I took my last final today. That leaves me with two A’s… and an F. My mental health doesn’t cooperate with school. School is hell, honestly. I’d love to get a teaching license the year after next, guess who can’t even perform basic mental tasks currently. I can work and that’s about it. When I get home from applying all of my mental energy into working and keeping sane, I crash. I hear voices, see things, wallow into a train wreck of thoughts that are incoherent. I need a few hours to recuperate and by then, my body has withered away.
On other notes, I’ve been zoning out watching Spanish shows and movies, so maybe my brain will pick up on something while it’s turned off.
Also, I idiotically lost my debit card. I placed it on the back of my car while I was getting gas and drove off. I realized the next day. The bank has placed a hold on my account in case anyone finds it and uses it until I get a new card. I need to get $25 out of the bank for G, but the bank takes at least 20 minutes that I’ve not had all day. Oof. Looks like I may be paying her tomorrow.
I just want to do something with my life. I got another job, and am working so much in so many directions that I’m constantly disorganized. I can’t keep at this. I just want to be happy. I just want to be able to afford Radish. We need a place to live, I need to be able to take a few months off from work. I mean, it’s doable, I’ll just be living like a hermit until then. Honestly, it’s not like that’s much of a surprise though.
Last night, M’s mom and I were talking. I said something about how my psychiatrist had lists of places that worked with low-income individuals. I specifically stated that the next time I had to go to a psych ward, I had one in mind. She looked alarmed. M says she worries about me and thinks of me like her daughter. I don’t know if that’s weird or not. She seems lonely. M says she loves our relationship and wishes hers was the same, can’t say I blame her though. M’s dad is a little bit emotionally absent and easily irritated – and I’ve never even held a deep conversation with the man. He expects so much of this poor woman and won’t do anything for himself. I’d dare M to try that once with me, but we’re both big kids and know how to fend for ourselves without demanding our wives to wash our clothes that we’ve done nothing but sit in the house in. She washes his clothes twice a day because he’s so picky. Even his night clothes after one wear. I literally would murder someone.
She also mentioned stuff about us getting married, which doesn’t scare me as much as it used to – because M brings it up all the time. Is this what growing up feels like?
If I survive then I’ll see you tomorrow,