At the moment I'm going through a rough patch. I'm having trouble coping with this rough patch because I can't find anybody to really help me out apart from KT Tunstall who seems to interpret my feeling perfectly at this moment, for which I'm grateful. My feelings have been shoved into a jam jar and I don't feel, well, safe enough to let them all out. Hence, I feel as hollow as those giant great dead Redwood logs, making lots of noise as they go down, down down.
Anyway! Events:
- I'm now on Prozac. This gross liquid stuff thats full of sugar and is turning my life upside down. I'm stuck in this strange place between extreme hunger and extreme nausea and I can't seem to find a balance between the two so I've almost stopped eating altogether. This feels good, but it means I can't concentrate on my studies and my grades are beginning to slip. And then I slip altogether and eat like everything in sight. I'm going to become so fat, so gluttonous, so disgusting, so foul. I know it will happen, and the inevitability of it all makes me want to drive off a cliff.
- Part of the Prozac effects mean that I'm becoming quite an insomniac. I just don't feel like sleeping. I didn't sleep at all for one night, just staring at the computer screen, crying, thinking about hurting myself, crying, crying, crying. I slept for 2 hours and felt like shit for the rest of the week.
- I'm starting to give up relating to people. I'd rather just hide in my room, drink beer and whisky and read books all day. I would happily waste away like this.
- The thing is, I still want to succeed, but I'm doubting everything about me. Really, everything. If I will get a girlfriend, if I'm as clever as I used to be, if I can get through this, if I'm a good writer (I got snubbed at this years College Creative Writing Competition)
I'm not great, am I? I would love to just stay in bed and not get out, and I thought the Prozac was supposed to help with that. I got it 11 days ago. I feel like exploding. I feel like hurting myself, dying. I feel like I'm going mad. Understandably, I can't work. I have my first exam in like 4 weeks. Haven't revised, haven't devised any sort of plan. I can't coast this year. I'm on the borderline A grade for my two major subjects and I need to put the hours in. Its probably too late to try and get exam sympathy (I'm working on the nerve to talk to my cantankerous well-meaning tutor for the last time). Hmph. I feel like I'm falling.
Because I'm only on half strength of the Prozac I'll only be taking it every other day. I finish college this week. My 18th birthday is in exactly 2 weeks. My friends birthday party and my Granddad's 80th (my Grandparents Silver anniversary) are on this Saturday. I will never forget this week. I'm only able to write this all now because I was going quite crazy, and anxious, having near panic-attacks, scratching, seeing things - seeing voices, spiders, snakes, laughing bitches...
No, I'm not dead, but this isn't living either. I need help, and not the professional kind.
1 comment:
Serial Girl, in two words: Fight It. I had periods where I didn't leave the house for months, never answered the phone, ad nauseum. (So I won't bore you with the details of my own depression.) The fact that you are still making it here to create posts tells me you are on the right track. It's a better world with you in it. I lik your blog and will return.
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