Posts Tagged ‘doctor’

The person who I’m supposed to put my life in the hands of nearly killed me.

That explains why I felt half alive, half dead. His error caused me to have sepsis, for the second time in less than three months.

He didn’t listen when I asked if it was placed properly. The nurses didn’t listen when I said I was in too much pain for the procedure. No one really listened, until it was almost too late.

I was prepared to die.

The only way I’ve thought of to describe sepsis is an ache unlike any I’ve experienced.

Ever had the flu? The ache is kinda from the inside out. Sepsis is somewhat reverse. The ache starts at the core and then spreads deeper and deeper throughout the body.

There’s a reason some people refer to it as blood poisoning. I felt nausea, and not from pain. Nausea because my blood felt like a substance that didn’t belong in my body, like it was defective, dangerous, and poisoned.

I lost count but I think it was at least seven rounds of strong antibiotics through IV that was administered to me, using an antibiotic that is prescribed and reserved for severest of infections

You know yourself better than anyone, even a doctor knows you. Don’t trust these people who act like paragods, they too are human, and they too can make detrimental mistakes.

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The larynx is responsible for the voice which is located in a region most people would consider the throat. So I guess technically, this wasn’t my throat, yet this was the first word that popped into my mind tonight as I was speaking with my Somatic Experiencing Therapist. She asked for sensations that arose when I made contact with my throat and instead of sensations, I gave her words. After all, that was the first thing that came into my mind.

Tonight however, my “throat” and me were two separate entities for lack of a more accurate depiction. My throat spoke to me and I spoke back.

Lately, I’ve been having problems with my esophageal spasms (Jackhammer Esophageal type). If I didn’t already have an eating disorder, this would be a great way to propagate one. I can see now that it stems back from long before I was able to form memories. for this time period, all I have to reference are medical charts from my home for the first two months of life, A.K.A., the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at New York Hospital.

I read in the charts that there were times when at the doctor’s direction, feedings were discontinued for me, sometimes for more than one day.

This leads me to believe that this is where I learned a pattern, namely the pattern of defeat and then to reset/rebound/get back to baseline again. I was going to be all corny and write, “get back on my feet, no pun intended”, but then there would be a pun, and oh look I did that anyway.

It’s a matter of resilience and what people do when confronted with a difficult situation. And it’s true, you never really know how you’ll react or cope until something comes your way. For me, the pattern seems to be that even at the worst of times, when negative circumstances arise, I tend to have a decent ability to sit in my shit, and then come out from it stronger in the end.

For an excellent understanding of resilience, if you enjoy TED talks, check out Brene Brown and resiliency. I don’t know how to make the fancy accents on the 2nd “e” in her name, but I’m sure it’ll pop up… or click here for easy access:

However, this is not a pattern I want to continue. I don’t like that a negative circumstance is what I need to live positively and more strongly if you will. I want to have a fighting spirit without the constant reminders in the form of some traumatic or challenging situation.

Back to the topic at hand-conversations with my throat. I had my hand placed on my throat during this conversation:

Throat (imagine a person slumped over in a chair, this is how my throat is acting, not literally, just defeated): Why should I work now? You’ve neglected me for so long.

Me: Yeah, but it was hard-wired for me to do so from a very young age. No one took care of me, they ignored me. It became a pattern, habitual

Throat: Yeah, but what about now, now you have control.

Me: I know I do, I can’t describe it better than I was hardwired to not feed myself.

Somatic therapist interjects: I prefer to think of it as “conditioned”. You were conditioned to do this, not something that can’t be changed.

Me: Oh yeah, sorry, forgot that word. Hard when learning a new language to remember words in other languages (I’m learning Danish). Then I relayed this information to my throat.

Throat: (scoffs)

Me: I’m not really sure what more to tell it, because it has a point.

Therapist: try just sensing it.

Me: Ok.

Throat: You know, you abused me, you treated me badly.

Me: What? I may have an eating disorder, but I never have purged. How could I have treated you badly?

