(no subject)
I was feeling so amazing right after the surgery. I don't get it. I don't get why I can't ever just have one long, level expanse of feeling good, or at least okay. It seems like it's always either way, way up, feeling incredible, or pretty far down in the toilet.
I feel like I can't pull myself up.
I can't sleep at night. I sleep all day. I have weird dreams that I'm sick of. My likely case of restless legs makes falling asleep even harder now. Sleeping just stresses me out now, in all honesty.
I never want to get out of bed. My bed is heinously uncomfortable. I want to stay in my room all the time. I want to be able to go watch tv without a fight starting. I don't want to talk to people. I get upset if no one talks to me.
I don't know if I can go back to school. That's how I feel right now. Just like this is all so overwhelming and I don't know if I can do it. I don't want to go and have another horrible semester and waste all that money. The only good part about being up there is that I can get health attention right away, because it's only a few blocks from my dorm. Or it was, now I'm going to be living in one of the farthest dorms from campus.
I should be able to do this. I should be able to force myself. I can't quit something else. I can't. This was supposed to work, to be my big thing. My step into true adulthood. My ticket out of whatever I feel like I'm stuck inside. I thought I'd found my place, my path. Now I don't think I have.
I don't know what to do. I feel like now maybe doing something creatively is what I should be doing, but at the same time I'm in such a bad funk that I can't bring myself to do stuff. I did something for my mom's coworker and I'm sort of vaguely proud of that, and I mean, while working on art, I really like the way it feels to not think of anything except what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel like if I don't do something I'll explode. I'm not the best artist. I don't have any available canvases which sucks, so I'm working on watercolor paper from a pad I bought a while ago. This paragraph makes no sense.
I really really really need to go back to a therapist. I still feel like I'm on the verge of a meltdown. All the crying I got out yesterday after the stupid ordeal wasn't cathartic enough to stave off this nagging sense of impending explosion.
I feel like I can't pull myself up.
I can't sleep at night. I sleep all day. I have weird dreams that I'm sick of. My likely case of restless legs makes falling asleep even harder now. Sleeping just stresses me out now, in all honesty.
I never want to get out of bed. My bed is heinously uncomfortable. I want to stay in my room all the time. I want to be able to go watch tv without a fight starting. I don't want to talk to people. I get upset if no one talks to me.
I don't know if I can go back to school. That's how I feel right now. Just like this is all so overwhelming and I don't know if I can do it. I don't want to go and have another horrible semester and waste all that money. The only good part about being up there is that I can get health attention right away, because it's only a few blocks from my dorm. Or it was, now I'm going to be living in one of the farthest dorms from campus.
I should be able to do this. I should be able to force myself. I can't quit something else. I can't. This was supposed to work, to be my big thing. My step into true adulthood. My ticket out of whatever I feel like I'm stuck inside. I thought I'd found my place, my path. Now I don't think I have.
I don't know what to do. I feel like now maybe doing something creatively is what I should be doing, but at the same time I'm in such a bad funk that I can't bring myself to do stuff. I did something for my mom's coworker and I'm sort of vaguely proud of that, and I mean, while working on art, I really like the way it feels to not think of anything except what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel like if I don't do something I'll explode. I'm not the best artist. I don't have any available canvases which sucks, so I'm working on watercolor paper from a pad I bought a while ago. This paragraph makes no sense.
I really really really need to go back to a therapist. I still feel like I'm on the verge of a meltdown. All the crying I got out yesterday after the stupid ordeal wasn't cathartic enough to stave off this nagging sense of impending explosion.