One, Two, Three

I'm awake
I'm showered
I'm drinking coffee

Just this, is hard.
Just these three things, took hours.

I'm sitting in my backyard, the sun is out. I can feel the breeze, so I must be alive, right?
I just saw a butterfly, so I have to be real, yeah?

This isn't life, what I'm doing. This isn't living.
This is barely surviving.
I'm not even doing this shit on purpose, it's just happening to me.
I'm putting in zero percent at this point, and yet I've been waking up everyday.

I'm not fighting or struggling, but for whatever reason my beast won't fucking just take me already. Maybe it's just not fun for him this way, no challenge. But I'm giving in, I'm doing what he has wanted all along.
I'm here, I'm ready.
Take me, please take me.

I sound like the whiniest shit bag of a human but I don't fucking care.

Ready to Call it

I've been avoiding you again, I'm sorry.
The anxiety hasn't stopped and I'm avoiding everything. I feel like I'm borderline existing, although I've been trying to avoid that as well.
Sleep has been difficult; I'm awake until my body can no longer function, then I sleep. I often wake up late in the afternoon and fall asleep again shortly after.
So I guess those are my two states of being currently: anxious and asleep.

For two hours yesterday I felt connected to my body and able to form coherent words. I gave a presentation with a partner that neither of us had prepared for. We managed to engage the class in discussion for much longer than expected, the professor eventually gave us full reign for the entire class period. I was offering insight, I was making jokes, smiling and laughing.
My first class of the day was cancelled so I spent about an hour of the time I would normally be in that first class, studying for my upcoming class. So I guess I had three hours of productivity.

After that I spent my evening with two ladies that make me want to do better, be better. It was really nice to spend time with friends that allow me to be just as I am. There was a shadow of self-hate and shame that cast itself over the evening though. I didn't get any studying done, which had been the plan for our time together.

So far today I've:
Missed a therapy appointment that was desperately needed
Slept late, to wake up and fall back asleep again
Fucked around on my computer in this cafe for the last forty-five minutes

At what point can I just call it? When is it a good time to give up? This is it, this is all I will ever have.

Someone end this, end me. Because I'm too cowardly to do it myself.
I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to have lasted this long.
Yeah, I'm angry. Yeah I'm pissed that I'm still here, still doing this.
Why have you all let me drag this out? Why hasn't anyone given me a reality check, "Isabel what purpose do you have here, exactly? How much space are you taking up?"
Do me a favor. Please.

Hey blog, long time no see.  I'm sorry I haven't been around more. Turns out I'm a shitty friend.

I don't know what to say for myself that doesn't sound like an excuse. "I'm sorry, I've just been going through really rough time/
I think I'm depressed/
I've been too anxious to leave my house/
due to disability related issues I won't make it to class today."

"." That's the only part that matters. The period, the end of excuses. I'm starting to do all of the things I begin to do halfway through the term and I'm wondering yet again, if I'm just too lazy or disinterested in school. Or maybe I get bored easily, or I'm a quitter.
I'm not trying hard enough.
I'm not trying.

Today I woke up and I was overwhelmed by anxiety. And you know what I've realized? Anxiety doesn't always come quickly, cutting air from my lungs to the point of suffocation. Sometimes it's a heavy feeling in my throat that makes it difficult to swallow. An invisible weight on my shoulders that I'm unable to shake off. Or uncontrollably staring into space so that I might forget that time is passing, that time is running out.

It's longer than a panic attack, it lingers and is sometimes unshakeable for an entire day. It started this morning and is still happening. I've sent emails to my professors and that's only made me more anxious. I don't want to check my email but all I can think about is their faces as they read the messages: disbelieving, maybe even disgusted

I don't know. I don't. I have no idea.
Do you?

P.S. I turned 25 a while ago and I have a lot of feelings about it and I'll probably write about it soon. Maybe.

Promises

I was really agitated all day yesterday. I didn't notice it until last night, after picking a fight with Robert. Oops.

