Girls In The Men's Room

Tomorrow, I'm going to talk to my Policy prof about this project. Not due until the week of the 26th, but with everything else going on (in life and in my head), I'm totally stumped and panicky and I want to do well. Since I don't work I'll have time to talk to her (unlike Thursdays when I only have fifteen minutes between that class and work), so hopefully I can figure something out so I can breathe a little bit.

Unrelated: Right now, one of the few things helping me hang on is the music from Strictly Ballroom. God, movie, why so underrated?

So, after a meeting with the nurse practioner (who agrees that I definitely have manic highs; I just write instead of spending gobs of cash on junk or going on a bender), I just need to fill out some paperwork and I'll be getting cheap/free Wellbutrin to see how that works--it would be for the depressive swings not the manic, but...yes.

Still nervous, obviously, but having someone agree that what's going right now is not normal or healthy was very nice.

I need a Stephen Fry icon for posts like this...

ETA: I should have an appointment with an actual psychiatrist at 8:30 on November 10th (will need to find out where the building is...)

ETA #2: Looking at the form I have to fill out, of course they ask for my gender. Urgh. Form for anti-depressants making me slightly depressed! That's my life.

ETA #3: *points up* Haters gonna hate

Made an appointment for tomorrow (8:15--almost 3 hours before I'd have to be on campus normally, urrrgh) for depression screening.

Nervous, but too sick to really feel it. However, catching up with another friend and doing the 'yeah, well, I would be doing this but I can't get up the energy, etc' and him going 'yeeeah, that sounds like depression all right' is making me feel...well, hopeful that this apathy is something I can do something about.

ETA: Not sure what it says that, while listening to I Am The Doctor, I'm trying to tell myself 'WTF do I have to be depressed about? I didn't have to kill my entire race to try and save the universe from the Daleks. Hell, even Eleven manages to be pretty cheery, and look and what he went through as Ten and in the finale of this season!'

...dudes, I don't even.

So for a variety of reasons, I had a total freakout to my mom on the phone. Second time in less than two weeks.

A lot of stuff was talked about. But the thing that I'm posting about is the important one, and I'm posting so I can't chicken out of it: due to THINGS, I'm finally going to Student Health Services on Tuesday to see about getting on anti-depressants. Hopefully just short term. I just need something to get me out of the thing that's been going on in my head for the last year that I can't quite name.

Blllleeegh. *goes back to watching Covert Affairs finale*

Kind of tangentally related to that last post: I realised this before I went over to check Shakesville after lunch but...for the first time probably since July, I'm feeling...good.

I had a meltdown on the phone with my mother yesterday. I'd known this meltdown was in the works for awhile, but really just needed someone to trigger it (this is not an insult to my mother--she knows, as I do, that I can really only fall apart around her and occasionally Girl without feeling horrible about it later).

There's a lot of things that built up to form the mass of unhappy in my head. And not all of them are gone (they probably never will be, and I accept that). But enough of it is cleared out that I can function again without feeling like I'm going to break (believe me, you did NOT want to be in my head these last two weeks. Woooh boy).

So tonight, after reading/school work (providing I get done at a reasonable hour), I'm going to start on my auction fic. It might be a few days late, but I'm sure my recipent will understand.

Tomorrow, providing schedules work, K and I will go to the bank to get transfers done.

By Friday, I should be able to purchase tickets for Christmas.

All will be well, this too shall pass, blah blah blah.

Dear brain,
I know why you come up with these terrible dreams/nightmares about Girl and me fighting+breaking up. I do. But I'm seriously sick of them. I already wake up with a touch of heartbreak most mornings because of the whole LDR thing, I don't need this too. If you have to enforce some psychic trauma on me, how about more NE dreams?
No love at all,

I have a feeling tonight is going to be the night of my really horrible PMS breakdown. It happens most months anymore. One incredibly bad night emotionally+one incredibly bad night pain wise (sometimes these are the same night!), and then just bleh until ragging.

Fuck you uterus.

Yeah, I really think I'm going to get on finding a therapist and getting on T, because I cannot keep doing this.

On the plus side, we have a teapot now, so in awhile K and I are going to make Golden Honey Darjeeling. OM NOM.

Since I've figured out that talk therapy does fuck all for my problems (4 years in high school, plus sessions in middle school and I'm still...this--and yes, I have grown as a person thanks to that therapy, but....) and adding hormones (particularly female) into my body is something I'm wary of...I'm seriously considering going to the health center on campus and going through the depression screening and maybe getting on meds.

This, again, brought on by murderous PMS that is making me see the world through a haze of gray and a chat with a friend who said anti depressants helped her similar PMS/PMDD more than birth control.

And yes, the song is apt at moments like this, though definitely not all the time.

I cannot believe that I just realised that my anxiety concerning public restrooms probably came from my highly medicalised childhood.

Explanation: I had a lot of hormone problems when I was young (before I'd even entered kindergarten). Think of one of the ways they test for hormone levels. And then consider that I was on hormone blockers from the age of 4/5-10.

Yeah. I always knew that was related to my fear of blood draws and needles, but for some reason...yeah. Not so weird all of a sudden (combined with my gender stuff) that I hate public restrooms

Gargh.

So yesterday, before the pain set in, was a 'bad gender day'.

The best way I can sum this up...sigh. There is none.

I was having a total 'boy day' (air quotes because, man, these labels are not all-inclusive of the feelings they represent). Boy clothes, yay! Seeing a boy in the mirror, yay!

...um, painters still not quite out, even tho they seemed like it before. Not yay.

Then I watched some Eddie Izzard. I watched Believe: The Eddie Izzard Story (can be watched for free at http://www.epixhd.com/ after you request an invite code) and then his Live At Wembley special.

And...I just...man.

Eddie Izzard is funny, right? Funny and awesome and all that. So why was I sad? Because he's gorgeous in drag and seems so free and easy and accepts himself so well. There's no shame. There's some self-deprecating humour, but you know.

And I...I can't quite get there, not all the time. And it's hard being in my skin sometimes. And yes, I know Eddie Izzard haz ISSUES, we all do. I'm just saying. I was hormonal like woah again, so hearing his father talk about how he didn't care what his son wore as long as he didn't get beat up, and Eddie prancing onto the stage looking so light...when not long ago my mother said something along the lines of how she'll never refer to me as [chosen name] no matter what...yeah. So, bad gender day and pain day.

I'd like to think these aren't ill omens for the future of Prop 8 related stuff on appeals, but just my body and mind being made of fucking fail.