So I finished my first summer session on a positive note and I was like, “Yeah!! You can’t my kill my chill!”

So I figured that things can only get better from there. After all one of the things I’ve been trying to do lately is to get the idea of “I’m not allowed to be happy” out of my head.

I had to file for an appeal with the financial aid office before I left home for the brief break. They wanted documentation that I was getting help for my problems with my appeal form. So I did all that. I turned it in on the morning of my final exams. Then when I get back I get the news that my appeal has been approved. Naturally I jump to my student page and get ready to accept the awards offered. I do all this only to find out….there’s nothing there.

So I go to the office to ask what went wrong. I didn’t miss anything. I spoke with someone different who provided me with new information. Turns out that there’s nothing offered to me in the summer now because my loans were maxed out during an earlier semester. Something that the women I spoken with before never mentioned at all because I spoke with her about a separate issue. It’s going to be like this until the fall starts up. Provided that I sign on for an appeal again.

So now I’m forced to apply for a loan outside of school. I’m pissed about what I found out at the office, but I powered through it and applied for that loan online. I even get my mom to cosign for me. I already get the news that I’m approved. There’s nothing else for me to do except wait for the school to give it certification, whatever that means.

But of course none of this is good enough for my mom. Nope. Suddenly she’s flooding me with new questions. The loan I applied for was to pay back my mom for paying the tuition. That’s all I’ve been wanting to do since this summer started. But now she’s asking, “What about your rent money?” “What about food?”

She’s asking me questions that I already gave to her before I even signed on for that stupid loan. I told her, “Financial aid can’t give me anymore money until the fall starts up.” “The loans were maxed out.” She had no problems understanding any of this the first time I said this to her now she’s confused. So I’m on the phone with her and feeling attacked that all the work I’ve been putting into this hasn’t been good enough. Now I’m pissed at her.

I have five days until I move into the new house. Three weeks before this summer session ends which is the time I’ll need for that new appeal. I currently have like $28 in my name, a scarce food supply, two classes to juggle, no friends in Boone, but tons of stress. Perpetual, mind numbing, soul crushing stress.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had even a little bit of peace. Just when I think I’m making progress and I’ve hit a break I keep hitting a new wall that obstructs me or a new wave of emotions and thoughts that keep trying to crush and consume me. Just thinking about everything makes me want to ditch class just so I can take a 12 hour nap. But now if I go ahead and call a personal day just to recharge my batteries then I’m repeating the same thing that I would do when my depression is at it’s worst. I’d be doing the very thing that put me into this mess in the first place. Only reason I’m even able to take the time to write this now is because my professor cancelled this morning class.

At first I thought I was just pissed off at my Mom and her constant questioning. Now its everything. I’m getting triggered again. I let the Universe know my true intentions and I follow through with actions. I put in all this work, I’m snapping out of this depressing funk, but it feels like nothing I say or do is good ever good enough for anyone.

What sucks even more is that I have nothing else to do except to go forward, knowing fully well that things won’t get any easier. I need some time to think.

Can’t Kill My Chill

Today was my last day of the first summer session here at Appalachian State. I gotta say that these past few weeks have been some of the most nerve wracking ever. But it’s also been very rewarding.

I passed BOTH of my classes. That’s including my more difficult class. It was a math class. I was on edge because I didn’t do so well on two tests and we were told that scoring less than a 60% on a test would mean that we had no chance of passing the course. The teacher was real cool though. She’s not some monster that gets off on other people’s misery. She genuinely cares for all her students and wanted to help out whenever possible.

I took my math final earlier today and I slayed it. On top of that, I hadn’t checked out my score on the class until today. Anyone whose been paying attention to anything that I’ve been writing and posting here can imagine the reason why. I didn’t think I would end up doing so good. I was the last person to finish and turn in my exam after double checking everything for over an hour. I asked my teacher if she was teaching any other class. I figured that I’d have to sign up for another one after that. I said, “Well I don’t know exactly what I’ve made in this class, but I figure it smarts to weigh my options….” And then she shows me my current grade. It turns out I already have a passing grade of 84.6. I have a B!