Throat: You may have not purged, but c’mon, I’m connected to your whole body.

Therapist: You know your throat has a point, do you agree?

Me: Oh yeah, absolutely (not sarcasm).

Therapist: So can you sense anything changing in your throat?

Me: I reached for my drink to test.

Therapist: No I want you to just feel it.

Me: A sudden burst of energy-Upon doing this, my feet began bouncing up and down nonstop for minutes, I probably would have run a mile if I were standing considering the speed and duration of my movement.

(Many minutes later)

Throat: I need (therapist). She’s got skills.

Therapist (chuckles): Lots of people have skills. You just need a person.

Me: Yeah, but my throat knows that you can help it.

Therapist: How does it know that?

Me: Because you helped other parts in the past and my throat was witness to that. Like remember the time we had a session and you said normally you don’t go that fast with your clients but my body was in crisis? First, you put your hands on my kidneys and then you moved to my left side and said there was a lot of heat in my stomach region. Then, it was kind of like a volcano after some time and began spewing out (the negative energy). Then you moved to my neck and the upper part of my chest, but you didn’t get to my throat that day. My throat felt neglected, forgotten.

My throat became more neutral, which was better than the initial distant teenager feeling it first emoted. Hoping that I can learn to listen to my body and we can work together more often than constantly fight with one another (physical symptoms manifesting as a way to express that something’s not ok).

In my decision on whether or not to remain at school overnight to complete a paper, these were the factors I contemplated:

-if I stay at school, I won’t be able to change clothes for tomorrow
-if I stay at school I save two hours of travel time and could use that most efficiently on this paper I’ve completely procrastinated on
-if I stay at school, I will likely have less adequate sleep than if I go home
-if I stay at school, I will have less distractions than at home
-I’m probably too tired to bike home anyway
-I’ll have to figure out a way to get food at low cost if I stay at school for many meals
The last brilliant aspect that popped into my head:

-if I stay at school, I won’t be able to weigh myself, omg I have to weigh myself if I’m going to actually eat

Guess which entity won out? You got it, the last one.
Never mind the fact that going home means I have a shot at making and attending a same-day doctor appointment for my esophageal spasms. Spasms which refuse to let me or those surrounding me eat in silence. “Gurgle, gurgle” goes my throat after every solid or liquid swallow of sustenance. My stomach growls constantly as the nutrients I put in it aren’t enough to last very long. Backed up throat, chest pains-apparently those pale in comparison to my obsession with getting home to use the white-plated almost-square piece that will reveal my weight in digital red numbers to the nearest .5 kilograms. Kilograms-the measurement I now comprehend full well-at least around 60-70kg. What a reason to learn the metric system-all to know my weight-such motivation!

Stupid fricking scale. Annoyed with my brain for believing a number is actually worth something. At this point, I don’t believe I’m worthwhile unless I’m trying to work on my physique. Thanks brain.

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When I was six years old, I went to the neurologist. It was a simple check up and ended neutrally-nothing better, nothing worse. For all intensive purposes, it was a good day, a reason to celebrate. It was also the day I had to grow up immediately.

Following my check-up, my mom, step-dad, brother, and some aunts, uncles, and grandparents from my mom’s side went out to lunch. It was a boring lunch and my brother and I were the only kids present. As such, we sat next to one another, giggling at my brother’s finger.

For some reason, unbeknownst to our six and eight year old brains, his finger had begun shaking really fast. We laughed throughout the meal. By the end of the meal, his finger did not cease shaking and it was at that point he declared, “I think I’m gonna go tell Mom now”. I shrugged my shoulders and continued on with my meal, while observing my brother walk over to our mom, show his finger and see my mom’s happy face go frozen, almost like “into war” mode.

