It has come to my attention the last few days that I'm beginning another depression cycle. I'm pretty sure I've explained the way that my depression functions before. I cycle through it. Sometimes I'm really good and then I go back on a downswing and I'm screwed for however long it takes. The last couple cycles haven't even been overwhelming sadness/sorrow either. The last few have been mostly apathy, and they've been brutal.
Spring semester, I didn't go to my comp 2 class for like, a month and a half. Okay, so I went like, 3 times. But still. That doesn't count. The WORST part about that is that I was writing a huge paper on the misdiagnoses of psychological disorders in adolescents in America. Ironic, no? I was unappreciative.
Anyway.
So I'm pretty sure I'm cycling again. And it makes me REALLY cranky. I was hoping to pull off a few more months before that kicked back in. And I think that this time I actually have to take the advice of my peers and compatriots--can I say that? Is that a word? Whatever--and go talk to a counselor. I don't know if the university even HAS that type of counselor. =/
And for real, as embarrassing as it is for me to admit this, especially NOW, I still cringe at the thought of seeing a therapist/counselor. I cringe. Every time. I don't want to. I really don't want to. I don't want to have to explain the shit I've got flying through my head because so much of it I can't explain. Some of this shit is strung together with my literature and my reading material and then it doesn't make any sense at all. I just. ugh.
This is what I wrote in my notebook the other day during American Government because I completely drifted off and away from the topic at hand (because he was kinda babbling): "Some days I wake up to the futility of life and I briefly lose my purpose. [...] Some days my brain latches onto the idea that everything--especially the religion to which I am so attached--could be an intimate, convoluted lie designed by those cunning minds that see power and seize it in order that they may guide and control our lives for their pleasure."
Uhhhhh... yeah. I think I should go talk to somebody. Maybe. Just a thought.
Anyway. That's all.
--Emily Mell
Spring semester, I didn't go to my comp 2 class for like, a month and a half. Okay, so I went like, 3 times. But still. That doesn't count. The WORST part about that is that I was writing a huge paper on the misdiagnoses of psychological disorders in adolescents in America. Ironic, no? I was unappreciative.
Anyway.
So I'm pretty sure I'm cycling again. And it makes me REALLY cranky. I was hoping to pull off a few more months before that kicked back in. And I think that this time I actually have to take the advice of my peers and compatriots--can I say that? Is that a word? Whatever--and go talk to a counselor. I don't know if the university even HAS that type of counselor. =/
And for real, as embarrassing as it is for me to admit this, especially NOW, I still cringe at the thought of seeing a therapist/counselor. I cringe. Every time. I don't want to. I really don't want to. I don't want to have to explain the shit I've got flying through my head because so much of it I can't explain. Some of this shit is strung together with my literature and my reading material and then it doesn't make any sense at all. I just. ugh.
This is what I wrote in my notebook the other day during American Government because I completely drifted off and away from the topic at hand (because he was kinda babbling): "Some days I wake up to the futility of life and I briefly lose my purpose. [...] Some days my brain latches onto the idea that everything--especially the religion to which I am so attached--could be an intimate, convoluted lie designed by those cunning minds that see power and seize it in order that they may guide and control our lives for their pleasure."
Uhhhhh... yeah. I think I should go talk to somebody. Maybe. Just a thought.
Anyway. That's all.
--Emily Mell
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