..fat old Lady

Today I’m gonna go straight in cause I don’t wanna loose my drift or train of thought. So I truly had an eventful past week. Eventful in that I got called fat, old and had an anxiety attack all in a span of a couple days. I can definitely say I was on a roll. Sadly, not the good kind. So to break it down for you, I’m back to school after a long eight months of being out of it.. both literally & figuratively. I won’t go into the details of the reasons why school’s back in session, its probably happening all over the world so you can take a guess on why I had to resume. It’s my last semester in college and boy am I glad. School is just one of the things that have never ever appealed to me. Its always been a circumstantial issue for me, never voluntary. If I may say so myself, I’ve hated school since I was in daycare. Anything that required me to get out of the house for an entire day in such an excruciatingly pressurized experience, never did suit me.

So yeah, back to reopening school. It being my last semester, means that I’ve got my major final exam right around the corner and it entails a project that I had already started on at the beginning of the year in my first semester. But before I even get to that, let me bring you into things in a more chronological manner. Day one was on Wednesday and I started off my term by sitting for exams that had been prior cut short right at the beginning due to the surge of covid so it meant that right after school opened, we’d resume our exams which explains why I was sitting for a paper on my first day back. Wednesday morning, I gracefully arrive in class, somewhat set to sit for my first paper and since it had been a while since my classmates had seen each other, they was already a buzz in the air of people catching up on how they’ve been. Your girl here, quiet & in her element of silence & seclusion only said hi when greeted first. I’m not what one would consider approachable to my peers, I just rather not have people be comfortable airing their lives or opinions to me cause I’ll probably drift off somewhere in my mind but I guess due to the prolonged period of absence, a classmate of mine whom to be specific I’m not so fond of, came over to my seat and was blatantly open enough to tell me how “big” I had grown and further went ahead to ask me what exactly had I been eating over that period out of school. I honestly truly try never to let such comments and snide remarks get to me on most days but this just hit a nerve. She wasn’t done though, oh no! While walking away to her seat she finalized her opinion of how ‘old looking ‘ I’ve become…. Now this just threw me off a loop and I just smiled and shrugged it off.

Her words stayed with me. It got to me. Maybe it was the way she said it or the snide tone behind her words that struck a nerve. Whichever it was, it warranted a punch to her throat. For those who may not be aware, I’m meek on the outside but I’m very violent on the inside, especially when it comes to being vengeful. It wasn’t her assumption of that I probably ate a lot over the period I was out of school that ticked me off, it was her stupidity & insensitivity in believing I cared of what she thought of me. “For your information, Joan, the extra weight on me is from the different amounts and types of antidepressants I’ve had to be on to stay alive, you insensitive piece of shit “. It doesn’t matter if she was aware of why I am bigger than she last left me, she should have kept her two cents to herself cause she unconsciously planted an insecurity I didn’t need on my first day back. Weirdly enough, she wasn’t the only one daft enough to make that comment to me, a few other girls in my class who I might mention are nothing more than just classmates, thought it was in their place to tell me about how big I’ve become. I’m gonna leave this at that cause it truly isn’t my responsibility to coach anyone on being sensitive. It’s a conscious effort from the mind, clearly not everyone has it.

Right now, the pressure is high in school and I don’t work well under pressure. I get anxious and it topples down from there rendering me completely in a state of panic. Besides my exams, I’ve got a back log of work that I should probably have been done with but didn’t get around to completing, ie my project. After a day of being back in town, I enquired from a few school mates on where they were at in their projects and most of them are done. That and learning of it’s due date being sooner than I expected, put me in a complete state of anxiety. It made feel cornered and I just wanted to hide back in my bedroom at home where it’s been my safe haven. I didn’t think being depressed would be reason valid enough to explain why I never got around to completing my project which carries part of my exams points for my final exam. My productivity was pretty much non existent ; I could only basically handle waking up and trying to live through the day but despite being aware of this, I still feel like I failed at trying to do anything productive. When I told my sister about how I was panicking and was just about to quit school and run away, she asked me about the days when I wasn’t as depressed, and why I didn’t work on it on those days. Truthfully speaking, that just aggravated my guilt on how unmotivated I was to do anything. It sure didn’t help with the anxiety, it pretty much heightened it.

