Fuck.

It's the second day of classes and I'm already overwhelmed. Should I read for my 0-level biology course? No...I should probably curl on the couch and be sad. What's worse? I can't even bring myself to tell my professors what is going on. It's not that I don't trust them, I'm just terrified of three specific and very rational scenarios:

1. They will judge me. After I confess that I am superfuckedup, Professor A,B, C, and D will give me the worried, folded-hand look. S/he will say, "I'm sorry to hear that." In reality, Professor will talk about me behind my back and tell every one that they know a crazy person and it is just so hilarious. Rational thinking.

2. They will tell me to "keep my chin up" or to "persevere" and I will still be held to the same standard as every one else. Ok, I don't want or expect special treatment, but it would be nice to consider that maybe I am having a little more difficulty completing small tasks. Oh god, and I'll be told to fucking stick it out. Mental illness cannot be "stuck out". Christchurch.

3. They will ask, "What's wrong?" To which I will reply, "I'd love to tell you. Do you have about seven hours and a healthy amount of sanity?"


Truth is, it doesn't matter if I tell them or not. I'm still fucked. Totally and completely fucked. Therapy twice a week. School five times a week. Work two-three times a week. Plus comping. I am trying to see how this is conducive to getting well. But neither is taking off school. Or quitting my job.

Fuck.