the threshold of revelation
This is quite a rant. If you know and love me well you will be able to put up with it I think. If not, you'll know me a lot better. : )
Oh, and that subject title is from Angels in America. WOW. Read it, watch it. It's so incredible.
I am not depressed. I am not in a depression. Niether am I functioning like a healthy me. I have really messed up in school again. I got overwhelmed with work or whatever and I've missed a lot of class and will most likely fail most of my classes.
The fact that my grades are dreadful is not in and of itself a death sentance. It doesn't mean much more than that I will probably graduate college a little later than expected. I cheated fate by graduating high school on time so it makes a kind of sense. Thank God I don't go to an expensive school. I do want to transfer to Purchase and I may have to pull up my grades before I can apply there, which is really the worst thing, externally, about this situation.
The problem, and the question, is, why if I'm not depressed am I behaving this way? Also, if I'm behaving this way, why do I say I'm not depressed?
I say I'm not depressed because I know what that feels like to me and this isn't it.
When I am at my most depressed my pain does not feel real, or rather, my pain comes from feeling a disconnection to reality and things outside myself. Everything feels painfully real at the moment.
I felt completely disconnected to school during my depression. It was as if Bronx Science didn't exist in the same world with me. Depression was, for me, an emptiness that was tangible. It was like a physical awareness of the empty place where happiness should be. Or contentment. Or feeling at all.
The dangerous luxury of depression is that you feel as though the world is slowing down with you, everything moves as it would in a swamp. When you feel better, when you recover, is when you realize that time has in fact kept on going as fast as ever. And you have to catch up.
Catching up really really sucks. Depression is like waking up in a nightmare. (Mandatory Buffy Comparrison: Buffy's being brought back from the dead, ie: being torn out of heaven and finding herself alive again and completely out of place so that every moment and breath was a challenge, was a great metaphor for depression.)
Since I've recovered from my depression there's been a lot of time where I've been really happy. Also, I've been ok. I've been healthy, which is so important. I thought though, that because I graduated highschool and got into college, I emerged from the whole experience unscathed. I'm realizing that's not true. Depression robs you of your self esteem.
I do not have the confidence and pride that I once did. This weird deep seeded lack of confidence seems to be what keeps me from being able to handle being overwhelmed with work. It's what allows me to fall into the patterns I created when I was depressed.
I realize, and I hate to say this because it's an ugly word, but I feel really ashamed. Part of the reason I've missed school is that I'm afraid to talk to my professors about needing help, about anything. I respect them all and think they're amazing, particularly the hot gay one, and rather than let that make me work hard I let it terrify me. I'm ashamed of the fact that I'm too scared to talk to them. I'm ashamed that I screwed up at all. I'm ashamed that I am someone who cannot handle the feelings of depression that everyone feels in a productive way.
I'm ashamed that my brain chemistry means that I will always be capable of falling into a depression. I know that I need to accept that as simply a part of who I am, but clearly I'm not ready to do it.
There were a lot of factors contributing to why I haven't made friends at Brooklyn College yet. One being that by not making friends I make it easier to slip away. I make it easier for myself to stop showing up if I become so inclined. This was not a concious decision but it was definitely a decision.
Once when I was in fourth grade a bunch of boys made fun of me about my breasts. They were in the sixth grade. They said stuff like "Jump for me", and someone made some comment about how gross it was to "have tits at the age of ten". I hadn't thought about that in a really long time and it just popped up in my head tonight. I think it was the first time I really felt ashamed. I think I made a decision then, without realizing it, to hide, so no one could ever say anything like that to me again. I think that's part of the reason I still struggle with my weight and my body image. Why I'm hilariously void of all sexual experience.
Wow. If you're still reading that's amazing. I hope you are because this is the part where I say how much I love my friends. I couldn't have written this if I didn't know you were going to read it. Also, I promise that if I find myself spiraling into this kind of counterproductive behaviour again, I will tell you before it gets to quite this irritating point.
Tomorrow is my last day of classes. It's my last day probably to actually say something to my teachers that might help my grades. It may be too far gone already but it's certainly worth a try.