So it doesn’t matter how bad I do on that final because I’ve already passed the course. All my efforts paid off! It was the only math class that I needed for my degree and it’s out of my way. Math has been a constant source of terror for me for the longest time and now I never have to deal with it again. No more translating word problems, no more geometry, no more quadratic formulas, no more retaining useless facts, and no more beating myself up because of my sucky math skills. I’m free at last!! And it feels so damn good!

I passed my communication law course too. I never have to retain legal facts ever again. It was unbelievably draining to have to retain math formulas, names of cases, knowing how to dance around empirical rules, and memorizing all that legal jargon. There is no future in the legal world for me. Viola Davis makes it look good, but it ain’t for me.

I’ve got my tuition paid for, my financial situation is going to improve, and it’s just a matter of killing time until it’s time to move into the new house. This is all a huge victory to me. I start up a new session in the next few days, but between now and then I can finally be happy. I can celebrate!

Between juggling those classes, counseling sessions, and dealing with my usual crap I am exhausted. Not to mention there was all that stuff with the house, from finding the roommates, waiting for the manager to pick us, and the day of signing that lease. I was on edge! And even when it looked like all was taken care of there seemed to always be something else that stood in the way. There was always another trigger to my anxiety. I did my best to keep this positive momentum going strong, but there times when I thought it would all come a crashing halt.

But nope!! You can’t kill my chill! I’m on my way to meeting my goals. I planned to come back from my failures and it’s happening. I wanted that house and I got it. I’ve got a great thing going on and now I have to work harder to keep it going stronger!!

For now though it’s time for me to be happy and celebrate. I owe myself! Let’s see what a math-free life is like for me. Sweet dreams!

Maximum Effort!!

I swear some assignments are given as a form of torture. One of my current projects involve making a geometric cone out of paper. There are instructions on how to do that. In the real world where normal people rule supreme something like this shouldn’t be a problem, right? It shouldn’t produce a bead of sweat, right? Ideally, yes. But for someone like me who turns into a feeble, crippled, nervous wreck when they so much as a see an text alert about the power bill, don’t have enough rice to cook with, or get a phone call from their mom of all people… see where I’m going with this?

This is for my math class too. Which begs a question….when in the hell am I ever going to need this stuff in my life? I want to make a career in writing, no number crunching whatsoever! The only real math I’ll ever need is basic addition and subtraction. Like, “how much do I need to pay for my electric bill?” “how much shopping off Amazon can I afford to treat myself to?” “how many slices of pizza can I eat in one sitting? how many leftover slices do I want to save for tomorrow?”


Again, I really hope that the grade comes down to effort that’s put into it. Cause like I said before everyone in class is absolutely clueless about what to do. Okay my nerves are dropping from an 11 to something manageable now. I should be able to manage something. It’s going to be a crap job for sure though, but right now all I care about is getting it done.

My current academic problems combined with everyday stress, hemorrhaging my finances, nonexistent love life, and my oh-so-lovely-not-at-all-debilitating-depression has naturally put me in a very foul mood.

I just want to sit down and write fiction! That’s all I’ve ever wanted! I have had little to no time for myself to do anything like it. I got ideas occupying space in my mind like an episode of Hoarders, but I can’t sit down and take the time to put it down on paper because there’s always something that’s in my way. School is my biggest obstruction right now which is funny because the whole point of me going to school in the first place is so I could have a better life for myself. I can blog all day till my heart is content, I could write my most secret of secrets in my little black journals describing what hot dream I had of Charlie Hunnam, but when it comes to writing down fictional characters on fictional adventures fighting a bunch of fictional villains and monsters… it’s a problem!

With all that does go in my head there’s plenty of stuff that I can use for my characters to deal with. But now I can’t even make any new characters. I’ve gotten out of touch with my old characters too. I don’t know what makes them tick anymore, what their motivations are, or hell even what their favorite meal is.

I don’t take the time to really do anything for myself other than cooking, gaming, and sleeping. But even when I am doing this stuff there’s always something hanging over my head like, “Am I going to pass this class?” “Will I ever graduate?” “Will I be fortunate enough to score a day job?” “How am I ever going to pay off my student loan debts….?”

