I feel so upset with myself that I havne't been keeping up with my journaling much lately. The truth of the matter, though, is that I don't even think I've had much of the energy to. I'm pissed with myself, though, because I do really like documenting this shit and everything...but I haven't written anything in two weeks now. And it's been a bad two weeks.
First and foremost, things went back to normal in my English class, even though I sort of continue to give everyone that "death glare, talk to me and I'll slaughter you" look but that's okay. This is going to sound so horrible but I kind of really enjoy people taking me seriously for once. I don't look like a naive twelve year old anymore, I actually look my age and I look more like a threat, like I will do something about it if you fuck with me (and I will). I still never figured out who it was that wrote the thing, though, but oh well, whatever, nevermind. It's been two weeks, it's done and over with, everyone knows I'll strangle them with their own intestines if they even think about messing with me so I guess all is well in that regard. I think my mother is starting to get better with handling me in my depressed state, too, which I'll get to that in a little bit. But for now, I'm gonna start back up where I left off: last week.
Last week was actually sort of a godsent, in a way. Monday night at my speech class I actually talked to people and sort of made friends, which was nice. We were planning for the persuasive speeches we have to give this upcoming Monday and so we got in groups with whatever information we had with us, went over a quick overview of our topic and our three main points, and did a bit of explaining. My group was myself, this one girl I recognized from middle school, and this younger guy who I see sometimes in the halls, and I think everything was pretty chill. Actually, that's an understatement. Monday night was downright boring. Because my professor then went around to every single person in every single group and we had to do the same with her: tell her our topic, show her what research we had, elaborate our three main points, blah blah blah blah blah blah. Well, of course my group just so happened to be the very last group she got to. The guy ended up going over to one of the other groups just to get shit done quicker so it was just me and the other girl chilling and having a bit of a casual conversation. What I hated, though, was that throughout the night I kept feeling myself get some sort of twinge of anxiety like I had the previous week in both speech and art-- that nausea and discomfort, that feeling like the room is spinning. I kept trying to swallow it back and it wasn't nearly as strong as the previous week in art class, thank God, but still, it was discomforting. So when I finally did get out of class, it was like a godsent. And we got out earlier, too, which was definitely nice. Tuesday went better than the previous week, though, which was definitely a plus. I felt fine during the entire class, and actually I think I felt even more calm than normal. And I actually talked to people and made acquaintances, too! Mainly because there's this one woman in my class who works as a nurse, so she wears scrubs every week, and that night she just so happened to be wearing Incredibles scrubs and I died a little. So when we went over to the college's performing arts center to see the faculty art show they had in the lobby, I was taking notes on one of the pieces for an analysis when she came over to view a nearby piece and I racked up the guts to talk to her. She was super duper friendly, which made me feel a lot more comfortable, and pointed to her shirt asking me who my favorite was. When I told her it was Violet, she said she loved her, too, and then came the realization that I actually *look* like Violet, which she and another woman were gushing a bit over. So then I might've turned into a bit of a ham and pulled up one of my Violet cosplay pics on my phone, to which they both fangirled over. It was kind of funny because there we were in the corner of the gallery, the two of them fangirling around me, and everyone else was just going along minding their own business and whatnot and probably were wondering what the actual hell was going on. It made me feel pretty proud to know they liked it so much, though, and seemed so friendly and encouraging about it. Afterwards I was talking a bit with the other girl who was nearby fangirling and we were talking a bit about the Disney College Program and I told her about how once I graduate and get my AA and move onto a university, I want to sign up and she was really supportive and encouraging about it, which definitely felt pretty great. And all throughout the rest of the class, I felt pretty great, too. I finally felt like I was part of a whole group rather than just an outsider individual. When class was over and my parents came to pick me up, I was standing by the door calling them to make sure they were outside and everything (because I get out super duper late and it's dark and I like to make sure they're there and everything) and the girl with he Incredibles scrubs was nearby so we walked out together and talked on our way out and everything and I felt like for the first time, I actually had a friend in that class, so that felt pretty great. And then there came Wednesday was a pretty breezy day I was incredibly grateful for. A lot of kids were out taking the PSAT, especially in my math class, so the entire day was actually pretty chill and I didn't really work very hard, either, which was probably a bad thing but considering how much stress I've been under and how hard I've been working my ass off, it felt nice to take a load off for once. Plus, Wednesday was an early release day so I got out of school even earlier than normal. And then came the fantastic weekend. Thursday was senior skip day and Friday we had a day off so four day weekend for me! But, you know, I should've been a lot happier about the situation but actually, in all honesty, instead I just downfalled the entire weekend. Thursday and Friday are my dad's weekend at work so I had those days with him and then Saturday and Sunday were with my mom. I had only just convinced them to let me take Thursday off a few days beforehand but I presented some pretty good credibility as to why they should let me skip: I told them the extra time off would give me an ample opportunity to catch up on schoolwork, mainly for my online class. Yeah, unfortunately that didn't happen much. Instead I used up most of the time to stay up late, sleep in late, and spiral back down into an even deeper pit of depression. Looking back, I'm not even quite sure what it all was triggered from, if anything specifically. I was just really, really depressed and unhappy with myself. It didn't really get worse, though, until this week started.
