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Kiwi Crocus
14 September 2010 @ 08:03 pm
I am trying so hard to be okay.

I have 'run away' to Northampton - the only sort of 'running away' I would do: moderated and safely, with everyone knowing where I am, but still gone. Today I have spent all day sitting in two cafes with my computer. I don't feel able to do anything.

I feel the panic working to escape, seep out and siege my composure, take hold of my breathing and sense of self. Fog my brain. I am putting all my effort into keeping my breath normal. In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

Working so hard to keep it back - let it out without letting it touch me and take hold. The fact that I can feel it before it takes over me points to my progress, but also proves that I am not out of the woods yet. Now I can feel the monster as it approaches, but I am having the darndest time holding it back, holding myself steady. I can feel my body shaking as I reach to brush the tears.

I am exhausted. I am frightened. I don't want to go through this again. I feel ill-prepared.

I should go home. I will go home, soon. I have physical therapy Thursday at 5. I'll go. As I said, running away within confines...

I'm alive. A lost girl, but alive.
 
 
Kiwi Crocus
14 September 2010 @ 08:43 pm
From my personal tutor/advisor to my mother:

Hi Gerri

That's great.

The secret of course is that Kiwi is one of those students that is a pleasure to have around! Let her know that if she does find it getting too much and she needs someone to talk to that she should seek me out. At the same time though, Kiwi was the top student in the module I taught last year, so I know that she will do well.

Best wishes

Mark


How does he have that sort of confidence in me? Why do I read 'I know that she will do well' as an expectation, something that hurts, instead of with appreciation? Why does my being the top student in a module frighten me more than please me? How do I gain the strength to go speak with him if it is getting too much?

Why is this my brain? ...and how do I get out of it?

I swear I was a more courageous person when I was 16. At least I had the strength to crumble in front of people who could help me, no matter how much it hurt to be vulnerable.