I am tired. I had no real idea what 'tired' felt like until I got to this point. 'Tired' for me then was but a pale shadow of what I feel like at the present moment. My eye bags are forming so quickly that it hurts. I am stressed, my whole body hurts and I can't stop grinding my teeth.
This is me being in school and working, both full time.
Every moment that I'm not at work I'm either studying or worrying about studying. Every moment that I'm at work I'm wishing I weren't so that I could study. Every time I look at my bank balance I wish that I could work more. It's a bizarre and cutting cycle that's really taking its toll. I was at work until 1:00am this morning, it's 10:00am now. I'm going to the library to study until 1:00pm, when I have class until 3:40. Then I can run home and get changed in order to be at work at 5:00pm, which will last until midnight or 1:00am. Tomorrow I get up at 9 again and study until 1:00pm, and so on and so forth until my brain leaks out of my ears.
I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't trade it for feeling like I was going nowhere and had no choice. But man, this kind of fucking sucks.
You know when you start having dreams that combine your only phobia (alone in open water) and your most stressful possible situation (overwhelmed at work) your mind is over worked.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Invisible Disabilities
I have two of them, I guess. I have diagnosed (and medicated) ADHD and Bipolar II disorder. These two clinical titles have shaped my life in such a significant way that it is impossible to imagine it without their destructive influence. I've tried and failed at many things because of my inability to concentrate and my incredible ability to talk myself out of meaningful ventures.
No one can see these things that are inside of me. No one can see the self doubt that, even when medicated, tempts me to skip class and work just to stay home and hate myself. No one can see the difficulties I have in sitting down and reading a book for more than thirty seconds without medication. And yet, these things have impaired me. They have weighed me down and almost ended my life at a certain low point in high school. I wouldn't have been killing myself, I have since decided. I would have been dying of undiagnosed depression.
In any case, I realize that there is no 'cure' for these things. There are only treatments. If I am unable to continue my medication regimen my life will, undoubtedly, fall apart. Even if I have developed fantastic habits and I'm just about the most productive guy on the block, I will revert to my old useless self and be unerringly unhappy. I will self-destruct, despite my best intentions and efforts.
It's tough, living with the knowledge that you are two pills away from being a total wreck again. It forces you to be extremely, sometimes painfully, self-aware. You sit and look at yourself, much like I did in my last post. You evaluate your decisions and habits. You learn to accept your deficiencies without limiting yourself unnecessarily or giving yourself too many excuses (I'm still struggling with this one). It's tough, and I hate the trajectory that my life has been on, but I'm coming to terms with it. I'm fixing my life for the better. I am finishing school on my own steam. I am bettering myself as much as possible. I am more confident, I am more emotionally open and available, I am becoming the person I think that I could, and should, be.
And a relapse is one missed prescription away.
No one can see these things that are inside of me. No one can see the self doubt that, even when medicated, tempts me to skip class and work just to stay home and hate myself. No one can see the difficulties I have in sitting down and reading a book for more than thirty seconds without medication. And yet, these things have impaired me. They have weighed me down and almost ended my life at a certain low point in high school. I wouldn't have been killing myself, I have since decided. I would have been dying of undiagnosed depression.
In any case, I realize that there is no 'cure' for these things. There are only treatments. If I am unable to continue my medication regimen my life will, undoubtedly, fall apart. Even if I have developed fantastic habits and I'm just about the most productive guy on the block, I will revert to my old useless self and be unerringly unhappy. I will self-destruct, despite my best intentions and efforts.
It's tough, living with the knowledge that you are two pills away from being a total wreck again. It forces you to be extremely, sometimes painfully, self-aware. You sit and look at yourself, much like I did in my last post. You evaluate your decisions and habits. You learn to accept your deficiencies without limiting yourself unnecessarily or giving yourself too many excuses (I'm still struggling with this one). It's tough, and I hate the trajectory that my life has been on, but I'm coming to terms with it. I'm fixing my life for the better. I am finishing school on my own steam. I am bettering myself as much as possible. I am more confident, I am more emotionally open and available, I am becoming the person I think that I could, and should, be.
And a relapse is one missed prescription away.
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