Hi there! Remember me? Truth is I’ve been thinking long and hard about killing this blog, for good. Too much has happened that I don’t want to talk about in here, and my writing habits have changed a lot in … Continue reading
…and I keep throwing them away. Maybe I’ll never graduate. Maybe I’m supposed to be an ESL elementary school teacher forever. I’m starting to get comfy in my teacher jumper. I’m starting to see myself doing this in the … Continue reading
For the past couple of days I’ve been living on diet coke, red bull and advil, with the occasional snack, oh and vitamins. I’m trying my best not to take my “wakey wakey” pills because I don’t have any and … Continue reading
Wow, feels like forever since I’ve been here. Not only have I missed blogging every single day, I’m also afraid (as silly as it may seem) that if I don’t keep up with my posts as I used to, I’m … Continue reading
Today I received an email from one of the people I’ve grown most afraid of: my tutor. It’s been a month since I saw her, first at her office and then at the thesis seminar. She seemed pleased with the … Continue reading
There is no day that goes by without someone checking out my post Writing a thesis while being depressed, mission impossible? It is by far the most read post on this blog, some examples of the search words that lead … Continue reading
I go back to my real work tomorrow. I have to get up at 6am at the latest. I have to work for 8 straight hours. I have to wear my dreadful uniform. After the end of my workday I’ll have to go to therapy, and so I’ll come back home at 8pm, I will have been out for at least 13 hours. I’ll have to go to bed at 10pm at the latest, because if I sleep any less than that, I simply can’t function, especially now that N has increased my anti-anxiety med after I showed at her office on Thursday completely mental.
About that, remember my post from Thursday where I said I was feeling a bit better? Well it didn’t last. After I left the Institute I went to a coffee shop to make some time since my appointment with N was at 8:45. I was still very anxious and stopped there in the hopes that a mint tea would help me relax. Sitting there with my smoky tea and reading blogs felt like a good idea…until a quake happened. Not a huge earthquake or anything, but a strong one. It was a magnitude 6.5 quake exactly. I’m not usually the kind of person to be scared about these things, they’re quite normal here in Mexico City. But in my jumpy state I guess I was triggered. I was sitting by myself when I started to feel the floor beneath me moving. I honestly was in such a state that I thought I was imagining things. Even when I looked at the lamps tilting I believed it might be the wind or something. But the sensation was growing stronger, and when I looked around at the rest of the people there, everyone was carrying on their activities as if nothing, that really freaked me out, I really thought I was loosing it. I don’t know how scared I looked on the outside, but a man came up to me and told me “it’s trembling”, which really helped me get a grip.
I waited until the last possible moment to get in the car and drive to N’s office, which almost caused me to be late. When I did get there I stayed for some moments inside the car, and when the car locked automatically with me inside, I had the shock of my life. My heart stopped, it was as if someone had shot point-blank at me. I got out, rang the bell, and then I had to wait outside for a couple of horrible minutes. Every car passing by was scaring me to death, there were even a couple of loud motorcycles that had me put my back against the wall. The previous patient eventually came out and I came in (N doesn’t have a secretary or a waiting room)…completely freaked out. I was crying, telling her all the things I had experienced just on that evening. I started to calm down and was able to talk to her about the past weeks, how anxiety had really taken a toll on me ever since my visit to my uncle’s house. She basically scolded me for not calling her and deciding on my own to take the anti-anxiety med…which is ironic considering in the end she told me not only to keep on taking it but to increase the dosage and to take it continuously for some time, even if I don’t feel the angst anymore.
