With paranoia on my heels

I read somewhere that only 1 in 10 adults has nightmares more than a few times a month. I wonder if that's accurate, or if it's only the experience of one very lucky person talking. I've always had frequent nightmares, though they've gotten much worse in the past year. I also have dreams where I'm just crying throughout; by the time I wake up I'm exhausted. Then there are the mornings (like yesterday, and two days before that, as well) when I wake up and have no idea what day it even is. Actually, what happens is that I dream I've already gotten up and gone off to school and gone through my day... then I wake up assuming that I took a nap and that it must be the middle of the afternoon when it is, in fact, 7:00am. Yesterday I laid in bed for a full five minutes, trying to remember what I had done the day before so I could figure out what day it was. I think I have problems.

I've had a weird few days. I called Amelia after dinner tonight (when I feel overwhelmed with depression or stress I usually feel better after a conversation with her), and she was trying to help me sort out some things. (Also, trying to talk me into being in love with some boy or another... we get far too bored without them to talk about, and when I claim that I'm not interested in anyone she'll hound me about it until she gets some sort of satisfaction. Which really only complicates things in the end... but at least she's happy...) Anyway. I'm glad I've got her. I've been realizing lately how much I don't talk about, and how hugely I explode on the occasion that it does come out. I love my parents, but it's become sort of hard to talk to them about things. There are lots of reasons, but I guess mainly it's because we're all tired, and we're all stressed - I can't complain to them and expect pity, when they're handling things that are just as difficult. Which sounds petty and selfish, I guess, but it's true. Also, I've become a bit of a masochist these days: I hate being alone because it leaves me in my head for too long... but when I'm with people, all I want is to be left alone. I'm not happier when I'm alone, per se, but it's much easier for me. It makes sense, but I can't figure out what to do with that.

There are other things, however, that don't make sense at all. Yesterday, for example. Jon and Kate were here until last night for Thanksgiving break, and after the three of us came home from church, I asked Jon some questions about Dad's sermon. He wasn't really paying attention to me while I was asking, and then took to responding with the general, "so why do we think that?" and "why do you say that?", instead of answering my questions... so I got frustrated. That much I can understand: I've always been an instant-gratification/give-me-answers-now kind of person. What I don't understand is that, when I got frustrated with Jon, I started crying. I honestly didn't know why - I wasn't even that worked up about the issues we were discussing. I just started crying. Jon then got worried about me (can't blame him), and wouldn't let me go until I had given him some reason for all this... we sat down on the top of the stairs and all of the sudden I was telling him things that I didn't even know still bothered me. About everything. We talked for almost an hour, and I was still crying. (And I don't even mean random tears and sniffling - I mean the kind of crying where you aren't actually breathing.) I feel like I wrung myself out and now I don't know what I'm left with... you know how you get that headache after you cry? That's how I've felt for the last two days. These past weeks I've actually felt pretty good - I've been keeping busy, doing pretty well in school, hanging out with people who make me happy. And then yesterday I snapped.

I guess that's what happens when you push things back and lock them up. I know you're supposed to deal with the things that bother you - I thought that I had already dealt with some of them. And with others, I honestly don't even know how to begin to deal with them. In the past few days, I've been struck again and again with the realization that I don't know a lot of things. I know that that's a good thing to know, but that doesn't mean I like it, or that I know what to do with that knowledge. I guess to just start over.

But starting over is incredibly daunting. Especially when you're at your weakest point.