at least it wasn't a huge anxiety attack like last time. instead, it was an angry-at-the-world-and-hysterically-crying-and-wanting-to-punch-holes-in-the-walls-and-screaming-at-the-voices-and-hating-myself kind of thing
you know what i mean?
i'm still pissed and i feel pretty screwed up. when i'm on meds, i feel like a zombie. when i'm off meds, i freak out a lot.
lesson learned: don't lie when therapists and psychiatrists and doctors ask you questions.
on the other hand, lying and hiding and stuffing it all down is necessary to get by while in public aka school. because i'm not sure what would happen if i freaked out during class. even a little.
but it probably wouldn't go so well.
haven't heard from OVR either about my application for financial aid regarding school. i need to call there too and figure out wtf is going on with that because apprently they never contacted financial aid at school like they said they would either.
this sucks. sucks. sucks.
i can't be emotional in front of people. i automatically try to hide it. maybe i'm secretly ashamed that i'm such a freak?
or maybe i just want to people to think i can deal with it on my own.
i don't have time to go back to a hospital.
and besides, every time i go to one, i shut off all the craziness long enough to get out of there.
plus, when i end up showing that screwed up side to anyone, they suddenly want nothing to do with me. i freak out once and i'm out. if i break down, people run. far away. or hate me. act like i'm a horrible person, even.
i don't know.
either way, meds or no meds, help or no help, i feel kinda screwed over. it's like... life can be hollow or life can be scary. ew.
yes, this is the point when i realize that life won't ever be worked out for me. there will always be this constant struggle.
okay, i probably realized that a long time ago.
i used to want to be really unique. now i'd rather be "normal" or "average."
i wanted to be special, but not like this.
the only progress i feel i've made is that i don't cut anymore. i haven't for months. and i feel good about that. i feel good that instead of giving in to the voices, i fight back. that's probably a good sign.
i still need help. but with no insurance, i can't get any. this is probably a bad thing. i'm going to try to, yet again, get a hold of my caseworker on Monday.
meanwhile, well, i do my best to cope.
and i keep singing.
all my love,