She made a call somehow (this was before cellphones were common to carry though she may have had one since she’s been on top of that technological advance) to a doctor. Little did I know it was my doctor. All of thirty minutes later, back we were in my doctor’s office, and my brother was seeing the doctor with our mom while my step-dad took me for a walk around the neighborhood. I remember glancing up at the trees in that neighborhood, it was a beautiful autumn day. The sun was shining through the trees, and to me it looked somewhat like this:

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During this walk, I remember thinking to myself, “Today is the day I have to grow up.” I don’t know how I knew this, I certainly didn’t know what this would entail, and yet I distinctly remember knowing today was going to begin a new way for me. Already being robbed of a “complete” childhood (free from worry or despair), I knew childhood was now a thing of the past.

Coming back from our walk, I found out that my brother was to be admitted to the hospital that day. It took two years for them to figure out what disease he was afflicted with. Neurofibromatosis Type II was the catalyst in completely tearing my family away from me.

Every time I complained about having Cerebral Palsy and how kids would make fun of me or how I couldn’t make the Junior Olympics in gymnastics because I wasn’t flexible enough or my legs not strong enough to perform certain maneuvers, I was invalidated by my parents. My dad always yelled at me to pick up my feet (my loud shuffling embarrassed him). He insisted I didn’t have Cerebral Palsy (CP). Barbara always told me to not complain, look at my brother, he has it worse. Yeah I suppose spending the first two months of my life in a hospital where I almost certainly lost my twin to premature labor and birth and having three major reconstructive surgeries before the age of 7 just wasn’t severe enough in her eyes. After all, we’re talking about the woman who had breast cancer and made no big deal of it because my brother and I both had incurable conditions and she knew hers had a cure.

If only it were that simple, to think oneself well. I want to think my brain damage will go away from her negligence of not seeking immediate medical attention when she began bleeding 3 MONTHS before her baby(s) was due. Whenever I had any sort of negative thought about my affliction with CP, I was told, “You don’t have CP, you have Spastic Diplegia”. What? I shrugged this off and it wasn’t until the internet became a common place to look up information that I realized that Spastic Diplegia is a form of CP. Really, who knew? Certainly not me…

Throughout my childhood, I formed the belief that my brother’s disease didn’t impact me and that I should be grateful I don’t have hundreds of tumors growing at will throughout my central nervous system. Thinking about it now I realize how irrational this train of thought is and how often my emotions were invalidated, how often I was invalidated.

I’ve been seeing a Somatic Experience Practitioner for a few months now (thanks to internet, I continue to have video sessions with her while I’m studying abroad). In our initial session she explained how the body stores trauma if there is no way to release it. She expanded upon this concept, explaining that we can react in 4 ways to trauma. 4? The conversation went as follows, with her asking me to list the ones I knew of:

Me: Fight, flight, freeze.

Her: There’s a fourth, can you guess what that is?

Me (very quietly with a smirk): Party?

Her: Nope

Me (again quietly): Dance?

Her (smiling): Closer… it is an action of sorts.

Me: (shoulders shrugging) I don’t know.

Her: Inquire. Ask why someone is doing something. However, kids don’t have the capacity to do this, they…

Me (interrupting her): No, no I did. One time I asked ______ (evil ex-step-mother) why I was abused and why ____ (brother) wasn’t. Evil ex-step-mother said it was because, “he’s too sick”.

The abuse I’ve endured, the hatred, and utter anger that has been projected unto me is something I’m able to understand now. The trouble doesn’t lie in my rationalizing this though because I believe there is no justifiable reason(s) people willingly choose to hurt a little kid. Back to basics for now though, at least to understanding defense mechanisms.

Defense mechanisms are often employed when a person’s capacity to cope is beyond his or her tool belt. There is no screwdriver to fit into the square peg, so what does one do? He or she tries another tool and another, until the tool that works is found. Sometimes it may not be the optimal tool, yet often at this point a person is overwhelmed and tired because finding the right tool is a difficult task. So, one takes what they have.

I think this analogy applies to the family dynamic I grew up in. Distancing myself from my family throughout the years, first physically, then emotionally, then pretty much all together, I have been provided with the chance to look inward and at the family dynamics, particularly while studying abroad.