Okay….here’s what I’m going to do next.

I’m going to stop ranting and whining.
I’m going to do the stupid projects in the best way I can.
I’m going to pay my power bill.
I’m going to treat myself to some fried chicken or a hamburger steak or something.
I’m going to make it through this last week.
I’m going to pay my tuition…somehow….
I’m going back home for much needed R&R.
I’m going to go buy the new Power Rangers movie on Blu-Ray and probably watch it until I’ve got every line memorized or until I have the strong desire to write some fan fiction.
I’m coming back to keep the positive momentum when the second summer session starts up and then I’m going to move the fuck out of the Cottages of Boone.

Whatever depression and anxiety I feel between now and then I’m just going to power through it and get whatever peace of mind I can have. Yeah I made the choice to get medicated, but even so I know there are gonna be times where I have to bite the bullet and push through.

So here I go with MAXIMUM EFFORT!!

Then and Now

I have one more week of this first summer session left. I’d be lying if I said I had little to no anxiety. I can’t even recall a time where I was perfectly calm and had absolutely nothing to worry about, big or small. I’m always on edge about something.

This has always lead me to poke fun at myself and say, “Why am I not on meds? I was made for meds! Clearly I was born to keep the pharmaceuticals in business!”

Which is why I’ve made a decision. I’ve endured this struggle with depression for eight long years without resorting to medication. I thought I could handle everything without it. But right now I am at a point where everything is triggering me and I’m always feeling things spike up to a level 12. I think I’ve gone as far as I can on my own strength. So I’ve opted to try out medication at a low dosage. This is will be nothing more but a trial run for me. It’s not a decision that I made lightly. I don’t expect my problems to magically go away with one pill. But I would love for my anxiety and depression to drop from a 12 to a 7, something more manageable. That might make all the difference for me. I’ve held on to the fantasy that I can lead a depression free life. But if I’m going to be realistic there is the possibility that this is something that I have to learn to live with and I need all the I can get.

I have nothing against people who have to use medication of any kind. I just think that in some cases it should be used as a last resort. Plus I always believed that admitting that I would need it would prove that I am weak or completely hopeless. Let me point out that I’ve endured this depression for eight years. Add up all the seconds, minutes, hours, months, weeks, and days. And yet I’m still here and I made the choice to live. No one can ever label me as weak. I’ve already proven to myself that I’m pretty damn tough when I have to be. Besides this is only a trial run. And if I start feeling weird side effects that’ll be my cue to stop.

I’ve been put on some financial probation or whatever. I did everything that I’m supposed to do. I clicked on the stupid link that made me feel like I would’ve been walking into unspeakable horrors. I printed and filled the appeal form out saying, “This is what happened to me last term. I take responsibility. I’m in counseling and I’m doing all that I can to come back from everything.” Because the people who make this form obnoxiously wrote this question, “What are you doing to guarantee success?” Which I feel is code for, “Why the hell should we help you and give you any money?” I then proceeded to walk all the way to the financial aid office, which is really far from any of the class building, in scorching dry summer heat (in Boone, NC of all places). I had to power through my anxiety that would’ve in most cases completely cripple me. I figured “That’s it! Hard parts over!” But nope…apparently it can take weeks for the appeal to go through. WEEKS. In the summer semesters, which only last a month. I didn’t get alerted about any of this until the very middle of it……these fuckers and their bureaucratic Micky Mouse bullshit really pisses me off.

But I can’t do anything else about it. I’ve done all that I can. I’ve done everything that I’m supposed to do do and it comes down to playing the waiting game…..AGAIN.

I’m doing all right in my classes, but I can’t help but feel stressed out about exams. I got a bad grade in one of my latest exams and I was really bummed out about it. I emailed the teacher and told her about this and I asked, “what are my chances of walking out with a passing grade?” She assures me that everything will be all right. I don’t know if she meant it or she was just trying to calm me down. I told her about my depression. Granted she doesn’t know EVERYTHING about it, but she knows about it. She says she will take it into account.

