Carlina: 1

It's exactly 2:49am and I'm sitting here on my bed, listening to the rain. I just got back for school, stuck in a lab for 7 hours studying for a final tomorrow (or today as it were). Sometimes I really do believe teachers are the most narcissistic, self-asorbed people on the planet. Or just really sadistic. But either way, I have a head full of fossils and rocks that is relentlessly bouncing around up there, and I'm unable to think of much else.

I had every intention of staying awake and writing a paper that due in the coming days... but now I know I was being a bit too presumptuous and need to just get some rest. Today has been a hard one for me. Not physically really, just emotionally.

I only have one class on Monday's, which gives me a prime opportunity to settle in and get some work accomplished. But not today, the first day after Thanksgiving. My feet dragged and my eyelids drooped. I felt like I was lugging around 30lbs on my back the entire day.

During my only Monday class (statistics) I feel my heart begin to race, blood pressure rise, breath starting to shallow... panic setting in. I couldn't believe the amount of work she was laying on us. On top of everything else I have to complete I just... I had (and still have) no words. Corrections and studying and extra assignments and homework. When is enough, enough? Clearly it's never.

Like I said, teachers are sadists.

After class I headed to the counseling services. I have been talking myself up into going for almost half of the semester, each time before completely chickening out. But not this time... things have gotten worse... much worse then I probably imagined and more then I could handle.

So I walked in and they sat me down to do the electronic paperwork and assessments to fill out. Once those were completed I sat in the waiting room and waited to be called back for an assessment by a psychologist. After what seemed like 5,000 years, I was finally called back.

The therapist gave me the confidential "except for... " run down that you normally get at a therapists office (is it sad that I've have this spiel given to me several times?) and then started chipping away at my issues and establishing what's going on inside my head. I talked for a bit about everything that was going on and how I was feeling about everything. Once I finished up she informed me that I had scored in the 98th percentile for depression and scored "really high" on anxiety, emotional distress, and eating issues. "Everything but alcohol abuse" she said. It's a wonder that's not up there too.

I'm not exactly shocked, but I didn't really thing it'd be as bad as it appears it is. But the physical alarm and worry I detected in her voice was enough to sober any ideation of a faulty assessment in practice. Nope, that's just where things stand right now.

She suggested individual counseling, group counseling for social anxiety, and to see psychiatrist "asap" for medication. Which I'm going to do tomorrow at some point.

I don't really know what to say but... here we go again. Same old issues, same old game. Will anything actually change? Will I actually change?

Alessandra: 1

I wish I had more interesting things to say. I wish the things rambling in my mind were of more intrigue to people. Watching him do what he does and make it seem as though I don't care...it's the greatest acting ever. Do they give Oscars out to heartbroken brunettes for carrying on without eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's a day? They ought to. They ought to give a statuette made out of hard shell chocolate over ice cream sprinkled with Valium. That would be quite an award worth getting. It'd make all the heart ache and pain feel a little less horrible. Well, until that Valium wears off.

I've found refuge in music again. Playing, singing. Piano or guitar. Mostly Taylor Swift, Miranda Lambert, Alanis Morisette and Kelly Clarkson songs lately. What can I say? Some girls just know heartbreak well. Dear John has been hitting home, hard. So has Last Kiss. That album unfortunately is hitting home for so many things that I don't quite know how I feel about it. I have been so nervous to tell my doctor all day that I think I need higher anxiety medication, how twisted is that? I am anxious about talking about my anxiety medication. I must do it though, as not only is this very uncomfortable all day long but I must face facts. I'm just not better yet. I'm not okay right now. And that's alright. I have to become okay with not being alright, with being a little broken.

I've been getting bill upon bill from the hospital. It's not enough I have cancer and chronic illness but let's throw thousands of dollars at her. One of my stays which was less than 12 hours is mover six grand. Another one of my stays that was over 48 hours, cost two grand. Logic please? Apparently loads of drugs and lots of scans in one, not so much in the other. The way the United States handle their healthcare and the entire system here is just complete rubbish. I can't believe they are so rich and so dumb.

I feel as though I'm sitting around, moving through life, waiting for things to happen. I have so much coming down the pipeline that I am really looking forward to, going back to school for another degree with my best friend which includes moving, and yet I am stuck on pause for awhile. It gets me frustrated. I want to move, I want to breathe and I want to live. I almost feel as though I'm one of those dogs on the leashes that roll out you know? They run and run and run and think they're free then suddenly they're jerked back because the spool is empty and theres no more length left so they're stuck there, a foot away from the perfect stick.

Yup, my life is kind of like that. At least the pieces of my heart are slowly starting to put themselves back together enough that I can occasionally sleep at night.