The End is Near

I haven't had any antidepressants since I was kicked off my health insurance more than three weeks ago, so everything I write here is darkened by the storm clouds enveloping my brain.

I'm not going to finish my degree. That's pretty obvious to me now. I only have two quarters left to go before graduating, and it's clear it's not going to happen. After beating my head against the wall for the past couple of weeks, grappling with the bureaucracy of financial aid (which is all my own fault), student disability resources (who have been very helpful), instructors who insisted I get registered for classes (which I can't do), and my psychiatrist at the student health centre (who I adore), an important deadline passed yesterday: the last day to add classes this quarter.

Which means I am out for the quarter.

I'm too tired to fight for school anymore.

I haven't been able to register for classes because of two holds on my student account: One for overdue library books, and the other for an emergency student loan spring quarter (which mostly went to paying my phone bill and buying cigarettes) which I intended to pay with my summer student aid, but which never materialized because of my lackluster academic standing, and lack of federal grant funds for summer quarter.

I hate school. I hate reading for assignments, hate writing on deadlines, I hate the sustained mental effort and work required. I've just been going through the motions for the free rent.

When I spoke with the registrar yesterday, she said I *can* register after the deadline, with two caveats: I have to pay a $10 per credit hour penalty (money I don't have), and with instructor override permission. However, I haven't been to class this week - way too depressed and psychotic Monday, and I screwed up and showed up at the wrong time for class yesterday. Today, I'm writing this instead of going to class. So I seriously doubt the instructors will let me in, because I haven't been there putting out the required effort -- and I couldn't blame them. I wouldn't let a slacker like me in. I haven't shown a willingness to do the work.

I give up. I am not going to even try anymore. I lied to Rick when I told him this morning that I would try today. I can't even get out of bed.

The only thing that has kept me afloat this year is the fact that my mother has been paying my rent -- with the proviso that I go to school. Now that I have essentially fucked up school, it's only a matter of time before I am evicted from my apartment. With my feet and knees giving out on me, I can't get any kind of part-time job that requires standing for any length of time -- which is most of them. I don't see myself being able to hold down a full-time job, which is what most of the office jobs require. And my utter lack of interest and motivation to work at all is the final coup de grace to my even trying to find a job.

I have become, in short, a burden on society, my family, my friends, and my neighbours.

And I really don't care any more.

Without psychiatric meds, I am going into a major downward spiral, and I don't see an end to it. Homelessness and death, here I come. Suicide is looking more and more attractive by the day.

I called my mother today (using a neighbour's phone, since mine is disconnected). I left her a message on her answering machine, explaining that I had been kicked off of insurance, and wasn't being let back into school, and that maybe it's time for her to start letting me go. She can't prop me up forever, and I'm almost 40. If I haven't been able to get my life together and be an independent, responsible grown-up by now, it probably isn't going to happen. She needs to let me stand or fall on my own two feet (or not, which is what I expect to happen).

I think I must the biggest disappointment in her life. I'm gay, an atheist, mentally ill (there seems to be one of us in every generation of Wrights), unstable, flaky, and unable to be a self-sustaining adult. Her oldest child, and her greatest failure. My two younger siblings are well-adjusted, responsible adults with educations, good jobs, and families. I'm the fuck-up.

I'm too tired to fight anymore. I surrender to whatever consequences may come.

A visit to the ER

My mom (who lives in KY) read my previous journal post, and being unable to reach me by phone (it's been disconnected because I couldn't pay the bill), she called the Bellingham Police Dept. and asked them to check on me.

At about 5:30 this evening, the police showed up here, and after talking to me, decided I was a suicide risk, and took me to the Emergency Room at St. Joseph's Hospital.

I was observed in the ER for several hours, before a social worker arrived to interview me. I told her I didn't think I was an immediate risk to myself, and didn't need hospitalization. She agreed, and after getting me a dose of Zoloft, set up an appointment for tomorrow with the Whatcom County Behavioural Health Unit in order to get me into the mental health system. Then they called for a cab, and sent me home.

I called mom collect, and let her know what happened. She's planning on coming up here Monday.

I'm going to bed now.