Tuesday, May 1, 2012

A healing moment.

I'm doing anything I possibly can to avoid doing the massive amounts of work I have to do in the next 3 days just to get an Incomplete in my 3 classes this semester.  I hate it.  I am not the type of person that gets this far behind.  I'm also not the type of person that gets so depressed she can't pull herself out of it...except that, apparently I am and have been since November of last year.  I realized what was going on almost 2 months ago and started getting help, talked to my professors and all that jazz.  The problem is.....I'm still feeling so f'ing overwhelmed at this precise moment that all I want to do is hide under my covers for the next 5 years and say "fuck school".  Which is so totally not me.  I love school.

Sorry, I really didn't want to turn this into a bitch session.  It bothers me when I read other people's blogs about how depressed/sad/upset they were/are.  I could never really relate.  I'd just say "So stand up and shake that shit off"....fake it till you make it and all that jazz.  But then it happened to me.  My roommate has been empathetic, my mother has been sympathetic, my son couldn't be bothered to give a shit.  And that is the story of my entire life in one line.  Sometimes, I truly want to punch him in the face.  Like, how in the hell did I ever spit out a child that is so fucking self-centered, judgmental, and privileged?

But then I remember what I hateful bitch I was to him as a child and that he spent the last 3 years with his father in another state learning things like: if you fuck up, even the tiniest amount, the world will crash down around you and you will be judged for the rest of your life for that one mistake; work is a necessary evil that no one really cares about because life is all about retreating into the computer games and tuning out the rest of the family; sexism is all just a big joke so laugh it up.

So when I say I haven't done the dishes or cooked dinner in 5 months because I've been too depressed to care if anyone ate and my 15 year old lashes out at me with a comment meant to make me hurt just as much as he does, I have to bite my tongue until it bleeds and shove my fists in my pockets because I refuse to be that person again...and in order to make sure he knows it's safe to feel what he feels, I will let him get things off his chest and lash out with his hurtful words and try to deal the best way he knows how - the way I taught him, so that I can teach him better....because I am better now.


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