Saturday, July 14, 2012

Look back to...

November 3, 2006 So I decided to start a new journal as a sort of new beginning. I was almost finished with the purple spiral-bound one, but I was getting tired of it. It was too big to carry with me on a daily basis and the edges were getting ratty and I didn't want to have to worry about it falling apart in Gulfport and all of my memories getting destroyed. Does any else find it a little strange that I just rationalized starting a new journal like I feel like I betrayed or cheated on the old one? I surely need help I feel so insanely guilty for ripping out the last 50 pages or so of my old journal because I was so focused on starting a new one. Probably symbolic of the way I feel right now. My past sits on the shelf and I look forward to beginning new. New project. New journal. New me. Right? Now I feel pretty shitty. Kinda reminds me of the weekend during student teaching (about this time of year actually) where I spent 2 hours crying in front of my supervisor and co-op teacher on Friday and all weekend like I was walking in a haze. Afraid to move. Afraid to go forward. Afraid to speak to people. Walking the streets alone. I remember walking down River Road from the dorms to the stadium on a football Saturday. The streets were lined with tailgaters, fans, all having a great time. And I remember noticing them but not noticing them at the same time. Just kept walking, removed from all of it. Because when you're wound that tight you have no where to go but down I suppose. And that's kind of how I feel this week/weekend. I like this journal better too. It's lines are narrower, bot like 5th grade wide rule I've been writing on. My writing seems neater and more controlled and I like it that way. At least for now. I didn't do anything about that weekend, but I am doing something now. For starters, I went to have a chat with the counselor across the hall from James Foreman's office in 202 on Wednesday. God I didn't want to. It's like giving up and admitting there's something wrong. Shit it was hard. But for some reason I ended up talking for an hour and a half that day. And I couldn't tell you half of what I said but for some reason I feel slightly better knowing that 'm taking steps to have this anxiety thing under control. I can't decide if I like her or not. She's awfully young and rather perky, but I can tell she genuinely cares. I trusted her enough Wed. (or was just plain desperate) to accept a referral to her consulting psychiatrist Dr. Crane to discuss medication options. Which I did today and feel absolutely exhausted from but I did it and ended up with a prescription for Zoloft that I should begin taking on Monday if all goes well. Who would have thought? Me of all people on drugs?!?! SSRIs of all things! Sometimes though I guess one has to admit defeat and ask for a little help. And if that help comes in the form of a pill, I suppose that's what it takes sometimes. I want to get to the point where I'm afraid to talk to half of my team. Hell, I don't want to be afraid of a lot of shit. Small shit. Stupid shit. I'm so tired of dealing with it all. All the time. So it's time to start a new phase in my life. It's called the "Let's help Jennifer think positive" phase. Let's help Jennifer form meaningful, lasting relationships she's not afraid or ashamed to hang onto. Let's not let Jennifer feel embarrassed that Maggie of all people had to haul my ass to Dr. Crane's office today. It's her job, I suppose. Bailing Corps members out of jail and dragging them to the shrink. Wonderful. But I guess I am glad that I went and did it.
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