I spent my first, entire full work-week at my apartment on Milner Hall. My feelings about it is still fluctuating. On Monday itself, I lay there on the bed, fully clothed with my jeans on, all dressed for class, and all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of 'I wanna go home'. It was the strongest 'homesickness' feeling I'd ever felt before. My mind started shooting thoughts in all different directions along the lines of: 'What am I doing here?' ... 'I hate this place?' ... 'Why am I even trying?' ... 'Maybe starting back school was just a big mistake!' ... and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I was thinking about mom, our financial situation, my brother, my health, my counseling session and if I should go, my classes and if I should go, my bf, my friends, my body and it's extra layers of fat and acne ... and I felt the anxiety and despondence intertwine with each other, going round and round, pulling me down..twisting around my throat like a noose!!! ... until there was nothing left to do but collapse into myself and switch the lights off on my consciousness. There we have it... I was dressed and ready for class, which was just 3 minutes walk away from my room, but instead I fell into a deep, dream-full sleep.
I woke up only to my alarm, which nonetheless I snoozed a few times. I had a session with my counsellor. Before I could change my mind, I just peeled myself off the bed, brushed my teeth and walked right out the door and proceeded towards C.A.P.S My clothes may have been wrinkled, my face still showing the lines of the pillow creases and my hair, well - bed head... but I cared not, and just walked. My mind was blank and my focus only on each step and each breath. I walked into the room w/o the slightest idea of what I was going to say, or even of what I was thinking. All I could do was feel... and what I felt was blank and very, very down. The counsellor is impressive... and I use that word in particular because I actually am impressed. I've had my share of secret disappointment and disillusionment w/ psychologists in the past; there's nothing more disenchanting than walking out of a session and knowing full well that you were able to 'fool' your doctor by silly layers of self protection and enigmatic obscurity while never once actually touching on what's really, really bothering you. Now I've met two professionals who are able to 'see through' my facade and really make sense of things, and help me make sense of things as well. Anyways, back to that particular session... long story short, I cried my eyes out. I actually, for the first time, spoke about certain things regarding mom's death and illness and my feelings and connection to it all. It felt so disconnected, like I was just vomiting out stories at random, jumping in all different directions; yet somehow at the end, it all came together, with her help of course... and best of all, it came out of me. 'It' being a slice of whatever I've been keeping locked inside of me... still keeping locked inside - Guilt, Fear, Sadness, Regret, Anger, Pain...
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