Monday, I think, went well, though I can't even remember Monday during the day. Monday night at class was incredibly nerve-wracking, though. We did a few speech-giving activities where we had to get up, our professor would give us this card with a word on it, and we had to talk for one minute straight about why that word was important and persuade the audience of that. Zero time to prepare. We got up, got our card, and had to start talking on the spot. The card I got had the word milk so that was, um...fun. I had to stand up there and talk for sixty seconds straight about why milk is important. Not as easy as you'd think. The second activity was very similar to the first except we got to choose our card and had a few minutes to prepare, so my second one was on trees and why they're important. What I love about my speech class, though, is that everyone and everything is just so chill and you really feel like a collective unit; we're all friendly with one another and support one another and everything. It's really, really a great environment. So we all had our laughs because we were all in the same boat here, we were all helping each other out when we'd sort of stumble, offering up thoughts to incorporate into our speeches. This one guy who sits in the back was offering up a lot when I was up there the first time around, which was definitely an interesting sort of situation since he's sort of cute and funny and he's really charismatic and shit. So that made me feel kind of asdfghjkl; haha But then the third activity involved partners. Now, despite the nice atmosphere of group collective in this class, I still was pretty iffy about the subject of partnership. My professor wanted us to cross to the other side of the room, move around, find a partner from the other side of the room and whatnot. I ended up pairing up with this one girl who sits near the kinda-cute guy and we got along pretty alright, so that was good. We had to do a group speech together on hats and why they're important and everything, to which I was able to offer up some ideas regarding how they're important to people with cancer and trich and stuff, so we sort of incorporated that into our speech, too. Overall, it was just an interesting class night. I left feeling pretty good, though, and things were going pretty good until I got home. See, the problem when I got home was that I had an art assignment due the next day that I hadn't even started yet. I was originally planning to start it earlier that afternoon but I was having troubles figuring out which dimension the margins would be on (top + bottom or left + right) and how big they'd be regarding the dimensions of the original picture (since we had to recreate a black and white landscape masterpiece). So I decided I'd wait and just set everything up later when my dad was home since he was better with the numbers and such than I was. Well, that didn't really happen until after my speech class and it didn't exactly go how I thought it would. There was a major misunderstanding between my dad and I, he didn't understand what I needed help with or really what I was talking about in general, and he started telling me that my professor doesn't care about the margins or dimensions or anything, that she just wants us to start drawing to which I got pissed and tried to tell him otherwise because my professor told us otherwise and that I would know, I'm the one in her class for four hours a week on a school night. So it ended up transforming into a full-blown argument because he didn't understand what I needed his help with and he was getting pissed off at me for not doing what he told me to even though I knew that that wasn't what my professor wanted. Cussing and screaming ensued. My dad yelled at me saying I thought I was the boss of this place but I wasn't, said I was grounded and getting my phone and laptop taken away, I had broken down in tears from stress and it took every bit of strength I could muster not to just get up from my seat at the kitchen table, grab a steak knife, and start slitting up my arm (something I've never actually craved until that night and that scared the everliving shit out of me). I was a complete mess, not to mention I was already kind of depressed from the weekend before anyways. But more than anything that night, I felt like a complete failure. I had a week to get that shit done and I waited until the last minute. Again. My parents knew this and they rightfully blamed me for it, saying all of this was my fault because I should've just gotten it done beforehand, that that was why I said I wanted to take the senior skip day in the first place so I should've utilized it as I proposed I would. I was crying on until midnight or so but I did end up getting the set-up deal done. How? My mom. And it was that night that I realized, despite how aggravating and annoying she can be, how much I love her. Sure, there were some instances when she