Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Death warmed over.
Yup, that's pretty much how I feel too, kitty cats.
No class for this one tonight, just lots of rest... as in slept til 3, slugged around the house til dinnertime, then took a post-dinner nap, and is now about to go back to sleep again.
I'm having trouble getting a deep breath lately, and I'm tempted to pop open the rescue inhaler I have from the allergist, but I just can't fathom starting yet another medication. I'm out of depression meds, so a trip to the pharmacy tomorrow is crucial to avoid yet more crying at episodes of "How I Met Your Mother." (I don't know, it happens... shutupleavemealone). I feel like I have the flu, but no temperature means that I just have the ol' chronic fatigue/Lyme disease crash happening, so that's fun. Blurgh again.
I'm a week late on a paper for one of my classes, which is why I even went to school last night feeling so bad. I had sent an email, but he hadn't read it because public school professors don't give a crap the way private school ones do, so in some ways, I actually missed Wake last night. I tried to explain to him my condition... I have CFS and Lyme disease and depression and sometimes I crash and I'm in the middle of a big ol' nasty crash. I told him how I'd barely gotten out of bed and how I'd been sleeping 12 hours. His answer, unsurprisingly, was basically "tough noogies."
He reminded me that other kids in the class had problems I didn't know about, as if I didn't realize other people have problems, thanks, and he pointed out that if I were late turning in something for a job, I would be fired. I pointed out that I wouldn't be able to hold down a job right now anyway, which is why I'm only taking two classes and living at home for goodness' sake. He suggested I quit school, which is also nothing new, and I politely replied that that was not really an option and informed him I had already been out of school for a year. I forgot to mention that I'm 23 damn years old and I would like to be finished with school, please, so that maybe once I'm better I can embark on my adult life. I then held back my tears until I got into the school bathroom, where I started a cry-laugh crazy person combo that lasted me most of the hour-long drive home.
Anyway, we finally came to the agreement that I would turn in the paper tomorrow (Wednesday), he would give me some points, and I would not be late again. While his complete lack of sympathy was disappointing (but, I mention again, decisively unsurprising), the truth is that all I need is a C in this class because the grade doesn't transfer to my Wake GPA anyway. Also, while most well people might not understand this, I'm giving myself points for showing up at all. It took all my deep breathing techniques to keep my anxiety at bay, and my old self absolutely would have just avoided this problem as long as possible, making it worse and worse. So even though I've messed up, again, I'm proud of myself for taking my big-girl pill and just facing the world head-on, even if it doesn't understand anything I'm going through.
And now I'm crying again. Damn you, depression, for turning me into a loser who cries. Now I'm laughing AND crying. Shit, I'm a real crazy face.
(Sorry for all the cursing, interwebs.)