As I said in an earlier post, I hate taking medication, I hate needing it. But the past few days had been so horrible that I truly didn’t mind anymore, I just wanted to feel better. And it has helped I have to say. I still feel bad, anxious, but the chest pains and the heart flips have stopped, so that’s good news. I’m coming back to Mr. Shrinky’s office tomorrow. I don’t know if N called him or if I’m gonna have to spread the lovely news of how I dealt with my holidays on my own. I have barely done half the things I needed to get done by tomorrow, and even so I’m here writing. I don’t feel scared of coming back to work anymore, but I’m finding it hard to even feel excited for the coming days, probably because even if it’s occupied by birthday-celebration-related events, I’m not keen on having too many social situations in one weekend (and by too many I mean even one).
Also, there are just a lot of commitments for me to deal all at once, at least that’s how I feel it. I have to prepare the open classes for 1st, 2nd and 3rd grades that are due on May but need to be handed in by April 19th. My tutor has emailed me about the Frankenthesis, she’s pressuring for me to be done with it, as she should, but I just haven’t found the time to deal with it. Is it really such a crime that I didn’t want to work on it over the holidays? I’m busy every weekday all day long, so when I got some days off, I actually wanted to clear my mind of things (which didn’t entirely work looking back on my anxiety crisis). But I’m not entitled to do this, there are just too many things to be done. All the time. Will it ever end? Will I ever get to do the things I like because I want to, and actually make a living out of them?
God, I’m still young and I’m already tired of responsibilities and sick of the system. How does one break free? Is it just a wild dream? Is is just the personal crisis I’m going through what’s making feel so unfit to live my life? I obviously don’t have the answers to any of those questions, but hopefully in about two or three weeks I’ll be readjusted to this unsavory routine. That is, if my post-birthday-depression doesn’t kick in as it has for the last couple of years. That’s actually the main reason for doing a small reunion this year. I can’t expect things to be different if I keep doing the same every year right? So this year I wish having company on Friday and attending a concert on Saturday will turn things around…even if just a little.
I have so much work to get done by tomorrow is unbelievable, and after such a stressful long weekend I don’t even know where to start.
As some of you already know, I spent the weekend at my uncle’s house in a different town. My mother asked me to take her there ’cause he’s dying and she wants to be close to him. I drove all afternoon and we got there in the evening. I truly was not prepared for what I was about to witness.
The last time I saw my uncle was at his 50th wedding anniversary. His children threw their parents a beautiful shower and they brought everyone together, even the ones living abroad. For one afternoon, everybody put their squabbles, traumas and resentment away and celebrated a lifelong marriage. He was already sick, he had been diagnosed with diabetes years before and he was getting dialysis, but he was still lively, danced around, and we all had a nice time. Now, 3 years later, he’s had one leg amputated, has moved on to hemodialysis, and is in constant excruciating pain. I had no idea all I would see was bones covered in skin. A man who cannot even sit up in bed, or eat, or speak without his tongue getting twisted, or speak more than a sentence without uttering screams of pain. What’s worse is that the man’s head is all there. Granted, he is in and out of consciousness, but when he’s awake he’s all there, aware of what he’s become. When my mother got close to him today to say goodbye before we left, he tried to grab her by the hand and told her “Please, don’t come back”. I had to step out of the room because it was just too much. No one should have to go through this, it’s torture for both the sick one and his family.
After that and the horrific, gruesome dream I dreamed together with the memories it brought back… I just don’t really know what to do with myself. I have some texts to read, I have a weekly lesson plan to finish, and oh yes! To top it all off, my thesis seminar is tomorrow! God, this seminar was ill-fated for me ever since it started. I only hope I don’t make a huge fool of myself, at least not as much as last time, I only hope that this time around my writing speaks for me, the written word is really the best way I handle communication with other humans 🙄
Can’t believe it’s been a week since my last post, I’ve been so busy with the Frankenthesis that I just haven’t had the energy to write anything else. Went to see my tutor on Thursday, and though she was incredibly nice and made me feel like I can do this, she did give me a shitload of work I needed to get done…by Monday morning! I did all the minor changes that same day, which took me a couple of hours, and then I had to wait until Saturday afternoon to be able to sit down and get to work with the heavier stuff. BF helped me that evening, I was so stressed I literally got sick to my stomach, I cried, I wanted to cut, and I think it was thanks to him that I didn’t lose it
I got up on Sunday at 6 am and got back to working. I didn’t stop ’til 10:30 at night except to pee and take a 20 min nap. No Facebook, no phone, no kitties, no getting up to get food, no nothing really, and yet I was still not done by then! Anyways, I finished and sent it by 1pm on Monday. Not morning but not really that late either huh? The thing is, I didn’t feel relieved after sending it, I was both physically and mentally exhausted, but that usually doesn’t prevent me from feeling happy after I’ve finished something I’ve been working on. Yesterday it just wasn’t the case. I think it’s got to do with the fact that when I have to focus so hard on something, I know I’m losing track of what’s going on with the other stuff I have to be aware of, like my 2 jobs!
