How do you know when I am feeling horrible? I simply stop writing or talking. If you don’t read or hear from me in a longer while, especially if the last you did hear of me was rather depressing, well, your alarm should be ringing then.
And the last 4 weeks have been horrible. An endless cycle of guilt, anxiety, anger, depression, and much more. For 3 weeks straight I’d been secluded in my room, save for bathroom breaks and supper. I successfully evaded my host family in that aspect, making them believe I went out early and returned like usual. Their schedule, with Keira now going to Kindergarden/Pre-school worked in my favour.
In week 4, I finally got my ass out of the house, but still not to class. I try not to hate myself for how I keep messing up like this, but it’s hard, really. Everything I do or lack thereof feeds into the cycle… on days where I got all my courage up to go out, it seemed like the universe itself was against me (e.g., busses being over late or so full I had to wait for the next one, alarm clock broken, etc).
So today, I somehow managed to enter the university once more. I spoke to a counsellor, because on my own I cannot break this cycle. With his help I just might get this monster under control.
Still, I wonder. Where’d my goal disappear to? When did I stop putting my heart into this? Too many days now have I spent existing, not living. I have once again fallen into my typical avoidance pattern. I lack self-discipline, for sure.
I am a little proud of me for still getting up and going today. But it’s hard to not let past mistakes keep dragging me down, you know. After all, I can’t just start from scratch. I have to clean up the mess I created, somehow.
Additionally, this whole mess really is physically exhausting. And I’ll have to make a decision. I just might return home for good after this semester. After all, I still have no clue whether or not I’ll manage to pay my tuition by Dec 1st. Another whopping 6k. That and, if my heart really has moved on, there really is no point in staying.
I mean, I like it here. But if my desire to be here is not strong enough for me to kick my ass and get shit done, it’s rather counter-productive. And if I need my family support this much, it’s for the better that I stay with them.
Location doesn’t matter. I just want to be with them.
Though I can’t help feeling like a failure. I really can’t. I’ll try to get over it, but… it may take a life time.
