Back to old habits.. And those awful feelings.
So the paper I was so excited about in my last entry.. Well it was due on Monday, but I know my prof really well, and I didn't think it'd be a big deal if I turned it in today. Well apparently it was.. At beginning of class, he told me he'd have to give me a 0 on it. That he wasn't accepting any late papers unless people had made arrangements with him.
So I went back to my seat and pretty much cried through all of the class. Quietly. Trying to fight it like I always do whenever I'm around other people. He told me to talk to him after class, and I knew this probably wasn't going to be pretty...
Well about 3 or 4 other kids came up and said they thought it was due Friday or something.. And he wasn't having that. Because he did say constantly it was due after Thanksgiving.. But he's a really lenient prof so I think most thought they could get away with it. Including me. Even though my paper was 90% done on Monday, just had mom edit it when I should have been turning it in..
So we go back to his office, and well, this part of the story a lot of people probably won't know.. I just had this breakdown. Balling, sobbing, about my parents divorce. Thanksgiving break wasn't so great. When I was alone, it was really hard. The night I put up the Christmas tree, I just sat on our couch, and balled.. It all hit me.
And I told Prof. Smith, that while I had originally planned on finishing it up over the weekend, my dad really wanted me to go to Madison to see Tristan with him, and I just couldn't say no. Because it meant so much to him for us to try to be together some over break. And when I got home, I was pretty much emotionally drained. And couldn't really do anything.
So because Prof. Smith knows me well, he said he knew I wouldn't normally pull something like this. And he could tell how very upset I am about everything. And he's been through two divorces himself, one where his son and daughter were involved.. All of which I already knew, which made me believe he'd understand. Which he did... He said he'd read my paper, and if it was excellent, the best he could give me was a C.. Which I understand.
The part that bothers me is that if I would've just written him and told him I was having family issues, there would've been no question I could turn it in late he said. But because of my pride, and because I refused to use my parents divorce as a crutch, and I refused to accept how truly awful I felt, I will now get docked on the paper I worked so hard on, and that I feel so great about.
But he also told me he'd only grade it if I promised to go see counseling.. Because he could tell that I'm absolutely devastated about all of this. Which I am.. I've just been trying to block out...
The worst part about all of this, is that today was the first time in a long time I've had those terrible thoughts.. I'm kind of scared of who's going to read this, but this is my journal, my spot to vent so I'm going to speak openly...
My good friends know that last fall, the worst period of my life I refer to as, I was clinically diagnosed with depression. It was awful. I hated myself. I thought about suicide every single day. And then when I was finally open about it to my parents, asking for help, they shut down. They just thought I was being a baby, and using it as an excuse as to why my grades were terrible. When really I was having emotional breakdowns at 4 in the morning, for no reason at all. Every car I met on the road I thought about what a cleanse it would be to have them accidentally cross over the line so it didn't seem to be my fault and my parents couldn't mourn that I had done anything to myself.
All of these awful ugly terrible thoughts...
And today, one came back to me. As I sat in class, thinking of what a failure I'd been to this professor who I so admired and looked up to and hoped to have as a reference someday.. And how my mom is going to question why that beautiful paper she talked about only reached a C.. And how I have so much more work to do on my other classes still but no motivation, no drive to do it.. And how it would be just so easy to go back and grab that bottle of Zoloft and just stop my pain.
And that's when I started to cry. How could I be feeling this way again? How could I even think of that? All the things I talk about wanting, my career, my wedding, my children... How could I ever think about this? Why does my mind do this? I CANNOT go down this road again. How did I let it get to this point again?
And the reason I right this in my little journal.. is because I cannot talk to anyone about this. When I feel the need to open up, I laugh it off because of my damn pride. Or my friends can't handle it and quickly change the subject.
Is this what my life is going to be like forever? Every disappointment, every struggle turns out like this?
I crave numbness right now. I've never wanted to run away so bad as I have these past few months. I've been trying so hard to stay busy, to stay focused, to forget about the situation.. And all this time, everything has just been bottling up in the back of my head, laughing at me. Ready to burst at the worst possible time.
Damn the holidays.. Damn my parents.. Damn myself. I hate this.