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I’ve been thinking about doing a No Mercy run.

When I was younger, I would write a lot of self-insert Mary Sue kinda stories. I don’t think that’s particularly weird? I’m sure all writers start there. All characters are your weird little children born of bits and pieces of you. But I can remember, in late grade school and junior high just filling notebooks with these probably awful stories about me. I would go on scout trips and everyone else would be doing manly man stuff and I’d be sitting there writing about kissing in this notebook I wouldn’t let anyone see.

The thing about these stories, though, was that I was always the villain. Or if I wasn’t the villain, there was someone who was “me” with a different name, and the person with my name was the villain. I would cast my friends as heroes, fighting against all odds, and myself being those odds. I’d create little versions of myself that might be a hero, but pit them against me. I was normally a very reluctant villain at least? I’d apologize for what I was going to do before I’d try to kill people, or kill people. But I was always bad. I was the problem.

I guess it’s not really that surprising, given where I was as myself. I was deep in depression (it got worse, but it was there) and couldn’t help but think of myself, my real self, as anything but a problem. The idea of me existing was one that my parents and even my best friend at the time pushed back extremely hard against. I was a problem, a roadblock, to their happiness. I was a villain, or so my depression told me.

I remember in high school having this revelation where, if I was always going to be awful, a problem, a villain, I could at least raise people up while I crashed down. If I was doomed, and at that point I thought about killing myself basically constantly so it seemed likely, I could at least help others not be doomed, and be better. I could be a catalyst for raising people up. So I started to approach personal interactions this way. I put others before myself not in a “how nice, how helpful” way but in a self destructive way, most of the time. I made myself miserable doing it. I made a lot of mistakes. But just like in those stories I wrote, where I was the evil in the world, I could make others shine. There’s no light without dark, right? I did evil in those stories to make those important to me look better, looking back on them. And I did the same thing here.

Ironicus, on a podcast, talked about the No Mercy run of UNDERTALE as interesting because it lets you see the same characters in a different situation. It lets you be the villain, and see how everyone else would stand up to be heroes. I’m not doing too well mentally recently, and I find myself once again brushing up against these “anyone else but me” self-destructive tendencies, as I often fall back on when I’m not doing well. And I put on the UNDERTALE soundtrack, and I hear all the songs I didn’t hear because they’re not for Mercy. And I think about the tidbits I’ve picked up about all the fights, and all the things that happen in a No Mercy run. And I find myself thinking, what IF they were the heroes? What if all these wonderful characters I really, truly love didn’t need me, because who am I? Why do I get to help SAVE the world? What makes me so special? Wouldn’t it be better if I helped prop them up, and saw them shine?

It’s an appealing thought.

The problem is, of course, if I played No Mercy, I’d have to win, on character after character. I’d have to kill. I don’t want to do that, and I don’t want to put Frisk through that. I don’t want to put anyone through that. But it’s necessary, to be the villain. To see a True Hero. Isn’t it?

It’s a silly thought, and I know I won’t do it. But I keep thinking about it.

I worked really hard to see myself as the hero in my own story. I still work on it, every day, this idea that I am worth having a story. I am worth being something. That I’m interesting, and capable. It’s really important to do, and I wonder how much other people struggle with that feeling. Or if they do at all. I’m going to keep working on it, and be the hero, don’t worry. I mean, it’s a real fucking weird story I’m the hero of, but I’m going to keep on it. I can be the hero, AND help my friends. I can have a good life.

But I don’t know if I’m ever going to shake that feeling of being the villain.

I don’t know.

Hi.

This is hard to write, and a part of me doesn’t want to. I spend a lot of effort on the illusion that everything is okay, and that I am happy, and when I pull that mask off, I tend to fall apart in spectacular ways. It’s scary, to be honest. But all this building up a facade is not solving the problem. Another year has passed, and I still struggle with all this garbage, again and again. I should face it head on, and I should be honest. And if you’re reading this, you’re almost certainly my friend, and I owe it to you to be honest.

When I say that, I don’t mean I’ve been lying, exactly. You’re my friends. I’m not lying to you. It’s not a lie, the things I talk about and do and care about and get excited about. I am all those things, no doubt. But I am often throwing them up in front of you as a distraction, making them more public than I perhaps should, and praying that you don’t see the depressed ball behind the curtain. If I do lie, it’s only by omission, and it’s only about this stuff, really. I’m sorry if that’s painful to hear.

So last night, for hours, I basically argued with my boyfriend. I was going to kill myself, and he needed to promise me he’d take care of Mr. Q. He wouldn’t promise that, of course. Not while I was like that. But we talked and fought and finally I tired myself out and went to sleep. I woke up today not much better, though I’m getting stuff done, I suppose. I think back on last night and it is just… I am horrible for doing those things. For thinking them, and saying them out loud, and making them real. I shouldn’t have. But there it is.

