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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
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Mom and I had this big discussion about how wrong all this is and how frustrating it is. She didn't exactly encourage me to file a lawsuit, but she didn't discourage me either. She just said that I needed to choose my attorney carefully and to know who I need to work with since the employer is in another state. I have my work cut out for me this week finding someone.
Anyway, she went in to read the paper and came hurrying out yelling, "Guess what's in here!" She sat there and read me the article, and the article happened to reference the convention I was at last week and had a quotation from one of the ladies in Ohio who had been helping me with getting organized for the next step of this thing. Mom suggested I either write a letter to the editor or contact the paper and offer to do an interview. Perhaps I will do both. She thought it would be a real good thing to have something in there showing that this problem that's been exposed is, in fact, a problem for people right here in town.
I still haven't caught up on everything from last week. Haven't even touched it. I slept a lot today. Spaced out a lot or something. Can't account for some of the time. Tried to read homework. Decided not to turn in last week's assignment. It was due Saturday night by email. I could probably talk him into taking it late, but I'm making a choice not to, not to let myself take advantage of his kindness so far and not to expect perfection of myself right now. Something's really wrong inside. I'm getting that debilitating depression stuff, and I just don't need to pile unfinished homework on top of it. So I choose to take the imperfect grades, and for a change it feels good to make that choice instead of always needing to be on top. It was the pressure to be on top that drove my grades down in the first place. So I'll just pick up with this week's stuff, and hopefully that is manageable.
Somehow I have to make it through. I have something like six weeks to do the other class, and I haven't even started the work. Can't think about it. Too overwhelming. Maybe tomorrow? Please tomorrow. Every day that I get farther behind is a day deeper into this depression. Once these classes are over, I will graduate and I'll never have to think of school again until I want to. And right now I don't. I just want to heal, and I don't know how.
I'm not feeling too happy with the idea of pushing on with life, but at the same time I don't want to miss out on anything. I'm not generally a self-destructive thinker, and I wouldn't like to start now. I'm probably hormonal. This is usually the sign, and Depakote messes royally with hormones. It's not predictable. My head is killing me, and I just want to go to bed and cry and not be alone. The first two I can manage. Well, I can manage the third, too, but it's not the kind of company that heals and that's what I need. No, I can't deal with voices right now, so just don't start up with that. I need to go to sleep, but I can't sleep. I just toss and turn. I don't want to think any more. Just want to let out emotion and be understood. Don't want to turn this thing off because it's my connection to the people who understand me.
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