Having lots of work helps with the not eating stuff though. I’ve lost 10 pounds in 3 weeks, and I intend to keep going for at least a couple more months. Everyone thinks I’m on a diet, except they don’t know my diet is called “not eating” 🙄 Mr. Shrinky is mildly concerned about this (he’s the only one who knows the true name of my diet) but he’s not pushing it, guess he doesn’t want me closing up on him.
I do have an appointment with N on Thursday though, and she’s always up for some how-much do-you-weight-these-days kind of talk, so we’ll see how that goes… I also have to tell her I decided to stop taking the fat pills ’cause they were making me, well…fat, and I’m not taking anything else than the ones I’m already in, I’m just not willing to risk it when I’m starting to feel like me once again. The thing is, once you cross the bridge of being so hungry you want to cry, it’s not that tough anymore, once your body gets over the fact it’s not getting anything other than liquids and the occasional yogurt, that’s when the magic really starts to happen, and I’m thrilled about it…. Reading back what I just wrote, I can get a glance of it being crazy talk, but if I can’t get it out of me in here, then where can I?
Anyways, I know losing weight is another way I’ve found to cope with life, and it’s no wonder I’m turning back around it when I’ve been feeling on the verge of breaking down, like I just can’t handle all the responsibilities I’ve been getting myself into. Speaking of which, I received yet ANOTHER job offer. A former classmate of mine who works in what seems like a fancy event agency on Reforma (one of Mexico’s City’s posh streets), contacted me. We’ve never really been friends, but we’ve seen each other every now and then at uni’s events because we were both high performance students and we’ve received diplomas and stuff together.
Anyhow, she approached me and said they needed me to be a director’s assistant, that they’d improve any salary I was earning, and offered all kinds of benefits. I reminded her I don’t really have experience in that field, and she said they needed someone who had a perfect english, was smart, quick and charming (see what I just did here? 😆 ) and they’d worry about training me. I thought about it long and hard, it was a damn good offer after all!
And what did I say? I SAID NO! I decided to keep my crappy teacher job, together with my editorial-assistant-I-love-it-but-can’t-make-a-living-out-of-it job. It’s a decision that doesn’t really change anything, and yet it feels like one of the biggest ones I’ve made, like I just made a turn I can’t undo, like….like I’m CHOOSING what life I want to live, and that’s huge! I’m deciding I’m gonna keep on fighting to become a historian and/or a consul, I’m choosing to be a writer, I’m probably choosing to not have a lot of money EVER, and I’m choosing…to starve, I just hope all these big decisions don’t take a toll on me. I’m not the kind of person who regrets stuff, never been, but I just hope I can keep on being like that in 20 years ’cause if not…well then I’m going to keep filling Mr. Shrinky’s pockets I guess 😆
God I missed blogging! I wanted to post since yesterday but I literally couldn’t type another word after finishing my damn chapter, but hey! I’m ready for the dreaded thesis seminar! My chapter has been approved and sent to all participants, so now I just have to sit back and wait for their
death sentence opinion coming next Tuesday. I’ll let you now. Glad to be back y’all!
