I'm still feeling pretty damn depressed, and these constant headaches aren't helping, but tonight was a bit brighter.
For some reason or another, my Women in History class was awesomely funny! And by "some" reason, I mean because of lines like "She was in the 50's or 70's of 60's, or something." which I found awfully hilarious!
Man, that prof makes my week better.
And we got our tests back. The midterm, worth 25% (or...something close to it...I forget exactly) of our mark. She put the breakdown on the board of how many people in our small class got what grade:
A: 3
B: 1
C: 4
D: 4
F: 2
The girl beside me and I were panicking. Dr. Skidmore started reading "good examples" of two of the essay questions: Neither were ours. Therefore, more panicking.
We get the back, and me?
Oh, you know, 81%.
I was pretty much dying of relief and joy in my seat.
Man, I really love that prof! She made my night/week/month. (:
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Broke
And I just broke down.
My mother and sister are down and are going home today. Mom and dear old grandmother got into an argument about wonderful me.
It sent my grandmother into tears and my mom close to them because (and I heard this from my room) "you tell her eat, then she's fat, eat, too fat, eat, too fat. Let her eat what she wants. If she gets sick, then who cares?! I don't care. Just let her get sick. Let her eat what she wants."
Mom found the squirreled away empty pre-made food containers from A&P.
She found the empty bag of cookies and the empty cake pan.
She found the empty bags of chips and assumed, like everyone assumes when they look at a a fat girl, that I ate it all in one sitting.
Bullshit.
So she comes up the stairs as I sit, drying my wasted tears after hearing it all while trying to read the first half of my "Saints, Sinners and Soldiers" book for Social History, and starts talking.
I have to put the book down.
She tells me about how my grandmother's only looking out for me, etc etc, and how I "have to see a councilor or something about the eating."
I broke. After I told her that I don't eat it all in one sitting, I broke.
I sobbed.
She asked me what was wrong. I said nothing. She told me that there must be something wrong to have me crying. I told her it was nothing. My mind was screaming "Tell her! Tell her about feeling depressed and the binging because you feel worthless and the long gashes across your stomach that you made by dragging your scissors across your worthless gut." But I said "nothing."
She started going on about how my hiding food was because I was feeling guilty about it. That that was my "problem." Then she told me that my makeup was running and I just blurted out "It doesn't matter anyways." She then started talking about how it does matter, because wearing makeup makes me feel better about myself and...that's just not true.
I wear makeup because I'm afraid that, if I don't look good somewhere on my body, then all anyone will see is my fat. Which they do. But I didn't say anything. I just told her it "doesn't matter."
She left and I sat down at my computer and promptly took my scissors from my desk and pulled it across my skin four more times.
No one sees my stomach anyways, so who cares.
I was looking at my university's website, at the Student Health Services, looking for counseling. I found, in the FAQ, a list of signs of "a severely depressed person."
They are:
Like I said before; I’m scared to ask for help, because the last time I tried, my mom told me it was ‘just that time of the month’. Then she laughed.
I just want to sleep forever and not wake up.
My mother and sister are down and are going home today. Mom and dear old grandmother got into an argument about wonderful me.
It sent my grandmother into tears and my mom close to them because (and I heard this from my room) "you tell her eat, then she's fat, eat, too fat, eat, too fat. Let her eat what she wants. If she gets sick, then who cares?! I don't care. Just let her get sick. Let her eat what she wants."
Mom found the squirreled away empty pre-made food containers from A&P.
She found the empty bag of cookies and the empty cake pan.
She found the empty bags of chips and assumed, like everyone assumes when they look at a a fat girl, that I ate it all in one sitting.
Bullshit.
So she comes up the stairs as I sit, drying my wasted tears after hearing it all while trying to read the first half of my "Saints, Sinners and Soldiers" book for Social History, and starts talking.
I have to put the book down.
She tells me about how my grandmother's only looking out for me, etc etc, and how I "have to see a councilor or something about the eating."
I broke. After I told her that I don't eat it all in one sitting, I broke.
I sobbed.
She asked me what was wrong. I said nothing. She told me that there must be something wrong to have me crying. I told her it was nothing. My mind was screaming "Tell her! Tell her about feeling depressed and the binging because you feel worthless and the long gashes across your stomach that you made by dragging your scissors across your worthless gut." But I said "nothing."
She started going on about how my hiding food was because I was feeling guilty about it. That that was my "problem." Then she told me that my makeup was running and I just blurted out "It doesn't matter anyways." She then started talking about how it does matter, because wearing makeup makes me feel better about myself and...that's just not true.
