Well, I was going to write something but then I read all of my bookmarks and now I’m here.. with one cold hand and one warm hand, waiting for Ian to arrive from 2 hours away so I can eat. He is late.
Maybe I’ll eat anyway. I prefer to eat alone.
Uni.. uni is hard. My Mid Semester test result was 48%. GODDAM. I felt so confident doing that test, too.
Clearly… I need to knuckle down and work harder. But how badly do I want this degree? Maybe I should skip the hard work and just go straight into hippie artist boho mode?
Sigh. But poverty is also hard.
Nothing else is new. My brain has distanced itself from the PTSD things, like a clever brain. Now is maybe not the best time to be going through this stuff? I spoke to Ian about it as my psych recommended. Spoke aka: alerted ”this is what is happening so I’ll probably be more mental than before, fyi.” It was a meh time. But uni and kids and working and taking a cocktail of drugs to suppress nerve pain with the occassional hit of weed and a crap tonne of alcohol. And the vomiting. I mean.. I’m a mess.. really. A mess who showers every two or three… four… days.
Hrm
-SP
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