Ok. I have purged demons.
Good night.
Oh, and that subject title is from Angels in America. WOW. Read it, watch it. It's so incredible.
I am not depressed. I am not in a depression. Niether am I functioning like a healthy me. I have really messed up in school again. I got overwhelmed with work or whatever and I've missed a lot of class and will most likely fail most of my classes.
The fact that my grades are dreadful is not in and of itself a death sentance. It doesn't mean much more than that I will probably graduate college a little later than expected. I cheated fate by graduating high school on time so it makes a kind of sense. Thank God I don't go to an expensive school. I do want to transfer to Purchase and I may have to pull up my grades before I can apply there, which is really the worst thing, externally, about this situation.
The problem, and the question, is, why if I'm not depressed am I behaving this way? Also, if I'm behaving this way, why do I say I'm not depressed?
I say I'm not depressed because I know what that feels like to me and this isn't it.
When I am at my most depressed my pain does not feel real, or rather, my pain comes from feeling a disconnection to reality and things outside myself. Everything feels painfully real at the moment.
I felt completely disconnected to school during my depression. It was as if Bronx Science didn't exist in the same world with me. Depression was, for me, an emptiness that was tangible. It was like a physical awareness of the empty place where happiness should be. Or contentment. Or feeling at all.
The dangerous luxury of depression is that you feel as though the world is slowing down with you, everything moves as it would in a swamp. When you feel better, when you recover, is when you realize that time has in fact kept on going as fast as ever. And you have to catch up.
Catching up really really sucks. Depression is like waking up in a nightmare. (Mandatory Buffy Comparrison: Buffy's being brought back from the dead, ie: being torn out of heaven and finding herself alive again and completely out of place so that every moment and breath was a challenge, was a great metaphor for depression.)
Since I've recovered from my depression there's been a lot of time where I've been really happy. Also, I've been ok. I've been healthy, which is so important. I thought though, that because I graduated highschool and got into college, I emerged from the whole experience unscathed. I'm realizing that's not true. Depression robs you of your self esteem.
I do not have the confidence and pride that I once did. This weird deep seeded lack of confidence seems to be what keeps me from being able to handle being overwhelmed with work. It's what allows me to fall into the patterns I created when I was depressed.
I realize, and I hate to say this because it's an ugly word, but I feel really ashamed. Part of the reason I've missed school is that I'm afraid to talk to my professors about needing help, about anything. I respect them all and think they're amazing, particularly the hot gay one, and rather than let that make me work hard I let it terrify me. I'm ashamed of the fact that I'm too scared to talk to them. I'm ashamed that I screwed up at all. I'm ashamed that I am someone who cannot handle the feelings of depression that everyone feels in a productive way.
I'm ashamed that my brain chemistry means that I will always be capable of falling into a depression. I know that I need to accept that as simply a part of who I am, but clearly I'm not ready to do it.
There were a lot of factors contributing to why I haven't made friends at Brooklyn College yet. One being that by not making friends I make it easier to slip away. I make it easier for myself to stop showing up if I become so inclined. This was not a concious decision but it was definitely a decision.
Once when I was in fourth grade a bunch of boys made fun of me about my breasts. They were in the sixth grade. They said stuff like "Jump for me", and someone made some comment about how gross it was to "have tits at the age of ten". I hadn't thought about that in a really long time and it just popped up in my head tonight. I think it was the first time I really felt ashamed. I think I made a decision then, without realizing it, to hide, so no one could ever say anything like that to me again. I think that's part of the reason I still struggle with my weight and my body image. Why I'm hilariously void of all sexual experience.
Wow. If you're still reading that's amazing. I hope you are because this is the part where I say how much I love my friends. I couldn't have written this if I didn't know you were going to read it. Also, I promise that if I find myself spiraling into this kind of counterproductive behaviour again, I will tell you before it gets to quite this irritating point.
Tomorrow is my last day of classes. It's my last day probably to actually say something to my teachers that might help my grades. It may be too far gone already but it's certainly worth a try.
Ok. I have purged demons.
Good night.