I wear makeup because I'm afraid that, if I don't look good somewhere on my body, then all anyone will see is my fat. Which they do. But I didn't say anything. I just told her it "doesn't matter."
She left and I sat down at my computer and promptly took my scissors from my desk and pulled it across my skin four more times.
No one sees my stomach anyways, so who cares.
I was looking at my university's website, at the Student Health Services, looking for counseling. I found, in the FAQ, a list of signs of "a severely depressed person."
They are:
- increasing isolation and withdrawal from others, not talking much with friends or floormates.
- unusual sleep patterns (this could mean sleeping much of the time, or difficulty getting to sleep, or early morning awakening)
- significant changes in appetite (overeating or loss of appetite)
- lack of interest in surroundings
- lack of attention to personal appearance
- tearfulness or very little expression of emotion
- verbal expressions of feeling out of control
- indications that the person is dividing up their possessions or making decisions about who will be able to use their possessions when they no longer need them
- any indication that they have thought about how they would kill or harm themselves
- any sudden change in mood, i.e.: from an anxious agitated state, to a calm, peaceful demeanor
- has the individual experienced recent losses, through death, divorce, loss of personal status, etc?
- has the individual previously attempted suicide?
- is there any family history of suicide?
Like I said before; I’m scared to ask for help, because the last time I tried, my mom told me it was ‘just that time of the month’. Then she laughed.
I just want to sleep forever and not wake up.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Crashing
I’m crashing.
That “feeling” is back, and no book can help me.
The stress is piled up so high…I’m watching it teeter, ever so slightly…
And I just keep amassing it. I keep shoving it into closets instead of dealing with it.
“The closet door is swelling. It’s pushing against the hinges, the frame is going to break”
But unlike Ms. Verlee, I can’t “run, run far and fast” until “I wake up, cold and alone in a strangers arms” because it’s here. It’s here to stay and it’s…swallowing me.
The stress is piled, so high that all I can do is switch between laughing hysterically and crying for an hour before I yawn and decide the only option left is to sleep for some 4 hours in the middle of the day.
Those four hours…those four hours where no one’s reminding me about tests and projects and presentations and essays and notes and reminders of, oh guess what, yes you are fat and no boy wants you…I don’t want to wake up.
So I end up sleeping more, then waking up and panicking over the amount of time I’ve wasted and I cry. I cry and slam my fists into my desk, crying out to someone who isn’t listening.
Then I bunker down and work until exhaustion takes over again and I wake up with headaches.
Have you seen those “Shout it Out” submissions? The gorgeous pieces of art with confessions strew across them? Those inspirations of human nature? I’m planning on doing one someday, when the workload lessens, some day in the distant future.
I typed out all of the things I want to put on it. It’s 6 pages long.
I posted this on DA.
Maybe someone will help me, without laughing.
That “feeling” is back, and no book can help me.
The stress is piled up so high…I’m watching it teeter, ever so slightly…
And I just keep amassing it. I keep shoving it into closets instead of dealing with it.
“The closet door is swelling. It’s pushing against the hinges, the frame is going to break”
But unlike Ms. Verlee, I can’t “run, run far and fast” until “I wake up, cold and alone in a strangers arms” because it’s here. It’s here to stay and it’s…swallowing me.
The stress is piled, so high that all I can do is switch between laughing hysterically and crying for an hour before I yawn and decide the only option left is to sleep for some 4 hours in the middle of the day.
Those four hours…those four hours where no one’s reminding me about tests and projects and presentations and essays and notes and reminders of, oh guess what, yes you are fat and no boy wants you…I don’t want to wake up.
So I end up sleeping more, then waking up and panicking over the amount of time I’ve wasted and I cry. I cry and slam my fists into my desk, crying out to someone who isn’t listening.
Then I bunker down and work until exhaustion takes over again and I wake up with headaches.
Have you seen those “Shout it Out” submissions? The gorgeous pieces of art with confessions strew across them? Those inspirations of human nature? I’m planning on doing one someday, when the workload lessens, some day in the distant future.
I typed out all of the things I want to put on it. It’s 6 pages long.
Confessions:
- I hate it when people try to reach out, because I feel like I’m wasting their time.
- I hate asking for or accepting help, that doesn’t mean I don’t need it on occasion.
- I’m scared to ask for help, because the last time I tried, my mom told me it was ‘just that time of the month’. Then she laughed.
I posted this on DA.
Maybe someone will help me, without laughing.
