Tag: Word Vomit

Posted in Adventures in Love

If You Love Me, I’ll (still) Hate Myself

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

Damn. I feel like I have been able to avoid writing for so long now. I don’t even know why, but it has been a point of pride for the last several months to not word vomit all over this blog anymore. I guess in a sense it felt like I had resolved all my issues or at the very least they weren’t overwhelming enough that I had to put them all out of my head. It felt like I could or was able to handle them if I kept them inside, contained and pushed down. But fine! I give up. I give in. Here I am.

Now, not a lot has changed. Although so much has since the last time I posted anything here. But this is not about that. YouTube channel did well until life happened and I stopped making it a priority. A lot of that has happened since then. It feels as if life is just a formality at this point. I don’t know what to do with it and often I feel guilty about that. I feel guilty about a lot of things. Darn, I really do not type as fast as I used to. That’s frustrating. But I am a much better speller, I suppose. Welp that’s making me mess up. Okay, tangent. Stop that. Anyway…

One big thing I feel guilty about is semi new. Since having a partner that seemingly loves me and cares about me, I feel guilty at times for wanting love and attention because it feels like I want things done or solved for me in a sense. It feels like a free pass to continue with my horrible coping mechanisms and ignore whatever is bothering me. Especially when it comes to my good ol’ pal self hatered. That’s a really easy one to fall back on.

And usually- when I was in a better state of mind- I would sing or read or something constructive to work these feelings out or – shocker!- I’d actually sit with my feelings, write it out, and then do something to directly work on it. For example, the problem I keep coming back to and continue to ignore is about my self image and how much I dislike it. Recently…over the past year or more, I have been ignoring it and just letting it get worse over time. Pretty easy when I have someone who embraces me and actively wants me to get out of that mind set. It’s easy when there is someone else there to forgive my mess ups and terrible coping mechanisms.

Which makes it so much easier to cope with things in the worst possible way for the problem. Maybe this is the masochist in me speaking, but I think I do better, and maybe most people do to a certain extent, when there are consequences. I mean, for what I’m abstractly talking about now, if I hate myself and my body and my natural catastrophic reaction to this is to binge eat and talk negatively about myself then this makes me feel bad then….eventually….I get to a point where I can’t take the self abuse any longer and I make a ton of radical changes and if I somehow am able to pace myself and make these things gradual, I have successfully been able to make real meaningful changes in how I see myself and how I handle my issues. Something in that mechanism is obviously broken and has been broken long before I found someone that is much more forgiving of me than myself, but I don’t really have the time or energy to go into that right now.

What I want to explore is the idea that since I’ve been in a relationship, this cycle is even more foreign and unknown and tumultuous. Nowadays if I absolutely hate myself and everything I do/every glimpse in a mirror or other horrific self reflective media, I have someone there to tell me …..ugh, not that my self hatred isn’t true. well. Actually maybe yeah. Maybe that’s exactly what is happening. I feel a certain way about myself which is largely negative and I’m being told by someone I love and trust the complete opposite. I obviously do not believe it myself, but I believe that my partner believes it. And that is usually enough to ahhh I don’t want to say invalidate my feelings, because that sounds mean and wrong and completely the opposite of what any loving partner is trying to do…but maybe that’s part of it.

It sounds absurd, but that’s pretty much what is happening. I say, “I’m disgusting” only to be told that, “no, [I’m] not”. It’s a direct contradiction and the strange, trippy thing about this is it becomes a trust thing. Who’s point of view do I trust more? Often times, it ends up being anyone’s point of view but mine….. So, does that mean I am the one invalidating myself?! *sigh

You see? This is why I don’t- didn’t- I guess still almost wish I hadn’t come here to write. Why I’ve been avoiding it. Other than I also think my writing must suck now, since I am so out of practice when even so, I didn’t think highly of my writing to begin with. Gosh. This is the cycle. I think it’s a cycle at least. I hope it still is. Like I was saying: self hatred leads to emotional rock bottom leads to taking steps out of the ditch leads to improvement with my self worth leads to tripping over obstacles leads to tumbling down leads to harder and harder to ignore self hatred because that never really went away, just the behaviors stemming from it being manhandled into healthier actions which ultimately leads to the cycle repeating.

With someone who loves me I feel like I get stuck at the bottom. Feeling emotionally at rock bottom, but being told I’m not there and trusting the other person about that, because logically I know I’m not really the scum of the earth. But in not fully and completely hating myself like I am used to my infinitely messed up mind can not comprehend that it’s time to start climbing out of the ditch. So I stay.

I guess moral of the story is I don’t know who to let myself be loved. I take love– no! I can’t even take the love. I– love is in my life and somehow it’s like oil and water or maybe more like mixing all the paints together to make a grotesque murky color. Love and I don’t mix. I don’t know how to take love and grow with it.

