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I totally forgot

Apr 17, 2009 - 0 comments
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... what I was going to say.  I saw Kristen today and it felt like an eternity.  My appointment was at 9 and I was running a bit late (as usual).  We both agreed that since I feel AND look so sh!tty, we're going back to two sessions per week instead of the short lived unrealistic optimism of every other week to once a month.  This is lame.  

I'm losing my mind.  Everything is getting worse - I can't see anything anymore, I'm on a plateau (from 32 down to 28), I'm exhausted (15% tired, 85% zero energy), I'm lonely (but I don't want to be in the company of others), I'm depressed and crying (I keep thinking about what's going on in my so called family - all the secrets, lies, lack of trust and respect; blah, blah, blah.  It's all BS.), stressed out (school), annoyed (Ashford keeps trying to contact me).  I can go on and on.  

Kristen said she wants to work on things I can do when I feel like this.  I told her I'm 23, hasn't that been enough effort towards trying to feel better?  You can doubt me, but I've tried everything at least twice, that includes medication, psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, cognitive behavioral therapy, hospitals; different mind sets, different times, different places ... and no success.  

"How do I live my life," she asks, "what is it like on a daily basis?"  I tell her I wake up at six am, take Nico outside, usually clean for at least two hours, maybe eat lunch, usually go over to the plant and talk to Donna/Bonnie/Bobbie/Sandy/Lucy for a while, take out trash, line things up, usually pick up some medication (seriously, on a daily basis), maybe see Alex, clean some more, line more things up, organize more stuff, maybe go to Wal-Mart and walk around endlessly to kill time and then organize stuff, come home, take my medication, shower, and rest my eyelashes.  

It doesn't sound like much, I know, but it is pretty time consuming.  I hate that living life means keeping busy aka distracting myself from reality.  That's not living and I am irked that I have to do that to maintain some small percentage of sanity.  It makes me feel as fake as Abby is.  (Narcissistic beeeyootccchhh.)  

Life isn't supposed to be pretending things are going to get better or distracting yourself from pretending things are going to get better.  Optimism: stay busy.  Realism: stay distracted.  Pessimism: stay hidden.

Uggghhh.  I'm so wiped out from all of this ****.  I'm curious to know at what point am I finally going to give in?  

I wonder if it's possible to grow into mental retardation?  I'm not trying to be a jerk, but I feel like that's what's happening to me.  I'm losing all of my senses and I'm in a stupor.  My coordination has gotten really bad.  I keep dropping things or falling - constantly.  I can't hold anything and I don't know why.  It's like my brain isn't linking to my actions.  It's not even a delayed response.  If I pick something up, I will drop it at least three times before someone will pick it up for me.  (It's funny how other people can become embarrassed for you.)  I keep slipping in the shower, or on floors that aren't slippery.  I trip on the stairs and I have actually fallen.  Most people don't actually FALL, they usually just TRIP.  But I've fallen.  I've collapsed, wiped out, you name it, I've done it.  

Another issue at hand is the fact that I can't concentrate on driving - for some reason I just kind of zone out and at the last second, I realize I was lucky enough to have gone through a green light.  I don't feel distracted.  It's like moments go by on their own.  This isn't the same as my manic catatonia.  This is creepy, like paranormal - and I don't even believe in that stuff.  

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