Had a good chat with a lady from my college today.
Such a big weight lifted, she told me she was glad that I voiced my concerns because there was a lot of people in the same boat as me (not being supported by tutors/falling behind due to no clarity of requirements etc) that were just trying to struggle through without saying anything.
She made me feel so much better about everything and took a lot of my worry away. I’ve been assigned a new tutor who has already sent me an adorably supportive email and it just feels great.
I’ve been so stressed, depressed and anxious lately and my worrying about my course was a reasonably big part of that, it feels good to know I needn’t let it get to me as much as it has. Now I feel like I have a little breathing room and space to focus on feeling better without excess pressure.
I just feel a lot lighter all of a sudden. It’s nice.
I remember when I didn’t care what people thought of me.
I used to believe it when people told me I inspired them or that they looked up to me because I was living and breathing what I believed in when it came to valuing myself. I’ve always been a bit insecure but I never used to be this bad. I was a firm believer in the “fake it ‘till you make it” and a lot of the time it worked, even on my worst days I still knew I was someone worth knowing or being around.
These days I just feel like a shell of a person. It turns my stomach to realise that I’ve reached the point where I only feel important if my existence is acknowledged by a select few. And even when I do get the attention I crave, I don’t feel like it’s real. I feel like I’m only being spoken to out of sympathy. I’m completely isolated and just sat here in a mess of my own making, watching the world and the people I care about carry-on just fine without me.
Of course I want the best for those that I love or care about, nothing makes me happier than seeing my loved ones succeed. I just wish is wasn’t so blatantly obvious that my presence isn’t a factor in their happiness anymore. I’d like to be able to take this realisation as a humbling thing, but it only makes me see the worst in myself. The “old Hope” would just laugh it off and get on with it, but I just don’t feel like I exist in any world other than my own hell right now. Like I’m a memory or an afterthought. And it’s just not nice.
Tonight I flat out forgot (and still can’t remember with certainty) the name of a man that was very important to me a little while ago.
strawberrry-swisher has actually left me to properly start her Australian adventures with Robert and I am the saddest. They wouldn’t even normally be up this early but the house still feels dead quiet and weird without them.
Yesterday I forgot the name of the person I was speaking to (and had written in front of me on Facebook chat), a person I speak to pretty much every day.
My “short term” memory is actually getting worse and this tied in with all of my emotional mush and super anxiety comeback has me scared that none of my treatment over the last few months has done anything and I’m going to be stuck forever.
I’m more than likely overreacting but since that is a huge motherfucking symptom of my diagnoses I’m also pretty valid in my reaction. Ugh. I remember when it felt like I was getting somewhere, now I just feel like I’m drowning really slowly.
Got the fear. Need comfort and milo.
I’m not sure what it is, but something about these jeans makes me feel pretty fab.
Last night I looked down and it almost looked like I had boobs. I took a photo out of excitement only to realise I was wrong. A rare moment of body confidence though, itty-bitties, creepy-old-lady looking hand and all.
I feel a little bad.
strawberrry-swisher isn’t likely going to be with me during October so I won’t be able to comfort her when she discovers that Australia gives zero shits about Halloween.