Oh and I have two ridiculous projects for that same class too. One of which absolutely no one in class understands anything about. At this point I have to believe that the grades will come down to effort put into it. Do I even want to do this project? Hell to the no. But it seems like being forced to do things I don’t want to do is the name of the game. So I have to grin and bare it just like with everything else all while studying for final exams, getting ready to move out, waiting for the appeal to be approved, and preparing for whatever challenges will come my way. Because that is the nature of my journey. That’s how it’s always been from day one.

A long time ago everything seemed impossible for me. I always kept myself locked up in my bedroom and I kept my distance away from everyone. I was always afraid to do something, anything, for fear of failure. Back then I struggled to understand anything, including myself. I would rarely go out into the world and experience anything for myself. Because I was afraid of anything and everything that it had, good or bad.

I can’t help but reflect on that person that I used to be. Back then I never would have thought that I’d be where I’m at now. It was a struggle to break out of the shell I had around myself back then, but I did it. It was a struggle to make the choice to live in a world that’d inevitably would grow ugly and offer more hardships, but I still made the choice to live in it.

Everything that seemed impossible to me long ago, I made it possible. The world that I live in is far from perfect, but it’s a world where I have more possibilities presented to me than before.

I didn’t think that I’d make into any university, but I’m here at Appalachian State. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live on my own without family or friends to always hold my hand, but it turns out that I can handle myself just fine. I didn’t think I could cook anything without setting fire to the kitchen or the whole house, but I actually make for a decent cook. I used to think that I would never be able to get over this one guy that I was in love with, but I managed to do just that. I didn’t think I could do this or that, but I proved to myself that I can.

I’ve had big victories, I’ve had small victories, but the point is I’m not the person that I used to be that believed that everything was impossible to do. A huge part about this depression that I’m dealing with now is that it’s made me feel like I’m changing back into that person again, something I never wanted. During some posts I mentioned that I wanted to go back to being the person that I was before, but I was referring to before moving to Boone where I had friends to go to the movies with, drink coffee with, where everyone liked the same things, and no one was treated like a martian. Not to mention I was more likely to find a future husband over there than I am here.

It’s been a rocky journey for me. I’ve taken some serious hits, but despite all that I’m still here. No matter how much the “suicidal muscle” in my brain likes to kick in, I still want to live. I’m not where I want to be in my life, but it’s still so much better than where I used to be.

I was having second thoughts about everything. About wanting a depression free life and wanting to be happy. It felt like I was getting ready to give up on all of that, but compared to how things used to be and previous challenges everything else seems minuscule at best.

I think I’ve found my second wind. Best not let it go to waste. Later days!

Warrior “Monk”

Anyone remember this show? Tony Shalhoub played this dude named Adrian Monk who suffers from severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and an endless list of phobias. He was afraid of everything. Even milk for some reason. Don’t know if they covered the reason why. Maybe it was just a running gag. Despite all this he was a genius detective. He had this attention to detail all the other cops on the show lacked. He was always able to find the clues, piece them together, and finally catch the bad guys. He managed to do all of this despite of the OCD or whatever phobia of the week he had to face head on. He was always being forced into situation that challenged him and he had to seriously nut up and endure.

When my anxiety and depression act up I keep thinking that I’ve suddenly turned into Monk. And I mean that in a negative light. Monk was always driving people up the wall with his fears and obsessive compulsion. Even his therapists had trouble dealing with him sometimes and could only handle him in small doses. I feel like Monk in situations where I feel like I get triggered by stupid shit like the ones I’ve mentioned before, I have difficulties doing what normal people have no problems with at all, and sometimes driving people insane with my issues, be it family or friends.

I shared this with my counselor in a previous session. I vented out my frustrations about it and he was understanding. But then he asked me this, “Why exactly would that be a bad thing?” I thought I had already answered that while I was ranting about it.

Just like when he brought up the analogy on the mind as a muscle something about the Monk analogy I made with him is sticking with me. This was last week and now I’m beginning to seriously think about it and I have all these thoughts about it.