got a little pissed at me and told me to stop crying, buck up, and do the work, but then she turned around and was like "You know what, you just cry and let it all out because I know you're upset and it's not good to keep things bottled up". She knew I had to get the setup deal done and she was so perserverant, she wanted me to do well and get it done. But unlike my dad, she was open-minded and understood that there might be a method of doing things that was different than my dad's that my professor might want it done in and even though she was about as confused as I was with the math, her open-mindedness and willingness to listen and try to understand got the two of us through it. I used a paint document to try and explain what, exactly, was being asked of me and how I was supposed to do the margins and everything and it really helped her understand what was being asked of me and she helped make me feel a lot better and get the work done overall. After the fact, we sat up on my bed for a few minutes and just talked and I explained my being upset to her and everything to which she understood better and better the more I talked about it. Of course, in all actuality I was still depressed about things and Tuesday didn't go too much better. I was depressed the entire day over the way my dad treated me (to which my mom reacted very poorly to the night before considering he pretty much yelled at me, slammed his bedroom door, and then went to bed. My mom had gone in there before helping me and scolded him, calling him a wimp and that that was no way to handle his daughter when she needed help and shit). I didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything or deal with anything. When I got home, I spent the entire afternoon doing my art homework (which took me about three hours but turned out looking pretty fucking great, if you ask me) and then once I was finished, I collapsed on the couch and took a nap. I didn't wake up until after my dad got home who, frankly, I did not want to deal with at all. But unfortunately he got home later than usual and my mom even later so I was stuck with him until about 5:30 when I had to get ready to go to class. I was completely cold and distant towards him, not really responding to his questions except with one-word answers and shrugs. He seemed sort of quiet and guilty which actually made me feel, sad as it is to say, really good. I wanted him to feel bad. After the way he yelled at me, I hoped he felt bad. I hoped he felt like complete fucking shit. But so finally after he kept asking me what I wanted for dinner before class, I finally decided to heat up some leftover pasta and then went to bathroom before eating. But the moment I got out of the bathroom, I was greeted by the most unpleasant image of intestines in the toilet on the news (haunted house. Don't ask) and instantly felt nauseous. Not to mention the pasta was the exact same color and stringy quality as the intestines so I started feeling even sicker. I didn't want to say I didn't want to eat and felt sick now because I didn't want my dad getting pissed at me again but I couldn't fight the horrible nausea brewing inside me. My mom got home soon enough during the little dilemma, though, and I let her know what happened, that I didn't feel good, that I was still depressed and upset with my dad, and that I just wanted to stay home from class that night because the stress and nausea were just way too high. My mom thought about it for a minute before going off to I guess consult my dad? I was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for a good fifteen minutes (or so it felt) before she came back, to which she found I had pretty much had a complete breakdown and was bawling my eyes out. She said I could stay home from class that night and then proceeded to question me about why I was crying. Of course, even I wasn't even really sure of what the real answer was. I knew part of it had to do with the way my dad treated me the night before, though. So, admitting this to my mom, she went back to her bedroom, dragged my dad from bed (he was trying to sleep because he apparently had a headache or some shit) and made him go into the kitchen and comfort me. I could tell he felt really bad but I didn't care-- I stiffened up when he wrapped his arms around me and I refused to look at him. Eventually I sort of forgave him and went back out into the living room with him and my mom to rest and get something to eat but I was so worked up, I was hot and sweaty and bawling my eyes out and everything. I was surprised at the way my dad was treating me then, though. There was a quality in him that I hadn't seen since I was a really small child: that he was treating me like he did when I was a small child. Not the kind of treatment that would really make teenagers cringe, though. Just happily and lovingly. He was trying to cheer me up so he sat on the floor beside my chair, called the