people feel for their hobbies or work...

When people are passionate about something, they put their time and effort into it. I can do that too but only for a little while. My passion, or inspiration, or motivation, isn't self-sustainable. I don't know how to convince myself that what I currently enjoy is what I want to put my time and energy into for the long run.

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This could explain why I'm so attracted to people who are driven and passionate about something, whether it's a sport or a cause. They have what I lack. They feel something I wish I could feel.

When I think of passion, I think of a fire that's continually fed (inspired). When I thought I had a passion for something, it was really just campfire that I didn't know how to make or maintain.

Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Maybe I'm too lazy. Maybe I just haven't come across my real inspiration yet. Maybe I'm too comfortable being uninspired.

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My life is routine because I made it this way. My excitement comes from occasionally straying from the routine or even just changing it up completely. But my life centers around routine.

Where is the creativity and the passion that everyone else seems to have?

Or maybe I just feel stuck in my life right now, and it's making me rewrite my memories and forget what creativity and passion feel like. Haha maybe.

I hit one of my lowest points yesterday.

I hadn't felt that hopeless and lost in a really long time. I made myself be alone, locked in my room for most of the day, with the wrong intentions. I drank past the point of caution. I didn't care. I knew I was going to get sick, and I still drank more than I knew I should have. And I was tempted to go beyond that. But I couldn't. I stopped. I don't know if it was because I didn't want to die or because I couldn't move anymore.

Afterward, when I could finally move again, I made that feeling of hopelessness and being lost a real one. 9:20 PM. I drove around San Jose with the hopes that it would help me calm down and think. I went up Calaveras, parked at a lookout point, stood in the cold and windy air for an hour, and then drove down Sierra. Then I drove to my mom's house. Then I drove up Bernal to IBM. Next was to turn around and reach the other end of Bernal. And I kept going. I found my way to Quimby somehow and turned right. And I kept going. At the end of Quimby, I turned right and just drove. For 20 miles. It was dark and empty. Lots of twists and turns. Lots of ups and downs. I didn't downshift. I didn't care. I could smell my brakes burning.

After 20 miles, I stopped. I didn't know where I was. Do I keep going, or do I turn around and go home? Do I stay there until the sun comes up? The thought of me dying on this road crossed my mind several times. But I had continued to drive. But at this point, when I finally really stopped my car, I realized I hadn't died. I drove as carefully (and recklessly) as I could. I was still alive. Do I still want to be alive?

I turned my car around and drove. 27 miles later, I'm on Alum Rock, heading toward a place I could fall asleep. I came back to the house I live in. 2:23 AM.

I remember almost everything I did yesterday, but I don't remember half the things I thought. But I know they were ugly thoughts.

I need to reflect on a lot of things and clear my head and conscience. Yesterday was the lowest point I reached in years. I did a lot of stupid and careless things. I didn't reach out to anyone, even though some had offered their love and time. I shut them out. All I saw was the ground, the dirt, and nothing else. I didn't deserve their love and time yesterday.

Strangely, today, I'm looking up. Yesterday's antics... I think I just needed to get a lot of shit out of me. Probably wasn't the best way to go about it, but I already feel a little better. I'm going to feel much better. I will reach out to someone. I will depend on my friends. I will learn how to not shut my loved ones out. I will struggle with this. But I will do my best not to do this to them again.

Stepping down.

So Tuesday had started off better than expected. It didn't end well. I barely made it through half of my work day.

I had a conversation with a coworker sometime before lunch. He said things that angered me. He asked about two incidents that had happened at work when he first started because he found out someone had "complained" about him. The first incident he asked about was a sexual harassment issue. I explained what happened. He asked about a specific person involved in that situation. I explained. Then he asked about the complaint that person had about him. I explained that it was not a complaint but more of a method of self-preservation for someone who was very introverted. In his first week or so, he had tapped her on the shoulder or arm several times to ask for help or to wake her up when the bosses were walking around. She didn't feel comfortable with the physical contact. She asked me to separate them.

