Six

            It's been six years, and just when I think I know most of what there is to know to let me continue on, something else happens. I'm becoming more and more aware of my limitations, and through that, my flaws. I know my strengths, but I will be the first to admit what needs improvement. And I've found out how much I really dislike change, especially readjusting my personal philosophies.

            One more year until graduation. I know what I want to do, I just don't know how I'm going to get there. It'll fall into place, though, somehow. Things in my life always do, no matter how roundabout the way.

            But I'm impatient. I hate waiting. Waiting to see how a new dosage takes effect, waiting to see if it's more of a help or a hindrance, waiting for the psychotic effects to wear off...It makes me feel so useless and powerless, since I can't physically do anything to speed up the process. In the end, I'm stuck in my mind.

            I take better care of myself now, or at least I try to. It's hard, though. At least my new endocrinologist is more understanding and relaxed, and she was willing to believe what had happened to me was not from me refusing to take care of myself, but because of some other factors.

            I'm still struggling a lot, internally. I'll get through, I know I will. One issue at a time.

            Six years and still learning.

I feel like I'm missing out on so much nowadays because of my limitations, imagined or otherwise. One of my priorities is to protect myself [because if I don't watch what I do...I don't want another cycle to start so soon]. So why do I feel so guilty whenever I do what I have to do? Guilty, unhappy, and unfulfilled, like something is missing from me, and that lacking feeling grows larger each time.

I'm so scared because I'm not getting better. I'm so afraid I will wake up [[especially the way I did last time]].

Don't misunderstand me, I enjoy life and I love my family and friends; but it was terrifying, and I have no wish to repeat what happened.

This is about balance and moderation, maybe. But there is never, nor will there be ever, a true definition or a line of where I can push things, and it's always going to change every day. That inability to solidify and put in quantifiable terms what I can and cannot do disturbs my foundation.

Both hands tied behind my back for nothing

These times when we climb so fast to fall again

Why we gotta fall for it now

Serenity, Courage, and Wisdom

Grant me the Serenity

to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

and Wisdom to know the difference

This is something I’ve been playing over and over in my mind the last few days, especially the last part. When I try something, when I put as much effort as I can into thinking and exhausting myself trying to pull up any and all possible solutions, it’s really hard for me to give it up. It gets to the point where I get terrible insomnia and, in my most recent case, where I get pneumonia too. I need to learn the divide between the possible and the impossible, and I need to learn when to back down and when to step up. I’m trying, and it’s hard, especially when I keep hearing different sides of every story. I can play devil’s advocate, and I can probably argue for the other side better than you can defend yourself, then switch suddenly and find ways to bolster your argument. It’s hard to make executive decisions when there are extremely valid points to both sides, and harder to urge the people I care about to do what I could barely do.

I’m resigned now, and terribly, terribly tired, but at least now I’ve learned my lesson, and in the end, I will live with what happens, accept the consequences, and move on. Just because something doesn’t happen the way I planned does not mean that the world will stop turning, and I don’t expect it to. Knowing that I’ve done as much as I could at least gives me a sense of peace, and I’m not left wondering about what could have happened if I did this or that. Maybe I didn’t do everything I could have, but it’s alright. At that time, in that moment, I did whatever came to my mind, and I put my heart into it. Whatever thoughts or suggestions that came up after were, well, after the fact, so what more can I do? I’ve grown, and sometimes I need to be pushed towards breaking before I understand.

I’m tired, and I still can’t sleep. It’s a problem of mine, but I don’t think I will be able to rest completely until everything is over. Even in my dreams I feel tense, and when I wake up, I do so with headaches. I wish I could let go and leave my responsibilities like I used to, but at the same time, I don’t want to try to escape from everything anymore. My staying at home for almost a week was not an escape, because I wasn’t running away from anything; it was a time I needed to heal, both mentally and physically. I really do enjoy having and need to have time to myself. That’s when I sort everything out. When that time is taken away from me, I fall apart. My thoughts need to constantly be shuffled around, reorganized, and reevaluated, and I guess the early hours of the morning are when I’m most uninterrupted, so I tend think instead of sleep. Too bad I need to sleep.

Everything right now is disjointed and clashing. Perhaps when I get to breathe I’ll feel better. Har har, get it? Bronchitis makes it hard to breathe…nevermind. Whatever I wrote here was uncensored and unedited [except for little grammar and spelling problems], so I apologize if it’s confusing. Just a little verbal vomit that I needed to get out of my system. I also feel like something is missing inside me. Hopefully I’ll find it in due time.

I have absolutely amazing friends.

Six scars. Five years. Damn...that's a pretty long time to be thinking about this, fixating upon it, right? And perhaps it is. It feels like it's been so many more years since those three weeks I spent in the hospital; it feels like a lifetime has passed since then and now. Is that weird, for five years to feel like a life has passed you by? At the same time, it feels like nothing has changed. Is it strange, to have your memories feel so disjointed and their pieces be so jagged that you don't know where one ends and the other smashes into place? And God knows why I'm up at 3:48 in the morning instead of finishing my paper and studying for my test in 5 hours, or why I'm not asleep with those things already done. In all honesty, that paper could be done in under two hours, and I could fail that test and still pass the class with above average marks, given my past grades.

But why? This past week, why? Why so snappy, why so moody, so touchy, unfulfilled...? Could it really be blamed on something five years ago, maybe even more? Maybe that's just an underlying factor, or maybe this is my way of coping. Cycles of unhappiness and unease that peak today, then settle back down into their normal "omg time of month" whatever the hell it's called. I'm contemplating how avoidable or unavoidable this is, and in general, I guess it doesn't bother me that much. Suddenly, when this time rolls around though, something inside twinges and twitches and threatens to snap and go batshit on something, even when I try not to think about it. Stupid insomnia, again.

It's now 5:48 in the morning, and my thoughts still haven't changed. Stupid melodramatics brought on by lack of sleep.

But still, I wonder...