I wanted so badly to leave my house, to get out and do something.
I was bored and tired of sitting in my house watching the same bad TV shows on Netflix (Cheers as of late, don't judge me).
I wanted to do something fun, something interesting.
I wanted to get out of my head and spend time with someone else. I was tired of having my beast as my only company.

It was Robert's first day off and he wanted to do whatever he wanted, which happened to be nothing. After a few minutes of rethinking, I was able to get past that and decided that his plans weren't going to hold me back. I reached out to a few people, my mom included. She agreed to pick me up on her way home from work. I was glad to be getting out of the house and to spend some time with her, because as of late the majority of our communication has been over the phone. She works a lot and I haven't been leaving my house. But then my relief ended quickly, when we got to her house and everyone was doing what they each wanted to do, nothing. I was in the same place, just different. I was having a hard time sitting still and started pacing back and forth.

I was hungrier than ever and so impatient. And then the fighting.
It wasn't the worst one Robert and I have had. It doesn't even make it on the list of bad fights we've had. It was just stupid and unnecessary. Robert saw that from the beginning but I went all in.
And of course I lost, we both did. Because no one ever really wins a fight.

I'm really caught up in it, aren't I?

Day before yesterday I was talking to my mom about the option to be hospitalized. There are benefits to that choice; I would have access to immediate care, my meds could be adjusted and I'd have a psychiatrist and therapist to see. But I really don't want to do that.
I don't want to let fourteen year-old Isabel down. Teenage Isabel that coming out of the psych ward after hurting herself, promised that she would never go back there. Ever.
Adult Isabel knows better, that choosing to receive medical attention isn't a sign of failure and if needed could be the best thing I do for my whole self. I don't think it's come to the point that I need hospitalization, but I have to keep it in mind for now. I have to keep it on the table as long as I'm caught up in this.
A promise is a promise, though. And it is one I'd like to keep, if I can.

But I've also promised to tell my mom when I'm feeling unsafe. If I've made a plan to harm myself, to whatever severity or end, I have to let her know. So far, I've kept that one too.
Sometimes it feels like I can only choose one of these. Like I can only keep a promise to my mom or to myself. Who would I choose, if faced with that decision? I honestly don't know.

I'm withdrawing from all of my classes. I'm walking away from everything I've been doing, hoping to do better for myself. I'm starting at square one, from the beginning, all over again.

You'd think I would know how to do this. But I feel just as clueless as the first time.
There are some good things, about starting again. Right?
Right.

Cross your fingers for me.

I've changed all of my classes from grading A-F to pass/no pass. This should take some of the pressure off because I won't be worried about the percentages or grades on assignments and as long as I pass, I'll receive credit without it affecting my GPA. But even after doing that, I need to write emails to my professors and I've been putting it off for the last two days. Email is usually a relatively safe way for me to communicate with people, because I don't have to face them in person and I don't have to hear their voices over the phone. Right now though, I feel as anxious about pressing send as I would if I were standing right in front of them. I'm so prepared for rejection, anytime I ask anything from my professors, even though I have a pretty good track record. I don't know what's going to happen here, I don't know what I'm so scared about. Usually when I send an email I'm making a specific request: an extension, an excused absence, the submission of a late assignment etc. I think maybe I'm so nervous because this time I have nothing specific I want to ask for. I just want to talk to each of them about how the rest of this term is going to look, how I'm going to make it through and pass. That's a big question and I know they most likely don't feel like that's their responsibility. And there's some truth to that, I'm an adult, it's my education etc. etc. etc. But they're teachers, right? They want their students to learn and succeed? I know not all of them do, or at least deep down are apathetic. I'm just hoping the ones I have this term are invested in me as a student.

Here goes nothin'.

UPDATE: I sent the emails. I'm holding my breath.

I got 88% on an assignment, lower than I thought I would receive. She's a hard grader but I still expected better.

Why do I even try.

There was a time when I couldn't imagine living for 24 years. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.