The day before departing, I found out that my brother was to have surgery to remove a tumor from his brain stem in no more than four weeks from that date. There wasn’t much I could say or do as the only communication he and I have is the occasional text or e-mail. He’s essentially deaf and anything I relay to him immediately will be told to our mother who I have had no contact with in over 1.5 years after a messy ending. My brother and I are not close, and he sees me as crazy and not part of the family. I understand where he gets these thoughts from, though I must say I don’t agree with him. I simply responded to my environment the best I knew how to and my environment was not the model of Utopia, especially when it came to facing stress and dealing with emotions.

I recall at the point of my brother’s first hospital admission that Barbara lost a lot of weight and mentioned something about not being able to eat. Hmmm, wonder where the eating disorder evolved from (that’s a story for another time though, particularly because this is merely one of many factors that contributed to my animosity towards food).

You’d think it was clear that NF2 affected my life. My college application essay was entitled “My Brother’s Finger”. Barbara reviewed the essay as did some of my teachers. If I were asked even at that point if it affected me, I’d deny it, because denial and avoidance of emotions is what I’d become majestically acquainted with.

Fast-forward to present day and my first few weeks studying abroad. I wanted to prepare myself and have support if the outcome of my brother’s surgery was up in the air. During the time before and after his surgery, I somewhat relived my childhood and I began to unravel the intricacies of my past, one reminder at a time.

Prior to the surgery, I told my brother I couldn’t make it, wished him well and loved him. In an angry text to our dad, he wrote:

“I don’t know what you said to Laura, but she’s not coming to visit me. These games you play with your mentally ill daughter to get back at mom, have backfired and now have really hurt me, as well.”

I asked our dad to not mention anything about me being abroad, as it is my life, and they are not involved in my life and them knowing wouldn’t affect the situation in any way. He told me he wouldn’t tell and broke his word. He did leak that I was abroad and even then, it wasn’t believed by everyone. My cousin who I don’t often speak with messaged me on Facebook:

Yeah we heard your randomly in Denmark

 Pretty shitty timing to be going there knowing your brother was having a major surgery
 
And from the female person I am progeny of:
I don't know if you really are in Denmark 

Please remember if I have hurt you in the past it was NEVER intentional
And this lack of communication you are choosing hurts me to the core of my being

 

It’s like my childhood friend said, it’s like deciding between manslaughter and unintentional murder, end result is that someone’s still dead, intentional or not. I’m still hurt. From the male I am progeny of:

“I can’t make the two of u work anything out. U r being to cryptic and secretive to pass it off as just not lying. U r putting me in the middle of the crap your mother started which is not fair to me… U can be a bit more empathetic to ____ (brother) considering what he is going through…

And something I can’t post on here as it was on the phone was Ken screaming at me for how selfish I am after I told him “I wish you would have told me that you were going to tell him that I’m here before you did; it’s your opinion that it was going to make things better, and you didn’t respect my wishes.”

It’s things like this that I realize that all they all know how to do is blame me, use me as the sponge to absorb the mess that they’ve created. Yeah, we got dealt a pretty challenging hand of cards. Many people have shitty cards, and many people still manage to have happy families. There is no need for them to bash me and yell at me and torture me because they can’t deal with their own shit.

Yet, I constantly turn the negativity onto myself in the form of some negative behavior, and sometimes to other, never daring to hurt another lost child’s soul. I do believe I can and will heal, without my family. All I need is love, a healing touch, and a compassionate heart. Hopefully I learn to provide myself with that sooner than later. The darkness is seeping in again.

 

My Body is Falling Apart on Me… or, am I falling apart on my body?

Posted: 20 J0000005UTC 2011 in Education, Entertaining, Health, medication, Update
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interactive symptom checker

I think if I used one of these interactive devices, I’d overload the system.

As mentioned in previous times, I have quite a few afflictions. I’m always fascinated by the medical professionals who look at the piece of paper (containing medical history first) and then at the patient. If you were to “see me on paper”, I look like I’m dying, or should be a 500 lb. couch potato (no offense to you “couchies”- made that one up on the spot. Clever, eh?).