You’re taking me on a roller coaster,
a whirlwind of emotional drama.
Feeling unfeeling feelings
and left wondering why it hurts.
Pulling hair like pulling teeth
and papers fall prey to tearing fingers.
Unnoticed hurt and angry frustration
but so confused as to why it hurts.
I promised myself I wouldn’t,
that I have no reason, no excuse for lamentations.
I live a wanted life, I have no excuses.
So then why do I tear my hair
and pound my fists, red and throbbing, against the desk,
and pull at my face with fingers
and drag things across skin,
why does it hurt?
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
I can't fucking DO this!
All of this reading.
I'm only on the second article in the first book.
Fuck it!
I'm such a shitty typer...WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS?! I can't POSSIBLY get it all done. But I can't back out now either. FUCK!!!y5h3w-9jp 0i 7ijogs akjwvhdn rtrsh navkjdb jtkawh rkvten
I keep ripping at my hair and scratching my arms and
Smashing my keyboard i'm just so frustrated im so fucking patheitc!
Everything's just been piling up and up and up and up and I just want to go to bed and wake up in three years.
I can't handle the stress
Oh, and I forgot to mention the insanely helpful help from my little sister.
" well the only solution is to QUIT TALKING TO ME AND GET BACK TO WORK WOMAN! (I yelled that in a friendly way too, no hatred or meanyness there. and yes meanyness is a word... to me.)”
To which I responded: “But I aaaaam working. It's just sooo sloooow. Fuck! DX<>
And then she said nothing.
Ya, real helpful.
I mean, I listen and listen and listen when she’s going on and on and on about her fucking boy problems, but when I’m crashing, when some shit happens, she deals with it in such a passive aggressive manner…
Like this conversation, when my status on Facebook was something like “{My name} is just now realizing that what her father said was a direct jab at her”:
Sister: “Who's father said what?”
Me: When {Father’s name} was driving {Friend’s name} and I to the school (to see
And, really, it was so random...
And I'm pretty positive he hates me for "hurting" his little "princess" before...
And she has this mad hatred for Keira Knightly and I have this unexplainable love for the woman...
It just all seemed too convenient.
And I didn't really notice it right away, though, so I just sat there in the car, staring out the window at the rain and the silly people running through it and the conversation just stopped. I'm not trying to sound...erm...what's the word...egotistic? Like, I'm not saying that I know for a fact that they were waiting for me to say something, but that's definitely how it felt.
And then, as they were driving me home, {Friend’s name} said she'd lend me the "better" version of Pride and Prejudice (the one with Colin Firth) next time I saw her. I asked her "isn't that the one that's 6 hours long?" and she was all "Ya, but it's better."
'Caaaaause I'm not allowed to like the 2006 version.
It just all seemed too convenient. And I only figured it out today because I've been too busy to care.
I may just be paranoid, well, I -know- I'm paranoid, but still.
Sister: I think your overreacting. She didnt say that you werent allowed to like the other one, she knows you like the newest one and she probably thought, you know, you'd maybe like to see the other one? And Doug probably said what he said because he knows {Friend’s name} doesnt like her, not that you love her.
Well thats what I think.
Hes not really a mean person, and not EVERYTHING that he says is meant to be an insult towards you.
I mean, I know. I’m paranoid and shit, but still, when it’s November and I’m ranting about being paranoid, a smart person would look into it, since November is the month from hell when the stress piles on and I get slightly depressed and…slightly suicidal…sometimes.
It’s like thaaaaaanks, sister, for giving a flying fuck.
I want someone to come…I dunno…help me somehow.
And the pathetic thing is, is when my mom phones tonight, I’ll be all “OH, I’M JUST PLUM DANDY! ;D” and then I’ll go cry when I get off the phone. ‘Cause that’s what I do.
Fuck.
Crashing
So, my computer just crashed. Completely and utterly crashed. It froze. Then I couldn’t turn it off. Then, when I did, I turned it on again and it hummed away, with the black screen, for like, ever. I tried it 4 times, and it did nothing. Then it wouldn’t turn off. So I took out the battery and put it back in and then it worked.
But I've been typing out my notes on the readings for my Women in History midterm (another girl and I split the readings and will be giving each other a copy of our notes this coming Tuesday) but, for some reason, the file didn’t back save or whatever. So now, I’m at 302 pages of reading again.
I was hyperventillating…
Fuck it.
Now MSN isn’t working.