And this is what I was afraid of. This. I have so much to do to get to a point where I even tolerate myself- let alone love myself. And I was on my way there. It’s awful to the mainstream sense of love, because I was really enjoying getting to know myself and working on being kind to myself, but I just have not taken the time to do that since having someone else in my life to love. That sounds stupid, but it’s true. It’s also fucking sad when the person you hate- and thus have immense difficulty loving- is you.

I think that’s it. I don’t know how to give anyone going through the same thing hope. I’m not mentally in a space for that. I wish it was as simple as people make it seem. *fake super positive voice: Yeah! Just love yourself, eat healthy, be active, laugh with friends! BLEH. It’s not. Once again, I’m sorry I tend to only come on here one in a blue moon and also usually only to share the grim thoughts on my mind. I don’t know what will happen from here on out. Will I ever not hate myself for more than a couple months at a time? (if that!) I don’t know. I hope so. But even if I do it’s not necessarily something I can teach anyone else. I wish it was. Maybe I wouldn’t be on here trying to decipher it for myself or anyone else who has the time and, for whatever reason, desire to read my word spittle. Anyway….good luck to us all, I guess.

Posted in Uncategorized

The Happiest I’ve Ever Been

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

I have four unfinished drafts. I haven’t written in four weeks… or more. I get four new ideas every sleepless night. There’s too much and not enough going on in my life. And I can’t take it anymore. I’m writing at 3 am and decided to publish whatever word vomit I create. A friend of mine once suggested (likely out of pity) that my readers must like the honesty that these sad writing sessions are born from. He said this after I expressed confusion that one such word vomit post did infinitely better, views-wise, than a post I spent upwards of eight hours on.

 

Audio of this post:

 

The Best Four Months of My Life

 

Living on my own, therapy, love, and more…

I want to write. I do. I used to fight for myself. I did very well- surprisingly well- the first semester I moved into an apartment on campus by myself. Sure I had apartment-mates, but I saw them each no more than three times that whole school year (they were worse recluses than me!). It took until finals time to falter. That semester in group therapy I gave more advice than sought it. My life was great and I ran with that. Literally. That was when I started running. I wanted to do a 5K. About two months in I was pushing myself and that was the only area in my life I would not be satisfied with. I wanted to continuously improve and did.

I loved my life that year. It was the best semester of my life. Best three or four months of my life. I did things because I wanted to and that was that. I tried the whole vegetarian thing. I was looking into studying abroad. It was glorious. And, of course, I was in love. My first boyfriend. That’s pure. Completely the wrong person for me and that became blatantly apparent in the next few months, but for that brief beginning… it was glorious. I didn’t know I could be so happy.

 

Friendship, Healthier Coping, and Constant Support

That was the semester I began a friendship with one of the most caring people I’ve ever met- Mariah. I’d never had such a close friendship with someone before. It’s incredible she’s still my friend. That was also the semester we both turned 21. Every other weekend we’d get together, just the two of us (well with her boyfriend playing video games on a nearby couch), at her apartment to hang out and try different types of alcohol. Not the wildest college drinking stories. Not even close. But the best I could have asked for.

I’ve had issues with emotional overeating since I was about 10 years old. That semester? Not until finals time. It was like I imagine nicotine cravings are. Awful. Constant. And gnawing. Obviously, it wasn’t without a couple slip ups, but until I gave up during finals week… it was amazing. I sang so much that semester. Constant music. That’s what they always say. Therapists and other positive role models I’ve had: replace negative behaviors with positive ones. It’s so difficult. Sounds simple, but a song isn’t as effective as a donut for me. Not at first. That’s the semester I learned to be okay with crying. I’d been told crying isn’t shameful since I’d started therapy two years prior to that semester, but on my then boyfriend’s shoulder I accepted it.

It was my first semester as manager at a little food shop on campus. I met my coworkers I’d be friends with for the remainder of my university career. I was so nervous about my first leadership role. The boyfriend was constant support through anything and everything that semester. I’d never had that. With him, my therapists, my friends, and a pinch of belief in myself I learned I could be happy. I didn’t have to keep punishing myself for something I felt I deserved.

 

Beginning to Like Myself and Learning to Enjoy Life

I can’t underestimate this next part. I’ve hated the way I look, especially my weight, over any horrible thought I’ve ever had about my intelligence or other abilities. I never in a million years thought I’d look at myself with anything but disgust and shame. That semester, sometimes I’d wish I looked like someone’s reflection or shadow I’d catch at the corner of my eye then I’d realize that reflection or shadow had been mine. It was extremely confusing and alien at first. I began wearing tank tops for Pete’s sake! I liked how they looked… I almost can’t believe I got to that point. I was by no means skinny. I’ve dreamt of being skinny for more than a decade at this point. I didn’t weigh myself that whole semester. Maybe once for a class, but I think I refused to look at the time. Yet, I’ve never been happier with my body. Sometimes I would look in a mirror (I hate mirrors) and like how I looked! Actually looked at myself and felt good- confident even!