I wish I could say that was uncommon, but honestly, it’s really not. Last night was especially bad, yes. Normally I have suicidal thoughts, but I am not motivated to go through with them. Last night I had nothing like that holding me back. But I have these sorts of nights, moments, periods, or what have you, fairly regularly. I often call them panic attacks, or just attacks, but I don’t know what they are, perse. Maybe there’s a specific name for them. I don’t know. They’re often triggered by my anxiety (I’m always anxious about everything) getting out of control, often because a plan or a schedule I have set up doesn’t work out or is otherwise changed. I know it’s going to happen before it does, usually. I can feel myself start to fall apart. There’s a pressure in the back of my head a lot of the time, or I just get really tense. If I can, I go to bed when this happens, to quarantine myself, and because when I sleep it’s normally gone after. That’s not always an option. Sometimes I try to read, to refocus. This doesn’t always work, but sometimes it helps me hold off until I can go to sleep.

When it happens, I lose a lot of control. I shiver and shake. I often can’t talk. I repeat words and phrases over and over again when I try. Some common ones are “I’m sorry,” or “I’m awful,” or “No,” or “I can’t.” I can sing though, and I often sing songs about how happy everyone will be when I’m dead and how much I deserve it. If I can talk, I am normally constantly mumbling about my many imagined slights against the world and my own uselessness. I twitch my hands constantly, contort them hard, kind of painfully, because it makes me feel like I have some control. If I’m hiding a hand behind my back, I am probably doing this. I cry over nothing, so hard that I can’t breathe, and panic even more. I often try to bash my head against the wall out of some strange belief that this will make me calm down. I succeed more than I should, especially when I think I won’t get caught. It doesn’t normally calm me down for more than a few seconds. I’m kind of glad that’s all I do, because I’m sure if I didn’t have a fear of knives I’d probably do worse.

My life is a lot better than it used to be. This used to happen almost nightly, and I’d lock myself in my room and just shiver and cry. Nowadays, I’d put it at maybe once every two weeks? But sometimes I have little chain combos of several nights in a row, when life is hard, and I’ll often have close calls, where I feel it happening, but manage to calm down in time.

There’s not a lot my boyfriend can do when this is going on. He tries. He puts up with a lot, and I owe him a lot. I do a lot better because he is there, and I have something to focus on, and he has basically figured out when I am going to have problems and will just tell me I should go to bed before things happen. He’s often notices me mumbling, or my breathing messing up, before I do. I can’t believe he puts up with this, but he does. It means more to me than I know.

When I’m around people, I hide this. Even if I am having a bad day, I bury it, most of the time. I can’t let myself be seen out of it. I want to be someone who is not a burden. This stuff will make my friends sad. It will make them upset. I have to keep it together around them, so they don’t know. I have no problem acting. I will be panicking, be around someone and seem perfectly fine for hours, but the moment I’m alone again, I will go right back to panic. I don’t know what that says about me. Maybe that’s a really bad sign that I can do that, and hide everything so easily.

But I need to be honest. I need to be honest about my problems.

I’m not really okay. Not as often as I should be. It’s not all the time, and I stopped it from controlling all of my life a long time ago, and that’s why I’m here today. But I’m not okay a lot of the time. I wanted you to know. You’re my friends. I love you.

I’m not going to give up, and I have wonderful people here in person to support me. You don’t need to worry about me, I promise. But I just wanted to remove one more mask that I used to need to survive, but does me no good now. One more coping mechanism that has persisted, but probably has no place in the life I’m trying to build. I hope that’s okay.

Again, I love you. Thanks for listening and caring about me. It means more to me than I can say.

I’m going to write about what happened, because I still don’t really know.

Basically, my boss e-mailed me saying that my syllabi were not up to the guidelines they have at the college. There were some crossed wires, and I didn’t do them right. He did not paint this as a big deal, but just laid out what the guidelines were to make sure I fixed it. I e-mailed him back, apologizing, and saying I’d fix them as soon as possible.

Then I freaked the fuck out.

For whatever reason, this bit of information caused me to panic so badly that I couldn’t work, couldn’t sleep, and still feel emotionally exhausted and taxed as I write this right now. I could not handle the fact that I had let my new boss down, who I feel has done a lot for me and put a lot of faith in me, on something so trivial that caused him to waste his time chasing me down. This minor setback, in the grand scheme, was, in my head, a herald of how terrible a teacher I am and how I can’t cut it. This is not true. I’m a great teacher, and I know it. I make mistakes like everyone, and I’m learning these new classes, but I am a great teacher. But in that moment, I was convinced. I had wondered if I was doing those right, and had decided that it was fine, and that turned out wrong. I was a failure.