First the presentation of mine has major "technical difficulties" and so now I have to do it this coming Monday in front of the entire class (of , around, 60 people) instead of just my tutorial group (around 20 people). My work load is piled up so high, it's going to come crashing down soon and I'm going to be standing right under it when it does. I'm feeling alone, and heartbroken even though I'm not alone and no one's broken my heart. Yesterday I felt like someone had died and they were never coming back, so I just sat around and cried for about 2 hours while watching some documentary on online predators. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
I’m leaving this piece of shit computer for a while.
Nothing is going right these days. Nothing at all.
But I've been typing out my notes on the readings for my Women in History midterm (another girl and I split the readings and will be giving each other a copy of our notes this coming Tuesday) but, for some reason, the file didn’t back save or whatever. So now, I’m at 302 pages of reading again.
I was hyperventillating…
Fuck it.
Now MSN isn’t working.
First the presentation of mine has major "technical difficulties" and so now I have to do it this coming Monday in front of the entire class (of , around, 60 people) instead of just my tutorial group (around 20 people). My work load is piled up so high, it's going to come crashing down soon and I'm going to be standing right under it when it does. I'm feeling alone, and heartbroken even though I'm not alone and no one's broken my heart. Yesterday I felt like someone had died and they were never coming back, so I just sat around and cried for about 2 hours while watching some documentary on online predators. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
I’m leaving this piece of shit computer for a while.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Frustrated
God damn it.
It’s like everyone and their brother, and their brother’s brother’s decided to visit the old hag this weekend.
Thursday and Friday, it was those obscure relatives from…I think BC. They stayed the night. I didn’t know this was happening until
And today, Saturday, some other relatives just showed up. And the Omster-Nazi’s probably going to do her “COME DOWN AND SAY HELLO!” thing soon and then not let me leave until, like, 5 when they go. Like, seriously. Last weekend, when I had to study for my midterm on Monday, mom was down but at least she let me study. The weekend before that, I had my European history essay due on Tuesday and she somehow found a million things for me to do and criticized each one. Then told me the DVD wasn’t working because I wasn’t being patient enough. And, since Monday pretty much, she’s been continuously reminding me that that fucking DVD worked “on Mike’s computer”, as if I should have known and was holding out on her all along. How the hell was I supposed to know? And my lappy doesn’t play DVD’s or CD’s very well since my dad and I had to replace the device, so now it picks up the most minute of scratches so the sound and video’s all jumpy.
I have a presentation on Monday that I’m shitting myself over and another annotated bibliography that’s due Wednesday that, before I submit it, I have to go through the rigmarole of turnitin.com and submitting it to WebCT for the entire class to read (and I’ve yet to find enough sources).
I’m breaking out like’s it’s New Years Eve on my face, I think I caught a stomach bug at school (thanks Stella) and spent most of last night in the bathroom so I’m exhausted, this family’s racism and all around bigotry is pissing me off, I can’t find my other stripped knee-high since the Nazi took everything from my room and decided to wash it (whether it was clean or not), and I’m still fat and have been feeling more fat since…well…the weekend of the 15th of October when everything started being due at school.
I’m so angry and frustrated and I have no idea why. I want to rip someone’s head off and shave my own head so I’m bald. I want to through this computer out of the window and then run into traffic. And I don’t know why.
I’m just feeing so…frustrated.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Something's wrong
I'm so angry!
I'm so angry and I'm so frustrated, but I don't know why.
I think there's something wrong with me.
I'm so angry and I'm so frustrated, but I don't know why.
I think there's something wrong with me.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
*sniff sniff* I smell a Canuck winter approaching!
Note to the human populace.
Do not, I repeat, -DO NOT- talk to me about how much you dislike, despise, or hate snow, because if you do I will, most assuredly, go medieval on your ass.
Seriously. Canadian here. And I looove my Canuck winters!
So when a highschool friend of mine tells me" "it's snowing at my house today"and I respond with "It was snowing here, too! Just as I left the building to walk across campus. My luck! Haha! Man, I love snow!" to which she responds with "i don't like snow...i want it to go away"...
Well, that just pisses me off. So I tell her "Blasphemous! Sounds like someone needs to move south! Or start running a coal factory."
It's like when my grandmother complains about Canada, I ask her why, then, did she immigrate here? If you hate the snow, then support coal factories, turn on all of your lights and waste waste waste...or move South, but don't come complaining to me about it.
I love snow.
Do not, I repeat, -DO NOT- talk to me about how much you dislike, despise, or hate snow, because if you do I will, most assuredly, go medieval on your ass.
Seriously. Canadian here. And I looove my Canuck winters!
