Today

I went to art today and everyone saw the other class's artwork. And mine looks like total shit now compared to that. Then I came home and forgot I was going to have lunch with someone, and I felt bad about that. Then I went to the doctor and he told me that my back problems are probably accentuated because of being overweight. He kinda joked about my stomach and that made me feel horrible. And then I was trying to get out my frustrations by posting something unrelated to what I was thinking about, and people commented on it, making me feel like a total bitch. And now I'm not being a good girlfriend, which is making me feel like even worse of a person. I can't do art, I'm fat, I'm rude and I'm a horrible girlfriend. That's how today has made me feel

Change

i never knew people could be so kind, and i've never had more hope than i do now.

i'm going to admit something to all of you. most of you don't even know this about me, but i'm honestly not afraid anymore.

my high school experience was shit. i got diagnosed with depression my freshman year, i had a horrible abusive relationship that went on for over a year, and people were so rude to me. i couldn't attend half a school year once because the depression got so bad, and the worst part was no one seemed to care. and actually, i missed a lot more than that. no one really seemed to like me except my few close friends. high school was a really dark time for me. i wrote many depressing poems, rants, and other things, and many of them had to do with how horrible i thought i was. i didn't feel i could trust anyone with my secrets, not even my friends. it was hard talking about what i was going through. i was almost ashamed of myself, and i wasn't even sure why. i seriously thought about suicide for a long time, and almost attempted it one night. my outlook on life was pretty grim all through high school. i had no hope that people could be decent and kind to me. i didn't think i was really worth it. i didn't care about looking okay, or taking a shower. i was so indifferent to everything, and negative. i was the ultimate pessimist, in every sense of the word.

but now? my new life in college has really opened my eyes. along with being diagnosed with adhd, i managed to get control of my depression. since college started, i've met many people who i think i can call my friends. i can strike up random conversations with people and they'll react well, talking back and smiling. i've taken nothing but great classes with outstanding teachers. now, i'm actually learning at an incredible rate, and i look at life with positivity. i switched therapists and physciatrists, and now i'm really getting the aggressive treatment i've needed since freshman year. i find myself laughing hard at least once every day. i take a shower everyday, and i care about how i look (to some extent). my hair is out of my eyes, and i'm moving all day, constantly doing and accomplishing things at an incredible rate. i sleep all night, and not too much, either. i'm friendly to everyone, and i try to look at the positive things instead of dwelling on the negative. i'm also not underweight anymore.

i don't think people that knew me in high school would even really recognize me. i'm amazingly different.

i'm finally myself again. i'm finally jennifer mitzman...the optimist, the lover, the fighter, the caregiver, the musician, the writer, the artist.

and it feels so good.

Suicidium (Written Jan. 10, 2011)

It was a beautiful, chilly night on the first week of February 2009, and the sky was breathtaking; it was splattered with stars, as if a painter took his trusty brush in hand and made a quick flick of his wrist across a canvas. All the stars were visible – or so it had seemed – to the naked eye. The enveloping darkness penetrated me like poison, slowly taking me captive and numbing my body. The faint light emanating from the moon dully lit the night sky; its rays gleaming upon me. There was a cool, soothing breeze fluttering through the open window, and the distinct smell of fresh air wafted from it and into my nostrils, filling me with an odd sensation.

I was casually sprawled across my semi-messy bed, with no blanket covering my shivering body. The ear buds to my iPod were placed lightly in my ears, and the sound of incredibly depressing music flooded my senses. The same song was repeating over and over; I had it set to loop. Other than the blasting music overwhelming my eardrums, it was quiet, almost peaceful.

