Ventilation
Okay so I don’t talk about my personal life on here a lot, I like to be vague about it, but I’ve been feeling sort of stressed and the idea to vent some of it here won’t get out of my head. Stuffed behind spoiler tags of course. This is mainly for my own benefit so, you know, move along, we don’t need to see your identification and all that.
Okay so I’ve never actually structured these sorts of things? I’ve made short miscellaneous complaints on Tumblr but those usually cap at a handful of lines. If you’re reading this, please bear with me, I guess? And please don’t worry, I really, really don’t want anyone to worry. I’m going to be okay.
So, um…might be going a bit far back, but Fall 2013 I started attending a college that offers free counseling sessions, and I was at a point where I realized I really could probably use some professional help and the benefits would outweigh my concerns. I’ve been doing these fairly regularly since then, though I didn’t have any last summer, and the semester after that, it took me a while to work my courage back up (kind of) to go back since the counselor I had been seeing had left. But, it has been helpful! It’s nice to get things off my chest, and to have someone who knows what they’re talking about give me advice and help me start to deal with some things. They’ve also said that I seem like I might have anxiety and depression, and…I don’t know, just having a name to put on my issues makes me feel a little better, like they’re more legitimate, I guess? That’s a whole ball of wax in and of itself, though.
And while I do believe the counseling is a huge help, I’ve still been feeling more and more burnt out with every semester that passes. Last semester I had my first dropped class and my first failed class. Going into 2015, I felt like I was in a rather dark place, especially with other things I knew were on the horizon, BUT, once I got back to regular counseling sessions, I started to feel pretty good! Even if I wasn’t actually doing better on the academic side of things…even if I was actually doing worse than last semester on that side of things. Needless to say, that, ah, came to an end, ahaha…
2015 has been somewhat rough. My motivation for school (and everything else) has continued to plummet, my work has implemented a change that makes everything ten times more hectic and has the added effect of drawing in a lot more customers, tensions between my father and one of my sisters escalated to the point where the latter was kicked out, and that sort of seems superfluous when you consider that my father has spent a lot of time now telling us we’re going to have to be out of the house by the end of April. Not that I have any idea how to get an apartment, get sort of anxious about it, don’t really make a whole lot of money, and of course that’s right around finals week so there’s that. This matter especially has weighed kind of heavily on me for some reason. Can’t imagine why!
I decided to drop a class again this semester and, after talking with my counselor and doctor, decided it might be beneficial for me to start taking some medication. I had always alternated between fearing medication and hoping for some miracle cure, but I reasoned that both scenarios were fairly ridiculous and there was no harm in trying. So, I was given a low-power medicine to try out, and after taking it I actually felt better! I was calmer and was able to get some things done and didn’t worry much at all. That lasted a few hours. Then, as I lay in bed wondering why I wasn’t asleep yet, I realized I felt like my heart was about to explode and my soul was being ripped out through my face so someone could strangle me with it. Fancy way of saying I had what was probably the worst panic attack of my life, after not having any particularly severe bouts of concentrated anxiety in a while. I then politely returned the pills to my doctor and thanked him for his time.
I had to take a day to recover from that. I slept better the next night, and I felt good. Night after that, I felt like I was skirting another panic attack and had to get up and surf the net aimlessly to prevent it. Since then I’ve been falling asleep to The Lego Movie every night so I have something to distract me. (Herein lies a bright side: I’ve developed an even deeper appreciation for this movie and caught a few things I missed before.) Oh, and a day or two after that someone rear-ended me at a stoplight. Everything’s fine, no lasting harm done, just feel the need to make note of my very first car accident. Milestones are important!
School has only gotten worse since then. I stopped going to one class because I hadn’t turned in anything and had no ideas for the assignments. Fiction Writing had already been bothering me with a few stories, but I thought I could get through it. Wrong about that one, and now I’ve decided I can’t go back there either. I at least wanted to finish out Japanese, since this was my fourth semester and the last class I can take at the branch I’m attending, but then I did a terrible job on a project and, when attempting to give a destined-to-be-terrible presentation on it, I completely froze up. The teacher said she would give me another chance on Monday and I already knew that no, this wasn’t going to get any better, this just…no. So there you go, I gave up on every single class this semester. That deserves a medal of some kind, right?
The presentation incident was this past Friday. Saturday night I felt another surge of panic for the first time in a while (it’s been at least a month, I think?) so I got next to no sleep, and Sunday, I felt like I needed to call off work or something bad was going to happen. They didn’t give me any problem when I told them I was sick and felt like I was going to puke. What? I sure wasn’t going to tell them the truth! If I knew how to explain these sorts of things in a way that I thought would sound legitimate, then I would have contacted my Japanese teacher by now. Heck, half the time even I don’t know if these problems are legitimate. I certainly can’t hope to convince someone else if I’m also a skeptic, right?
…It’s just…going back to my alternating thoughts on medication, the “miracle cure” thing obviously didn’t pan out (and was never going to, I realize), but that’s not the real problem. The real problem is that the part of me that fears medication was proven right. And now, something that I had begun to think might help me has been pulled out from under me, so I feel even more vulnerable. So that just sort of magnifies everything else that’s going on, and it turns out I still don’t know how to effectively deal with any problem or emotion no matter how simple. I’m…probably being hyperbolic, yes, but that tendency has been documented for ages now.
Though, it’s certainly not all bad! I still have my counselor; my mother has been very supportive and understanding; my sister (the one who got kicked out) has given me some apartment listings and I’ve begun to pursue one, plus I’ve been alerted to a cheap house nearby that I could realistically pay for if I lived there with my other sister; and, after accidentally going near a month without counseling sessions, I started making a list of little good things that had happened and I think that does help me to calm down. (Most of those I’ve gone over in past blog posts, probably.) I’ve been able to tell myself that there are completely legitimate reasons for me being so stressed out right now. I remember telling myself that I had made a lot of personal progress, and once the outside stuff went away, I’d be able to better utilize that progress and develop at a much faster rate. Heck, even during that awful panic attack a month or so ago I was able to feel a little better by taking the good part of the experience as proof that these problems were the disease, not me (which is something I’ve struggled a lot with), and feel like I might be tougher than I thought if I was able to get through that experience.
I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, and it’s already so long. If there is anyone reading this, I just want to say again: please, please don’t worry, I hate making people worry and that’s part of why I really don’t do this a lot. I’m sure things will work out, I just…need a ridiculous amount of downtime to make them do that, I guess. I have my faith, I have people to rely on, I have hobbies I’m ridiculously invested in and can rip lines from to inspire myself (Aqua and Garnet know what they’re talking about!). It may take a while, but I’m going to be okay, and that’s not something I was saying when this year started.
And if there really is someone reading this, then thank you. God bless you. Certainly nobody needs to read it, but…I don’t know, it just sort of feels good to think someone might, I guess? So thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
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