So I got an extension on the due date for The Essay… and I’m FREAKING OUT about it, because the depression and anxiety HAVE EATEN MY BRAIN.
I’ll just let you have a moment to visualise that…. ever so attractive image. I see them as snails, like those giant African land snails…
EATING my brain. Really. That’s what I’m imagining my depression and anxiety as. It’s not good.
Nibble nibble nibble nibble sluuuuurp.
All the stuff I THOUGHT I understood (especially about ontological metaphors) just seems to be GONE. It’s like there’s just a big gap where the brain bit that’s even meant to understand it lives, so even though I’ve spent days trying to go back over past notes and lectures and readings it’s JUST NOT GOING IN.
Rhetoric, rhetorical terms, media modes, sure, I can find you a laundry list of those. Unfortunately I need more than that for the essay.
Speaking of which – the essay overall SUX. I’ve forgotten how to write. Nothing flows. It’s as stilted as Baba Yaga’s hut.
(yes, I know Baba Yaga’s hut had chicken legs. Work with me here.)
Oh dear. Yes, I know, it’s the first essay for uni, after a break of 20+ years, and I should (whoops, there’s one of the trigger words the psychologists love to pounce on – “be kind to yourself, Caity,” they say! “There are no shoulds!” Yeah, well, I’m stressing out here because there ARE bloody SHOULDS and one of them is I SHOULD be able to do this damn thing!
(Mr Beloved went and got me one of the special p1lls. Oh dear. All the Little Books Of Calm and Acceptance Commitment Therapy tricks in the world don’t work once I get to this point.) I was supposed to see my lovely mental health nurse today but she had to cancel so I’m stuck here unloading on the blog and Mr Beloved. Woooot.
Doesn’t help that I feel I have to live up to the ridiculous mark of the stupid library assignment, which was basically a paint by numbers quiz. ARRRRGH!
You know what? The whole thing is only meant to be FIFTEEN HUNDRED WORDS. And I’m tearing my hair out! It’s worth 40% of the semester’s mark. WHY am I going to uni again? Anyone? Anyone? (Bueller?)
I’ve made an appointment to see the tutor during office hours this week (Thursday), and I’m going to keep trying to work on the essay but – arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!! Feels like banging my head on a wall. ( And I just know I’m going to embarrass myself by being all teary in the office, oh GREAT.)
WHY CAN’T I SEE THESE DAMN METAPHORS? I know they’re hiding there. I think I’ve almost got one by the tail. Ontological metaphors are the ones where our brains very sneakily decide to deal with something ABSTRACT as something PHYSICAL so we can understand them better. Makes sense, right? EXCEPT It’s like trying to catch wet frogs.
I don’t think I’m going to sign myself in as a day patient at the ward tomorrow. I probably should. But those sessions are so EXHAUSTING and I really need to work on this damn essay some more.
This morning’s lecture was interesting… I had been looking forward to it – This week’s module is all about Narrative! YAY! Narrative! I can do this! Only THE THING that makes story WORK, right, only one of THE most important tools if you’ve been foolish enough to enrol in the Writing and Society major (Yep, it’s really Creative Writing, whatever you call it) and plan on getting on with it… instead I rolled out of bed late after not enough sleep (gee, could I have been fretting about The Essay?) and then sat in the lecture theatre feeling STUPID and dribbling my hot chocolate down my front. The words just didn’t go IN. We got half a lecture and a trailer from a film. I am disappointed. I mean, of course I’ll still complete all the readings and go back over the websites in the powerpoint links once they’re on the uni site, but – meh.
Feel like I am falling ever more behinderer again.
Maybe I should eat some snail pellets on toast?