One would think by glancing at me in that state that nothing was wrong. However, if his glare caught me for mere seconds, he would not think me so serene. A plethora of thoughts were swirling in my head – ones of despair, and of mental agony. There were so many, that they eventually all merged into one single, defining thought. I wanted to die. Oh, how death had sounded so pleasantly sweet. No more being judged unfairly by others, no more depressing feelings, no more … no moreanything. For so long, I had felt hopeless, empty, and vastly alone. No one cared about me, and they honestly had no reason to, or so I had thought. Moping around by my lonesome, only depressing others, I would refuse to do any activities that I previously would do without hesitation. Terrible thoughts plagued me, and I wondered why I had to be born, why I had to be the one that was mocked and ridiculed. It was time to take action, time to get rid of myself. I was not worthy for life.

After arising from my twin bed, I planted my feet on the ground, one at a time, and thought to myself, “It's my time to go.” My tired muscles needed a stretch, so I satisfied their hunger, and blinked once. Twice. Three times. I took my first step towards my destination – the utensil drawer in the kitchen downstairs. Slowly and begrudgingly, I made my way to the tall, dark-brown, closed bedroom door. Just as slowly as I walked up to it, I opened the door and took yet another step, this time, out into the short hallway of our second floor. All was quiet. Everyone was sound asleep in their own warm beds. Once I was gone, it would be all the more peaceful. Everything was moving in slow-motion as I took one step after another.

I arrived at the staircase, leading down to only the bleak fact that soon, I would be just another teenage suicide, along with the many others that occur everyday. Suddenly, I stopped. A thought – a simple, yet powerful one – entered my hopeless mind. How will my family react? How will this hurt them? Whatever. At that point, I could care less. Almost taking my first step down the stairs, I paused yet again. I … I can not do this. I can't hurt them. Around I turned, and I made my way back the way I had come, and eventually, back into my bedroom. The door shut quietly behind me, and for what seemed like an eternity, I stood still, like a mangled, broken pendulum. For a long time, I pondered how I was going to get through this. Engulfing myself in a warm blanket, I returned to bed. The fatigue hit, and I fell asleep.

The following day was passing, and eventually, light turned to darkness, and it was nighttime once again. It was about the time I had to take a shower. To prepare myself for school the next day, I put together my clothes and got my pajamas out – which consisted merely of an oversized shirt and pajama bottoms. To the shower I walked, not particularly interested in standing in the water with my hair filled with shampoo. Not even three minutes into the shower, and it suddenly hit me a tennis player's racket hitting the ball. I broke down, sobbing. The tears streamed down my face, and all I could taste was salty water while sitting on the old, blue tile floor of the shower, crying my heart out. Out of nowhere came a knock on the door. It nearly scared me half to death; I had no idea my deep breathing and soft moans could be heard from outside. A sudden lash of anger erupted towards the culprit – my mother.

“GO AWAY!” I yelled blatantly. Infuriated, I hoped that she would not bring it up again, once I had gotten out. I quickly finished my shower, eyes bloodshot and in pain. Apparently, she did not forget. When she first brought it up, I was quite angry at her again. Bluntly, I told her that nothing was wrong, and that I did not want to talk about it. A little later, she persisted her questioning, informing me she would not leave until I told her what was wrong. At that point, I broke down crying for a second time, a massive burden on my shoulders ready to be shared. Eventually, everything I had been holding in for so long unleashed, and I told her everything.

Since that night, I have made vital changes throughout my life. I have learned a vast amount of personal discoveries, and also found, that just as the old saying goes, most lessons are learned the hard way. Anger, upset, frustration, and depression are all immense emotions I am well-experienced with. However, if I had not had depression, I would not be the person I am to this day. One of the most important pieces of knowledge I have acquired, or shall I say, personal wisdom, is that I never want to feel that way again. Ever. From experimenting with my body and my mind, I have quickly found that music is my therapy. Picking up my saxophone, laying my hands gently on the piano, or going to the computer to start composing a piece, are all soothing to me. My stormy agitation transforms into a calm disposition.

Although this experience was frightening more for others than it was for me, it still has opened my eyes. I know now, that when strong emotions are felt, I need to have someone to whom to vent. My mother, my boyfriend, my close friends … anyone who is willing to listen. As I have discovered, people who are willing to listen, are people who genuinely care. Without people like my mother, and my best friends, I could not have made it through this. I have completely and utterly redefined my life for the better … and I could not be any happier with where I am right now.

