I rarely think about the past...

Jun 17, 2010 02:59

It's been so long since I wrote here that I've almost forgotten what I used to use it for. Feelings, mostly, I guess, although I have so few of those these days that it's hard to know where to begin.

So, the time stuff - I'm in the final year of my Masters Degree in a subject that bores me, aiming for a job that will let me pay off my HECS debt in about 20 years. I guess I just want to be out and in the world, working and not dealing with the stuff that goes along with being a student.

I've been on Lithium for a couple of years now, finally got the diagnosis that I needed. I'm not manic any more, but I still struggle with the depression. Haven't wanted to kill myself seriously in a while, 'though, which is nice.

Just before my exams last year I was in a pretty major car accident that fucked up my head and my neck pretty badly. I thought I'd got over it, but it turns out that PTSD can strike well after the original incident - hence why I've had 3 hours of sleep last night, have been up since 6:30am and am still awake at 2:42 the following morning - insomnia's a bitch. The flashbacks are worse, but I only get those when I'm trying to sleep, so thank G-d for small mercies, huh?

In the flashbacks, it doesn't always happen the way it really happened. In some, I'm sitting in the passenger seat, I hear the first bang and then watch from outside as I see what's left of my head through the window. In some, I'm too drunk to remember to put a seatbelt on and feel my head go through the windshield as I disappear into some guy's front lawn. In some, I'm sitting up and the glass shatters around me and I go to walk out of the car but I can't move my hands or legs and all I can do is lie there and hope that I've bruised my brain enough that I'll fall gently asleep so I won't have to spend the rest of my life locked in a body that I hate.

Most of the time, it's the same. The first bang, the jolt upwards, the second bang, the glass falling all around me, my phone flying out of my hand and onto the seat, trying to find it and cutting my hands on the glass and running out through the hole where the door used to be and running down the street until I can't smell the petrol any more and lighting up a cigarette with the nice lesbian nurse from the aged care home down the street because I can't think of anything else to do. The hours and hours in the emergency department in a collar the next day while I shiver and ask for more blankets and my mother and best friend try not to cry in front of me.

Today has been a rough day. No sleep, I fucked up an exam, and then I was determined to have a good day when I got a link to someone who I thought was my friend pointing me out to the the world as a shining example of someone who constantly judges him and who makes his life difficult.

Funny thing is? I envy him. He's intelligent, stable, has a great partner, has dealt with the shit in his life with far more aplomb than I ever had, and makes me feel insecure just to be around. He's an amazing person, and apparently thinking that and trying to do my best to act on it isn't enough. Or maybe I'm just an asshole, I don't know.

All I know is that I'm currently the closest to crazy that I've been in a long time. I haven't wanted to hurt myself in years, but that's back. Part of that is the PTSD, but it's worse tonight than it has been. Part of it is the exam stress and the lack of sleep, but...

I can't help feeling like I'm a fraud.

I'm bludging my way through a course I don't know whether I want to do, dating a boy who loves me but who I have to force myself to say the same back, I'm earning shit money at the same shit job that I've had for years, I'm going to graduate and earn the same working 40 hours a week as I do now working 12, and suddenly it all feels like it could all have been easier.

If I hadn't moved one seat to the left, all that time ago.

If I hadn't reached down and found the seatbelt that saved my life.
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