Haven’t written in a while — almost a month — and it’s 2AM on one of my two free days this week, so I guess it’s time for word vomit. School has been going swimmingly, at least, more so than the past two semesters. I’m on my game for tutorials, maybe not for my lectures, but hey I’m keeping up and hopefully I can keep this up without crashing and burning as I usually do.
I wouldn’t say I’ve completely beaten my depression, but one instance really, truly made me feel triumphant. Just the same old feeling of weights being strapped to my chest as I lay fully awake at 8 in the morning, with an attendance-graded tutorial class only two hours away. The night before I had in a fit of suppressed hopelessness swore to myself (with my boyfriend as witness) that I would not skip any tutorials this semester. And I had to keep to it. After a few minutes of lying semi-serenely in bed contemplating all the possible outcomes of the tempting notion of skipping school it felt like the chains binding me to my bed slowly, reluctantly, came undone. Like a key had inched its way into the bowels of a creaky lock and released whatever it was that was constricting me. It doesn’t sound like much, but I was victorious for an unremarkable fraction of a second. The rest was just the mechanical process of getting ready to leave the house, trudging to the bus stop and hoping I didn’t bump into anyone I recognized for the rest of the day/my life. The class was blah but at least I managed to get myself to it, and that in itself was enough to pump me up for the rest of the week.
Small steps. Small steps. Small steps. I can kill this eventually, right? Is that what this wetness in my eyes is telling me?