Been sitting here for two hours looking at my attempt of a draft of my final chapter of the Frankenthesis. It’s not really the last chapter, it’s the second one, but it’s the only one I’m missing. Have to deliver it by Friday so that it can be checked and read by the people at the dreaded thesis seminar. I’ve gotten extension after extension, and this is the last chance I have of delivering it. I honestly think I’m in danger of losing my tutor. This isn’t wat she signed up. She’s not my mother, nor my therapist, nor my friend. She’s a successful academic who accepted to work with a high performance student, and what she got is a depressed, washed up , insecure cry baby who can’t manage to write down a chapter without a breakdown.
If I finish on Friday, I’ll be done with my self-created monster. Not DONE done, but I’ll be on the other side, on the much greener (or so I think) grass of corrections and editing. If only I could have it done by Friday I’d have one less stone to carry around. But as I was saying, I’ve been wasting my time for two hours and produced exactly 2 paragraphs, one of which I erased. And so, I come here to whine in the totally realistic hopes that ideas will magically flow into my mind and I’ll just have to write them down.
Today was a better day though, I don’t want to sound like I’m still swimming in the same misery pond I was on Sunday and Monday, let’s say I’m just dipping my feet in those waters. Panic has receded into anxiety, and after the f*cking Science Fair was over and done with at school (something I hated so much I didn’t even blog about), and I managed to gain a small victory against the infernal online system that runs the reviews I’m working for, I managed to ease up on the apprehensive state of shock I was in.
Anyhow, I guess this is me reporting I’m back from the land of despair where I’ve been approved a resident’s visa. Lovely trip, the sightseeing is amazing. Here’s a pic I had taken while I was there, fun times!
Being having panic moments since yesterday. I start sweating like crazy, my heartbeats rise, and I feel like I could die. And I want to die. I actually dreamt I was about to be killed by a lunatic and in my dream I just closed my eyes and hoped that he did it, I didn’t put up a fight, I just lowered my arms and silently waited for him to slash my throat. Nice huh?
I wanted to write yesterday about how I was feeling, but nothing sounded right. Perhaps because nothing IS right. Some of the stuff I was writing yesterday looked like this little draft I forgot to erase:
My life’s just too much for me. I’m glad it’s Sunday because I can’t handle Monday. I’m a chronic underachiever. Not only have I been given an education and basic needs covered, I’ve been blessed with some level of talent, wits, and common sense. And yet, I keep complaining about life, get into financial troubles, am stuck in the final chapter of my thesis, and single-handedly manage to make my life miserable. Because lets face it, blaming your parents can only get you so far. Why am I not stronger? Why I am sick? I guess I just wish I wasn’t such a loser.
Mr. Shrinky says my dream was very important because I’m learning to cope in different ways other than self-harm. I haven’t cut despite of how overwhelmed I feel. Instead I dreamt that someone else did it for me, and come to think about it, the dream has indeed helped because I haven’t felt that horrible urge all day long even when I’ve had such a dreadful one.
I feel like I’m doing a fool’s dance. One step forward, two steps back. It may have been some sort of breakthrough…but that doesn’t change the fact that my life is too much for me. People are starting to be condescendent with me: they are nicer, they let me get away with whatever’s on my mind, they look at me and stop themselves from saying things that may hurt me. Because they feel (or know) I’m weak, I can’t handle stuff, I’m broken. Ugh…
This one should be yet another short post. I hope I’m not making a habit out of it, but I’m just so incredibly tired, both physically and mentally. Sunday was a sucky day, didn’t get any work done, and it was a generally bad angsty day, even when I got to prove yet another time that it doesn’t matter what I do by going out with a very dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in a year. I just couldn’t enjoy it and be myself. When it’s a sucky angsty Sunday there is nothing I can do that will change it. And this particular Sunday was a bad one, that’s where my exhaustion began. When Monday came and it was time for me to get out of bed, that’s when my depressive-mode really hit me hard. It’s exasperating that on Sunday evening I kept wishing it was Monday already so I could get on with things, and when Monday did come I was just to depressed to enjoy what I had been waiting for.