He felt affronted and probably hurt that someone would accuse him of being a creep. I tried to explain to him that the person who spoke to me about him didn't think he was a bad person; she just didn't want to be touched, but she didn't know how to tell him that without offending him.

I tried to explain to him that many women don't know how to respond to men because they don't know what the consequences of voicing their discomfort could be. But he just got angrier. And he basically said things that remind me of the hashtag NotAllMen.

"She's got problems if she doesn't know how to trust people."
"She can't assume every guy is gonna be a bad guy."
"There are nice guys, but she won't give them a chance."
"It's unfair of her to put me in the same box as those douches."
"She needs professional help/counseling if that's how she thinks."
"I was just trying to help her out, and she took it as a threat! Something's wrong with her!"

I started to get so angry hearing all these things. He wasn't listening to me. I was starting to not listen to him. I had to tell him that we couldn't talk about this anymore. But he kept going. And I stayed there and heard more. When he finally paused, I walked away. Unfortunately, someone on the floor asked for my help with a task, and I tried to help her. But I couldn't fight my anger or my tears. And it showed. I had to leave the floor.

I realize my anger wasn't so much at the fact that he was vilifying our former coworker. It was the fact that he sounded like that hashtag. Like a significant amount of society. Like the people who don't take harassment seriously unless it's vulgar and forceful. Like people who think they could never hurt someone else, even unintentionally. I realize my anger flared up because I felt like my experiences were being trivialized and turned into irrationality. Like whenever I'm uncomfortable with a man I don't know, I'm just overreacting.

Who knows? Maybe we do overreact sometimes. Maybe it's a chain reaction in our minds that isn't realistic and shouldn't be there, but it's there. And there's a fucking reason for it. There have been times where we didn't react enough and we became victims. How do we keep ourselves from becoming victims again? We react to every little possible thing, and we watch it. It probably isn't the healthiest way to live. In this world we live in, it feels like it's the only way we can survive.

It's funny (not really). When a woman reacts negatively to a man's advances or even just friendly gestures, she's seen as cold and bitchy. But if she reacts to him warmly or positively, and he hurts her, well she just gave him the wrong message. It's still kinda her fault; she shouldn't have been so nice. As if, no matter what a woman does, whatever happens to her is by default her fault because everything she does as a woman causes someone else to do what they do.

Obviously, not everyone thinks like this. But too many people do.

I know a lot of nice people. Great people. Flawed people. I know I'm a nice person. But I don't delude myself anymore into thinking that I could never hurt someone else intentionally or otherwise. Especially in a way that I personally find detestable. I've come to realize that I can't control how someone else will perceive me. I can only alter my image so much. It's unfair for someone else to not see me as the good person I am. But I know people see life through their own lenses, their own experiences. I can't hold that against them. I won't.

Ugh. This whole thing pissed me off so much. So unbearable. I had to avoid talking to my coworker most of yesterday. Every time I thought about talking to him, I just ended up yelling at him in my head. I thought it would be best to not do that in reality.

I feel like I can't talk about this clearly because this issue affects me so much. Knowing so many people who have been harassed or assaulted, hearing all their stories and their fears. I also know where my coworker is coming from. I've been on both ends of this. I know the fear in all its rationality and irrationality. I also know the anger at the unfairness of being judged when I know I'm a good person. Being on the side of being judged and being angry, I still had power in that situation; my feelings were hurt, but I was safe. On the other side, I felt like I had no power and no security; I felt unprotected.

Ahh. My head... too many thoughts.

A person can know that they're a nice person. But how is anyone else supposed to know and believe that completely? I used to think anyone who treated me well was probably a good person. Most of the time, I still think that's true. But I've had my fair share of experiences with people who were nice and helpful but turned out to be very manipulative.

And sometimes, good people hurt others. Whether they know it. Whether they feel remorse afterward. None of it changes the fact that bad things have happened.

I need to stop thinking about this. I wish I could turn my brain off.


Anyway, I feel like I'm overreacting to this. Probably. I mean I should be pissed. But I shouldn't be so overly emotional about this. If I was in a better place in my life, I would have been upset but probably calmer than I've been. Been prone to emotional breakdowns, I guess.

