Maybe its safe to say...

I'm slowly dying. That stress has reached a peak where its physical effects outweigh the emotional.

He's lost all respect for me. Because I haven't kicked him out. And k out up with his shit and still love him, almost unconditionally. 

I'm ready to give up. Because this all seems pointless and it hurts far too much far too many times, for far too long. 

This could be the end. A sour beginning of something that's not me. And a sweet hello to something that will destroy me entirely. 

I wonder what I've done wrong?

I'm very tired today. I find it so odd that every time I get paid somehow, some way I end up being more stressed. I guess it's because I have to take care of bills and I'd rather just avoid them.

I think If I had just enough money to get everything done, this includes little things like laundry and toiletries, then I'd be happy. It's not having enough money and stressing about how I'm going to make an inch stretch a mile that's driving me insane. I'm not comfortable with that.

So this morning when I realized that my check was well below my hopes (not my secret expectations mind you) I started off by advising L of the current financial situation. And he promptly proceeded to shut me down because he didn't want to hear about it.

Basically, I explained to him that I wouldn't have enough money to pay the rent...
(I honestly wanted his feedback on what he thought we should do.. pay some of it? Find out if I could make arrangements? I was just tired of being burdened with all of these "what if's?")
and he got upset and told me to just pay the rent and now worry about everything else like laundry (mind you it's been almost 3 weeks since laundry has been done because the laundry money went to other thing that it shouldn't have. I told him that I might not have enough for event that. And again he proceeded to shut me down stating that he didn't want to know and that I should just pretend he wasn't there.

I broke down. Because all I wanted was to not have to carry this stress by myself. I wanted some type of feedback or support, even if it's emotional. I just wanted reassurance that everything was going to be ok, and that he'd be working just as hard to figure it out. But I didn't get that, because that's not the type of person he is. So here I am 2 steps away from death. Feeling nauseous as fuck and a migraine the size of Africa. (I hope I'm not pregnant, but this has been the 4th day in a row I feel like this).

I'm ready to tell him to pack his things and leave. Because at least if he's not going to be bare minimum emotionally supportive then he's only bringing me down. He thinks I should pretend he's not there, when I think he just shouldn't be. I'm fed up, and there's but so much a girl can take. I've done nothing but supportive and patient with him and he cannot afford me the same. I never make decisions like that on an emotional bend so I'm giving myself the day, maybe even the weekend, to mull it over. I'm not sure if I'm in the right state of mind, considering all this stress, but it's probably the closest I'll get to right at this point. I'd like to go home and sulk about this on my couch but I cannot.

I'm broke and it's only getting worse and I don't know what to do and I'd like to stop being stressed and I just want to curl up in a ball or run away to Australia or finish this sentence but I cannot because my  emotions are bubbling up inside me and I swear I'm going to explode at one point or anther and the holidays are coming up and you know how I get around that time and I just wanted this year to be better and easier, which makes me rethink kicking L out because that would put a rift in the holidays, maybe for new years, ok, I really need a period.

My lunch hour is coming up soon, but I don't feel like eating. I'm thanking the Goddess in my head that the phones are quiet today and that no one is really coming to the window today. What a blessing. I think I could be on the verge of an anxiety attack. I'm shaking and I can't really concentrate. Which is why I'm writing this. I'm sure no actual work is going to get done today. This sucks. This really sucks.

Well, I at least need to finish making those calls ....

I also realized - mid rant- that I've gotten fed up with a lot of things in my life. I've slowly stopped talking to my best friend because I just don't want to. Which upsets me, because I wish I could talk to someone but I don't like whining, I like solutions and at this point no one has been able to offer me that so I just stopped asking.

My irritability and emotionalism has lead me to believe that something is wrong with me, but maybe it's just the stress or the bipolar disorder or even the lack of menstruation that I've been experiencing for months because of this damn IUD.

Wow, this is a really long post.

I hate going on a rant about all the bad and stressful things in my life but it seems as though that's all I have. I think that sucks more than anything. I want more than this.

Why it’s Easy for People like Me to Get Lost in the Mix.

An introspective essay by: Khadija Charles > that weird girl that people really like but tend to forget about.

With all of the innovation that is going on in social media it’s hard to admit that I am friendless. How so, you ask. Well, yeah, I’ve got tons of friends on Facebook, and have been working a little wingspan on Twitter and I’ve also even started dabbling into things like Tumblr  and I’ve got an undercover blog on Blogspot that’s got like 2 fans, and I’ve got a work-in-progress blog on WordPress, but I don’t have friends.

What I do have is a best friend that lives all the way in Seattle and a “friend-of-emotional-convenience” that I’m having a hard time navigating my friendship with. However, that’s not to say that I don’t have people I know and like and actually consider my friends in my lonely, fiendish mind but don’t actually feel like they are when you realize you barely speak to each other. I’m closer to my estranged father than I am some of these “friends”. I’ve realized, over time, that I’m very friendly and people like me. People think I’m cool, interesting, and from time to time oxymoronic by being mysterious and open all at the same time; this leaves me being quite memorable. However, I’m also (very oxymoronically) forgettable. For a while I couldn’t figure out why and then an experience with getting employment made it all very clear.

In the state of New York, in order to work with children you have to complete a special type of background check. This one specifically checks your background for any instances of child abuse or maltreatment in your home as well as ANY home you’ve lived in for the past 28 years. Now, I never had any problem with this clearance because I don’t have any child abuse in my background, as well I’ve always only went back 10 years because everything after that gets fuzzy. However, this time, this company was requiring my entire 22 years of life in addresses. For most people this wouldn’t be an issue, but for me there were two things wrong with completing this form. One: I’ve lived in over 40 different places (5 different states 20 different cities) and Two: close to half of those places were domestic violence shelters (where the addresses have to stay confidential for the security of the women). I struggled, but eventually I got the information. It took a lot of sleuthing into my childhood emails and Google Maps, but I did it. Nevertheless, I digress; this is just a part of the problem. The problem that I realized I had was that with all the moving around I've done, I’ve conditioned myself to be the way that I am now. I’ve conditioned myself to be an oxymoron.

