Again

I was driving to school today and I wasn’t feeling good. My mind felt bruised — it hurt, and in truth, I didn’t want to go to school at all. But it is a Tuesday, the day with nearly all my classes, and I am worried that if I start taking days off I will stop going to class altogether. For me, that is a slippery slope.

Then, as if taunting me, a Brewster Ambulance drove past, and tears came to my eyes. It was an identical blue and white ambulance that had transferred me to the psychiatric hospital in February, and that is a distinctly painful memory. Every time I see these ambulances, I wince, and today was no exception. I winced.

I made it to my classes, fumbled through class discussions, and wrote scraggly, discombobulated notes. It was Halloween, and so I ate candy. Even Professors brought candy to class. I embraced the sugar rush and let it wash over me and make me feel better.

I embraced the sugar crash, too, and let it wash over me and make me feel worse. I used my medication and ice packs and they didn’t really do anything. But I did it anyway, I quietly cried, and I finished the class.

I cried in my car, too, and then I drove home. I took strong medication and then I fell asleep.

I do this again, again, again.

I am fighting with every ounce of my strength to stay in class, to stay in school, and to just make it to that finish line in December. I am fighting with plenty of medication, skills, and therapy, too.

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.

So hey, fellow strugglers. I see you, I feel you, and I think we are going to make it.

I believe in you and I hope you believe in me too.

See you next time.