Beautiful.

sometimes my breath might smell bad. i might fart a lot, and my hair isn't perfect. my burps are louder than most peoples'. i have big feet and my underarms aren't the prettiest. i have really thick legs and i'm a little overweight. i'm not a size 0 or a size small; in fact, i'm a large. my teeth aren't the whitest, my stomach isn't flat, and my ears are shaped oddly. i sweat a lot, even if it's not super hot. i'm not a C or D cup, and i'm definitely not the most classy of ladies out there. i have depression, adhd, and chronic asthma, and when i swim water goes up my nose no matter how hard i try to stop it. i brush my teeth in the shower because i make too much of a mess otherwise. i have to pee far too often, and i have a jealousy issue. i'm not the best musician, nor am i the best artist. i'm overly sensitive, and act like i'm ten sometimes. i get nervous and shaky at certain times. i don't shave every day, and i don't follow the trends. i'm not "hip" or cool, and i don't wake up early everyday to do my hair and makeup. i don't use any product in my hair except shampoo and conditioner. i'm too silly at serious times, and i screw things up in ways i never imagined were possible. i don't smoke weed or drink alcohol.

that's who i am. i'm jennifer pamela mitzman, and i'm far from perfect.

i may be ashamed about these traits, but y'know what? at least i am who i am. i try damn hard everyday, just to get through and assure myself that i'm pretty at the end of the day.

well y'know what society? fuck you.

i'm beautiful without your consent.

7 Years and Counting

My Dear Sunshine, 

I remember meeting you on Runescape, and I remember how you used to be.  We've both changed so much.  Even with all the changes we've gone through, our friendship is one thing that hasn't.  Our friendship has carried me through my hardships, and you've been there when I needed you most.  You give better advice than anyone ever could, and you make me laugh harder than anyone else does. You're completely and utterly handsome, but that's hardly the reason why I fell for you.  Although we have never met, I feel a stronger connection with you than with any of my friends back here in my own world.  You have incredible morals, and you make my dark clouds turn into sun (you are my sunshine, truly).  I feel so nostalgic about our past; everything we've been through, we've been through together.  It has made us who we are today: strong individuals with compassion and understanding.  You have helped shape me, and I am who I am today because of you.  I have no idea what I would have done if you were never there for me.  Our meeting was chance, but it was the luckiest thing that has ever happened to me.  I will never take you for granted.  Ever.  The times with you have been the most memorable times of my life.  I will never forget you, even if anything ever happens to you.  I can't wait to actually meet you in person; to touch you, hug you, be your shoulder to cry on.  I look forward to all the fun times we will have.  I love you, and thank you, so much.  For everything.

Forever yours,

Moonshine

Sad

There are times when I am sad.

I suppose that's normal, considering I'm human and all.

When I'm sad, I know that I'm thinking, but I'm not always aware of exactly what I'm thinking.  I guess that my thoughts are just so rapid and quick that I can't even keep track of what I'm thinking about.

When I mentally rewind my mind, I find a few things to true.

1) they are usually nostalgic

2) they, more often than not, deal with my past

3) the consist of me asking myself a number of questions

4) they involve self-evaluation,

5) the include the judgments and actions of others towards me

Now #1 isn't only nostalgia about the good but about the bad as well.  Actually, mostly about the bad.  The majority of people cannot comprehend why this is, but I know why...I think.  I believe it is because I want to re-experience the bad...and maybe, just maybe, get a clearer understanding of what was happening.  Still don't get it?  That's okay.  Neither do I.

#2.  Let's be honest here...I haven't had the best past ever.  Yes I have two loving parents and two brothers and a family, but I've had some hardships that not every teen has necessarily experience.  That is precisely what I think about.  My abusive ex-boyfriend, my depression, my bipolar, et cetera.

