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Mum's talking about sending me to school again. Trial month to begin with, certainly, in case it doesn't work out.
She said I take too much time taking care of people. I don't know whether that's true. Apparently, also, it's normal for people on Prozac sometimes to experience an increase of suicidal thoughts, so I don't have to write the letter that goes:
DEAR PROZAC:
If I die, you know, I can't pay your expensive bill. Please to be working the way you're supposed to.
No love,
Soujin
which is nice to know. I just need to get this sorted out with the psychiatrist and Christine.
I won a rabbit! I entered Waen's and my names in a drawing for stuffed rabbits, because I thought my people would like one if I could win it, and Waen's name was drawn. It's four inches tall and can fit in the palm of a hand. I'm thrilled. ^__^ I'll be able to give it to somebody on Monday.
Took a long hot shower to-day, and the tension in my shoulder went away, which is nice, because it's been hurting a lot. Also, I climbed the willow, the maple, the crabapple, and sort-of climbed the locust (by which I mean I did not even begin to succeed). Also I got stuck in the maple. Also I tried not to fall in the pond, and actually succeeded.
Sometimes I think I'm a horrible, callous person, and I'm not sure what I'm doing. I feel like an utter--jerk, really, and I just wish I didn't talk and say things.
And other times I feel sort of normal. I'm a small silly girl with curly hair and glasses, who sleeps in her watch and likes to go grocery shopping. I shouldn't feel the way I do, but it's a time, not a thing. I blush easy and sentimental stories sometimes make me cry and sometimes make me snark, and I like to go barefoot and I like ice cream in the summer. I wouldn't be out of place in a school, especially if I went to Harrisburg Academy, which is where Mum wants me to go.
I might learn better how to get ready for pre-med. I might learn actual social skills. I wouldn't have as much time, certainly; I wouldn't be able to work the same hours I do, I wouldn't be able to schedule things with the same freedom; but I'd have regularity, which is actually something I need very badly. I need a rhythm to life; that's something that helps me focus and keep myself sane. I might do well in school now.
But I honestly can't say.
I do wish my tremor would go away. A surgeon cannot have shaky hands, dammit. How am I meant to make good stomas? --Which I am going to do. Mum was furious and upset and couldn't stop telling me how angry she was about how all six of her patients yesterday had poor stomas, and were in horrible shape and pain. I'm going to do my best with that. I'm going to learn how, and I'm going to be someone people can go to, instead of a GS, I'll be a specialist. And then at least if they have to have stomas, the stomas won't be awful.
(See? I have a goal and a desire and no reason to die. TAKE THAT, PROZAC. If I laugh enough and get angry enough, I'll never die.)
She said I take too much time taking care of people. I don't know whether that's true. Apparently, also, it's normal for people on Prozac sometimes to experience an increase of suicidal thoughts, so I don't have to write the letter that goes:
DEAR PROZAC:
If I die, you know, I can't pay your expensive bill. Please to be working the way you're supposed to.
No love,
Soujin
which is nice to know. I just need to get this sorted out with the psychiatrist and Christine.
I won a rabbit! I entered Waen's and my names in a drawing for stuffed rabbits, because I thought my people would like one if I could win it, and Waen's name was drawn. It's four inches tall and can fit in the palm of a hand. I'm thrilled. ^__^ I'll be able to give it to somebody on Monday.
Took a long hot shower to-day, and the tension in my shoulder went away, which is nice, because it's been hurting a lot. Also, I climbed the willow, the maple, the crabapple, and sort-of climbed the locust (by which I mean I did not even begin to succeed). Also I got stuck in the maple. Also I tried not to fall in the pond, and actually succeeded.
Sometimes I think I'm a horrible, callous person, and I'm not sure what I'm doing. I feel like an utter--jerk, really, and I just wish I didn't talk and say things.
And other times I feel sort of normal. I'm a small silly girl with curly hair and glasses, who sleeps in her watch and likes to go grocery shopping. I shouldn't feel the way I do, but it's a time, not a thing. I blush easy and sentimental stories sometimes make me cry and sometimes make me snark, and I like to go barefoot and I like ice cream in the summer. I wouldn't be out of place in a school, especially if I went to Harrisburg Academy, which is where Mum wants me to go.
I might learn better how to get ready for pre-med. I might learn actual social skills. I wouldn't have as much time, certainly; I wouldn't be able to work the same hours I do, I wouldn't be able to schedule things with the same freedom; but I'd have regularity, which is actually something I need very badly. I need a rhythm to life; that's something that helps me focus and keep myself sane. I might do well in school now.
But I honestly can't say.
I do wish my tremor would go away. A surgeon cannot have shaky hands, dammit. How am I meant to make good stomas? --Which I am going to do. Mum was furious and upset and couldn't stop telling me how angry she was about how all six of her patients yesterday had poor stomas, and were in horrible shape and pain. I'm going to do my best with that. I'm going to learn how, and I'm going to be someone people can go to, instead of a GS, I'll be a specialist. And then at least if they have to have stomas, the stomas won't be awful.
(See? I have a goal and a desire and no reason to die. TAKE THAT, PROZAC. If I laugh enough and get angry enough, I'll never die.)
