More whining. Awake at 1 AM.
I can't get out of my head. I can't focus on anything but this. I feel like this helpless child, I can't do anything.
I I I I
I start every sentence with I.
I can't read anything that isn't this.
I can't bear to focus my brain on this terrible sadness.
I can't bear to focus my brain on anything but this sadness.
I cling to it. I hate it.
I used to be a "night owl." I hate the night now. I sit up in the dark and listen to C breathe. I look at the shadows cast on the wall by my bedside lamp.
I don't even know what I think about, trying not to cry. Trying not to cry too loudly.
I'm such a mess.
I tell C that maybe I should just withdraw this semester, while I figure out what I'm doing in school now. He thinks that if I just push through, I'll find it again. Fake it 'til you make it, I guess.
It took so much just to get to class this semester. To get to class without crying. To get through class without crying. But I don't participate anymore. I don't do work anymore. Sometimes I do get caught up in class discussion. But I have nothing to say. Nothing that isn't angry. Nothing productive. I sit, and in my head I think about how useless this all is. Lots of talk. Very little change.
When I was 13, I had what I guess was clinical depression. The adults called it "school phobia." I stopped doing my work, and then I stopped going to school. It was eighth grade. I would sit in the guidance counselor's office and cry. Sit in my mother's car and cry. I can still feel the damp tissue in my hand. So sad I couldn't even bring my eyes up. I just focused on the tissue, turning it, folding it over and over in my hand. I look back now and it's all very familiar.
20-odd years and tons of therapy later, I've come to understand the root of all those tears, all the sadness. I think I was sitting at a crossroads, on the verge of growing up, needing to deal with my own feelings, my family dynamics, figuring out my place in the world.
Perhaps that's what I'm doing now. Paralyzed. Not wanting to move forward, not yet. Knowing I can't go back. Oh, how I want to go back. I just want to go back.