It’s possible that by this weekend I will be entirely on the ball. Of course, having said that, something will undoubtedly occur to fuck that up. Still, I’ll take my satisfaction where I can. Speaking of which, I have secured permission to sit for comps, which means I don’t have to wait until July to graduate. Which is good since comps already got postponed once for me, and I am tired of these motherfuckin’ delays in my motherfuckin’ degree. Of course, even with permission to enroll, the course o’ true learning ne’er did run smooth. I am enrolled but the class is not added. I don’t know what that means. I’m going to wait until tomorrow and then check and see if it’s added, and if not, contact enrollment again. But this time I knew to take a screencap so I can prove it says I’m enrolled.
In light of recent posts and the potential/seeming upturn since, I thought I’d take some time today to talk about my experiences with depression when I am not currently in the throes. Like many cases, my depression started in adolescence. We moved to the DC area the summer between 7th and 8th grade. After a couple days of school, I refused to get up. I just didn’t want to go. Nothing bad had happened there, I was making friends with no trouble. I just didn’t feel like moving. At all. Eventually, my mother enlisted my brother (18 years old and waiting for bootcamp to start in a couple months) to carry me out to the car. Once we got to Frost, she went in to the office and they said “get her in here and we’ll set her up with the guidance counselor” and I spent the day in guidance, talking to the counselor, first with my mom and then without. She gave my mom the number for a (truly awful) psychologist, and I spent a couple months seeing her. That stopped when my mother and I both forgot I had an appointment and she called up and screamed at me for 10 minutes. Everything was fine by then, so we didn’t try to find anyone else. (This started a pattern with me, unfortunately.)
Then, my senior year in high school, I was slacking, my grades were okay but toward the end of the year I was convinced I would not graduate or, if I did, I wouldn’t get into any colleges. I had been fighting with my parents a lot, too. I took 12 advil (candy coating makes it go down easier) without water before my heart started skipping beats and I freaked out and realized I was being an idiot. I told my parents and we went to the ER to have my stomach pumped. (Not a procedure I recommend needing, BTW. One of the least fun medical procedures I have ever had, and those includes IVPs, pap smears, and catheters!) And then I saw another psychologist for a couple weeks, who deemed me not-suicidal and sent me on my merry.
This is already long and boring, so I’ll continue tomorrow. But before you start tying that noose to get away, check this out: I have the best boyfriend ever. (For those of you who don’t know me, yes, that was sincere. THAT IS THE BEST VALENTINE EVER.) Also, check out the Derby News Network this weekend to watch the DC All Stars (and a bunch of other teams) play in the very first Big O tournament in Oregon!