All through Monday morning I just felt like quitting everything. My job, my thesis, my new job at the institute, my life really. Then I went to Mr. Shrinky’s office and he made it a little better. He helped me realize I’m struggling very much with the fact that there are people out there who care about me and who appreciate me for many reasons, even though I was made to believe I didn’t deserve it. I grew up with parents who would look at me as if I were a something like a pet. I never had any physical needs unattended, but I was not worthy of their time and affection, I just wasn’t interesting or good enough. I too watched some stuff I shouldn’t have watched, but they didn’t care what I saw, just like you wouldn’t mind what a dog or a bunny caught you doing. You feed them, you keep them clean, you teach them a few tricks. Then your job is done isn’t it?
And now, I’m faced with a new job I’ve apparently earned with my personal traits. There are people who think I’m valuable, responsible, smart, and they’re willing to put themselves out there for me. That’s just a very twilight-zone thing for me. They don’t HAVE to appreciate me, they don’t HAVE to care for me. They don’t HAVE to have me near them. But they still want to. This is something that’s causing a big unbalance inside of me, and on Monday I just couldn’t keep it together.
I did manage to get up and go to work though. Got there on time by the skin of my teeth. And I functioned. That was my biggest achievement yesterday. I functioned. Felt like torture, and getting the day done is actually something I’m proud of because of how hard it was.
Today was different. I’m once again alone at the house with the kitties. I don’t usually see the mother until night-time but knowing she’s out of town lifts a burden off my shoulders. So that made things a little better. Also, I went to Mount Olympus (I’ll be going there two days a week) and got a lot of tasks done. I felt productive and engaged, something I don’t usually get when working with the children and that somehow has a sweeter and longer aftertaste in me (with the children what I get are feelings of joy and concern, the first one lasts momentarily, and the second one stays with me through the day but it’s not something that makes me feel good).
So yep, I’m working two jobs now, a part-time and a full-time one. That besides the
ever-lasting torture commitment of my dissertation. By the way, remember that thesis seminar where I made a huge fool of myself and got triggered like hell? Well, next month, it’s one of my chapters they’ll be discussing and I’m so excited (not), especially since I STILL haven’t finished my last chapter, the one that would set me free. It too feels excruciating, except I’m not getting the job done, unlike my last Monday.
I’m off to bed now, hope y’all are being nice boys and girls. I miss reading your blogs, but I’m gonna have to leave it ’til tomorrow for as they say here in Mexico: I can’t even handle my soul. Night!
Today I made a huuuge fool of myself. I wanted to start digging and get in the ground, cover myself real good with dirt, and never, EVER come out again. And what’s worse is that if it hadn’t been for this gigantic embarrassment, my day would’ve been fine, maybe even a little better. But now my day is ruined and I’ll go in the record as the dumbest attempt at a student ever.
I think I’m gonna have to divide what actually happened in two parts. The first is the good part of my day, something I had been looking forward to, and the second is the self-inflicted torture that ruined my day, and possible a lot more days to come.
So the first part goes like this: I’ve been offered a job at my uni’s historical institute (a.k.a. Mount Olympus), I’ll be working as an assistant to two of their journals. This was made possible thanks to a dear dear teacher for whom I’ve worked as an assistant before and who (as what happened later only confirms) thinks just too much of me. He suggested me for the position to the other editors when it became vacant, and it was thanks to him that they chose me over a several other candidates, without so much as an interview. Today was the first time I was meeting 2 of them (there are four editors, two of them were absent: my professor and another one whom I didn’t know). I was excited because I was going to find out everything about what it is they want me to do and the whole nine yards basically. So I left my job at 3:30 and not a second earlier, drove like crazy to try to be there at 4 like they had asked me to, and made it at 4:10 more or less. I met two of the editors and they laid out their plans, and everything was dandy. And this is where it gets ugly and complicated.
