psalm_onethirtyone: (Mycroftian Horrors)
Dear GOD I am tired. Stress comes with insomnia, as always.

basically, rundown, I have one exam and four finals, one more therapy appointment, one more prescription to fill, four more classes to attend, one lovecraftian horror in Comm, one magnificent disaster in ConRes (is it a paper? is it an in-class exercise? WHO KNOWS? certainly not me, because I slept through one class and missed the other last week), and one excruciating confrontation in IntroSosh. And ALL THE BODY DYSMORPHIA IN THE WORLLLLD.

Also I screwed up my knee and it doesn't bend. >_>

On the plus side, [livejournal.com profile] dreamer_easy made me a Mycroft creeping icon, which I love. Now I just need moar. Actually, I need icons for Sherlock, X-Men, and probably Iron Man, as long as I just got more iconspace and I have new fandoms to attend to.

AND NOW TO FAIL MY INTROPSYCH EXAM. I am so ready for this.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Stellini D'Oro)
life is precious and mine is long.

damn, depression is exhausting. i wish i didn't have three exams this week. on the plus side, i really like these falling stars that lj has put up for the background.

i realised that i've got to stop self-injuring before the india trip over winter break, because apparently we'll be staying at a beach and they'll be expecting us to swim, so i won't be able to get away with it any more. i think that's actually more stressful than the actual self-injuring itself. i hate swimsuits. i wish i weren't body dysmorphic. i wonder if i can just curl up in the sand and wear clothes and not have to worry.

ha ha, i actually said "not have to worry" like it was an actual plausible course of action.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Gotta Surface Soon)
I feel like I'm dying. I don't even know. Is this just normal up and down and I should wait for it to pass, or do I need to make some serious changes in my medication or somewhere? I have no idea. I just know that my whole body feels like it's dying.

Also Shawn told Katie that he thinks I make all this up for attention, and that shouldn't bother me, because Shawn is an idiot, but oh God it makes me feel so bad. It makes me feel completely filthy. Monday I went to the vertebrate zoology lab and just cried with the snakes and told them how lonely and guilty and miserable I am, and they were sleek and perfect and didn't answer.

And I'm about to be late again for class for about the sixth time this week. And my back has--not been treated gently throughout this, I have not been kind, but I want so much for some of this poison to seep out somewhere and I don't know of any other way.

Even the fact that I think Sean likes me and I know I like him isn't helping. I'm afraid he'll find all of this out about me and change his mind. It's easy to say, "People who really love you/matter won't be put off," but people who really love you have time to know you as who you are before they find out about how you're broken, and I don't know how much time is enough time for that.

All of this is too much right now.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Nay Nor Woman Neither)
It is SO HOT here I cannot TAKE it any more, and my father is alive through NO ACTIONS OF HIS OWN, and the cat is weeping for indiscernable reasons and my feet hurt and IT'S SO HOT and I am never, never ever making individual cakes for a party of twenty EVER AGAIN, and I don't even KNOW and said party is to-morrow and I am so sick of people coming over and Daddy wants me to clean the house and then SCRUB THE FLOORS as in he literally told me that the floors needed to be scrubbed even though he did them himself LAST WEEK OR NOT EVEN and he's all mad at me for not answering the phone while I was INDIVIDUALLY ICING TWENTY-THREE SMALL CAKES and I am never using this liquor frosting ever again it gets EVERYWHERE and now MAGGIE is crying and I haven't minded the chickens yet although I have fed and watered the other four portions of birds on this farm and I HATE HAY and I've got yellow dye all over my nice white conservation club shirt and I swear to the lord if Maria doesn't shoot some of those guineas soon I will learn to use the .22 myself.

