hugs from boys.

Feeling pathetic. And pretty lonely.

I mean, I'm using every social networking tool I have right now. Including the dreaded Myspace. I just feel disconnected and lonely and pathetic and sad. (The world's tiniest violin is playing for me...)

I don't know. I have all these hopes but I don't seem to be acting on them. I want another beer but I have to drive Kelly and Corey and I don't want to kill them. I like them.

Studying will be my way of reaching out tonight...wish I could call somebody.

I finally strung my guitar. I started playing a little bit...I forget so much. I forgot what strings were what. I had to look at the packaging (E, A, D, G, B, e). Sad. It makes me sad. I'm also seriously low on money. I need a job. I need a life. I need to stop using the Internet to express my frustrations and fears.

Maybe I made a mistake.

I mean, I don't regret it.

It was worth it. Oh god it was worth it.

But...

I feel like I'm going crazy.

My mood swings and anxiety have reached a fever pitch.

My heart has raced all day.  Partly because my diet has consisted exclusively of sugar, caffeine, and salt, I'm sure.  To help slow it, I decided to shoot some of that awful pineapple rum my roommate's ex-girlfriend left in our freezer (hey, she's not coming back for it.  It's been there what, a year and a half?)  BAD idea.  The liquor was horribly sweet and thick like syrup.  I nearly gagged, chased it with some Crystal lLig

Going where eagles dare...

I felt that "Liz Needs a New Name" didn't really fit what I was doing.  I mean, I don't need a new name.  I thought it was catchy because I needed a new IM name or something.  But I like Liz.  And the name only suggests I need a new name name, not IM name...whatever.

This is an anxious pessimist's attempt to look on the bright side.

Since I nearly wrecked and killed myself (and someone else on their way to work), I've had near panic attacks every time I enter my car.  I cannot focus.  I freak out and slam on my brake (which is NOT good, especially in the fast lane on the interstate.  Yes, I'm too impatient to even drive in the middle lane.  Despite my anxiety. I don't understand me either.)

Anyway, I'm attempting to better myself through cheaper, more readily available options than medication or therapy.  I work out.  I'm training for a 5k, then I'm training to train for a marathon (seriously.  I cannot run 3 miles at a stretch yet.  Let me be.)  However, my improved eating habits and working out seemed to become fueled by my competition with others, and not healthy competition either.  For instance, who got fat since high school?  Who can I look better than?  Who is attempting to better themselves as well and therefore looking better than me?  I can't let that happen!

Believe me, I know this is sick.  It's awful, and I deserve that horrible scare in the car just for being this vain, this self-absorbed.  This isn't a race.  My attempts to become less depressed, healthier, and more content with myself are positive factors, and they shouldn't be fueled by negativity.  Or fear.  It's not sustainable.  It's unhealthy.  And it reveals something deep and dark about my personality that I don't like.  Something I'm just not ready to face up to yet.

I almost didn't work out tonight.  Yesterday I missed my run, despite every possible opportunity to do so.  I even had my dear Nick as a motivator, and still, I flat out refused.  It's okay, I reasoned, I can take one day off.  (Last week one day turned into three.)  So today, I had to make myself go to the gym.  I reasoned I can run on the treadmill as long as I run.  Now I feel great--I completed my run, I did 15 minutes on the recumbent bike just for the relaxation of it, and I stretched.  Best of all, I got FREE tampons!  I should've taken three boxes like the girl in front of me.  It was obvious the girls at the gym found it taboo to walk around with pink boxes of Playtex Sport. 

Besides the free tampons, I felt great.  I still feel great.  I feel all loose and warm and clean (freshly showered boo-yah!)  I am not exactly skinny  yet, but I've gained so much muscle.  I'm not winded by running up stairs anymore.  I love how tight my big ol' butt feels!  And my legs are like machines of their own.  They are massive.  Not supermodel hott, but they'll be instrumental when I begin training for that marathon next year.

These are things I need to focus on.  Like how the gym can be MY time--time to listen to music and watch bad TV and zone and really feel good about myself.  That's so rare for someone who's spent so long hating herself she doesn't know what it's like to not.  You know, I can choose to be happy.  I can tell this lack of serotonin or whatever the hell's causing this unending depression to just die already and let me emerge.  I CAN BE HAPPY.  But I'm NOT going to get there by pulling others down.  I am NOT going to get there by comparing and complaining and bullying.  It's time to really become someone I want to be, someone who is legitimately nice, someone who is happy and content and fearless.  FEARLESS.  I've lived with this worsening anxiety so long I don't know what it's like to not be afraid.  Mini panic attacks are par for the course.

Well no more.

If anyone reads this inaugural entry and still wants to read on, I salute you.  Sometimes I just can't stand myself, and I don't blame others for not being able to either.

(You know what I really liked about LiveJournal?  The option to say what I'm currently listening to.  I mean, I COULD just write than in the entry, you know?  But...I feel pretentious.  But if the reader doesn't know, then the slight humor in the title is lost!  Lost I say!  So, um, I was listening to the Misfits "Where Eagles Dare" when I wrote that.  [Murder By Death is on now, and it's kinda irrelevant.]  There.  I feel better.)