We’ll start with physical diagnosis and work our way across the board to emotional and psychological diagnoses (current and past included, you’ll see):

Cerebral Palsy-got that one at birth, lovely umbrella diagnosis. If only it covered or explained all of my ailments

Jaundice-birth, but after bright lights blinding me, good to go after a few days

Hyaline Membrane Disease (severe), also at birth, due to swallowing mother’s blood- ewww! No longer an issue, but am I now a vampire?

Not sure if this warrants its own line, oh well…. Multiple blood transfusions as a baby. Glad in this case to not be a Jehovah’s Witness (nothing against them, just might not be alive if I was one considering they don’t believe in receiving blood transfusions).

ADHD-definitely super duper severe (according to one dr., even with meds.) An acquaintance once said I was the poster child for this. Though I believe I have this, I wonder if the diagnosis is correct. The signs/symptoms didn’t appear until about 9.

Anemia-on and off since young adult-ish era

Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome/Disease-diagnosed at age 20, essentially reversed illness by age 24, doctor was surprised, but I got off of Glucophage (a medication for Diabetes as I was considered pre-diabetic)

Hypothyroidism-unsure if it was lithium-induced or biological in origin. Doctor never took a baseline level prior to initiating lithium therapy. First blood test showed poorly functioning thyroid levels. Have tried (with endocrinologist’s approval) to discontinue drug therapy. Unsuccessful with attempt, levels did not remain consistent off of medication.

Insomnia- this one can pretty much go back to as young as I can recall. Horrible sleeper as long as I can remember. This resulted in a diagnosis of

Narcolepsy- yep that’s right, I have clinical primary narcolepsy and primary insomnia. The doctor is mystified. Note, cataplexy though a hallmark sign of this disorder, not a necessity to make an established diagnosis. I do not have cataplexy just random falling asleep usually when under stress or extremely bored and unable to move.

Exploding Head Syndrome-yes, this is a real diagnosis as I have to explain to most healthcare professionals upon giving them my full health history. It’s just as it sounds; a large noise occurs in the head (not schizophrenia thank you) during the period between wakefulness and asleep. It is rare to happen more than a few time, rare to happen in females, non-smokers and usually only occurs in obese, over 50 years old populations. Well, I am female, under the age of 50, not a smoker, not obese and it’s happened countless time (more than 3 dozen)

PNES- also know as (Psychogenic) Non-Epileptic Seizures or NES. Traditionally, it was thought that these were “pseudo seizures”; until recently it was thought that the person was faking these seizures. It is not false advertising folks, it is an actual seizure without brain wave alteration. These seizures are brought on by stress as the name indicates.

Borderline Personality Disorder-if you have read any of my previous blogs, you’ll see where this one stems from with a heavy history of abuse and neglect.

Situational Depression- Sometimes I think I’m lucky for it to be merely situational. At other times, I am considerably frustrated because there is not a medication which alleviates situational depression and I often run into situations which trigger it, alas, it is a constant on/off battle with my brain.

EDNOS- Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified- I alternate between periods of Bulimia and Anorexia, and ordered-eating, so I get this essentially throwaway diagnosis.

OCD- I used to believe that I had the rarest diseases. My doctor even said to me, “most people come here thinking they have cancer, or AIDS and you present with this (Hanta virus)? I mean it makes sense considering my family’s medical history and my personal medical history that I should be concerned about having the rarest of diseases, right? Fortunately, I went on a awesome medication at age 15 and discontinued it at age 18. I was essentially symptom-free. Sure, here and there I have medical student syndrome, but as for all of the diagnoses I’m listing, these have been established by medical doctors or professionals.

Seasonal allergies and allergies to half of the world-trees and grass for seasonal, mold (all year-round) mild allergies to Cantaloupe, Honeydew, Coconut (in excess of a small amount), Kiwi (in excess of a small portion), Mango, Pineapple, Walnuts, Pecans, Macadamia Nuts, Chestnuts. There’s probably even more than that, I just don’t always recall it in full detail. I do however know what I’m allergic to if I were to come across it.

