Thursday, 2 February 2012

Moderation.

I'm skint. I'm always skint. I'm sure you've realised by now that there's not a single thing that I do in moderation, and spending money is just another thing I go all out on. It's horrific, it really is. You know all the bits you get, usually in card shops and the like, that say 'shopaholic' on? God, ahahaha. Not only is it a stupid phrase (alcoholics are addicted to alcohol, shopaholics are addicted to... shopahol? Mmm, shopahol is my favourite!), but shopping addiction really is a bugger. Don't worry, I'm not going to go all uptight about the phrase on mugs and t-shirts an' that, 'cause it's all fun and I'm pretty sure I'd have told you I was a shopaholic when I was a wee 'un and, hilariously, probably a chocoholic at some point (aw, little me. I don't even really like chocahol). But Jeee-haysus, I'm skint from all that shopahol right now.

And alcohol, for that matter. Addictionaddictionaddiction, eurgh- it's not as glamourous as they'd have you believe; it's not all Hollywood rehab and nothing tasting as good as thin feels and selling your story. It's counting out your last coppers so you can buy vodka and constantly feeling sick and ashamed and embarrassed. Injections in your arse, to combat the withdrawals, when your mind or body begins to shut down, and you have to detox. Inappropriate behaviours and inappropriate comments, all at the most inappropriate of times (being too anxious to go to class, unless you're drunk? Check. Passing out from vodka, the first time you meet your boyfriend's parents? Check. Your dad calling you an embarrassment, because you can't bring yourself to eat some fried fish? Check). Oh, and I'm not only skint, I'm indebted; it's all a bit of a mess and I'm a little bit stressed.

I did two essays last term, when I was really depressed, and I did terribly on them. Except I didn't, I got 2:1s. This is summat I can't complain about to anybody because it makes me sound like an absolute dick, because a 2:1 is a bloody good score. I know people who are so chuffed when they get them and I'm not saying owt bad about them, my rules for myself don't translate to anybody else. I think it was Ellis or maybe Willis, but one of my bezzers made a comment about how I must hate fat people, and they couldn't have been more wrong. Fat on other people doesn't even register with me, and by the same token, I don't judge other people on their grades, nor think, objectively, that a 2:1 is bad. But I just... getting them, I don't know. I knew I hadn't done well, I was so down that I could only type about 50 words at a time, before my concentration died, but even so. I did another essay a few weeks ago and got the grade back today and I'd got a 1st. I can't even describe the relief. I NEED to do well, it's not even that I'm glad when I do well, I'm just relieved. I think this is the best sign that the meds they put me on in December are bloody better, the ones they put me on in July, and wouldn't change until December, had me miserable all last term and I got 2:1s. Now, I hope, I'm back on my game. I know I need to moderate my views on grades, but I just have to get 1sts. Maybe that's not a bad thing. But I've deliberately failed so many important exams 'cause I'd rather fail than do ok, and that's not too great. I don't even know what to think.

Mod-er-bloody-ray-tion. I don't like to sleep, I don't like not being in control and aware of my environment, so I restrict it until I can't anymore, and pass out and sleep 18 hours. I don't like to clean, until I snap and have to bleach everything (that's only just an exaggeration. Never bleach a keyboard). And you know what I'm like about food, hahahaha. I'm actually doing really well at the moment, food-wise, but it's a struggle to keep that up because I'm feeling HUGE (and God, I am. You should see the pics of me from last weekend, I'm massive), so it could go. I don't seem to be able to function in the moderate world and it's doing my head in, you just can't be so extreme and live in the real world. I don't feel like I completely fit right now, and I desperately want to. For all its flaws, it's a beautiful world and I want to be a part of that, but I feel like I'm living right now on the extreme fringes, where the beauty has faded out and the feeling of pain seems a more viable option than owt else. The want is there though, and that hasn't been since, ohhhhhh, early last year, before all the Sections and messes of 2011. So that's good. Good. And good is... good? It doesn't have to be terrible or amazing? Oooft.

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