I don't want to go back to school tomorrow. I live for the weekends lately, even though my weekends usually consist of sleeping as much as possible, drinking way too much coffee and beating myself up for not studying as much as I had told myself I would. Here I am, another Sunday night and I can say the only way I have deviated from my usual weekend routine is by not drinking as much coffee. And the only reason for that is the lack of coffee my house currently has.
This is the first weekend, however, where I have done no studying whatsoever. Throwing caution to the wind I guess. Week four out of ten and I'm already saying fuck it. I guess that shouldn't really come as a surprise though, because if I'm honest with myself, this is the way I encounter every midterm. Every week four or five as long as I can remember. I lose my discipline, stop studying religiously, start sleeping all hours of the day (I woke up this morning and went back to sleep less than an hour later) and use my first (of many) absences.
It's actually become a bit of a game, really. How fast can Isabel bounce back? How quickly can she get her shit together again, before anyone notices? I guess I've already lost some points, because I've sent my first "extension proposal" to a professor, which just means I've already had to resort to begging.
The commitment I've made to myself this time around is to go to class regardless. Whether or not I get my work done, or if my professor gives me the extension. I'm not going to get anything done during the time I'm supposed to be in class, because I'll be so overwhelmed with guilt and shame, so I've learned. And wouldn't it be great, even if I have to ask for an extension, if I went to class everyday this term?
I was manic last night, I think. Usually I'm sure, but this was so subtle. It's hard to tell sometimes. I can't constantly question my state of emotions, like when I feel good about myself is not the time to wonder "Am I confident or just crazy?". Anyway, this morning when I woke up, I was sure. I had come down over night, which is sometimes how it happens. I've slept all day and I hate myself again, which apparently is my baseline. So I'm okay folks, don't worry. I'm not manic I just am disgusted with myself.
I was telling Katie that the most frustrating thing right now is that I had been doing everything right. Last week I ran out of my meds for a few days because the pharmacy made an error, but even in those few days without and then the day I had them back in my system, there had been no interruptions.
And now, I've been taking my meds and sleeping and eating but I'm here. In this place. Again.
So yeah, there are things I can do to take care of myself and limit my cycling. But there are also times when my beast is going to fuck with me, just cause he can. Even if I'm doing everything right.
You know what that makes me want to do? Nothing at all.
Why should I put in all of this work? What does it actually get me?
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