Caught in a funk

I don’t have much today, but I did want to check in.  The last few days have been rather…sporadic perhaps.  There’s a certain  point in my school work that I always get overwhelmed and rather panicky.  I had one of those moments last week.  My first reaction was to immediately call DH, but he was unavailable.  On one hand, I’m recognizing and asking for help when I need it.  On the other hand, I’m relying on DH and have been lucky that he’s been relatively accessible.  He won’t be for much longer.  Later than night we mused about finding me a psychotherapist in the area.  I always struggle with this.  I love going to therapy, but after every break I take it feels like I failed somehow and I have to re-convince myself to start going again.  I might have a few possible leads in the therapy department.  The only problem is the mass transit system in my area only runs during commuter times.  I’m a little out of the way in a housing development, so it’s a several mile walk to get to civilization.  I want to go to the best possible person for me, so I’m a little bummed that if I do this, it looks like I’m going to have to compromise with someone who’s in my transportation range.

My mother and I have been in talk mode about everything since I’ve gotten here.  Somehow, I can’t remember exactly, we got on the topic of my mental health.   After a three hour long conversation, I had mixed feelings about the outcome.  We’ve had a few before with mixed results as well.  Sometimes she’s overly defensive, others she’s blaming me, all of them she’s claiming to have been in my shoes before.  Her reactions just don’t sit right with someone whose experienced it, and she flat out refuses to elaborate.  Bottom line, she’s not supportive.  I don’t know if that’s because she refuses to be, because she can’t understand, or because she doesn’t know how.  I really don’t care.  No support is just that-no support.  I can’t use no support, so I can’t use her as an aid in my recovery if you want to call it that.  I don’t mean it in a bad or mean way, but if I’m not proactive, I won’t get better.  Waiting for someone else to fix it didn’t work, so I can’t continue thinking of others’ feelings above my own.  In the middle of it all, I had a small panic attack, which I got under control, but I didn’t leave the conversation with a feeling of progress.  I wonder how she feels it went.

Homework was the other big thing for me.  I got behind on my weekly reading in favor of running errands.  Not sure it was worth it.  I picked my topic for the final paper of the class.  After much stress, I settled on the Mughal Empire of Medieval India.  I think it’ll be promising…hopefully. I’m always nervous and suspect of this part in the whole research process.  I’ve got a shorter, ten page paper to work on this week, so that’s my focus now.  And I need to start researching possible topics for my final thesis.  I have to know by the end of April.  I don’t know how they expect students to find time to research that while doing the daily assignments.  I can feel that wave of stress starting to build.  Hopefully if I’m aware of it now, I can be prepared and ready for it when it gets here.

So I don’t know.  I’m in a little bit of a funk and slightly pessimistic.  That’s the first step toward the downward spiral, so I need to get my rear in gear.  I’m still trying to establish a routine, so maybe if I get that done, it’ll help forestall any further backward movement.  I’m afraid I waited too long though.  I always think if I had a vacation from life to just sit and meditate, I’d have time to figure out how I felt about stuff like the conversation with my mom and then it wouldn’t bog me down.  I’d figure it out and then put it in it’s proper mental cubby.  When I can’t, it’s like life is moving too fast for me and I’m falling further behind everyone else.  I don’t know.  I think quality dog walking time might help clear my head, and then it’s back to the books.


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