*curls up under the bed*

post scriptum I weighed myself for the first time in two years and I shouldn't have done that also I ripped all my toenails out again and they were just starting to heal up after the last time I HATE EVERYONE &c &c.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Dye My Eyes and Call Me Pretty)
scatterbox again:

Worked in drug and alcohol rehab to-day. It was really actually pretty great, and a really nice facility--infinitely better than the ward I went to when I was in the hospital for my bipolar. Colour me really, really impressed. They take dual diagnosis, polysubstance, &c, and their psychiatrist appears to have a clue what he's doing (I sat in on clinical report, which was officially the longest meeting I've ever been in but in no way the boringest; so I got to listen to him talk for around an hour).

Another vaginal bleed pt. yesterday. Dr. Jesus would definitely have a job in our WHW.

Am going in to-morrow for a meeting with a possible mental health counsellor person thingy for possible therapy while I'm here. May fall through.

Mama said to me on Sunday, "It's awful that you have all those ugly scars. You look awful." Had not really thought before about it. I do, up my left arm and down my back, from when I was cutting regularly, and down both legs, as well as the little knot at the small of my back from my surgery, and the one across my forehead from when I was little. I had not really thought of them as ugly before, just as being.

I kind of enjoyed this article a lot.

I have no idea what is going on in my Arthurian murder mystery. Wtfeven.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Dye My Eyes and Call Me Pretty)
The weather right now is very changeable, and so, it follows, is my mood. Here's a term I learned a few days ago: psychache. Which is like heartache for your soul. But it's a word people don't know, and it's a feeling it's hard to express, and sometimes when you have it and can't understand it or are afraid you won't be able to have anyone else understand it, you decide that maybe you should kill yourself. But that's not what you want: you want someone to salve the ache.

I also realised that when I become a doctor I would not think it was wrong to help a patient kill himself. But if I were going to, if I had a patient who requested help killing himself, I would want conditions to be met first: I would want (in nine of ten cases) a terminal diagnosis, and a low quality of life, and most of all I would want the patient to be able to ask rationally to die. And I realised that, and I realised that's why I shouldn't help myself to euthanise myself when I want to die. I never feel rational when I want to die. If I think it's unethical to provide PAS to a patient who isn't fully in possession of his thoughts when he wants to die, it should by the same logic be unethical to do the same to me when all I have to hold onto is a haze of terrible pain and wildness and desperation. Those aren't the right conditions.

In other words I shouldn't commit suicide, because it's not what I want. Inside me, it's not what I really want. It's just what feels like a solution, because it does bear with it the promise of freedom from pain, and I want so badly to be free from this pain. But what I want is to be free so I can live. I want to be able to do what everyone else does and enjoy life and live. The answer to that is not to take away pain and life and everything. If I had a patient who was in pain I wouldn't suggest she kill herself; I would find out what hurts and why and then I would address that cause, the root of pain. In myself I have been trying to stop my pain by punishing my body (so that it hurts somewhere else) and punishing what hurts instead of what causes hurt.

I've just been doctoring myself wrong.

I want to-morrow to be a good day; I want this week to be a good week. I'm trying to keep things in a neat straight line, but I always end up getting tangled off some other piece. I haven't been as panicky and anxious about academic things, though.

I'm feeling really sad right now, but I'm pretty sure it's from sitting in the dark. I'm going to go to bed and wake up when it's light. I want to be loved, but you do that by loving, and not by sitting in the dark with your soul hurting. I think a month ago I would have answered this by hurting myself, but I'm tired of punishing myself for being sick.

I want to be the physician who heals herself.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Fingers of Leaf)
My icon is, for once, utterly appropriate; I have been depressed I think almost since April began, and it is not letting up, despite my efforts (I am so tired). And I'm trying to do homework but nothing wants to happen, and my hands are shaking so bad to-day, I cannot hold anything to-day, it's ridiculous. This is one of those weeks where you lose your faith (and that is terrible timing indeed: it's Holy Week already).

I want to go home. I want to cease. I want to sleep for-ever. I want to slide that razor into my body, but I made a promise, and I keep my promises if nothing else. Professor K-G says that makes me strong, but I am not so sure.

What is keeping my faith: )

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Soujin

January 2012

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