(no subject)
As I sit on my bed and contemplate how to focus on academic work after a fit of bleeding from the nose and crying uncontrollably because I have no idea what's wrong with me or what I should do next, I begin to realize that nothing matters to me very much anymore. It's weird, but I suddenly don't give any part of a shit about school or England or my ambitions to pull myself out of the muck of poverty and ignorance, or the pursuit of a fulfilling life. Everything is so fucking hard for me, and it always has been, and I'm feeling so defeated and exhausted, I couldn't possibly care less about it.
Yesterday I visited the NHS clinic near my house. I waited for two whole hours, and when I was finally called back to a room, all I got was a nurse. No doctor. Just a plump, middle-aged woman who took my blood pressure and shined a light up my nostrils and said she didn't see anything, that it's okay if it keeps happening and okay that I'm tired, weak, and dizzy all the time ("it's probably just anemia from the blood loss" quoth she), and that I'm permitted to go to the A&E only if I get a nosebleed that I can't stop. Otherwise...I should just take an iron supplement and pretend I'm not dying.
For some reason, I didn't find that particularly comforting or helpful.
It's amazing to think about how I could prevail against alcoholism and manage a severe anxiety disorder for years, but the minute I start regularly bleeding from the face, I suddenly can't handle life anymore.
"They" say stress ages people. If this is true, then it explains a lot.