I called people. I freaked out. It took me hours to calm down so I could sleep, and again, I’m still shaken. I can’t remember the last time I have fallen apart like this. It’s literally been years since I had such a downward spiral where I was convinced of my own worthlessness. I’ve been getting help. I’ve been transitioning. These aren’t thoughts I have every moment of the day anymore. But here we are.

Brer says I’m under a lot of stress. I agreed to this trip, which I’m worried about planning. I’m working more than ever before, with classes I’m unfamiliar with and a sleep schedule I still haven’t totally gotten the hang of. I’m running this Mafia game, which takes a lot of work and I take probably way too seriously than I should. I’ve got a lot of plates spinning. He says that for whatever reason, this just ended up being the thing that opened the floodgates. I guess I can understand that. But that doesn’t leave me with much knowledge of what to do about it. None of these things are things I’m willing to let go, and I’ve got this job interview Wednesday which, if I get it, means even MORE stress for this semester. Plus, Brer moving in, waiting and figuring all that out… I don’t know what I can do to relieve that pressure if that’s really what’s going on.

I just… I wonder if that stress is why I’ve been feeling sick to my stomach all the time. Not like, enough to throw up or for it to stop me? But just a general feeling. I don’t know.

I’m going to get what I need to do done. I’m going to let Aesa visiting help relax me. I’m going to survive. That was never in question. I’m no longer in the ending it all business. I’m going to survive.

I just hope stupidity like last night doesn’t happen again.

I freaked out like an idiot last night. I still feel terrible. Everything must be perfect, but things fell out of place. I’ve been trying hard to not go overboard on being down on myself for something that, in the long run, will not be anything.

Anyway, so there’s probably not going to be any content worthwhile here today… sorry.

How’ve you been doing?

I’ve been doing pretty shitty, so… that’s good. I suppose.

Standing up for yourself sucks. It really, truly does. There is rarely any time when standing up for yourself makes things easier, or makes you feel good. It’s a constant battle. A constant struggle. Especially when something this huge, this big is on the line, it’s really tough.

I’ve tried to tell my parents this. I’ve tried to tell them how every dream I have for the future, everything I want requires this. I’ve tried to tell them how long this has been going on, and how much it means to me. I tried doing it by being soft, by being gentle. But they wouldn’t get it.

So I put my foot down on Monday.

There were a lot of tears, and a lot of “you didn’t warn me” talk, which is silly because they’ve known this stuff for years. I only exploded once, and that was because Mom’s talking about me as if I was going to be dead after this really made me angry because it really hurt. I did my best to not waffle. I remade my points again and again. I didn’t let them tell me things that weren’t the truth, because I know the truth about me. I’m me. I know why I’m doing these things, and I know how I feel. How do I feel? Shitty. Really shitty. What’s the solution? To deal with my problems, not to hide from them. Especially not to hide from them for my parents’ sake.

I love them both so much. This is really, really fucking hard. To listen to my Mom beg for “just one more year, just one more thing to be proud of” like she will never have anything to be proud of ever again… it hurts. A lot.

The good things that have come out of this is that they will be talking to my psychiatrist soon, like they should have months ago. In addition, my dad said he was trying. Nearly in tears, he told me he was trying to understand. Trying to figure out how to help me. That made me sob. That meant so, so much to me. I don’t expect them to just get it instantly… but that he’s trying… that’s important. That’s meaningful.

Anyway, I have a class to teach, somehow… I’m going to try not to be super-depressed. I’m going to try to keep functioning. Have so far, even if it’s been a bit robotic. I’m going to get things done…

Dammit…

Since last Friday, say, I’ve been in a horrible depressive funk. It’s kind of shitty. I’ve been working on Assassin’s Creed 2 and hiding to attempt to combat this, but I don’t know how well it’s gone. I’ve basically been lashing out at Brer and being pretty stupid and secluded. Cara said I was “absent.” I guess that works.

I really wish I had a handle for why I get like this. I mean, I have theories. I’m burning all my social energy and I’m running out, or my body just decides it’s not going to take any more and needs a break. I don’t know. I just hate how awful I am. I hate not really understanding why I feel so horrible, and I hate that these situations have come back. I used to be able to ignore them, or at least keep them to one evening, but this shit has gone on for like 4 days and may still continue. I don’t know.

Anyway, moodiness sucks and I hate it, the end.

Still, I guess it’s nice to have a little time to indulge it. And I survived the semester with a 4.0, even with everything I was fighting with the whole time.

I have it together. Kind of. Even if I am completely broken sometimes.

Yep.

I’ve been having some really bad mood day lately.

Uselessly, I’ve been trying to pin down why. I mean, I know that I have had a lot of shit on my plate recently. Lots of things are going on here at the end of the semester. But it seems like that’s just making it worse. It isn’t the cause. It feels like there’s something deeper behind it, that I can’t get to, and I can’t figure out. I try and I try to connect the dots and figure it out, but I fail. It’s so damn frustrating.