dog over, and was wiggling my toes calling them chicken nuggets and telling Spikey to lick them just to try and get a smile out of me. And he was trying to see what my shirt was (it was Monsters, Inc.) and he was talking to me like I was a kid again which in any other circumstance would probably piss me the fuck off, but at the time it made me feel like he really cared. It was like a small flash of the old him that I miss coming back because for the past ten years or so, that part of him has been practically dead and he's been nothing but a miserable, serious, tired, headache-y miser who gets pissed off easily. So him treating me like that made me almost cry for a different reason. So afterwards, he lead me out into the living room where my mom was and the three of us sat there watching Seinfeld reruns for a bit before he went back to bed to get rid of his headache. Despite the comfort and everything, though, I was still a huddled-up ball of tears that kept breaking down again every few minutes. I didn't really stop until later on in the night. I don't really remember the rest of the night (because, you know, after that, who would really remember the rest of the night?) but I know I still didn't feel as great as I could've. Wednesday was when things got better, though. My Elsa knew I had been depressed lately and I'm pretty positive she felt bad about it since there wasn't much she could do but I was fairly suspicious when, come Wednesday morning, she was asking me about where I sat in first period. For a second I thought she was somehow going to magically get out of her first period and come join me in mine to chill and everything but she didn't. Instead, upon getting to first period, I found a mysterious piece of notebook folded in half in front of my computer. On the front it read "Dearest Trophy Wife" in the gorgeous penmanship I knew could only belong to my Elsa. When I opened up the note and read the brief message inside, I swear I was on the verge of tears, it was so sweet. I think it was the sweetest note anyone has ever written to me. It really brightened my day and made me feel a bit better about everything, too. I mean, granted, I'm still kind of depressed over a number of things but regardless, the note really made me smile and now whenever I feel shitty these days, I open it up and read through it again and it makes me a bit happier. So that brightened the rest of my Wednesday and really the rest of my week, too. Even though I couldn't necessarily control the shit that happened outside of my comfort zone. Yesterday in my first period, we finally stopped our grace period of having pretty much nothing to do because everyone was still stuck on the After Effects project we've been on for, like, two weeks now (which means no more free periods editing JackxViolet pics xP). But instead we were presented with a new assignment-- one which I was not necessarily looking forward to. We have to make a six page car pamphlet about any of a number of cars (the only two I remember offhand were a Mercedes and a Corvette) which honestly, that wouldn't have bothered me so much if that was all the assignment was. But no no, of course it had to be more. It's a partner project. Now as you can infer from earlier in the week, partner projects are not my strong point. Especially in a class that I pretty much have no friends in. So I was truly dreading this morning when we'd have to get together with our partner and start on our work. Which, unfortunately, our partners weren't assigned so it wasn't like we were stuck with any particular person-- we actually had to choose. So this morning, after my teacher went through an overview of what he wanted from us, we had to choose our partners and as soon as he announced it was time to get with our partner, it was almost as if almost everyone in the class magnetically stuck to someone else and got to work. I think there were only a couple who didn't, myself included, but also this other girl who I had sort of hoped I'd get as a partner because she seems like my kind of person. Well, she is now my partner and I think it's worked out really, really well so far. She actually sits at the computer that faces mine and she's pretty quiet and kind of goth like I am nowadays so at least we seem like we're in the same realm of people. She actually offered first if I wanted to be her partner to which I accepted and we went over to my computer and started on our work. It was kind of awkward at first but after a while, we started talking and fortunately enough, we have a lot in common! So that made the idea of partner work a bit easier to deal with. We actually talked more than we got any work done, funnily enough, but regardless, as my teacher was walking around monitoring everyone's work, he told us that he was betting his money on us and this other pair over at the other end of the room, probably because he knows we're both pretty quiet, hardworking individuals who turn in quality work (or so I'm assuming on her end). But we were both pretty nervous about the partner project deal since we both are more individual workers, we both like the same general kind of music and love Tumblr and are taking art classes and stuff. So fortunately we get along really, really well and I was really happy to be able to say that I had made a friend in that class, too
