Holy self-sabotage Batbloggers!
I’m pretty sure that subconsciously I’m trying to kill myself.
Exhibit A: I believed I could manage a course load involving Biology (Ecology to be exact – who needs that?!), Chemistry, Anatomy & Physiology and Math. Even having passed one class and dropping the other, I’m still struggling. In addition to this I work two jobs. I work at school and study at work (Thank you live lectures!) The lines are blurred at this point. Today, in exactly two hours and 15 minutes I will be taking my anatomy lab final. If I don’t pass this, I can kiss Anatomy II goodbye – even though I’ve already taken it and passed it with an A. I’m failing at things I should be excelling at. And admitting that…acknowledging the failure…is one of the most difficult things I’ve done.
Exhibit B: In addition to school and work I sign up for extracurricular events including Gals Guide events (Banana Republic & Crave Party) as well as Windy City Social. Not only do I sign up for them, I do it during finals week. I also signed up for a scarf swap and holiday treat swap. I don’t even remember signing up for the latter!
Exhibit C: I spend most of my free time completely lost in a series of books that not only create unrealistic expectations, but they make it so easy to question every relationship. Thank you Stephenie Meyer for creating a character so flawed that he’s almost perfect. This does not exist and I’m mad at you for telling me it does. I don’t want perfect.
Exhibit D: I am forgetting important things! I forgot about a paper due. I tried to turn it in late after my TA showed me a glimmer of hope only to be crushed Monday after finding out she didn’t grade it. I am now failing (a class I’ve already had) by 20 points. That paper? Yeah, it was worth 20 points.
Exhibit E: I’m wallowing. Not only am I wallowing, but once I realize that I am wallowing, I immediately snap out of it completely ignoring the root of all of the wallowing. How healthy is that? I’m pretty sure my therapist should un-move himself and get back to Chicago. His break-up really inconvenienced me.
Exhibit F: What should be causing me to jump up and down with glee and scream “Super Eff Yeah!” at the top of my lungs…isn’t. I can’t tell the difference between being scared and being wrong. Why am I pulling away? I believe I’ve reserved the role of “the fuser” in past relationships. So what the eff’in eff head? Heart? Anyone? Bueller?
Exhibit G: I don’t talk about any of it. I had a mini-breakdown Monday night with the roommate, but aside from that I’ve been holding everything in. I don’t necessarily need to verbalize it, but I should write it. It needs to get out, even if it’s never heard/read. But I don’t. Am I avoiding it? If I don’t write it does it mean it’s not true?
Exhibit H: My diet consists of Pop-Tarts, cheese balls, the occasional piece of chicken or steak and granola bars. I haven’t been to the gym in months. My bed is uncomfortable and I choose to sleep there because I’m too much of a chicken to fight my dad for my old one. I have a migraine a week. My body is one step away closing down shop and taking a vacation. How that would work, I don’t know.
Exhibit I: I’m a financial mess. With a second job under my belt I figured I’d be safe to move out. Having an extra income was the deciding factor. Well that extra income has yet to hit my checking account, let alone my mailbox. In the last week I’ve paid over $1,000 on rent, car payment, massage therapy insurance, towing fees and other miscellaneous bills. THAT was NOT fun. My savings account is a mess, my checking account is pathetic and I’ve had to tap into my money market more than I would have liked to.
At this point, I’d much rather do absolutely nothing than confront everything. And that’s not me. So that’s why I’m convinced my subconscious is trying to kill me.
What’s stressing you out?
You can thank Paramore for that title.