There was another business I had to attend at the institute, I had a thesis seminar my tutor signed me up for. At the time (it started back in December)she let me know I had to attend it once a month on a day where I had failed yet again to meet the deadline for a chapter, and she looked pissed
with good reason. This seminar includes undergraduate, graduate, and doctorate students who are in the process of writing our respective dissertations, and this made me feel absolutely unsuited for the whole thing. How could my thesis, a simple, probably boring, not even from a history major, undergraduate dissertation, be compared to an eloquent thesis for a doctorate in History??? But up to today I’d managed to keep my head above water, reading the texts and managing to open my mouth without letting the butterflies escape. Yep, up to today.
This week however, I didn’t manage to fully read one of the two texts that we were going to discuss; I was a lazy ass and quite frankly forgot about reading them until yesterday. I read one and about three thirds of the other one last night on my laptop and didn’t write down my notes. I arrived late to the thing (it also started at 4), and was almost immediately asked to provide my feedback for the text I didn’t finish. It was the first chapter of a graduate dissertation and a damn good text, but I didn’t really have much to say besides that. I should’ve been honest and say I hadn’t had time to work on it, however for a split second I thought I could wing it. Guess what…I couldn’t. I started babbling without saying anything remotely articulated, and then… I just couldn’t shut up!! I looked like president Peña Nieto on a streak. I went on and on talking without saying something for about two minutes that felt like 2 hours, with 7 people staring at me waiting for a mildly reasonable idea to come out of my mouth, until a kind soul put me out of my misery by saying “why don’t you just think about it, and we’ll go back to you?”. I wanted to open the window and just escape, but that’s not even it!
It was bad enough making a complete fool of myself in front of all of them, but it just gets worse. This guy who gave me an out was the other professor who’s responsible for the seminar besides my tutor, but as I was about to find out, that’s not the only way I’m connected to him. When the seminar was over and I thought I could begin to recover from my humiliation….this same professor approaches me and tells me he wants to see me in his cubicle… as he is the other absent editor I’m supposed to work for!! I just felt like dropping dead right there.
So I went to his cubicle where he explained details he considered important for me to know about my new job, but all I could really do was wonder if he was thinking something on the line of: “THIS??? REALLY??? THIS is the girl I’ve been told about?? This mediocre, dumb, insecure loser is who I’m supposed to trust my journal to?”
God, just remembering this makes me want to die all over again. And I feel like cutting again. Bad. Something’s different though, I feel like calling Mr. Shrinky. He and N always tell me to call them when I get like this. Most times it doesn’t even cross my mind. Sometimes it does but I dismiss it like the stupidest thing I could do. But today… I wanna talk to him. I probably won’t, I’m not strong enough to call, and don’t have the privacy to do so either, so maybe, for the second time today, I’ll see if I can wing it.
Sunday’s here again, and I think I’m getting away with it. I’m not feeling any chest pains at all and it’s almost sunset so I think I might be on the other side. I haven’t experienced the burden on my chest for a few days now, and it’d be good news if it weren’t for the fact that I’m still a jumpy nervous wreck, especially at my job.
This past week was 5 months since I started working at this school, and I still can’t feel comfortable. The last job I had it took me a year to be myself, and then I left it for my current one. Is it also going to take me a year to stop being constantly anxious? It is definitely much better than it was at the start, but it feels like I should feel much much calmer right now, and I don’t. My coworkers are nice to me, my boss is strict and demanding but open and honest, my schedule (which I keep complaining about) is much nicer than what most people get here in Mexico, and my job is something I’m prepared to do. Still, it feels like I can’t relax for a second, I’m constantly on guard, and it’s pretty damned tiring.
