Shitfall

I've sabotaged every aspect of my life and I don't even know where to start trying to clear the rubble.

In July, I was doing okay. Taking a couple of summer courses, doing some maintenance work on a campus computer lab, getting lots of exercise, medicated and seeing a psychiatrist, things were about as good as I could reasonably have hoped.

At the beginning of August, I was supposed to start a new job as a tour guide. I was offered the chance to stay on at the lab, but my family isn't well-off and I wasn't getting enough hours. It sucked, but I knew it was coming. The real problem arrived when the new job decided they needed me a week early. The lab still needed me to finish some things, but I told them I'd try to come in after hours to finish what I'd been working on.

This is about when I started heading toward the deep end. The new job was taking a lot out of me, and I only ended up going back to the lab once. I was so embarrassed about this lack of professionalism that I pretty much stopped checking my email entirely. It was for this reason that I was able to go a full week before realizing that I'd forgotten to go to the meeting with my psych. I patterned my life around avoidance of this guilt, only thinking about it late at night as I lost much-needed sleep.

September came, then, and work was replaced with the anxieties of a new semester. I'm already behind on my program, and my GPA has suffered in the last few semesters, only rising again in summer. Some courses seemed all right, but one involved a major group project that I wasn't confident I could face.

As it turned out, none of that particularly mattered. I was unable to fix my sleep pattern, even with prescription sleeping pills, and started getting to class late, unmedicated (bad since I'm on Venlafaxine) and eventually not at all. I missed the first deadline for tuition payment, and by the time of the final "you'll be withdrawn from classes and cut off from services" deadline, I was missing so much class that it hardly seemed to matter.

So it's about mid-October and I'm up until 0500 most nights, never leaving the house, and lying to my mom about class. I have no idea if she believes this. She hasn't said anything, but I have the emotional intelligence of a rock, so either she's got her own shit going on, or knows and is too ashamed to bring it up. I stop taking my meds entirely, because being medicated to sit around all day is a fucking joke. This goes on for several weeks.

In early November, some part of me rebelled against the desire to be a relentless fuckup, and I reached out to my psychiatrist. She made me an appointment for Tuesday of last week, which I, naturally, slept through. I have not checked my email since.

At this point, it really feels like my best option is to find the minimum-wage job that I'll be working for the rest of my life and move out. Suicide is possible, of course, but I'd feel better if I'd at least moved out by then. It's basically just the guilt keeping me from doing it now, so assuaging that would be the primary concern. I can think of no other bearable course of action.