(no subject)
Unfortunately, I have to take an extra year to finish school because of my absences and hospitalizations. Being crazy keeps you a lot busier than one would expect.
As per usual, Tyler and I spent the weekend together. On Friday we went to Kingsway Mall to pick up some things. Tyler found the tarot deck I've been trying to find for YEARS (Zerner-Farber) and bought it for me. I tried to show my gratitude by covering some of his school supplies, but it certainly pales in comparison. I'm spoiled :)
Yeah, well, after we went to Kingsway Tyler suggested that we go see Alex, so we took a bus to Alex's apartment to stay the night. It's his fathers apartment, actually, and I had never been there before. Being the clean freak that I am, I nearly screamed upon entering the apartment. It reeked of urine and cat feces. There were eggshells on his kitchen floor, and the sink was full of dishes with rotting food on them sitting in stagnant water. The counter tops were covered in dishes, jars and food wrappings. The living room had 3 cluttered computers crammed into it. Soiled blankets, CDs and half-eaten food were abundant. The bathroom fixtures were crusted with...well, who the fuck knows. Alex told me to go put my things in his brother's closet because "the cat likes to piss on things that are on the ground." I was afraid to sit down and perilously close to breaking down in tears. Tyler's attempts to comfort me made me want to yell at him for bringing me there in the first place, but I decided that would be unfair and kept my mouth shut. The rest of the weekend went fine.
My OCD is acting up again. My hands are starting to get that red, chapped look again from washing them too much and my strange rituals and obsessions are taking up a significant portion of my day. I'm obsessing about my weight and caloric intake, counting each calorie and writing down everything I eat. I have not hurt myself in 4 months, and I fear I may resume the habit if things get any worse. I have this terrible feeling that I'll end up in the hospital for another Anafranil Intravenous treatment before the year is over. It is for this reason that I'm not telling my psychiatrist about any of this. I'm not going back, dammit!
I'm sorry I complain so much. No, wait, I'm not....it's my fucking journal. Toodles.
As per usual, Tyler and I spent the weekend together. On Friday we went to Kingsway Mall to pick up some things. Tyler found the tarot deck I've been trying to find for YEARS (Zerner-Farber) and bought it for me. I tried to show my gratitude by covering some of his school supplies, but it certainly pales in comparison. I'm spoiled :)
Yeah, well, after we went to Kingsway Tyler suggested that we go see Alex, so we took a bus to Alex's apartment to stay the night. It's his fathers apartment, actually, and I had never been there before. Being the clean freak that I am, I nearly screamed upon entering the apartment. It reeked of urine and cat feces. There were eggshells on his kitchen floor, and the sink was full of dishes with rotting food on them sitting in stagnant water. The counter tops were covered in dishes, jars and food wrappings. The living room had 3 cluttered computers crammed into it. Soiled blankets, CDs and half-eaten food were abundant. The bathroom fixtures were crusted with...well, who the fuck knows. Alex told me to go put my things in his brother's closet because "the cat likes to piss on things that are on the ground." I was afraid to sit down and perilously close to breaking down in tears. Tyler's attempts to comfort me made me want to yell at him for bringing me there in the first place, but I decided that would be unfair and kept my mouth shut. The rest of the weekend went fine.
My OCD is acting up again. My hands are starting to get that red, chapped look again from washing them too much and my strange rituals and obsessions are taking up a significant portion of my day. I'm obsessing about my weight and caloric intake, counting each calorie and writing down everything I eat. I have not hurt myself in 4 months, and I fear I may resume the habit if things get any worse. I have this terrible feeling that I'll end up in the hospital for another Anafranil Intravenous treatment before the year is over. It is for this reason that I'm not telling my psychiatrist about any of this. I'm not going back, dammit!
I'm sorry I complain so much. No, wait, I'm not....it's my fucking journal. Toodles.