And because I loove lists, I made a short list of the reasons why I’m insecure at my job all the time:
- My classroom is next to the principal’s office so I’m always on the watch
or so I think.
- My class must be boring for my students
because I must be a boring teacher who comes up with boring activities and for that sake let’s just admit I’m boring person
- My open class is in May
and I won’t be prepared for it because I’m a lousy teacher
- Sooner or later someone will figure out I’m not a good enough teacher
who’s not really committedand I’ll lose my job.
There was only one time when I wasn’t insecure at doing my job, and it had nothing to do with teaching. I got to Mount Olympus to do my uni’s mandatory social service for 6 months, and ended up staying there for a year. For the first half-year I ordered one of the institute’s historical review’s files, and for the second half I transcribed historical customs documents into excel files. For the whole time I worked alone in a cubicle and had barely any supervision at all and no official schedule; it was more of a phantom job really except for the times when I presented my results. I was very much trusted, and I felt it. Sadly these jobs were only temporary and when they ended I had to get a real one.*
Now I have a very strict 8-hour schedule and all my comings and goings are recorded in a fingerprint timeclock, I also have to wear a uniform and I’m supposed to follow all kinds of regulations. I do not work well with this kind of Big Brother pressure, and it’s eating me away. I don’t hate my job at all, but the constant supervision and ever-present rules make it almost impossible for me to enjoy it. I know it’s my problem, but I’ve yet to find a way to deal with it.
Still, if I survive an entire school year, and it looks like I might, I’ll have a very good reason to celebrate 🙂
* There’s a possibility of getting another part-time job at Mount Olympus, and I couldn’t be more excited! I don’t want to talk too much about it though, at least until it’s not for sure.
It’s been a week since my last post. I don’t think I had taken so long between posts in a while. I tried to write a continuation to my “Daddy Issues” post, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. This past week was a particularly tough one, I had a lot of trouble finding meaning in my life and I couldn’t help feeling like a complete failure. When I sat down trying to write, it just felt like it was pointless because nobody would care, even if I had a lot of positive feedback from the above mentioned post and some people even asked for part two, I’m just too much of a coward to go ahead with it, so I guess I’m putting it off for a bit, just until I get my head around what I want to say and how I’m going to say it.
I’m starting to wonder if part of the reason I have trouble telling the deepest stuff about my father issues is because I’m afraid people will think I’m just a whining baby, maybe they’ll see me for what I am, a young adult who’s traumatized by events that aren’t even comparable with the horrors other people went through while growing up. Maybe I’m just waiting for someone to tell me, like my mother has for so long, to suck it up and get over it.
And hell, I haven’t even started about my mother, that’s gonna take a whole new level of nerve. I’ve been dancing about the idea of writing about my mother for a lot of time, and I know I’m gonna keep on doing just that for a long time before I dare to dip my feet in those waters.
Anyhow, I guess this is some kind of hi-there-I’m-not-dead post, just to get back on track. I love this blog and I don’t want to get away from it for too long, and my writing prompt for today ends there really.
Oh wait! I have some juicy stuff! Ha, I’ve been so absorbed all week about not finding meaning in life, that I completely forgot to tell you that I finished another chapter of the Frankenthesis, and now I’m just half a chapter away from finishing it, yaaaay! I can’t believe I’m almost there, I can see the light at the end of this tunnel. When I’m done with it, I know it won’t be so hard to find meaning in stuff, and just enjoy life a little more.
In other news, we’ve got a new addition to the kitty family. Except…well… it’s not really a kitty, and it’s not an addition I agreed on, but since it wasn’t my decision to make (and I loove her cutie face), I’m just gonna see if me and my kitties can roll with it. Of course if kitties can’t adjust, I’m not gonna let this go by so smoothly, their well-being is my priority in this case. Without further adieu, meet… Lula!
Trigger warning: self-harm is dealt with in this post.