Urticaria, unknown etiology surprise surprise. If I’m stressed and don’t react with either eczema, a stress seizure, dissociation, surely something will appear. I’ll guess this is the etiology for the hives.

Paralyzed vocal cords-for nearly one and a half years, I didn’t have a voice. Initial speculation was cancer, followed by unknown (for most doctors), followed by overuse, stress, hiatal hernia. The whole time I presented to the doctors that it may be attributed to mold toxicity being that I tested positive for three types of mold in my system. Each physician shooed that diagnosis away aside from the non-traditional physician who initially mentioned and tested me for it. Unfortunately, he was 3.5 hours away from where I was living at the time, and I only had one day off per week, spending it going to doctors a bit closer, and occasionally relaxing. The voice came back after leaving the moldy environment and then disappeared again when I returned to an excessively humid, and therefore moldy environment, complete with breathing challenges.

Hiatal Hernia-one day my stomach felt weird, I went to an urgent care, and was referred to a GI doc. I had an endoscopy where they biopsied a part of my esophagus and this lovely diagnosis was made.

Nasal Fibroma- removed when I was 18. Removal lead to site infection which spread and led me to stage 4 antibiotics, the summer before I was set to begin college. My freshman orientation was a blur to me as I was still recovering from the infection and doped up on pain pills. Great way to end high school and start post-secondary education.

Thornwalt cyst-yeah I think I still have this one, no need for removal though as it’s not causing any signs/symptoms that I’m aware of.

Scotopic Sensitivity- sensitivity for me includes to light, and certain colors. It’s a perception disorder. Irlen Lenses can help

Speaking of perception disorders, I probably have Sensory Integration Disorder. That’s not diagnosed though believe it or not. There’s a time and place to see a doctor for things, particularly when it is necessitated. I have gone to far too many doctors offices and spewed out my history. As I’ve conveyed, on paper it looks like I’m dying, so I try to avoid stepping foot into a doctor’s office unless I have to, or because I’m observing a super awesome surgery (as I did a few weeks ago). Plus, our healthcare system does not make things financially feasible to go for any condition, never mind the significant ones.

xxx (Ken’s partner at the moment) has unofficially diagnosed me with Aspergers syndrome. I don’t take to heart what she says, even if she is a physician because she’s full of issues herself, namely an untreated personality disorder.

As a child, I had processing disorders, namely auditory processing and reading comprehension challenges. These can be referred to as learning differences or learning disabilities. Semantics.

Well, that about sums it up for now. I assure you, that if I think of any more or I receive additional diagnosis, it will be posted on this here lovely page in due time.

Thank you as always, for choosing to use your limited time to read this blog!

