Right. I’ve had it up to here with my bullshit.
When I started to feel bad at the beginning of the week, I should have suspected that things would go downhill, and so should have prepared for the fallout of my thoughts. In the time when I was more okay, I should have done more work, in preparation for the time when I just couldn’t. That time has come, I haven’t done enough, and I’ve realised that this could easily have been prevented. Or… Could it?
Today, I had horrendous stomach pains, and was so physically and mentally exhausted that when I woke up, I felt hopeless and awful and like I couldn’t face the day. So, I took the day off school, exaggerating my stomach ache and downplaying my mental exhaustion because I was just too tired to explain it. I felt – and feel – ashamed, and angry at myself, as if I’d given up – which of course I haven’t, but it felt like at the first sign of weakness, I’d just… Stopped.
When I woke up again after four hours of sleep, in the weird darkness of my room that felt wrong because it was so late, I felt… Okay. Still not good, but more okay, not as if I was about to break into pieces like I had this morning.
I took time for myself, relaxing as best as I could, trying desperately not to panic or hate myself to a large degree. After taking care of my skin a little, eating and listening to music, I did some work. Not enough, but it was a little victory.
I got lost in the reading of Jane Eyre, where words just flowed over me. They were beautiful, and when I read, I go into a quiet space where only the descriptions and I exist. Though I didn’t read much more of Othello, I looked over my notes on it, remembering about all the characters. I don’t even want to think about the disaster that is my notes for The Great Gatsby, which I wrote last term in my phase which I like to call “Elm Wreckage 2.0.”
That, unfortunately, was it. I emailed my history teacher to sort out the work, cried a bit when I thought about my French essay, and shed some further tears on the fact that I felt I was useless. It feels like a never-ending spiral, and if I tried hard enough, I could just get out of it. I could do more work, could get the motivation – because I’m doing less than is even required by the class teacher.
It sickens me that it’s taken me this long to even start to smash myself back together. This has nothing to do with the state of my love life, or anything to that effect: this is just me, all me, and my mental health which is becoming unchecked and wild. However, I think I’m blowing this up in my head to be worse than it is, as I tend to do; if I just TRIED, I could do this.
I don’t try enough. I become overwhelmed, get distracted, and then do nothing. It breaks me when I remember that I can’t help the girl I’m mentoring tomorrow, because I won’t be there as I have an annual review about my statement (disability thing) and she, someone who needs me and wants me to help her, is one of the people who holds it all together in her own little way. I need to do something, to get help or to figure out my thoughts before they run away with me.
It starts tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if I feel crap tomorrow: this has gone on long enough. Healing starts with me, and it’ll only start if I truly want to get entirely better. I’ve been languidly floating along until now, shoved along by a vague purpose, but that purpose snapped and broke and so I have aro create a new one.
Though it upsets me that I’ll have to do ! so much just to get my crap together and even more to succeed, I have to do it. Where will I be if I don’t? Today wasn’t me giving up; I realise that now.
Today was me giving myself a break, whilst simultaneously coming to the conclusion that I’m very lonely and sad and will remain so for a long time, the only thing changing being my motivation levels. It was almost me accepting that I’ve got to a state that’s separate to my crisis of mental health over the last three months – which wasn’t even that serious. Oh, it’s linked and caused by the low mood I was already in, and the lack of motivation goes back very far, but this time I know it’s me.
Because it’s me, I have to sort it out. I have to be brave enough to tell myself that enough is enough, I’m able to do this, and existing isn’t just enough any more. For my own sake, and for the sakes of people who I’m not sure even care about me any more. For those people, I’ll prove I can be closer to the person I was – filled with the true will to live.
Now, I just need to take my own advice, and put things into action. How, when I feel so panicky? The state of my notes is atrocious, I’m finding it hard to organise myself, and that’s all from before Christmas; I kicked myself into shape over the holiday, then regressed back to this. How am I supposed to clear up the myriad of crap from before then?
I’ll do it. I’ll stand the fuck up and try, try, try, and even if I fall again I’ll get up; even if people don’t understand what I’m doing, I’ll get up, because this is for me.
If you’re going through something similar, don’t forget that you can’t get better in a night. It takes time, and yes it’s hard, but I’ll be struggling right alongside you. There’ll be times when we’ll give up, and cry, and scream because we just don’t want to do it any more. I’m getting scared just thinking about those times, and I’m trying to stop one of those from approaching right now.
I knew this would happen, but after writing this, I know that I couldn’t have done anything. Being too emotionally sick to go to school was the spark that caused this: without that, I’m sure I would have got worse. Maybe I still will, but maybe I won’t.
From Elm 🙂