Even though Monk had numerous phobias that would obstruct him he accomplished so many things that I would’ve considered impossible if I were him. He did have friends, good friends. Yeah, he drove them crazy sometimes but they accepted him as he was. Monk’s OCD allowed him to pay better attention to things and made him an excellent detective, it didn’t have to be a bad thing for him. Monk had a wonderful wife in Trudy who loved him just as he was. Monk worked tirelessly for years searching for clues to solve Trudy’s murder and when he did Monk still had his happy ending. He found out that Trudy had a daughter before marrying him and was able to meet her in the very last episode.

Here’s a crazy theory. What if instead of fighting my “Monk-ish” side, I embrace it? I bitch and moan about how I feel like a freak sometimes and unable to be normal like everybody else. But then there’s a part of me that says, “Fuck normal”. BTW I totally have a t-shirt that reads, “Normal People Scare Me”. I saw it on the first episode of American Horror Story and I thought, “Oh yes! It will be mine!” I even got it in purple. Trying to fit in with the mundane crowd is so exhausting and utterly pointless. Nothing about me has ever been “normal”. There are days where I don’t even feel like I live a “quasi-normal” existence.

I come from a Venezuelan family and I grew up as the pet gringo. I refused to speak the language and I barely ate any of the food. I’m still not a fan of some of the food. It’s only interesting and exotic for people who never had to grow up in a Spanish-speaking household and be forced to smell and eat it at every occasion; holidays, birthdays, family gatherings, baby showers, etc. I’m the least tanned in my family too and I see no point in it. I don’t see the appeal in sizzling in the sun and getting cooked like a rotisserie chicken. I mean look at Trump’s complexion. It’s not doing him favors. But then again his skin tone is more what I call “Dorito Raped”.

I’m gay and I am willing embrace only so many cliches. I’m probably the only gay guy who doesn’t give a single, solitary fuck about Rupaul’s Drag Race, quote “Mean Girls”, or own a single Madonna album. Oh I am not gifted with song and dance either. Take one good look at me and you can clearly see that I’m not a gym rat either.

I live in my own world. I find more comfort in the story worlds and characters I create, in WWE, video games, anime, films, cooking, and imagination. I cope with reality through the use of my imagination. I see myself as a warrior, I see my skills as powers that I naturally possess, I see my challenges as monsters that I have to fight and take down. It’s an unorthodox way to deal with stuff, but we all have our ways to cope. I could be coping in ways that are self-destructive with drug habits or self-mutilation or God knows what else. I see what people don’t see or never want to see out of fear, conformity, or sheer laziness. That’s a quote from the movie Patch Adams by the way, when Patch spoke with Arthur Mendelson at the mental institution.

I suffer from depression and anxiety. But there has been some good that comes from it. It’s attributed to my imagination and wicked sense of humor. God only knows that if my entire life was nothing but sugar and rainbows then I’d have absolutely nothing to write about. It’s made me stronger, a lot stronger than I was eight years ago when I wanted to kill myself. It’s made me realize how much I want certain things. And when I say “I want” I mean it in the same way people feel intense hunger. Its helped make me into the person that I am today. Its always made me have to take a good look at myself in the most honest way possible. Whenever I get lost I always take a trip back to me. It’s not always pleasant, but it’s always been instrumental in getting back to the right path.

I’m a warrior in my own right. I fight one battle after another within my mind. I’m a neurotic mess. I’m not normal and I’m tired of trying to be when it’s never been in the cards for me. I feel things more intensely than others, I know things they don’t have any clue of, I can do things that other can’t, and get labeled a “freak” for all of it when I find that to be a lot more preferable than being boring and fake.

If being a “freak” is what separates me from everybody else then I will proudly wave my freak flag. I will happily accept who I am and live with whatever consequences come with it. Because if I act otherwise then I’ll never be able to make peace with myself and not have the true happiness that I’ve been seeking. So I embrace my identity as a Warrior “Monk”.

The Mind as a Muscle

So let’s recap on my last few days. I was feeling good about the exams I took last week. I got my results on the math exam the next day. I did good! I did really good! After that exam day I felt so good. My entire weekend was a huge happy high. I treated myself to a Wild Bill Burger at Macado’s. It was my first time eating there. Not a bad place, my only complaint is that the table I sat at was sticky. I went back to the apartment and cooked up something real nice and tasty. I binged the new season of Orange is the New Black (loved this new season btw!) and played the hell out of more Persona 5 (turns out it’s not completely out my system). It was the first time I felt happiness with no strings attached. And I was able to sleep in till 9:00 and it was fucking amazing!