After coming to this new school about one month ago, there have been mishaps since the first day. They initially had me as a commuter, unbeknownst to me, and when they “fixed” the situation, the best they could do was put me on an all guy’s floor (no big deal considering my previous living situations over the past year) saying that I’d move in approximately three weeks.
Three weeks has come and gone, and the temperature hasn’t changed. I was supposed to have an accommodation in a single room due to my sleeping difficulties. How can I sleep when It is (literally) 100 degrees and they don’t have AC? How you don’t have AC in one dorm but improved other dorms with hot plates and mini-fridges over the summer is beyond me.
Then, to top things off, during tennis tryouts, the coach gave us two days to prove ourselves, not even staying around for the second practice. He said he would take 12 people, and ended up only taking 8.
He intentionally paired me up with a top player, so the score would be skewed at the end, his reason to justify a lot. He said that I had the technique, good instinct on the court, but that my fitness/footwork needs to improve. What better time than in the off-season where there are girls who made the team I know I can beat, and I think they get the spot out of seniority.
The other week, I was forced to see a doctor, because I haven’t been sleeping well for months. Long story short, it caught up with me. This man proclaimed that I didn’t have CP (Cerebral Palsy), that it was a garbage diagnosis, and that I didn’t look like I had it. He said I fit more like someone with Aspergers. Really? After multiple surgeries, treatments, and testing since 1 and 1/2 (maybe earlier) and you want to tell me that my brain isn’t damaged after meeting me for 5 very sleep-deprived minutes of my life? I don’t know who qualified him as a doctor. He did admit that I knew more than he did and that I knew more than most psychiatrists.
I missed some very important class material that day that messed me up. I am now forced to see someone in the counseling center weekly, which will end abruptly after 10 sessions, as that is their limit.
Last week, I got two exams back, and did horribly. My tutors tell me I’m too smart for these classes; frankly, I know if I can’t explain/conceptualize basic functions, I won’t be able to proceed into the higher-level classes. This is my dream, and it is slowly (once again) slipping away. It’s like a still-life, someone reaching over the edge of a cliff, holding onto what appears to be a human. The last stretch, the ultimate act of willpower overcoming physical strength. It can’t slip away this time.
All weekend, the idea of ending it came in and out of my mind. I don’t want to go to my session this week, because they give me a questionnaire about mood changes/thoughts, etc.
It’s hard to have no family support. My father’s “partner” (aka xxx) ruined the relationship between him and me again. It’s hard to do this alone, and I know this has to be the right school for me; it’s just something’s not clicking in my brain.
I can count on one hand how many people truly understand my brain, and I know I’m not one of those people. I wish for once people would adapt to me; it’s really difficult to constantly adapt to the world and the way other people process information.
If I’m honest, I know what they’ll want to do. I’m not going back in, not completely ruining my chances this semester. This is my last strand. I did put all of my eggs in one basket, and if this one breaks, I break.

I’m grateful to have something productive to do with my days; I returned to school as a “mature” learner (I think it’s called).

Jealousy is on my mind tonight. Things I admit being jealous of:

-Not having my original freshman year turn out the way I planned. Had a severe infection summer before college and missed out on most of the orientation getting-to-know-you activities being doped up on medications.

-Lack of a support system. All of these people constantly talk about their parents, their family, their significant other, blah blah blah. Who do I have??? No one healthy to say the least. No one in close proximity to lean on, to be ok crying in front of, someone who won’t send me to the hospital when I say I want to self-harm.*Note: Crying in front of my advisor (who I only met three weeks ago) is more embarrassing than comforting, though she was kind about the situation.

The first person who I believed actually believed in me is a doctor, who works over an hour away, and due to legalities, it’s not like I can just pop in for a chat. I’m fortunate to have e-mail communication with her though.

-Just got word that a friend of mine is going to a program this MD heads. I’m quite jealous simply because the MD is incredibly supportive and I need someone like that on my side.

-On breaks, where do I get to go? No where. I’m worried about all of that time alone.

-Having financial security. My finances are slim and only getting slimmer.

-Sleeping at night. I can count on one hand, maybe two how many nights of my life I recall being a good, restful night’s sleep, not induced by medications. I am terrified of the night. I am alone at night. For me, it’s just all all-around terrifying situation.

-Friend having a baby. I’m happy for her, unplanned as it was. I know I want to have a child and not necessarily for the best reasons; except someone looking up to you, and me essentially having unconditional love for that person, that is something I crave.

-Spirituality: I am “spiritually bankrupt”. I am trying to replete this account. I need some faith back in my life. Attended two services this week, please I hope the connection comes soon; I’m hanging on by loose ends.

-Intelligence that comes easy, or for that matter, anything that comes easy. My day is constantly slowed by the pace I walk, the speed I process, the words I attempt to convey in a class, in a conversation.

-Emotion Regulation- If my emotions were associated with an art product, it would be the most colorful paint palette available. They are too strong, and change too quickly. As I believe I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I can feel like I’m on top of the world and want to die all in the same day, same hour for that matter.

-A way to vent that is productive and healthy.

-Going a week without actually wanting to die. I still want to; I want for one day to go by where I don’t regret that I attempted to take my own life one and a half months ago.

-Jealous of people who have people, again, support. It’s a lonely world.