So yesterday, I asked to step down as trainer. This conversation sent me over the edge when it shouldn't have. But it did. I take it as a sign that I'm not emotionally well. Not well enough to do my job to the best of my ability. I have my good days. But my bad days are too many, and they interfere with my work too much. It's unfair of me to put such sub-par effort into this job. It's unfair to the people who work under me. I've been feeling this way for months. But the past couple of days really drove that feeling home. My personal issues won't stay at home; they keep coming to work with me.

I just need to deal with them first before I could really provide more for this workplace. I need to find my peace and my balance again. I can't keep doing this whole stabilize-for-a-few-moments-and-hope-they-last thing. I really need to work on myself and my happiness.

I don't know if I'm happy with my decision. But I feel some relief, knowing that I don't have to be responsible for people soon enough. I won't have to be responsible for keeping them happy when I don't even know how to make myself happy.

I know my bosses are probably hoping that I'll change my mind. As much as I don't want to lose the pay and the freedom, I don't want this job. I don't think I can do it well if I don't want it. Especially if my personal problems keep getting in the way. I still have to train the next trainer. I'm going to try to keep myself together as best as possible until probably the end of December at the earliest.

I'm sure my coworkers are going to ask questions. I don't know what I'm going to tell them. Personal stuff? Got a lot going on? I don't know. Maybe I just won't answer.

I don't want to regret this decision. I feel like I won't. I'm stepping down. Not because I can't handle the job. I know I can do my job well. I know I am an asset to my team. There's just so much going on inside my head that I haven't been doing as well as I should, and I recognize that. I have to take care of myself. I have to remind myself to do it. I have to have other people remind me. This is the best decision I've made for myself in a while. I know that, but it is definitely hard to believe.

Holding out until January was the plan. I guess that was probably too much to expect of myself...

I should probably start looking for a part-time job to help supplement my income. The pay drop is going to be a little difficult. Also need to help out my family when I can. Can't really do that if I can barely pay for myself. They're not going to know about this situation. They can't.

Family Health

For the past couple of months, my family has been dealing with some health scares.

Mother's cancer may have progressed. It's been a decade. She's got a growth near the site of her mastectomy. Apparently, it's been there for a couple of years, but she never mentioned it. And no health professionals noticed because, honestly, who would think that breast cancer would show up where there's no breast? Mother finally went to the doctor's. She's been seeing various doctors. They're unsure if it's cancer or if it's just a benign growth.

The course of action appears to be chemo for eight months, surgery, and then radiation for who knows how long. She'll hear about a more definite timeline tomorrow. I think Brother is going with her.

As for Brother, he went to the ER two months ago for a sudden, persistent pain in his left eye, which worsened whenever he moved his eye. Extremely blurry vision. Inability to see distinguish the color red. Doctors determined it to be optic neuritis. They gave him steroids to help ease the pain and improve his vision. They said the vision problems and pain may come and go in the future. In trying to pinpoint the cause, they tested him for MS. Tests came back negative. They still don't know what caused it. The pain lessened, and his vision got better. They let him go home after a couple of days.

About two weeks ago, Brother went back to the emergency room for severe headaches that lasted a few weeks. He had viral meningitis. Doctors kept him in the hospital for just less than a week. Tests. Brother was irritated because that meant he couldn't work. Family had to remind him that the doctors were doing their best and he couldn't work for long if his infection prevented him from doing so anyway.

Doctors treated the meningitis. Luckily, it was determined to be not contagious. Brother still has to go back to the hospital for more tests. Doctors are still uncertain as to what caused the infection since Brother does not travel and he didn't do any of the things that the doctors said could cause viral meningitis.

Today, Brother said, even though it might not be MS, it might still be some other autoimmune disease. I know very little about autoimmune diseases, but I've heard they're not really curable but can be manageable.

So yeah, that's how part of my family is doing now.

I mentally checked out when all this happened at once. On autopilot around my family. I feel guilty about that, but I don't know what to do. I haven't been around. I don't want to think about it. But today, I checked myself back in. I've been selfish. I still want to be selfish, but I also want to support my family. So I'm trying. Matt told me I was having a fight-or-flight reaction; I immediately chose flight. I'm making myself choose the other option now.