But then….

Monday came. I woke up way too early. I woke up at maybe 4 or 5:00 AM and couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt very meh. I had this feeling of impending doom hanging over my head. At first I figured it was just the usual blahs that you get from Mondays being Mondays. But then I got the exam score for my other class. It wasn’t so good. I forgot my math homework for that day too. Mercifully the law professor was very understanding on why people didn’t do so good on the first test. He even offered to “discount” that low grade. The catch is that I have to do better the next time. The same is true for everybody else in that class. I have a good feeling of where I went wrong. I know what to expect for next time. My math teacher is very cool. She said it was okay to turn in everything a day late. And I did. One of the assignments was to take the picture of someone who we find to be beautiful and take measurements to see if it’s close to Phi.

I chose Finn Balor’s face btw. My favorite superstar in the WWE. He has the face of a Hollywood movie star, the body of an underwear model, and he has a nerdy side…

Celebrity Sightings in New York City - August 22, 2016

I mean look at this gorgeous man! Look at him!! He’s this good looking, he’s nice, he’s strong, and he loves playing with legos on top of other nerdy stuff! Do you realize how fucking rare that is?! He’s a fucking unicorn!!

I even added “My Future Husband” on the assignment. I had to show some restraint from saying, “My Irish Unicorn.” “My Finnamon Bun”. “My Little Sweet Ass.” I held back…*pats himself on back* And the teacher liked him. Of course she didn’t know what the WWE is. This was earlier today. Back to what happened on Monday.

I felt bothered by the low score on the other exam. I had to stop myself from getting lost in depressing thought. That feeling of impending doom kept hanging over me the whole day. So when I got back from classes I hit the kitchen and spent two hours cooking and making a bento lunch and dinner for the night. I treated myself to my favorite sorbet too.

Then I opened up my student email. Remember that one entry where I had to deal with crap like opening up my student email, re-register for classes, and deal with the early intervention team? Fighting my personal Babadook? Yeah, the same thing happened again. I saw that I had outstanding requirements for my financial aid. I knew it was because of how bad I did in the spring semester. At this point that impending doom was trying to take over. I’m fighting the negativity in me. I’m doing the best I can to neutralize thoughts and feelings before I get dragged down to the dark place that I’ve been trying to get out from. I felt like I was playing mental dodgeball. My mind was racing a million miles a second. Everything in my mind felt it was becoming warped and sounded like gibberish. I wrote things down. I listed out what was going through my mind. I wanted to make sense of it.

As I wrote it all down, I kept feeling this sort of impact. The feeling of letting things out, purging it on paper actually hurt. Then I remembered cognitive behavior therapy. I was able to identify the cognitive distortions. I was able to calm myself down. I was bothered by all of it. So I opted to talk about it in today’s session.

Something that my counselor said is sticking with me. I explained to him everything that happened. I elaborated that impending doom feeling is the same feelingI would get during the spring semester. Feeling like everything was beginning to fall apart, can’t be made better again, and how I felt like dying every time. And then he said something like this…

“The part of your brain that thinks about suicide is like a muscle. Even though you haven’t been using that muscle for a while it’s not usual to feel it act up. Feel like it has power over you. Think of it like a bad habit that’s hard to quit, like smoking. You will have your slips.”

And now that I’ve had time to fully process what he said I realize that the other part of myself, the other me that wants to fight this and make everything better again, that old self that I keep wanting to return to must also be like a muscle as well. The only difference is that it’s been atrophied. It’s out of shape. Even though things are in a positive direction I feel like that ‘mind muscle’ isn’t at full strength. Plus that negative mantra, “I’m not allowed to be happy”, wasn’t doing me favors either. But now that I see things in this way I have a very good idea of what to do next and how to think. Now that I know this I feel like I have the upper hand. And plus this does coincide with a previous revelation, I never lost my power. I never lost my old self. It’s just waiting to be tapped into and be released. Now I’m back in control. I’m ready to do whatever is necessary.