Unbelievable! That whole semester… And I enjoyed the heck out of it. As I experienced it I knew it likely would end. I was terrified. Like an unsavory indigestion I kept swallowing down. Yet, I pushed it aside and had the best three or four months of my life. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you’re used to wallowing in sadness sure that that’s all you’re worth- pain and disappointment- four months is infinity. I regret nothing. I lived. I loved. And I sure as hell made the best of it.

 

Where Am I Now?

Wow. That was certainly not the direction I expected this to go. Usually when my mind wanders it reminds me how unhappy I currently am. Getting creative, Brain. You jerk. Well, since I doubt I’ll finish up those other four drafts anytime soon, here’s the summary.

  1. I used to publish just whenever I was inspired on my old blog which was about once a month. I’m done making promises I won’t keep. Not to be rude, but I can’t keep disappointing myself. I’ll publish when I publish. Sorry.
  2. I hate living at home. My friend offered to let me move in with her, but she lives in West Texas about six hours away from where I currently live. I said no. I regret that at least five times a day. Okay, maybe only three times a day.
  3. I’m codependent without anyone to be codependent with. That’s what those four drafts said in a nutshell.
  4. The fourth kind of overlaps with the friend offering her home thing. It was a pros and cons list of moving out or living at home with my parents.

 

I hate my life right now. I have plans to make it better. I hope I follow through with them. It’s kind of difficult at the moment to find motivation. But what choice do I have? It’s fight for myself or be miserable. I know I’ve written something like this at least five times before, but that’s what I’ve found life to be: a repetitive pep talk where I have to convince myself I’m the most qualified person to care and put in the work to make my life enjoyable. I don’t know what else I can do.

I’ve given up on people before and I will never forgive myself for it. I’m terrified of what will happen if I give up on myself completely. I’ve seriously let myself go, but I know there’s some line I’ve never crossed. I know I haven’t reached rock bottom. Things can be worse. And I’m afraid. I don’t want to get there. I won’t get there. Stupid pep talk after stupid pep talk- I won’t let myself get there. Thanks, Fear. Thanks, Unhappiness. I will only let my life get better because of you.

Posted in Uncategorized

The Gift of Gab, no! The Wit of Writing!

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

Writing is such an eclectic thing. You know how some people have the gift of gab? I most definitely do not have that. I do, however, have something much less useful in this world of short attention spans: the wit of writing? I guess??? I can write. On and on and on. Yet, I don’t like to. I have no direction. That’s what my fourth grade teacher said. (She was right and I’ll never forget it as long as it’s true.) And without that direction, I can go anywhere and jump from one topic to any other. In writing.

It doesn’t connect to conversations. You would think that it would because it’s my same brain and my same knowledge and thought processes, but no. A rotund no. With people, they have to say something to me first. Otherwise I won’t talk to you unless it’s absolutely necessary. Then I’ll respond to your queries. If you have no queries…. I go silent. I wasn’t always like this. In fact. I was quite the opposite. The silence used to make me nervous and I’d purposefully and awkwardly fill in all the gaps with nonsense babble. Until a friend straight up told me it wasn’t necessary and that silence was okay. I took the idea and ran.

Dammit Jane. (My sophomore year roommate. XD)

On paper (or screen too, I guess) it’s different. I can write and write and write. About something as well as nothing. I will sit and stare at the screen not feeling in the mood to write often or not wanting to make the effort to fully develop an idea that I care about. Is it strange or self absorbed to say I value my ideas that much? But I do! I don’t want to just spew trash to you guys! That’s why I find it so difficult to actually write. This that I’m doing now is easy. It’s that thing I least enjoyed analysing in English class: stream of consciousness. Writing anything and everything that comes to mind. In other words… word vomit.

That’s easy. But to take one (just one!) idea from all of the shining beams of thought shooting around my mind and tend to it, clothe it, feed it, and nurture it into a fully developed adult. Eh, I’ll settle for adolescent. That’s difficult.

So, what did we learn today? I’m a lazy piece of shit that simultaneously thinks too highly of her ideas yet too lowly of herself to formulate them into something sensible and meaningful. We also learned that, yes, I’m committed to publishing Friday Thoughts and Pasts posts again. I’m sorry. XD

 

Help me out for next week, will ya?

 

 

Note: Picture from Pexel’s Free Photo Library