We will deal with everything as it comes. Who knows? Maybe it won't end up too badly.

I need to try to keep myself in the real world. I have to try to not tune it out. Family stress added to work stress. I've been feeling like I can't handle anything. It's been terrifying. I felt like giving up. On what? I don't know. I just wanted to give up.

I feel better today. Finally. I just spent most of the day by myself. It was great. I'm not at 100%, but I'm much better than I was yesterday and better than how I've been the past month or so. I'm still getting a little anxious and nervous at times when I start thinking too much. But then I just try to remember that I need to take everything one step at a time and one day at a time. I need to be strong for my family. I need to be there for them.

I also need to learn how to ask for help. I thought I did. But I'm always backtracking because I don't want to bother people with my problems that aren't really my problems. I need to learn how to stop worrying and fretting so much.

Happier news: Miah is crawling and standing herself up now. She laughs and shouts more. She also only likes me sometimes :P I think I give off too much heat. She really doesn't like to be hot. Also, I haven't been around much. But I think she recognizes me when she does see me. She's also just more attached to everyone else in my family.

I should try to be around more often.

Interest can be reciprocated.

This past Friday night, I was hanging out with my friend Vivi and catching up. She's been in Portland for almost a year now. Crazy how fast that passed.

Hung out until 1 or 2 in the morning just talking about a bunch of different things.

At some point in our conversation, I decided to reveal to her that I used to be interested in her. I kinda just threw it into the conversation. Well, I mean, there was a point to it. I was talking about how my first crush was on someone I barely knew and how it affected me and my future romantic interests. I find people attractive or cute, but I don't pursue anything unless we become friends first and I get to know them well enough. Basically, every serious interest I've had has been in someone who was a good friend.

I was listing examples of my former romantic interests. And I tried to add her into the list nonchalantly. I think I lingered on it though haha. When I finished the list, it was quiet for a moment. I didn't really think in that moment. Vivi asked me if I felt awkward, and I said yes. She asked why I felt awkward, and I smiled and shrugged. She then said that it was funny because she was interested in me around the same time.

I blanked for a second, and then an incredulous "What?" came out of my mouth haha. I didn't really ask anything about it. I wasn't sure what to ask. Now, I know what I want to ask, but she's back in Portland :P Next time we talk, I'll ask. When exactly? For how long? Etc. Just some details to maybe fluff up my ego haha.

If I had known this back then, I might have made the foolish decision to ask her out or something. But I know, looking back, I wasn't ready. She most likely wasn't either. Both of us had baggage we were incapable of letting go. I could see that then too, but I might have ignored it if I had known.

I'm glad the awkward moment only lasted a moment XD Glad we could carry on like we usually do. It was good haha. Just thought this was something interesting to share.

Now, I'm just a tiny bit more convinced that a person I like could like me as much. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to ask someone out, after I got to know them as a friend first, of course :P I might not get rejected XD Confidence up by 5% hahaha.

Short shorts and skirts.

I used to wear short shorts and skirts. I also used to wear dresses.

I last wore a dress when I was probably in the fourth grade. (I technically didn't wear a dress to junior or senior prom. Thank goodness for amazing friends.) I last wore a skirt around the same time, maybe a little bit sooner than that; it was probably a school uniform skirt. I last wore short shorts when I was sixteen; though, I'm pretty sure none of my high school friends had ever seen me wear them...

People have asked me why I'm such a tomboy or why I don't wear "girly" clothes more often. I've always said that I've felt most comfortable in baggier, "guy" clothes, which is true. I do have an affinity to clothes that don't cling to my body or reveal too much skin. I like being low-key. Plus, I've always felt awkward in my body. Don't get me wrong; I like my body for sure. Just sometimes, I don't want to feel like I'm focusing so much on my body or the femininity of it. So yeah, less feminine clothing makes me feel like it's just easier to be me and not draw attention to anything that doesn't need attention.