So when a highschool friend of mine tells me" "it's snowing at my house today"and I respond with "It was snowing here, too! Just as I left the building to walk across campus. My luck! Haha! Man, I love snow!" to which she responds with "i don't like snow...i want it to go away"...
Well, that just pisses me off. So I tell her "Blasphemous! Sounds like someone needs to move south! Or start running a coal factory."
It's like when my grandmother complains about Canada, I ask her why, then, did she immigrate here? If you hate the snow, then support coal factories, turn on all of your lights and waste waste waste...or move South, but don't come complaining to me about it.
I love snow.
Friday, November 2, 2007
NaNaWriMo? No Thanks!
National Novel Writing Month.
Two of my "friends" are partaking in it.
One was sort of suggestion I join, the other didn't even mention she was in it and I didn't know until I wikipedia searched "Nanowrimo", since her MSN name has the usual fluffy "ILU!" shit for her "boy" (a twenty-seven year old "questionable" [in my books] man who has already dumped her...twice...that I know of), and then she has "Namowrimo word count: 546"
Anyway, I wikipedia searched it and the article came up and I went "ooooh yaaaa" when I remembered what it was.
The fact that she's in it? Oh man, hilarious. Her writing makes me laugh. Her prose is only "so-so" and her poetry? Well, she doesn't use punctuations and she knows that pisses me off. But since *checks her DA account* December of last year (2006), she has been writing "erotic" fantasy's involving what she wanted her boyfriend to do to her. She sent them to me before submitting them to proof-read and grammar-check. Oh god, horrible! I do NOT want to read that kind of smut. My mother used to teach her. In grades 2 and 3. Ewwwww! D:
There's no telling what kind of stuff she's writing on there!
I may have to use my semi-awesome e-stalking skills to find out. And then mock her. In private. Or in MSN conversations with my little sister.
I'm twisted like that.
I mean, I know the contest thingy doesn't really care about quality, but still...
Personally, any "contest" that's priding quantity over quality when it comes to the written word is complete bullocks if you ask me.
I'm sort of really looking forward to her going all "OMG! Why aren't you in it? You should have joined! Can you proof-read my crap?!"
So I can calmly tell her that, no, I didn't want to join and still don't want to join because, surprise, I'm a thrid year History and Sociology major and I do enough writing on time-limits and I don't need the added pressure and, also surprise, that stuff is complete crap. In fact, your stuff is complete crap."
I might leave out that last bit, because I'm too nice to the people I sort of really hate.
{EDIT} I found her.
HAR HAR HAR!
Let the e-stalking/e-mocking begin! ;D
Two of my "friends" are partaking in it.
One was sort of suggestion I join, the other didn't even mention she was in it and I didn't know until I wikipedia searched "Nanowrimo", since her MSN name has the usual fluffy "ILU!" shit for her "boy" (a twenty-seven year old "questionable" [in my books] man who has already dumped her...twice...that I know of), and then she has "Namowrimo word count: 546"
Anyway, I wikipedia searched it and the article came up and I went "ooooh yaaaa" when I remembered what it was.
The fact that she's in it? Oh man, hilarious. Her writing makes me laugh. Her prose is only "so-so" and her poetry? Well, she doesn't use punctuations and she knows that pisses me off. But since *checks her DA account* December of last year (2006), she has been writing "erotic" fantasy's involving what she wanted her boyfriend to do to her. She sent them to me before submitting them to proof-read and grammar-check. Oh god, horrible! I do NOT want to read that kind of smut. My mother used to teach her. In grades 2 and 3. Ewwwww! D:
There's no telling what kind of stuff she's writing on there!
I may have to use my semi-awesome e-stalking skills to find out. And then mock her. In private. Or in MSN conversations with my little sister.
I'm twisted like that.
I mean, I know the contest thingy doesn't really care about quality, but still...
Personally, any "contest" that's priding quantity over quality when it comes to the written word is complete bullocks if you ask me.
I'm sort of really looking forward to her going all "OMG! Why aren't you in it? You should have joined! Can you proof-read my crap?!"
So I can calmly tell her that, no, I didn't want to join and still don't want to join because, surprise, I'm a thrid year History and Sociology major and I do enough writing on time-limits and I don't need the added pressure and, also surprise, that stuff is complete crap. In fact, your stuff is complete crap."
I might leave out that last bit, because I'm too nice to the people I sort of really hate.
{EDIT} I found her.
HAR HAR HAR!
Let the e-stalking/e-mocking begin! ;D
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