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Jan. 28th, 2005 03:35 pmI'm not having a good day. A good week. Heck, a good month.
I'm sleeping what I'm starting to think is too much; I'm completely unmotivated as per my classes; I'm being incredibly bitchy for no real reason. I woke up this morning, having slept almost nine hours, and my first thought was, "I hate this place."
I had an argument with my mother the other day, and I'm reverting to my old, cowardly, avoidance tactics. I promised myself I wouldn't let myself do that to myself or to anyone else ever again. I haven't talked to Dorian in a week, because my phone's been broken, and I haven't planned anything for half-term. I don't want to tell him that. So I've just not checked my email today.
This isn't good.
Maybe I should leave. I've not been so unhappy in years. Not since middle school (grades 6-8 in my district, from ages 10-13).
One of the reasons I loved Emma Willard so much is that I truly believe that that school saved my life and my sanity. If I had attended the local high school, I'm fairly certain that I would have been clinically depressed, if not suicidal, by sophomore year.
It took a while for me to understand just how unhappy I had been in public school, just because I was so used to it. And then I worked some other things out, and started finding myself happy. It took way longer than it should have for me to figure out that's what I was, but I did eventually get it. I'm not as smart as I look, especially with emotions, but give me enough hints and I figure it out.
I don't want to give up being happy. I shouldn't have to.
I'm not going to. Whenever I've been depressed this year, I've decided that if I spend three weeks consistently depressed, I can leave. I came back from winter break on the 6th. Today's the 28th. By my calculations, that's 22 days. That's more than three weeks. That's over my deadline for deciding.
But I don't want to leave. I don't want to give up. But I know that I have a habit of stubbornness. I have a habit of staying in situations and relationships long after they turn poisonous, because I want to make them work.
I don't want this to be another example of that tendency.
I can't decide if I'll regret leaving more, or if I'll regret being miserable for months more. I worked it out. I have to get through February, March, April, May, and June here. I honestly don't know if I want to do that.
I'm sleeping what I'm starting to think is too much; I'm completely unmotivated as per my classes; I'm being incredibly bitchy for no real reason. I woke up this morning, having slept almost nine hours, and my first thought was, "I hate this place."
I had an argument with my mother the other day, and I'm reverting to my old, cowardly, avoidance tactics. I promised myself I wouldn't let myself do that to myself or to anyone else ever again. I haven't talked to Dorian in a week, because my phone's been broken, and I haven't planned anything for half-term. I don't want to tell him that. So I've just not checked my email today.
This isn't good.
Maybe I should leave. I've not been so unhappy in years. Not since middle school (grades 6-8 in my district, from ages 10-13).
One of the reasons I loved Emma Willard so much is that I truly believe that that school saved my life and my sanity. If I had attended the local high school, I'm fairly certain that I would have been clinically depressed, if not suicidal, by sophomore year.
It took a while for me to understand just how unhappy I had been in public school, just because I was so used to it. And then I worked some other things out, and started finding myself happy. It took way longer than it should have for me to figure out that's what I was, but I did eventually get it. I'm not as smart as I look, especially with emotions, but give me enough hints and I figure it out.
I don't want to give up being happy. I shouldn't have to.
I'm not going to. Whenever I've been depressed this year, I've decided that if I spend three weeks consistently depressed, I can leave. I came back from winter break on the 6th. Today's the 28th. By my calculations, that's 22 days. That's more than three weeks. That's over my deadline for deciding.
But I don't want to leave. I don't want to give up. But I know that I have a habit of stubbornness. I have a habit of staying in situations and relationships long after they turn poisonous, because I want to make them work.
I don't want this to be another example of that tendency.
I can't decide if I'll regret leaving more, or if I'll regret being miserable for months more. I worked it out. I have to get through February, March, April, May, and June here. I honestly don't know if I want to do that.
Reposted from LJ, 20 March 2009
