where do I go to fall from grace?

Iím still here. Still alive. Barely.

Honestly I feel as if Iím in the midst of having a nervous breakdown and itís not very fun (not that I expect nervous breakdowns are ever really fun).

Between school and work I feel as if my life has been squeezed down to just two elements: reading and writing. And that is all I do. Itís all I think about. I have this new weekly project at work that is very time-consuming. It seemed like a good idea when they approached me about it almost a year ago. But then it kept getting delayed. And finally when it came up again it just happened to coincide with going back to school.

School is kicking my ass. Itís not that itís hard per se Ė itís that itís so time-consuming and I cannot even fathom the thought of taking two classes AND student teaching in order to receive the free or partial tuition waver. Especially if Iím still working full-time. I would definitely have to cut my hours Ė but can I afford that? I really donít know. How do these other people do it? Right now if I went part-time I would make $800 less a month. Thatís a BIG chunk oíchange to suddenly go without.

But what are my options?

Option one: go part-time at work, do student-teaching/ tutoring in order to receive at least a partial tuition waver and use financial aid to make up the difference in salary (in addition to cutting back in places obviously)

Option two: stay full-time and try and get teaching experience in the summer (morning class w/ V. as done before) but forgo tuition wavers (and hope for a little cash via an alumni scholarship) and just take out a shit load more financial aid.

Option three: quit school and feel like a loser and try and figure out the next step.

Option three, believe it or not, is looking increasingly attractive.

Iím still just really not sure of even doing this. I read the stuff Iíve written and I wonder why I even thought I could do this in the first place. I read it and I donít like it. Did I like it last year when I sending out applications? I canít even remember Ö. I read it now and it makes me sick to my stomach.


This Thursday I have to turn in my first story to be workshopped (the following Thursday) and Iím seriously losing sleep over it. Iím dreading turning it in, Iím dreading the workshop process.

And not just because of the things Iím afraid theyíll say but because of the things Iím afraid they wonít say. I want somebody to look at it and say Ďyou donít have a chanceí because then I could just be done with it instead of holding on to this dim dream.


I shouldnít even be writing this write now, I should be working.

The rest of my world is a mess too. At first we thought LCís dad was going to try and go through chemotherapy Ė not as a treatment but simply as a way to prolong his life. Well it turns out he has pneumonia as well. No chemotherapy. Instead they brought him home Wednesday Ė set up a hospital bed in the living room facing the window that looks out on to their backyard of trees and flowers. They have the most beautiful backyard Ė up in Lacey, WA Ė very close to Olympia. Green and lush and slightly wild.

Itís probably just a matter of days LC wrote in her e-mail to me.

This is a guy who was barely sick a day in his entire fucking life Ė and now this.

I donít even know what to say about it and writing it here Ė the words seem flat. No depth, no dimension.

I need to start therapy again Ė but I barely have the time. I should probably start taking the meds again, but am thinking of asking my doctor about anti-anxiety treatments. The panic attacks are getting to be a bit annoying, you know? You know, the whole heart-racing, shallow breathing, sped-up, frenzied feeling? Iím not very fond of it Ė unless itís sex-induced, of course.

Iíve tried talking to GB about it Ė but honestly heís not much of a help. He tells me you were freaked out last month and got through it, youíll get through this.

HELLOÖjust because I got through one freak-out doesnít mean Iíll get through this one. It doesnít mean more time will magically appear in my life. Or more money. Or a more defined reason for being.

It doesnít mean any of this will start to make sense.

I just need a signĒ I tried to tell him last night.

Yes. A sign.

Or a kick in the head.

I need a light to go off in my head.

I need clarity.

I need to understand: OK, this is what you are doing. And why you are doing it and how it will help you.

Right now I just feel like me going to grad school is a joke. An expensive joke.

But Iím too afraid to quit for fear of regrets and just generally feeling like even more of a loser.

HmmmÖ.I am really self-absorbed arenít I? I managed to bring this right back to me and the damn school thing.

Oh well, itís my diary and Iíll cry if I want to.

Note - the above was written several hours ago, pre-Ativan. Now, as I'm breathing a bit easier thanks to the drugs, I'm trying to think more clearly, but I'm still upset and worried.

I keep coming back to quitting school.

But if I do will I end up hating myself and even if I do end up hating myself what is the next step?

Do I even need a next step?

Another long weekend of homework ahead of me.

Barely even the time to think about solutions.

5:18 pm - 09.20.02

sounds: Coldplay
words: i dont want to read
i am: ripping out the seams with my teeth


previously on ... - next time on ...

money can't buy happiness but it does buy small pieces of of serenity - 15.07.12 - 4:29 pm

sh)t's about to get real, y'all - 31.05.12 - 9:46 am

why the hell not? - 29.04.12 - 8:38 pm

Hear that lonesome whistle blow... - 02.04.12 - 5:18 pm

a faith in something I can't see - 30.03.12 - 3:33 pm

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