trust me
I tried to be productive today and I mostly failed. So it’s almost midnight and I’m studying vertebrate anatomy because I was feeling guilty about getting so little done. But I’m really tired and so the vertebrate anatomy is not holding my attention like I’d hoped.
There’s no reason to be tired since I got up at noon, but staying awake for more than 10 hours is an exertion. I’m impressed I’ve made it to 12.
I’m at a point where I do not give a shit about my classes, and it’s unfortunate because it’s time for finals. But really, it doesn’t matter what grades I get. Because I am transferring at the end of the semester, as long as I pass the credits will transfer. I’m still going to try to get good grades, though, because if I don’t I’ll hate myself. Of course, I’m probably going to hate myself anyway. That’s kind of how it goes.
I mean, it’s gotten to the point where I’m proud of myself for staying away for 12 consecutive hours.
There is absolutely no correlation between being successful and self-esteem. At least, that’s been my experience. Well, not quite. I guess I’m not really successful, in fact, now that I think about it I’m kind of a giant failure. So the self-loathing is justified, for the most part. Sometimes, though, I am successful for a moment and I don’t even experience a boost of self-esteem then.
I’m poor as shit, but that’s not exactly new. I can’t afford to move, but it’s not like I have a choice. I’ve been using my credit card, and that makes me nervous. Anxious. Both my mom and my sister have been sued by credit card companies for non-payment. I’ve been much better about paying on it, and for about 2 years I didn’t use any credit cards at all and had a $0 balance. But now I’m poor and need to buy things like food and gas. So I’m nervous and stressing.
I applied for a private student loan and that has me nervous and stressing as well. I was “conditionally approved” pending documentation, but I just know they’re going to rescind the offer. That’s just how it goes—I figure something out, it seems like everything’s fine, then someone drops the ball and I’m fucked. It’s like I have PTSD from people failing on me so many times. I hate depending on other people for anything because I know they won’t follow through. I’d much rather depend on myself, because I am the only person that I trust.
And that’s an issue. I mean, not trusting the sleazebag loan company isn’t an issue. I SHOULDN’T trust them. The fact that I don’t trust any of my friends or family, though, is a problem. It’s to the point that I do not believe I have “friends” so much as “acquaintances” with whom I occasionally (ok, seldom) engage in fun activities…and the only person in my family on whom I depend in the least is my sister. I have not, in the 6 years since I moved out of my parents house, asked them for support of any kind. Before that, I asked only for the barest monetary support that parents are obligated by law to give their children. Clothes, food, place to sleep…and in the end they couldn’t provide me even with that.
That, I think, is a large part of it. My parents were unable to provide me with the basic necessities of life, let alone something as vague as “emotional support,” and so I never learned how to receive such support let alone how to ask for it. And that took an ugly situation (fat, ugly, teased at school, possible chemical imbalance) and turned it into a disaster (self-harming, self-loathing, paranoid, suicidal, possible schizoid PD). If I could have asked for support 13 years ago, would I have ever had the idea of harming myself? Would it have gone on for more than half of my life?
I’ve been thinking of talking to a doctor about the depression, but I don’t know how. I don’t trust doctors or other medical professionals. I don’t trust them to do their job, I don’t trust them to listen to me, to hold to doctor-patient confidentiality, to take me seriously. Taking a “leap of faith” might be the only way…but I have never done that, and I’ve never trusted anyone with anything.