Ghosts

Dear Diary,

Is that how I have to start? My therapist thought this would be a good idea when I can’t sleep. Tonight I can’t sleep. Again. This might work when I fall asleep from boredom. HA.

I don’t even know why I can’t sleep. I’m so damn tired all day, and I swear my head hits the pillow and my eyes spring open and my brain thinks it’s time to solve the world problems. Or remember that shitty memory. Or make me feel guilty about another. Or remind me about all the garbage I just haven't dealt with.

Shit, now all I’m remembering is that time I picked a stupid pig at the fair instead of the panda. I was like 6, why do I care? And why do I remember wanting to run back and switch which one I picked because my mom said she thought the panda was cuter? I was picking based on practicality…the pig had TWO suction cups on his feet…he’d stick to my window better. Frick, there I go again. I guess it’s nice to write it down.

It’s this thought spiral…thinking about that stupid pig just leads to thinking about that time I fell off the rings in the first grade…right into a puddle. That spirals right into that time in the seventh grade that the popular girls asked if I was trying to dress like a popular 12^th grader. Right into that time I got drunk and accidentally stole someone’s shoes, and then the broken friendship in college.

I wonder where she is? I cried so hard when our friendship broke up. Via text message. She was a shitty friend, sure. But I’d known her since the 1^st grade. Back with that damn pig. Why do I care about the pig? Did the pig break up my friendship? No. I broke it off. She told me that maybe we were friends, but not best friends. That wasn’t good for me. We’d been best friends since we were kids. I told her maybe we should take a break from being friends, if that was the case. The last time I saw her was our convocation day…we had our ceremonies the same damn day and didn’t even get to celebrate together. That sucks.

Okay, not like you can tell, but I had to take a quick journal break because I thought I heard footsteps in the hallway, and I live ALONE. Ghosts? Bandits? Frick, let’s just hope it’s ghosts. What the hell would I do if there was a robber? I like music, I have no idea how to defend myself.

That gave me a thought, my heart is pounding and I’m anxious because of this noise, but isn’t it just “ghosts” keeping me up anyways? Ghosts of stuffed pigs and old friends and wet pants on the playground.

That’s a shitty ghost. If I was going to be a ghost, I’d be a tricky ghost, not a freaking depressing ghost.

I wonder if I told them to get out like people do with ghosts on TV if they’d get out of my head.

Update: I tried, did not work.

All I can think of is the blur of shitty moments from basically birth until now. 30 years of crap. 30 years of mistakes and moments where I wish I’d taken a different road.

Why is it so hard to just remember a good moment? Why aren’t there good ghosts? This crap is like memory poltergeists…

Okay. Journal. I’m still wide awake (Thanks Dr J…really working here….) so I’m going to try and find some good ghosts.

The carpet in our first house. I was like…2? I remember that soft carpet and laying on my belly watching cartoons while my mom folded laundry. Okay…carpet ghost. Weird flex, memory, but okay.

Running around the “loop” in our basement in the new house when we moved. Shit, that one has a bad ghost, I remember the nightmares I had upstairs. That house had ghosts too, I guess.

Getting our dog. She ran away, but she came back. Neutral ghost? Shit, that led to remembering the day she died. That sucked. Bad ghost.

Being invited to a popular kid’s party, and having it go well. Graduation, and the gorgeous dress I had. Mom helped me pick it off the rack. I hated the colour until I put it on. She’s always had better taste than me. I felt so gorgeous in that dress. Good ghost. I’m going to come back and highlight that part.

Driving around “cutting laps” blaring music with my friends on Friday nights. Very good ghost.

I feel like all of these good ghosts just have bad ghosts attached. Frick, I’m therapizing myself. Maybe this is helping. Ugh. Is this seriously something people do all the time? I'm not sleepy, but I'm exhausted.

Why is it that every good memory has to have a crappy one that is just leeching off of it? Is everyone like this? Am I just really negative? Maybe that’s my issue. I think I’m a positive person when I share inspirational bullshit on my Instagram, but deep down I’m a negative asshole. Am I a pessimist? Am I broken? Am

This journal is so stupid. I’m just working myself into more anxiety going through every little problem. Maybe therapy is all a crock anyways, we’re just pulling up all the bad stuff. I thought I was going to feel better. Go into her office, get some garbage off my chest, and bam I’m a planner-using fitness guru who has her crap together and balances everything. Now I’m just lying in my bed like a teenager sitting thinking about all the “ghosts of years past”. Just call me Scrooge. Maybe my coping isn’t healthy, but it beats the hell out of sitting here trying to therapize myself at 2 in the morning. That’s what I pay Dr. J $200 a freaking hour to do.

Screw it. I’m going to take a sleeping pill and play The Sims until I fall asleep, just like every other night. These ghosts are worth my time. Until next time, “diary”. For now I’m not ready for this kind of haunting.