I am now in Patterson Hall, eating my fruit mix (pears, apples, grapes, strawberries and raspberries. Healthy, I know. But so yummy too) and getting a load of work done. Right, perhaps 'load' is not the proper word. More like an item off an extensively long list. Currently listening to Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon. He is so soothing. Wait, this is not to macker on about Sinatra's everlasting magic, but to bear down my woes and tell you of my excrutiangly painful breakdown last night.
That's right, you heard/read me; I had a major meltdown last night. Tears, shivers, tears, sniffling and more tears. Hah, and you thought I was oh-so 'in control'. I guess I'm not. I thought I was so in control, so steady, so in the lead of what's going on. I suppose I'm not. Last night as I got back from my 9pm FILM class, I made dinner (spinach pasta and salad), ate it and started my laundry. Then I sat down to write my Human Rights paper which is due next week (of which I should actually be writing right now..), and I stared at my blank/empty/white Mac Pages screen for 14 minutes. I looked at my Human Rights outline, trying to get some sort of sense as to what I should be writing or thinking about. Then I flipped through the essay questions. Then I looked at the tips and guidelines my TA gave me. Then I stared at my screen again. I started to type "gay right gay rights gay rig-" then I pressed 'delete' and continued pressing it even when there was nothing on the screen that needed to be deleted. I listened to the 'clink clink clink clink' of the 'delete' button till I stopped pressing it. Then I knew, I knew it, I started to cry.
I am not even kidding. I was breaking down, and it did not feel good. My back was killing me and with these massive tears and major sobbing action, I tried to 'creak' it so it wouldn't hurt as bad, but it didn't help. I cracked. I swear it was so horrible. Then after that horrible back-creaking fail, I looked at my folders and saw the stack of Political Issues readings, the Film readings, the Journalism Stylebook and Canadian Studies notebook and novel, and realised how they needed to be done as soon as possible, and cried some more (darn, I'm tearing up just thinking about them now). That stack of work haunts me. I'm trying to get ahead, but it seems so far away. I tried to breathe and take big huge breaths so I wouldn't feel so enveloped with stress, but that just made me look at my watch and notice that I had to take the laundry out and put the clothes in the dryer. I thought that if I took a second to do the clothes and just step away from my desk, I'd be alright. Damn was I wrong.
When I got downstairs to the washer, I realised that I now had to 'fling' the clothes piece by piece to get them 'aired' out before I put them in the dryer. So I took them out, one by one and flung them around and then tossed them into the dryer. Imagine a month's worth of clothes, 5 pairs of jeans, mounds of t-shirts, a sweatshirt, cascades of underwear and sweatpants; to be flung around at 11:30 at night. Not a good feeling. Each time I aired out a piece of clothing, I choked back a little tear and told myself to pull it together. After the clothes went into the dryer, I took a little moment and stood next to the rumbling machine, I closed my eyes and exhaled. Then I went back upstairs to start my paper again.
I sat in front of Carolina, braving these raw emotions and telling myself I could do it. I couldn't. Like a pathetic child I put my face in my hands and started to cry again. It was horrible. I don't know how to categorise this awful feeling and it's impossible to tell you how I felt. It was as if I was a little girl playing dress up and imaginging I was a princess in thie big castle, and finally realizing that it was all fake and not real and that it was time for a shower and bedtime. It was death. I felt like this whole time I had been pretending to be so 'great', so 'fantastic' so 'together', and had everything to offer the world; shit I was wrong. I felt like I had nothing else to give, it was as if I was slowly peeling away and that my 'new'ness and 'iman'ity which I was supposed to bring to the table was lost. It was like I was washed up, and that 'it does not get any better than this'. How do I trump myself the next time? My brain didn't want to work with me, I felt like a failure, like I should just pack up and go home, have people laugh at my face and say 'hah! I knew she wouldn't last'. Then I started to cry harder, because what if I don't last? Then my sadness turned to fear. Fear of not making it to the end. I was scared of not being good enough. I looked at my blank screen and then felt like everything was over. I can't even write anymore. I did the next thing I could think of, I texted Nabil and he came online. He heard me cry for ten minutes, and I just needed to say all these doubts out loud because if I didn't, I would've seriously hurt something/someone/myself. Poor guy had to hear me out for ten minutes and I ended the conversation by abruptly trying to collect any shard of dignity I had left (crying to a boy just does not 'cut it' ok) and try to compose myself as best as I could with my own inner voice.
Last night was bad. That was such a massive meltdown. I have never went from a high to an absolute low like that before. That was lowest I had ever felt. Ever.
Then I decided that it was pointless to even attempt anymore work. I checked my email and saw that my Mommy has sent me a package through UPS filled with goodies, and then I felt a bit sad because I missed her and the rest of my family. I put on my socks and got into my bed (I've got these delicious sheets and big comfy Ikea comforter) and snuggled under the warmth of 'bed'idity. I watched The National on Carolina and then just as I was about to fall asleep I remembered that I had clothes in the dryer. Darn. I thought I would have nice warm clothes to bring up to my room.
I was so wrong. My clothes in that god forsaken dryer were still wet. But, I didn't cry. I was done with crying (thank god), I just slammed the dryer door and went back upstairs. I thought I'd deal with that later. I went to sleep.
In my dreams, I had a breakdown. I dreamt a had a meltdown and total crisis issue. It was horrible. I remember tears, shouts and yells. It was such a bizarre dream. But I suppose it held true to my feelings. It was such a bad emotional rollercoaster last night. I doubted myself, told myself I was 'done' and was at the point of seriously gouging my eyes out with my pen.
Never will I ever want to feel that way again. But now, as I think about the books, notebooks, folders, papers and texts, I can't help but feel a little weary. Maybe this is the way it's supposed to be. I fell down a bit yesterday (fine, a lot) and now I've just got to pick myself up and start doing the work slowly. Get it done little by little, book by book, and one essay at a time.
I'll start with my Political Science bibliography.
Thank you for listening/reading, you are terrific.