It’s like there’s a hollow place in my stomach, and then a pressure on my chest. It makes it hard to breathe, and sometimes I have to just stop, and focus on breathing for awhile. It’s really kind of annoying. Brer says it sounds like anxiety, so I’ve been using that word, but hell if I know.

Basically, yeah, if you’ve seen me looking like shit recently, it’s probably that which was going on. People have been asking me if I’m alright, so I feel like it’s been pretty bad this last week and whatnot. Which is annoying. I don’t want to bring people down with my stupidity. But what are you going to do, I guess. I’m doing what I can to combat it. I’m getting my work done, I’m seeing a doctor, and so on. Not like I can do much more than keep working on it.

Work work work, etc etc etc.

I’ve been feeling fairly stressed lately.

I mean, I’ve been getting everything done. That’s not the problem. But to fit in everything I have going on, my life has sort of become hyper-scheduled. I like routine, but I like my routine to have big spaces of nothing where I can just do whatever strikes me as a good idea to decompress. I’m really not getting that this semester. Most of that kind of time in my schedule is being eaten up by driving to St. Louis for my appointments and such. It’s 5-6 hours of free time I’d have every week eaten up by it. I mean, it’s not wasted time, but it is time I am losing.

I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t been sleeping right. Maybe I still haven’t gotten into the swing of things. But feeling stressed sucks. I used to run away from it and basically failed two years of college because of it, you know? I had thought I was pretty good at getting such things away from me. But as I think ahead to, say, when I’m going to get to continue working on Mass Effect 2 and beating it, it really gets to me, because I can’t think of a good time to do that. Much less run my KoL turns, be involved in the Twilight Heroes event, finish Forumwarz Episode 3… so many fun goals I want are just completely set aside. That sucks.

I’m going to survive without problem, you know? It’s not a problem. It’s not enough to break me. But it is certainly testing me, which is very unfortunate. I wish I could be having a low-stress time. But there’s so much happening in my life, it just doesn’t seem like it’s going to work out that way, at least not for this semester.
Oh well.

Well… okay… I guess I did go see a psychologist who has very much experience with gender identity issues Monday.
Yeah, I guess I am going to be seeing her weekly now.

I… yeah.

I mean, I really like this woman. She is just… very happy that I’m there. That positive energy does so, so much for me when this shit is so hard, expensive, and inevitably conflict-creating. I don’t need another thing to keep me away.
I even screwed this first meeting up: I got completely lost trying to find her office, and in the end, I wasted over half my session driving around in St. Louis. It was kind of my fault. I didn’t leave super-early, like I should have, because I was worried that I would sit in the parking lot for an hour and go insane with worry, which… was the last thing I wanted. So I didn’t, and I was late. Still, she was very understanding, and wonderful. It’s going to be a good thing.

It’s all going to be a good thing. This is the start. I… well, I sure as hell waited to the last possible minute of the year, of the decade, to start fixing this… but hey, at least I did it, right?
Right.
It’s been a long, long time coming. It’s certainly not any easier. But… yeah.

Deep breath now. Here we go.

The way I work is fucking weird, man.

I don’t know. It was but a day or two ago that I had some really great conversations, some really great time with some really great people, and I felt refreshed, not only just in general but in preparing to start on the huge, complicated quest of getting all that transitioning stuff out of the way. Man, I have great friends, great people around me, and I was just going to go do it, you know? Get it done. Make it happen.

And then, the next day, I took a huge downswing.

I can’t remember the last time I took such a horrid downswing and felt so depressed, actually. I really don’t know what is wrong with me. Am I just punishing myself for actually looking forward to the future for once? Does something inside me think that, even though it’s all completely possible, that it’s not completely possible? Or is it just nerves in thinking about it making me weaker and more vulnerable to an already existing condition?

I don’t know. But I felt pretty horrible emotionally Friday, and as I write this, it hasn’t really gone away.

I told Brer the other day that I am a stronger person than I was a year or two ago. That I can make a plan and get things done now. But maybe that’s wrong. Maybe I’m still the same stupid girl who’s hiding up with her computer all day so she doesn’t have to face the biggest change of her life. Certainly the diploma I’m about to have won’t change anything. But I thought how much better I was doing in getting said diploma was a sign that I had mostly put this shit behind me.

Bleh. Blah.

I’m going to work through all this anyway. I’m going to find phone numbers on Sunday before I let myself play what I hope is my treasure trove from raiding Best Buy, and I am going to call them Monday. I’m going to set up appointments, and I will make things happen. Somehow I will afford them. It will work.
Then why does just typing that make me have such a huge knot in my stomach?