And fortunately enough, the rest of the day went pretty well, too. English was per usual, math I had a test which I'm pretty sure I aced and then I spent the remaining fifteen minutes coloring in a drawing I started yesterday and chatting with Hawkeye, and then I spent barely any time in my fourth period which was...okay, that was interesting. Because apparently (and I hadn't found out about this until just this morning from Hawkeye) today was the day we had senior group pictures. So not even three seconds after I sat down in my fourth period class, Hawkeye peeked her head through the doorway and said, "Amanda, we have to go!" so I ran off with her and my teacher announced to the other seniors in the class it was time to go down and so off we headed. The group pictures were taking place in the gym on the bleachers and I'm not gonna lie, it got a little bit nerve-wracking. There's about 500 kids graduating with me so there was an abundance of people, not to mention anyone who was absent, either. So there was that. But then even more nerve-wracking, still, was the amount of time it took for the coordinator of the senior stuff to announce shit. Like how there's apparently some senior meeting coming up in a few weeks to discuss caps and gowns and graduation and shit. That is fucking terrifying. It made me really realize that holy fucking shit, I am a fucking senior. I am fucking graduating this year. In about seven months, I will a full-fledged adult and I will be out of high school forever. Just....no. No. No. No. That is absolutely fucking terrifying. I am not prepared for this. No. So of course after hearing all this, paired with all the people and the high ceilings of the gym (which for some reason just make me so insanely uncomfortable), I expectantly started getting a bit of an anxiety attack. Fortunately, I had the edges of the bleacher seats to grip onto and my friends around me to try and keep my mind off things, so I tried to focus my attention Hawkeye sitting in front of me (because my Elsa was sitting behind me and it was making me dizzy to have to keep whipping my head back and forth like that). But so we took four group pictures, then scooted in closer to the center of the bleachers and took four more, and then took one fun one which I think probably turned out the best of them all. Me and my Elsa wrapped our arms around each other and gave off big, goofy grins like only best friends can really pull off
So upon heading back to class, I only really spent twenty minutes there and kind of slacked off with doing my work because fuck it, it's Friday and then I headed home for another interesting weekend. And this time it actually will be interesting. Friday night has already proven interesting enough, anyways. Tomorrow my parents and I are doing this cancer walk that we have to wake up super duper early for (unfortunately) and my mom is going a little crazy over it. She kept talking about it and making it seem like a bigger deal and she has no idea what she's doing (like how you're not supposed to eat dairy before exercising in the heat, which my dad informed us of) so tomorrow ought to be fun. I've got some college work to get done, too, so hoepfully I can finish that in time. I'm sort of dwelling Tuesday night when I have to go back to my college art class after missing a week (especially because I missed learning about how to make toned paper which I really wanted to learn about. #forshame
) and having to turn my late work in and shit. But I'm trying to just focus on the now of things, the tomorrow and the today, so as not to stress myself out too much. I already got in a small squabble with my mom tonight because I knew if she kept freaking out about the walk tomorrow, I'd get an anxiety attack and never get to sleep. But hopefully it'll be a successful event and I won't pass out from heat stroke or sleep deprivation or anything. It's a three mile walk and I'm nowhere near used to that kind of exercise and I'm actually really terrified for this but I'm gonna try and keep my confidence up and not worry about it and tell myself that I can totally do this. I did something like it before a few years back but still-- that was a few years back and this is now and I have a lot more problems now than I used to haha. Either way, I'm gonna try not to worry about it so much for the sake of my sanity. For now, I'm just happy that I'm feeling a bit better emotionally (even though I'm still not 100% and am actually really sensitive these days but oh well, whatever, nevermind).