For the past one month or so, I’ve been on a quest to get the right diagnosis for what exactly ails me. I’m not advocating for self prognosis. It isn’t right but for my case, all I’ve felt and still feel is helplessness when it comes to not having a concrete understanding of what happens to me when I go into a depressive state of mind. My mind has conjured everything and anything under the sun to try make sense of what goes wrong but even with my search for an answer, I still intend to get a professional psychiatrical opinion and evaluation. Besides wanting to know what goes wrong, I want to finally have the validity of reason to explain why certain things for me are more difficult to either achieve or to stop. It is frustrating not feeling valid even in turmoil and darkness. It begs the question of how do I prove to the world that I don’t always have an answer for what happens to me or for why I do or feel or react to things in a certain way. How do I prove that it’s not just all in my head and that there’s a messed up reason for the things that happen. I know I shouldn’t try to prove it to anyone, I owe it to no one. I know it’s an illness but I need the world around me not to look at me like some narcissistic cynic who slits her wrist for pleasure. I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore, or at all.

So here I am, still trying to calm down from the anxiety and formulate a plan on how to start working again on my project in a more clear mind. So that’s been my eventful first week back in school, I’m the fat old lady with anxiety 😊…

P. S I took this cute photos of myself today cause I felt like I’ve not seen myself remotely look pretty in forever so I’m going to share this with you just cause I think they are kinda cute.😄

10 responses to “..fat old Lady”

  1. Wow… Seem to me that evil girl has some issues of her own insecurity to deal with, and chose to take them out on you. She can bite it!
    I think you look beautiful. I love your smile and your hair and your willingness to show how “big’ you are. *Pfft* Weight isn’t WHO or WHAT you are – it’s just something people like to bag on. Trust me, if you’d lost a huge amount of weight, nasty girls would want to know how ill you were, or it you could afford food. So hold that beautiful head up high, Sweetie, and finish up this semester!

    • Thank you Liz, I’m so happy to hear from you after such a long while. I sure do hope you are well and doing great. I’m gonna truly work through finishing school. Thank you again for the lovely compliments and vote of confidence. 💕💕💕

  2. When I woke up today (01.00 pm local time) your pictures popped up in my mind. So here I am, back at your blog, looking again at these two pictures you uploaded of yourself. I’ve heard that “they” say: “The eyes are the mirror of the soul”. Actually it was Paulo Coelho who came up with that first, but “they” spread his words around, and now it’s some common “wisdom”. If this saying is true, I must say I don’t see any depression at all in your eyes. None whatsoever.

    So what DO I see? To answer that, I enlarged one of your photos. What I (for now) saw was this: Love, a dreamy attitude, introspection, expectation, trapped energy, a certain reticence towards “the world”, and also something I couldn’t put into words. But then again, “they” also say: “It’s only in the eye of the beholder” ☺️

    • Wow, I don’t think I’ve had anyone have such specific insight on something as meager as my image on a photo…I’m flattered you don’t see the depression in my eyes, I work everyday for it not to pick it’s ugly head out to the parts of me the world is accessible too… But thank you for seeing what you see…I’m curious to know what it is that you can’t seem to put to words though, when you finally do, I’d love to hear it.

      • Your reply triggered it in me. The thing I couldn’t put into words is: Integrity.

        Btw, maybe I couldn’t see any depression in your eyes, because your soul is not depressed?

  3. Integrity, I didn’t expect that.. But thank you for thinking that of me…sadly though, every part of my being sorta does feel depressed though I like to think of it more than just depressed and plainly just sad. One of the fewer compliments that I truly felt connected with was by a friend of mine who mentioned that she thinks I have the saddest heart. It’s hard to explain why that would be a compliment but it is for me.

  4. Re: “the saddest heart”? I feel you.

    Did you know there was a time when in psychiatric environments there was no talk about “depression”, but about “melancholy”? Is it not so that “saddest heart” comes close to that?

    In a world unnecessarily infested with hypocrisy, greed, violence, indifference, egoism, and other filth, having a saddest heart is a compliment indeed!

    • I’m a melancholic who’s a depressive. One’s a personality while the other is a illness that plagues me. For me, having a sad heart is a compliment because it is the best feature of the “darker” aspects of my life. It is the realest and most raw of everything about me. It’s my vulnerability.

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