#3 usually holds questions such as "Why am I here?" "Why are people so rude to me all the time?" "What's wrong with me?" and big surprise, "Am I really loved or am I even worthy of being loved?"  I sure as hell don't know the answers to them.  Perhaps that's why I ask myself them 3480518305748723 times.  Maybe I'll have an answer the 273rd time?  Definitely not.  No different from the first time.  Method to my madness?  Most likely, no.  Just madness.

So, self-evaluation, big #4.  Not really big, I suppose.  But bigger than 3.  Anyway, yes.  I'm ugly, dumb, bad quality human (ha, ha) not worth of life.  You shouldn't be too surprised there, after all, I do think these things are true, so they must be true. HahahahahaNO.

#5, I'm sure everyone thinks about at one time or another.  But the difference is this:  I think about it all the time. In the shower? Yep.  Stuffing my face with potatoes?  You bet.  Putting on makeup, using the toilet, playing piano, playing Sims 3, watching T.V., scratching my ass?  YES.  I know people always tell me that the are not worth my time thinking about them.  That's all well and good, but thinking about them is, rather, a bad habit.  I don't care if they wanted me to b e upset and think about them, it still bothers me and doesn't change anything.

I remember when a girl at a restaurant looked at me, eyed me up and down, looked me in the eye, and called me a freak.

What I can't help but wonder is this:  don't they have any sense?  Did their parents/guardians/whoever not teach them how to behave?  I think it's funny that they feel like their only cure/relief for the insecurity is making others insecure.  I'm insecure, yet I don't lay it on others.  Still, I feel upset by them.

Maybe they're just God-awful people.

Or maybe, I'm wrong about everything, and I have a warped perspective and I'm the awful person?

Hm...I don't think so.

-Jen

Living my Life, Just for a While

You are coming into your freshman year of high school, not sure of what the future holds for you.  Still holding on to some of your junior high friends, you enter the high school scene, unsure of how to act and how to dress.  You aren't exactly a normal girl; you have messy hair and braces, and you dress much differently than most others.  Being of an average height and weight, you are much more mature than others around you.

Upon getting your classes, you see that you have marching band (hell yeah!) among other classes (which you can't particularly remember at this time).  When you arrive to marching band you find your two best friends and sit next to them.  Across the rooms sits a tall boy with brown, mop-top hair.  He is tall and has a good, strong build.  Sitting next to him is a dorky-looking kid who's much shorter than the tall boy, and rather thin.  There are glasses perched on his nose and he has short blondish brown hair.  You stare at them for a bit, thinking about maybe becoming friends with them, as they are joking around, laughing, and overall having a good time.  The teacher introduces himself, and your attention is pulled off of the strange duo.

Days go by, and you get more accustomed to the high school lifestyle.  Long story short, you eventually meet, and essentially, become friends with the two boys you saw the first day of school.  (They shall remain nameless in this scenario, if you will.)  You never really get to know the dorky boy, perhaps because he is not your type, or maybe because he is too awkward for your tastes.  Either way, you get into a good friendship with the other, taller boy.  You spend much of your time hanging out with your new friend, and text him often.  You realize you are starting to fall for the boy.

Now, somewhere in there, you start to develop intensely negative feelings for yourself.  You spend nights thinking about how shitty your life is, how badly you're treated.  You always call yourself horrible names, and tell yourself you'll never be good enough.  You are rapidly losing weight as a result of rarely eating.  Hunger just isn't something you feel anymore.  Most of your days are spent going through the motions, not really caring about what's going on around you, either because you haven't been sleeping well, or because you are just too sad to care.

Now back to the boy.  You get to know him better, and he reveals quite a lot about his past, as do you.  You tell him how you have been feeling, and he says he understands.  One night, when it's probably 1am in the morning, you feel worse than usual.  You text him and tell him what's going on.  He admits then and there that he loves you.  Long story short (again), you get involved even farther with this wonderful boy you met just months ago.

You and the boy have wonderful times together.  You watch many movies, and go on dinner dates often.  Everything is perfect.