But I'm gonna reveal a little secret: While I do feel somewhat awkward thinking about wearing skirts, short shorts, and such, I really, really miss wearing them. Like, so much. Haha is anyone surprised? And i think the awkwardness comes more from the fact that I haven't worn any of these things in so long, so the idea seems foreign to me.

Mother always likes to remind me that she used to dress me up in dresses and skirts all the time when I was a child. We have pictures, and some of my memories of childhood are relatively still intact. So yes, I remember that she did do that, and I also remember that I loved my dresses and skirts as much as I loved my pants and cargo shorts, along with the hand-me-downs from Brother. (I still occasionally get hand-me-downs from him.) Yeah, I ran around with the boys a lot, making pants and boys' shorts the ideal forms of clothing to wear for all that roughhousing. But I liked everything I wore when I was younger. I didn't hate anything I owned. I especially loved my three pairs of denim short shorts from Old Navy haha.

So why did I gradually stop wearing "feminine" clothing? As far as I can remember, it was always because of something that someone else did and which I didn't know how to stop. I stopped wearing skirts and dresses because boys I didn't know would stand under the monkey bars to look up. Adding to that, boys I didn't know learned that sticks can easily lift up the backs of skirts and dresses. I stopped wearing short shorts because a man twice my age tried to kiss me.

My family only knows about the monkey bars experiences I had. I never bothered to tell them about the boys with the sticks because Mother's reaction to the monkey bars stories was to laugh and to say that kids will be kids. That's still her reaction to these anecdotes. I'm pretty sure many parents have that same reaction. For the most part, I don't really care about the monkey bars stories because I got past it. Boys will be boys, and I generally didn't remember those experiences after a while. Oh, and I definitely did not tell my family about the man who tried to kiss me when I was sixteen. No way.

I blogged about it on my LiveJournal instead. I just read the entry. I'm shaking my head at it and asking myself, "Why didn't I say something back then? Why didn't I shove him away and yell? Why didn't I do anything to protect myself?" I know I'm lucky that all he tried to do was grope and kiss me. So much worse could have happened, but I was lucky. But Mother was just about two rooms away. Why didn't I call for her? Why didn't I tell her right after it happened? What was I thinking? Well, first, I don't know why, but I thought it was some kind of joke that the man was trying to pull on me. It didn't really click. Or maybe it did, and I didn't want it to click because it was scary and I didn't know how to handle it. Then I just felt shock that it had happened to me at all. Then I couldn't tell Mother because I was afraid she would get mad at me for letting it happen, for not knowing better, for not knowing how to fight back. A secondary thought was she would never be able to trust me being around anyone again because anyone could manipulate me. (Sorry, this was somewhat of a tangent.)

I couldn't comfortably wear short shorts or anything super feminine after this particular experience because I had been wearing a pair of my favorite short shorts and a tight girls' shirt when it happened. I suppose I engrained in myself that it was the clothes I wore that brought this on me. And if I continued to wear the clothes, the situations would get worse and worse, it would all be my fault, and I wouldn't be able to protect myself.

I wonder now if I decide to wear feminine clothing, and I got the kind of attention that I don't want, would I be able to feel comfortable in what I'm wearing and to get myself safely out of that situation? Honestly, I don't think so. I think I would still be that scared, naive, easily manipulated little girl who couldn't react except to tilt her head down. I've tried my best to keep myself out of those situations by dressing down and not accentuating my feminine qualities. I chose to avoid rather than to confront my fear.

I guess I never really got past any of it.

I genuinely don't care much about fashion, but I know I like wearing different styles of clothing when the mood strikes. It's just difficult to consider all the possible options because I'm terrified of the attention I could get. I have no intention of or desire for getting that attention; I just want to wear the clothes.

Why can't I wear what I like to wear without fearing that it will be seen as an invitation to my body for someone else?

I should just face my fears head on, yeah? I'm not always that brave. Sometimes, I have that moment where I feel like I can take on any challenge, but it passes so quickly that I don't jump on it. Damn, it's just clothes, but a part of me is very terrified. But I know, one day, I will wear some short shorts or a skirt, and I won't be terrified. That day just isn't today. Or tomorrow.