Oh yeah and that financial aid thing. I worked up the nerve after the session. I told my counselor that I’d jump right into it and quipped, “If some creature bursts out from the screen and eats my face off then oh well.” I did it. I have some extra paper work to fill out and give to the office. I’ve already got it printed out. So that ends that nightmare.

Now I need to get back to studying. Wish me luck dearest readers because nothing is going to stand in my way again. So I’m gonna conclude with this…


Crumbling Walls

It’s been a minute since I’ve updated hasn’t it? I had to lay off for a little while so I could deal with stuff in school and reality. Good news is that things are going well. I just finished taking two exams, back to back. I feel good about them. Although the first exam kinda blindsided me.

This was for communication law. The professor said to be ready for all types of questions, a little bit of multiple choice, short answer, and fill in the blanks. I’ve been going to my classes, I’ve been attentive, I’ve taken good notes, I figured “I got this shit.”

But then it turns out the whole thing was fill in the blank. And of course of all times for my mind to turn blank it happened when I couldn’t remember the names of cases we discussed in class. I was hoping that it would be a little bit of multiple choice or identifying cases with like a word bank or whatever, but no such luck. I don’t think I bombed that exam, but it didn’t go as I would’ve hoped. Next week I’ll be ready for sure. There’s an exam every Thursday for this class. The next exam was on my weaker subject, math. But I was prepared for it. It was the same deal with the law class. Took good notes, paid attention, etc.

I woke up with a plan. I grabbed this little plushie I have of a Pokeball. I’ve been using it as a stress reliever all day long. I even wore a Pokemon Trainer t-shirt to match. My way of celebrating the announcement of Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon. I was the last one to exit the class room. Not because I struggled with the exam, but because I had to double check every damn thing. I want to think that I did good, but I won’t know the results until tomorrow. But there’s a part of me that can’t shake off the good feeling.

I had my appointment with my counselor the other day. Remember my previous entry about how I wallowed in the fact that I’m “not allowed to be happy”? Yeah, we had a ball with that one. Totally called it.

I have a lot more clarity now than I’ve had in a very long time. Partly due to continuous blogging and also to counseling services offered here.

“I’m not allowed to by happy”. I’ve had this mantra stuck with me since before I showed up in Boone. I thought that after I went into counseling here the first time that all my problems would be put behind me. I put behind the malice I was feeling at the time before so it’s not as though counseling was a wasted effort. What I’ve been going through the last few months is something different. I’m still not entirely sure why or what made me so sad and want to die during the spring semester. I’m still trying to find answers. To be perfectly honest I don’t know if I’m going to feel 100% all right until I have an answer to everything.

This messed up mantra I’ve been carrying with me obviously isn’t helping. It’s made me build up a lot of walls to surround myself with. Too many things played a factor in reinforcing those walls. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, so if it seems like I’m on repeat, sorry. Bad habit of mine. But yeah, I’ve got walls. I don’t know how high they go up, but I can feel them surrounding me. Even when I should be happy I can’t help but feel as though my defenses have to be up at all times. I think maybe they’re starting to come down. Maybe not all the way down, but there’s a definite change. Maybe I’m finally giving myself permission to be happy.

I need to do away with that mantra permanently. Is it the root of all my problems? I don’t know yet. Clearly it’s not helping. I’d love to delve deep into things until I have an answer, but the last thing I need at this moment is to have another “analysis paralysis” moment. It’s not as if that ever helped anyway.

I have reasons to be happy. I signed the lease and made the deposit on the house and so has everyone one else. I got the notice from the manager on Monday. Now it feels official. Add that to surviving my first few days of the new semester and braving some exams and I think I’m a little overdue for a victory celebration. I owe myself that much at least. The rest of the stuff I’m going to deal with it. But for now I am too mentally exhausted and drained to even attempt diving into my vast sea of dense thoughts. I’ve got a bottle of wine and some udon noodle soup and my Playstation is calling out to me like a siren’s song. Oh yeah and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna murder my pillow well into the morning because I’ve been waking up too early for the last two weeks. I need to sleep in and enjoy myself.

Until then, later days!