Today I was completely bashed over the head with ED-talk. Or depression-talk. I think over the years, they’ve comingled so much, they seem to be one.
Everything was fine. Woke up at 4am, went to work, all that jazz. Felt like I did a good job. I clocked out at 12pm, only to find a text on my phone from school (I get my grade updates texted to me).
You received a 75% on your Test 2 for World Lit.
That’s when the shit hit the fan.
I studied for that damn test for HOURS. I left thinking I got an A. Now I’m being given a C? I have NEVER gotten a grade in English that low. NEVER. I didn’t even get one B last semester in my English class.
It’s not even just the fact that I got a C on something I am passionate for, something I worked so hard on. It’s the fact that this semester has been kicking my ass. I am working full time and in school full time, along with just moving into an apartment with my friend (so, big girl bills for the first time). Math has been a huge stressor this semester, since I am currently listed as failing (I got a 44% on a test that pretty much nobody passed). I already felt like complete shit about that.
I’ve worked hard to accept the B’s this semester, especially on tests in Government. I don’t really enjoy the government class, so a B on a test isn’t terrible. But a freaking C in English? That’s my major. Why did I get a C? Am I THAT stupid?? Maybe I’m just an idiot. Maybe when I thought I could handle life, I was wrong. Maybe ED was right…maybe I am a failure, and I’m more of a failure for thinking I have any potential whatsoever.
In 2014, I had a major overdose. I spent that year and most of 2015 in a detrimental state of mind, unlike anything I had experienced before. Not only was my body giving me more hell than ever with side effects from the ED, but I had also stopped believing I would ever recover. I had totally and utterly convinced myself that I would fail, I would die soon, and I need to give up the hope of getting better. Recovery was not going to happen for me, and the sooner I could understand that, the less painful the rest of my existence would be. I could die in peace knowing I did what I needed to do.
That is depressing. And that is the truth in how I felt.
I didn’t want to believe, or hope anymore, because I always failed anyway. I was so, so tired of the treatment process, and of people filling my mind with hope and a “future” which never seemed to materialize, no matter how hard I tried. I kept relapsing, and I figured my body acting how it was, was just the sign that things were ending.
After that overdose, they could have. They didn’t, and I didn’t really understand why for a long time. They said I wouldn’t have made it if I had waited another hour to get to the ER. One hour between being alive today, and dying that day/week. It’s kind of powerful in that way.
Some days, such as today, I resort back to not understanding why that OD didn’t work. I look at my failures stacking up by the day, by the hour…and I am at a loss. Why am I still fighting this fight? When am I allowed to give up, to relax, to not feel constantly on edge, wondering if I’m kidding myself?
So, yes, this day felt like shit. It felt like I had resorted back to my “old mind”, which is terrifying in many ways. It’s also familiar…which I think adds some odd “comfort” aspect to it. I know what I am, and therefore I speak to myself in this manner, because I deserve it.
I still don’t know what I’m going to do about school. I’m not failing (except math), but no matter what that letter grade says, I feel like a failure. I don’t know how to lighten my load in any aspect in my life right now. It’s not possible. I have no options but to keep going, keep facing these realities, and keep having this “edpression” flood my mind.
I do have the power to counteract these thoughts. I know the “tools” I’ve learned in treatment. But honestly, some days just suck. Today was one of them.
Hopefully I can figure something out, or tomorrow is better. We’ll see.
-October 10, 2016