Procrastinating as usual

I am procrastinating again which is not good.
I have a lot of school work to do, and its been pestering me as usual. I've pushed it to the back of my mind, but half term is over tomorrow, and I can no longer avoid putting it off.

I always have so much to say in my head- a beautiful, flowing story. But when it comes to write, I seem to freeze up. I forget what needs to be said.

I went a little crazy today. I threw stuff around the room, hurling it into the walls. I ate a lot of food, shoving it into my mouth to somehow fill the void of pain and emptiness. I turned off all the lights in my house, shielding my eyes until all light switches had been pressed, because somehow being in the dark feels safer. It feels like I am making my house conspicuous  so that people will not knock on my door, making me jump and cry out in fright. So that I can be left alone to self destruct quietly. I sit and continue to eat my food, feeling a sickening churn in the pit of my stomach. A feeling of uneasiness also consumes me throughout the day.

I've enjoyed writing with frequency lately. Sometimes though, I think that I would have nothing to say if I did not talk about my illness and my problems. Jan told me that I cling to sadness because I am afraid of the world, and I use it to fill the void in my life. I think I need to start filling that void with something new, something intellectual.
I wish I could write like this about politics, or history, or art or something, anything intellectual. This illness is not new and exciting, it doesn't quench my thirst for knowledge. Instead, it sticks like glue, peeling away slowly until there is nothing left of you, or it, or anyone else.
I like the thought of being intellectual. My doctor Femi tells me that he is certain I will fulfill my dreams, and my educational aspirations. I want three A's at the end of my A levels. I believe I am currently at a B standard in all of them, but I will work hard to improve them. I have decided to put some structure in place, to stop my life turning into a train-wrecked roller-coaster of a ride.
Here are the improvements that I am going to make,starting from tuesday:

- Every day after school I will stay for an hour to do homework
-Every day I would like to complete two pieces of work
- Every day I would like to go to the gym for at least an hour (preferably two)
- Every day I would like to have an hour to myself, to read, write, relax, wash my hair and fix it, paint my nails or do whatever
- I don't want to do homework at the weekends, I want to go out and have fun- I am going to make a conscious effort to do this, rather than staying at home cooped up. (If I get out and about more, then I am hoping my mood will improve)
- I will get in to bed at 9pm every evening, and read for an hour before falling asleep at ten. This will ensure that I have nine hours sleep.

Right I am going to try and get cracking with my homework. I think I have procrastinated enough by writing this post. Hope everyone is well xxx

Walk around the wall, don't beat it down

You hold onto sadness because its a security net. Its safety, its familiar, its comforting. Happiness, I told Jan, can be embraced and fulfilled till I'm bursting at the seems. When I'm sad though, happiness is a foreign concept. I forget how to feel happy. Or more accurately  I don't allow myself happiness. Instead, I wallow, I weep, I let everyone come rushing to help me. Just because its easy that way.
When you are happy everyone stops thinking you need help.

Doctor Femi told me that without medication depression will eventually subside after four to six months. But thats four to six months of pain, he told me. I'm starting to believe that it will subside because nobody wants to be sick for that long. Suddenly sick becomes too heavy on the shoulders. Suddenly sick is not what you want to be, and not what you thought it would be. Sick didn't live up to your glorious expectations. Instead it gave you cold reality. Sick has turned you against yourself, made you the number one enemy, when really you are crying out to be the friend. "Sadness and I walked hand in hand for a long time" Jan tells me. "Sadness and I were bestfriends."

I was meant to get the bus into town today to see Jan. I shun my mother for being unorganised and manic, running around frantically shoving things into her bag, cursing herself for leaving it all to the last minute to get ready. Today I did this, which was unfortunate as it made me late, and made my anxiety worse about going into town. My mum dropped me off. I should have just faced my fears and gotten on the bus. When I left Jan though, I came on the bus home.
As I sat in the waiting room, I had a moment of realisation. I thought about the Maudsley Hospital and how they had written a review of my assessment. I need to get a copy of that, I thought, so that when I am older I can read it. Another thought then popped into my head. Its time to let it go. All of this sadness needs to be shown the door. This thought startled me. Am I ready? Can I let go? Do I even know how?
Jan and I had a deep discussion today. She asked about my dreams, and my sleeping pattern. I told her about my recurring nightmare I have, where I am trapped in a world covered in sandstone, where council buildings tower over me, and I cannot escape. Just when I think I've seen the promise land, when I think I am safe, it turns out to be a dead end. I am trapped. Jan asked me what I thought this signified in my life. I told her I think it represents all of my insecurities and my paranoia, that towers over me, consumes me, never letting me escape its clutch. I also told Jan that I am sleeping a lot, and I am constantly tired. I wake up every night though. Always between four and five am. I get up and I am wide away. I force myself back to sleep though.
What if all of these signs aren't symptoms? What if they are just a product of my nature, my biology, my life, the way I just am? It doesn't have to be depression...does it? Just because I wake up every morning at four or five am. Just because I am loosing my memory or I feel sad, does it really mean that I am depressed?

Jan said something interesting. She said that sadness is may way of coping with the world. That I don't know any other way to deal, so I use sadness instead. I am not a fulfilled person yet, and so I take the sadness and I try to fill myself with it, in the hopes of feeling whole. I do not feel whole. I feel like an empty, used shell.
Telling Jan my nightmare made her envision a wall. The wall is my depression, my illness, my troubles and my problems. I am constantly hacking at the wall, Jan tells me. I am trying to destroy it, trying to pull it down until all that's left is ruble. Instead all I need to do is walk around the wall. To say "Fuck it all" (as my mother vicariously shouts from time to time), and laugh in the face of my fears.