I just got a phone call from my therapist “I took the liberty of calling the university counselor and she said that because you’re in academic probation for a quarter, if you fail this quarter’s finals, you’ll be dismissed from school.”
i just gaped because in my mind, the only thing going through it was “what. the. fuck.”
I could easily take the offer of having my primary health care doctor write a letter and excusing me of this whole quarter and next quarter. But then I would have to be admitted into the recovery facility in another town for a whole bloody quarter. Which is NOT what I had thought they would put me through – I’m not that messed up right?
Fight, fight, fight. Don’t let the tears fall.
No. I’m Jackie, I don’t back down. I don’t care if it’s my pride or my ego or whatever shit you’re going to call it, I won’t take it. You can’t make me go to some shit facility because you can’t take care of me and make me progress as fast as you want me to. I’m fighting back and even if that means that this week is going to be a roller coaster without tracks. Even if it means this week is going to be swimming with the sharks with a wound on my leg. Even if it means that this week is going to be filled with suicidal thoughts. I’m going to fight through this. And prove them all wrong. ALL.
I’m ready to fight back.
A blank screen in front of her, all she wants to do is to convert her thoughts into words. What’s that? Its just her thoughts. It’s trapped in her head like a guilded cage. Just like her.
She’s nothing but an empty shell these days
Punch the wall. Just punch.
There isnt much that she has been doing. No, no, she’s been doing a lot. She’s been lying. She’s been hiding. She’s been crying. She’s naught but a shadow of her former self. Her very essense leaving her in little slips. So slowly that she barely notices it.
Don’t think about anything else, concentrate on the pain.
What’s that? That’s her pile of work. Her procrastination. Her consequence for being so mentally fucked up. What’s that? Can you hear it too? Its her silent screams that radiates from her eyes. It’s the anguish in her heart. It’s the desperation to escape everything. Do you hear it too?
Abort, abort, abort,
delete all thoughts. Punch. Just punch it. Ouch, the skin split. It’s okay. Keep punching.
What’s that? You feel that too? The heaviness in her heart? The panic that rises up her throat? She isn’t getting any better is she? She’s clambering. She doesn’t know what she’s doing anymore.
There’s blood. Punch through it. You deserve the pain.
It’s no surprise. I won’t be here tomorrow
I can’t believe that I stayed ’til today
All I wanted was for you to know. Everything I do I give my heart and soul.
It’s getting harder to keep fighting. I can feel the fight slowly leave me. Remind me who I am. Remind me what I’m fighting for. Remind me why I’m holding on. Convince me that it’s worth it.
A lot of times I find myself not willing to even participate in class.
A lot of times I find myself wishing I had just slept in and not come to class.
A lot of times I wished I understood what the professor is saying.
A lot of times I wonder what did the uni see in my resumé that made them think I’m worth being in this prestigeous public uni.
A lot of times I wonder what I am doing.
A lot of times I wonder what life would be like if I had no depression or eating disorders or other shits.
A lot of times I don’t want to socialise at all.
A lot of times I just ride on my bike with no destination just to try and clear my head.
A lot of times I get so lost in my thoughts that I don’t know what I’m thinking.
A lot of times I stuff myself with food.
A lot of times I refuse to eat.
A lot of times I had to swallow down hot tears.
A lot of times I’m sick of life.
But a lot of times I think of the small things that pushed me to continue with life, knowing that IF I had already made it this far, I can continue with recovery and become a better person.
A lot of times, I rely on faith to put one step in front of the other to keep walking.
Sorry for taking ages to write again. Remember how I always emphasize that recovery is a baby step at a time? Well… it felt like a giant step for me two days ago. Few days ago, I visited a counselor here. It felt so strange, so different, so… foreign… I was stepping into foreign land. I had no idea what I was going into. And during the initial consultation, I was as stiff as ice. I had to recount my experiences from day one. I had to tell her everything about me. It took me so long that I think the consultation took at least two hours. Lots of gaps where I just could not speak.
At the end of the session, all I wanted to do was go into the bathroom and cry. (which i did.) All i could think of was, “please do not let this happen all over again”. I walked out into the sunlight and watched bikes roll by and people laughing. I saw students sitting on the lawn with their ears plugged. and all I could feel was dread. Dread. It’s like the second part of learning how to walk, it’s the part where your mum and dad lets go of your hands and you have to take the next few steps on your own. When that happens, I know I’ll fall. I’ll fall maybe once or twice, or maybe I’ll keep falling. I’ll have bloody knees and scraped elbows. I’ll have bruises and concussions. But i’ll learn slowly. I know I’ll be able to walk again. I don’t know if one can ever fully recover from depression. I sure hope it’s possible. It’s been my journey for the past year – my hand was held by people who supported and cared for me. It’s time I learned to do that myself. It feels impossible, doesn’t it? It’s always clouded in doubt. But maybe, just maybe, this too shall pass…
Hugs and Love,
This was a ruler i used to beat my thighs after slicing it all up… just to get the extra blood flow… i found it again in its usual hiding place when i was searching for a completely different tool. The pain that seared back through my heart when i saw the flaking dried blood on either side of the ruler…
Tears were stopped before i lost control -thank goodness-. And i would just like to take a minute to ponder and think. I’ve come so far… even as i start coming out of my shell and being proud of my battle scars, i still have to admit that looking at my past is still a scary business… The past was never what i wanted. And i never would ever consider going back into that abyss… they were chapters and pages that were already flipped… flipping back is no use at all.
The ruler is now washed and discarded down the rubbish chute, never to be seen again by me. At the same time, it hurts to see that a part of my history is gone. Though I hated my past, it’s still a part of me afterall isnt it?