I have this majorly difficult midterm exam of essay questions for a law class. It is a take home exam and I have to be done with it tomorrow. I haven't gotten halfway through it because I cannot. read. the. material. and. I. cannot. think.
I went to get my shot today, fully aware that I don't know when the last time I got it was. See, last week, I went in to get it and the medical assistant said, "No, you're too early, it's not until Friday of next week." I knew she was wrong on this, but I don't have the chart to prove I'm right, so I dumbly just left. I go in today, being that it is now the day she told me to return. The other medical assistant says, "You haven't gotten your shot since September 17th," as he looks at my chart. It is supposed to be every two weeks, and it has now been a month since I had it.
No freakin' wonder I'm going batshit crazy here! On top of EVERYTHING ELSE I have been without the one stalemate drug that actually really works for me much of the time! And I was so freakin' out of it lately, that it didn't even occur to me to make a fuss and make them give me the shot.
I can't even begin to describe to you the disastrous state of my life right now. My apartment is like something you would see in an episode of Hoarders. It is disgusting, beyond recognition. There are flies flying around. I can't even remeember the last time I washed dishes or laundry. I don't even know. I obviously don't really care. This is not feasible, to try to live like this.
I've begun to think that I should have shot myself when I almost did seven years ago. I'm not sure how this thought started creeping in recently, and I know it sounds bizarre considering my last post about "how I found hope", but it's true. The poem, "Richard Cory" comes to mind a lot. "Whenever Richard Cory went downtown/ we people on the pavement looked at him/ he was a gentleman from sole to crown/ clean favored and imperially slim/ and he was always quietly arrayed/ and he was always human when he talked/ but still he fluttered pulses when he said/ "good morning", and he glittered when he walked/ and he was rich, yes richer than a king/ and admirably schooled in every grace/ in fine we thought that he was everything/ to make us wish that we were in his place/ so on we worked and waited for the light/ and went without the meat and cursed the bread/ and Richard Cory one calm summer night/ went home and put a bullet through his head.
I just wrote that from memory. I memorized it about 17 years ago. It has come back to my mind for a reason. Everything is a mess! I am going to fail this midterm. I can't drop the class. I can't pass the class without doing well on the midterm. I can't do anything other than what I already did do as far as accomodations; I got extra time on it with the "disabled" label. And that isn't going to make a bit of difference, since I can't read. So I could have an extra YEAR, and it wouldn't really matter.
Why did I ever think I could get through college? I don't recall now.
I think this blog is a very self-centered thing, and it occurs to me that I should stop writing on it. Someone jokingly said to me something about me being self-centered the other day. I took it seriously. I think it's true. Who writes blogs about their lives for seven years?
Someone has been emailing me claiming to be a reader of this blog, but I don't know who it really is. So I became convinced it was this "friend" I used to have, who I was obsessed with for like 15 years because my brain is a disaster. And so now, not only do I not know if the guy writing to me is that guy mascarading as someone else, but I also went and told the real "friend" that this is what I am thinking, so he now thinks I am totally insane. Not that I can argue otherwise.
And the best part about that is there is no real friend in the whole story. That's the truth. Because neither one of these real/fake/whatever people actually wants to be my friend. And it wouldn't matter if they did because I'll never meet these people.
I am so pathetic, it is really hard to explain to you how pathetic I actually am. I hardly ever bother mentioning this, because it is so hard to explain, but I go around all the time thinking people are other people, or people are CIA agents, and they're doing mind control on me. Do you know what it's like to live like that? I know that it is hell, because I know that there have been times when I was not like this and it was such a huge relief to be LEFT ALONE without the paranaoia. But then it comes back. I'm paranoid all over again, and I see things in license plates, like the word "ASH" meaning, "You're going to be ash in the concentration camp after they put you through the oven", and I freak out over it. I sit and do my job at work like everybody else, and you wouldn't know, you really wouldn't know, from looking at me, that I'm silently freaking out, but I am. I am freaking out all the time.
I think this whole past year has been one big nightmare. I'm trying to recall when it wasn't so bad. I know I somehow got A's in all my classes last year. So that part must have not been so bad, or I would have failed. But I don't remember it as not so bad. I remember it like one big, psychotic nightmare. At least, at times like right now, anyway. Right now I can't think of a lot of positive things to say. You may have noticed the slight difference between my post about hope last night, and this horrid thing I'm writing today. I guess it is just hitting me that I'm failing this midterm.
I don't think I can travel next summer like I wanted to. I was going to actually attempt to get a scholarship and go to Europe, but I don't think it is feasible. I have been psychotic more often than not for over a year straight. Mostly, I was really psychotic all last fall, and then I got really psychotic again last spring, and I stayed that way ever since. So that is most of the past year. In other words, what am I thinking, even dreaming that I can go to another country on a four week trip like this? I can't even do my laundry! I can't even function! I don't even know when I last washed my hair! I got a manicure today, because I had this stupid nail polish that you can't remove unless you go and get another manicure, so I am sitting there in all honestly thinking, I hope this woman rubbing lotion on my hands can't tell that I didn't take a shower in the past few days. That is so disgusting! What the heck is wrong with me?
I missed my appointment with the psychiatrist yesterday because I woke up, and thought about how much energy it would take to get myself there, and then said, "screw it, I'm not going". So I didn't go, so I didn't get to tell her that I am taking myself off Navane. So that is what it is. So my medication regimen is kind of messed up right now.
There is no food here. Literally, I mean there is one really gross frozen meal - an enchilada, it's disgusting - and that there is half a bag of frozen dinner rolls. That is all the food in my apartment. I just don't bother anymore. I just go to McDonald's for breakfast and get sandwiches from 7-11 or some place for lunch. I don't even know what the reason is for why it's too complicated to go grocery shopping, but it just is. It is just too complicated, and too overwhelming, and I cannot deal. I just cannot deal with anything.
Every time I hear a police siren, I think they're going to get me. And I think how they'll come to the door, take a look around, and say, "YOUR APARTMENT IS CONDEMNED", and they'll throw the handcuffs on me and cart me off to the hospital, and I'll lose my job, and I'll drop out of school, and when I get out I'll just want to commit suicide and I'll be homeless. Why do I think all this? Because this is what all has occured in the past. And I never, ever get to forget that because I'm still just as mentally disturbed now as I was then. The only difference is, I'm used to being this way now. It's not surprising or anything.
Sure there are good things I could think of if I really tried to be grateful and consider positive aspects of life, but at the moment, I would prefer to be dead. I feel like my whole life is just a pathetic joke. I haven't had a boyfriend or gone on a date in five years. I don't have any close friends who I actually like who I ever see. I don't really. I have a ton of acquaintances, and that is all they are. I don't know them and they don't know me. When I tell people I have a mental illness, they act like I'm a freak, and that's how I know, we'll never be close friends, because they're afraid of me. I have some friends who know, and I know that they don't understand. So I can't think of them as close friends, because when you have problems but you can't call someone on the phone to talk to them about it, then they're not your close friend.
I'm just so tired of everything.
"I myself am hell.
-Robert Lowell, "Skunk Hour"
Just so you are clear on this, if you are reading this, this is NOT a suicide note, and I am NOT going to kill myself, and I do NOT need anyone to call the police and send them after me, because that is probably the absolute worst thing that could be done to me right now.