So I talked to Mr. Shrinky about cutting one session from my treatment. He wasn’t happy about it but he understood, and said something that made my heart clinch a bit, that went a more or less like this: “it’s just sad that your emotional part has to pay up for the mess your outer part has made”. This remark hurt me a little, but not because I thought the comment was hurtful in any way, because it’s true. I just don’t know how to take care of my emotional being. I feed and clothe myself, I can manage to get by society’s requirements in a not-so-dreadful kind of way, but I just don’t know what to do with my inner me.
She’s always been left to mend for herself, and when she just can’t handle the pain anymore and sends s.o.s. signals to the outside, that’s when I cut, I cut until the pain is balanced between the outside and the inside. Or sort of anyways. I did it again on Saturday night, my anxiety pain was just too much, I felt I couldn’t breathe, it was surprising I wasn’t fainting or something thanks to it. And it felt good because it was soothing in a way, caring for my wounds felt as close to caring for my inner me as I could get at that point. And little me has way too much on her shoulders to begin with, and now she indeed has to pay for outer me’s rampage.
It just dawned on me right now that I really haven’t talked much about all the stuff that got me here in the first place, I guess I’m taking baby steps into it. When I first started this blog all I knew was that I needed to write and be read, even by just a handful of people. Writing has always been an amazingly powerful therapy for me, no matter what the topic is, and so I blogged about Mexico’s elections, the #132 movement, and the-thesis-that-must-not-be-named.
But then one night I felt like sharing a little about me, and a little more in another post, and next thing I know elections are out the window and I’m sharing my inner demons for the world to see. It was something entirely new and exhilarating in a way…though it was and continues to be scary and threatening because I don’t know who might read this and if they’ll judge me, and because talking about me in any form has never come easy for me.
So far I couldn’t be more pleased with what I’ve gotten from blogging, most importantly the people I met through doing it. Empirically finding out you’re not alone and that there are people going through stuff you can relate to, well it helps a long way, so thank you for being there!
I know I know, this post is all over the place, but these were things I needed to get of my chest.
I’m happy to report that I’ve finished the chapter I was working on, I still have to review it, but I’ve done what I can with it and I’ve stopped being mad at my thesis. I’m gonna take the rest of the afternoon to do the proofreading and I’m gonna take a look at the last chapter missing, and if it all goes well tomorrow I’ll be working on it.
Today my horizon seems quite brighter than yesterday’s, I don’t know exactly what happened but when the sun went to bed, I completely freaked out, I mean, lost it. I Kept having SH thoughts that were kind of hard to restrain in some moments (though I managed to), and I just felt so terrible about myself for not finishing the chapter already. Then, when I wasn’t beating myself up I was busy being immersed in self-pity, I wanted to cry because things have been so hard on me, because I didn’t have anyone to comfort me, because I lost the first place in my class (yeah, that’s how much of a nerd and obsessive I am), I think I would’ve cried if Sylvester would’ve so much as left my side.
By the way, I haven’t talked much about him but you should know he’s my baby boy, the one that makes me look like a crazy cat lady (not saying I’m not), and the most spoiled one of my kitties too. So without further ado I present you, Mr. Sylvester Bombon:
But as I was saying, it all got better in the morning, ran some errands in the morning and when I started working on Frankenthesis I was on fire! I just hope I can keep up this speed, it’s be about time!
I’m currently torturing myself with a thesis about gender history. Not that I want to. The moment I’m done I’ll be running towards a new torture, graduate level, but back here in Mexico, if you’re a public university student you have to suck it and write a thesis even if your plan is to move right up to a graduate level.
Even if most of them end up being useless idols of boredom and futility that’ll decorate our families bookshelves, you still have to do it. Even if that puts mexican students behind any kind of reasonable competitive level against other countries, and this means that at age 25 we’re still doing an undergraduate thesis and there are people our same age doing postdosc everywhere else. Not that I’m bitter about it or anything like that… just sayin’.