Four days late
Already my eyelids are drooping and it's a struggle to stay awake.
What's the time?
4:33 PM 1/21/00
There. Four thirty. And I'm half asleep.
Valium.
I finished exams, but my jaw felt like it had been welded shut. I realized that I've been clenching my teeth all week and it's almost painful to let the muscles relax. I've been so nerved out about exams. This is the last thing that counts. I didn't study - nope. Not for a single exam. I went to bed at eight thirty every night. Swallowed valium, took a bath, fell asleep.
I was jittery and on edge. I was nervous. I kept grinding my teeth.
I started writing a journal entry tuesday, and it reads "What should I have energy for? Why should I go to college? Why have I pushed myself in school? Why haven't I pushed myself harder?
I haven't pushed myself in school. Not to my standards, and not to anyone elses."
I guess I have a lot of achievement hang ups. It's why I started going to therapy. In my english class, I couldn't get an A on any of my papers. I hadn't really pushed myself though, so I figured it was alright. My mother wanted me to get an A though, and she let me know. "You're good at English. You have no excuse."
You have no excuse.
"Fine." I said. Fine, I'll try. I'll edit. I'm work out a good paper. I'll put in the effort. Fine. I was bitter, though. (I still am.) I worked. I put in the hours. It didn't get an A.
For three days straight, I cried through school. (I only vaguely remember this.) A friend took me to guidance because i kept crying, and my counselor called my mother. Three years of therapy and I'm still grinding my teeth. Exams are finished and I'm still grinding my teeth.
---
To shift gears completely, I've been filling out the backs of my senior pictures. This is one of those rituals of high school that escaped me - I'm apparently expected to give people these pictures of myself. I will face an angry mob if I do not fill them out.
Anyway, this is what I've come up with. There is the gag worthy:
Jennie - You are one of the kindest, most positive, accepting, and beautiful souls this side of the universe. (I was going to say "Mississippi" but I thought she might be insulted.) It's been a real joy knowing you these years. With love, Margaret
The half finished:
Sue - I think you're the captain of the cynicism brigade and
The Comedy Central Induced:
Katie - hi yo girl. you can have all the sperm you need. what now? i love rocks. margaret
The really mean:
Becca - You really smell. I don't even know why I'm your friend. You stink. No offense.
When katie and becca and I get together, we are very mean to each other. Katie and I say "She is so brazen!" just loud enough for Becca to hear us. "Becca is mighty pugnacious!" say I. And then becca kicks me. Sometimes I'm afraid that we stop joking at a point.
---
I had to see Ragtime with my family last night. My father is neurotic about being on time. I was snide and dismissive of him. I ignored him when he spoke to me. "Call katie, margaret. You have to call her and see if she's left. We're going to be late. Call katie," he said. I faced the window, ignoring him pointedly. He shouted, "Are you listening to me?"
"I'll call Kate," I said. Quietly. (but not defeatedly, I was snide.)
He paced the downstairs. Our house is old - the floors rattle and the dishes in the cabinet clash. I could hear him huff now and then.
He drove to the theater at ten mi/hr below the speedlimit, even though the roads were fine, and still looked anxiously at the clock. He was quite the curmudgeon during the show. I slept through the show. I was sleepy. Tranquilizers, I find, do this to you. I also did not eat any dinner last night, and had a dream about food. My parents are concerned that I am not eating well.
My therapist thinks that I'm angry at my parents. She says, "You've been angry at them for a long time, and it's only now that you're letting them know." I think she's right. I want to get back at them. I have nothing wrong with wanting revenge.
---
This journal entry took me four days to write. And it still isn't very good. Sometimes I have too many places to tell my stories, and sometimes I don't have enough people who're willing to listen to me. I think, right now, I have a lot of people who'll listen to me talk endlessly. I still want to keep writing. I think that forcing yourself to write daily - even if it's only a journal entry - helps immensely. It isn't always easy. And it shouldn't be.
Also, laura does not think that I am psycho, and I am mighty pleased to have heard from her. I was kind of nervous. One more person to cross of the list of People I've Sent Awkward Emails.
2000-01-22, A messy and probably quite confusing entry.
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