Wait? What? How? I know that’s the first three words that pop up in your mind, unless you’re a psychiatrist then you’re like, “I knew it!” Nevertheless, I’ve literally became what I despise most about my life right now and why I feel like I no friends. I’ve come to find that in my childhood, because I got used to the pattern of moving around a lot, it became easier for me to adjust to making (and losing) friends that way. I could make friends easily because they felt comfortable with me and it was easy for them to move on (making it easier for me to) if they could forget me just as easily. I might have left an impression, or a moment that they might call upon when they think of their childhood with a nostalgic smile and a soft chuckle, but at the end of the day, there's no hard feelings. This worked a lot in my younger years, and got more complicated to achieve as I got older and as technology came into play because now these friends wanted to “keep in touch”. However, I was just left to bear witness to their lives and how they’ve moved on. I ended up feeling resentful and jealous realizing that nothing can replace a friendship that is solidified by proximity and time. Therefore, no matter how cool, sweet, or funny I was people just wouldn’t go the extra mile to keep up an active friendship with me.

Moreover, as time went on, I became harder to want to be friends with. My life was just too complicated and too depressing. Then I discovered a few other issues that played a major factor into my lack of friends. I was suffering from Bipolar Disorder. So in a nutshell I was essentially a nut case. I can’t handle my emotions effectively and end up pulling into myself and pushing others away. In an effort to not burden people with my illness or my problems I saved them the text message breakup and just faded away. In doing that I missed out on a LOT of things, a LOT of opportunities, and a LOT of friendships. Another issue that I noted was that I’m just an oddball. I look very young, and most of the time I act very young, but I’m stepping into that weird ADULT threshold where I can act older than I actually am. I can engage in older activities, but at this point don’t have anyone to engage with.  I wrote a poem called “Weird” that was about this predicament (kind of) *warning there are expletives*:

People are weird.No let me rephrase that.I'm weird. I'm not like other people.
I don't have friends. I don't go out. I don't retell stories that start with, "I remember that time when I...when we...when this..."I don't hang out or chill or "Hey, let's do (insert awesome activity) at/on/this (insert time/day of week/month/year/season).I don't have raging Facebook posts/pics of all the places I've gone/things I've done.
Don't have rings/necklaces/bracelets or tattoos/piercings from when I went (insert awesome place).I'm fucking boring.
I don't have a black book, notches in my belt, or reasons to get dirty looks.
I don't live on the edge or between the lines.
I don't have a tag that says, "I'm cool because I've been/done/had/went/saw/was a part of... etc."I don't have a tag that says, "I'm uncool because...." you get the point.
I'm just here.Not really doing one thing or another. Not really being one thing or another. Not really fitting in, but not really sticking out. Like shit. What am I really? I guess, I’m just weird. Because I'm not weird, and I'm normal, I'm like oatmeal. Kind of bland, but I've got a dash of cinnamon and sugar so I'm not all that bad, but still there's no bang...This needs to change.

I ponder a lot on this, well mostly on that last part. How can I change this? How can I over turn years of habituation? And yet, before I even delve into that I have to ask myself, why is this an issue? What’s wrong with being a loner and having no friends? What’s wrong with just staying home and playing Lego’s with my 1 year old or gorging myself with all my favorite shows on Netflix? Well, because that’s just no way to live, especially not for a 22 year old. I was always one to preach on the soapbox that my life wasn’t over just because I had a child. And it’s not, especially when you have people waiting in the wings to babysit. If the opportunity arises I should be able to jump on it like a San Fran streetcar! But here’s the kicker, it has, and I just let that streetcar pass me by. I live in New York City! There’s no way that I shouldn’t be able to get myself out there and MAKE friends and ENGAGE in cool activities, but I can’t. Why, you ask? Well to be frank, I’m scared. And I don’t know how. These past few years have brought on a lot of changes, especially emotional ones. These changes that have turned me into a shadow of the person that I used to be, and I can’t get past that. This talent that I’ve cultivated over the years has left me hollow and shy, really shy. To top it off the problems just keep piling up and the stress just keeps pushing me down. Every once in a while I raise my hand up to ask for help and it just dangles there in the breeze, waiting. No response. This in turn pushes me farther down than I was before. And as easily as I found it to train others to forget me, I have started to forget myself. This need to change.

As a woman, a black woman at that, I cannot fall into that trap of just letting myself go. I have a daughter to raise, a black one at that. She will have the whole world trying to forget her before she’s even had a chance to make herself known. I have to show her that it’s unacceptable to fall into the shadows. I have to come out of mine, I can’t continue to wait for someone to come along, hold my hand and pull me out. If I cannot be a role model to her, than who can? If I don’t face this fear, this depression, this oxymoron, it will only get worse and I’ve beard witness to countless woman who held this as their only inheritance from their mothers. My daughter deserves better than my pitfalls, she deserves a legacy to build on. So even though I’m “normal” to some or “tainted” to others, I still take pride in being me, I think it’s time I shared that with others.  

If you can identify with some of the things I have talked about and are looking to come out of your shell you can find me at:

khadijacharles@gmail.com

Facebook.com/khadijacharles

Twitter.com/water_flowz

innovationfrminspiration.wordpress.com

linkedin.com/in/khadijacharles

You can also contact me if you are interested in being a part of a documentary I am going to be working on about slipping through the cracks.