But really?  It's anything but perfect.

Quite often, he will yell at you, and ignore you for little, stupid things.  When he stops ignoring you, he will act like nothing even happened.  He blames you for everything, even the arguments that he initiates.  He quite often tells you that you need to wear different clothes, or that you look a certain way that isn't appealing to him.  "I love you" comes after he hurts you.  Every time, without exception.  He never congratulates you on your accomplishments, he just acts jealous and ignores the fact that you did something great.  He won't say thank you when you give him a gift, and he usually makes fun of it in some way or another.  He promises things will change.  That he won't be mean.  You believe him, even after he hurts you again.

He admits that when he first said he loved you, he was lying.  He didn't really love you, he was trying to make you feel better.  But he assures you that he loves you now.

The sad feelings get worse, just as your boyfriend gets worse.  He taunts you, calls you terrible names.  You call yourself names as well, thinking that the boy is right.  He says it's just joking, but you know it's not.  He continues to criticize your every move.  You get more self-conscious, and you eat even less.  You belittle yourself, calling yourself weak for crying so much.  Things escalate so badly, that one night you almost commit suicide.  The only reason you decide not to, is because your family matters too much to you, and you would not want to hurt them in any way.  You could care less about your own life.

A year goes by, you and the boy are still together, and you can't hold back your feelings from him.  You full-on love him, and there's no one who can stop you.  You are completely oblivious to what's right in front of your face:  your boyfriend is emotionally abusive.  He definitely doesn't help with your depression.  In fact, he makes it worse.  You struggle with your emotions every day.

You eventually lose your feelings for him, and you end the relationship.  He tells you he doesn't realize what he did wrong.  You tell him that he didn't do anything wrong.

This is the final day of your friendship, but you don't know it yet.  You, your two best friends, and him are in one of the classrooms at school.  Your mother, who is a teacher at the school you attend, if in there as well, and she is talking to a fellow teacher.  You and your two best friends are drawing on the whiteboard.  Your ex, will not stop touching you.  You politely tell him to stop, but he doesn't.  At one point, you somewhat lose your temper.  You keep your voice under control, and again tell him to stop, more forcefully this time.  He blows up in your face, and says "You mean like this?!"  and he shoves you into the whiteboard, in between your two friends.  You friends hardly notice.  Or maybe they do, and they are trying not to show it.  Anyways, you start tearing up, and you ask the boy to leave.  He just stands there, looking angrily at you.  You yell to your mother to ask him to leave, and the boy storms out, slamming the door behind him.  You burst into tears.

Later, you find out that the boy thinks you deserved everything that happened, everything that he did.

As a result of everything he did to you, you now have a terrible image of yourself.  You are over-jealous, and you think you are a good-for-nothing.  You have a more negative outlook on life as a whole, and you are never completely happy.

The years fly by.

It's your senior year now.  You have things under control, in terms of your depression.  However you still cannot get the image of your ex behind you.  You have a feeling that he will always be imprinted in your head and your heart.  Not in the good way, either.  You still have self-esteem issues, thanks to him.  You blame him for everything that's wrong with you, whether it's true or not.  And frankly, you feel guilty about it.  There's a small part of you that still feels guilty for everything that he did.  You know that it wasn't your fault, but he had his hooks in you so deep, for so long, that you can't shake him off completely.

Your close friends are still friends with him.  And that hurts you, but you don't have the heart to make them decide between you and him.  The only reason why you don't make them choose, is because you have a fear that they won't choose you.  That you'll be alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post was entertaining to write, although painful at the same time.  This isn't some "made-up" story to get you to pity me.  In fact, I really want you, the reader, to take it more seriously.  You probably see me as an up-beat girl with high hopes and great dreams.  But really, that's not who I am.  This is just one of my experiences in my life.  I hope that maybe you'll understand me better now.  And, hopefully, just maybe, you'll think twice before insulting me or bringing up my ex.  I'm not who I am on the surface.

Thanks for reading.

-Jen