Last night was... well, to understate it, bad.
I had a huge amount of homework over the weekend and, honestly, I slacked a bit. First weekend of the new quarter, after all, and Rae and I were training the dog and having us-time (which is rare as hell during school and all but nonexistent during breaks). She's been stressed to high heaven with work and money and school issues and whatnot, so I admit that I put off this SUPER-BIG-COMIC-ASSIGNMENT until almost the last minute.
Well, the assignment called for 66 thumbnail images and 22 pages (10"x15") of tight roughs, which are basically one step above rough drafts but a step below actual pencils or inks. We had almost 5 days to do it. I did maybe 27 thumbnails and I barely managed to rush 6 pages. And it was due today.
So of course I didn't just panic- I had a complete meltdown. Literally, I stared at the paper wishing I were dead for about an hour, called my dad at 1am to prepare him for my imminent failure, woke up Rae (who had to be at work early this morning and hasn't been sleeping lately), and sobbed uncontrollably until I guess I passed out around 4 or so.
The best part of the entire thing?
The professor didn't expect anyone to finish. He literally just wanted to see how much we could get done. I ended up doing more work than most of the class. We now have a week to finish it, and our next project is 5 pages. We have at least a week for it, if not longer.
Yet again, another horrible end-of-the-world reaction to something that ended up being perfectly fine. I think the worst part of it all was that I hate waking her up when she has work. I always seem to need her right when she needs sleep most of all, and yet if she's upset she won't wake me up. God, I'm such a horrible girlfriend. I also freaked my parents out enough to where they called me back at 2am to make sure I was okay, called me this morning before classes to make sure I was okay, and texted me... to make sure I was okay.
And I wasn't. I honestly wanted to cut again, which I haven't done since... I think summer was the last time, and it'd been about 6 months before that. I just didn't want to exist anymore.
So this morning, before class, I finally remembered to take my Lamictal for the first time. I was wide awake, probably off my nerves, until Rae picked me up, got me McDonald's, and passed out with me for three hours. And now I have 9 drawings due tomorrow, a short story to finish up, and a long list of stories to read by tomorrow. Hopefully I can deal with the stress tonight, since I'm still a crying mess despite everything being fine. Hopefully I won't slash at my skin or actually off myself in the bathtub or overdose on Lamictal and Adderall or something stupid like that.
All I can focus on now is how upset I am about everything. My art isn't good enough- I don't like it. My drawings are due and here I am whining on the internet instead. Rae's asleep and I wish she weren't so short-tempered lately, and that I weren't always so oversensitive and stupid and making it worse. I'm a disappointment, an emotional and mental mess, and I hate myself.
I don't know what's wrong with me but please, please, after playing this mood game for so long, I can't do it anymore. Just make it stop...
Eden.
I had a huge amount of homework over the weekend and, honestly, I slacked a bit. First weekend of the new quarter, after all, and Rae and I were training the dog and having us-time (which is rare as hell during school and all but nonexistent during breaks). She's been stressed to high heaven with work and money and school issues and whatnot, so I admit that I put off this SUPER-BIG-COMIC-ASSIGNMENT until almost the last minute.
Well, the assignment called for 66 thumbnail images and 22 pages (10"x15") of tight roughs, which are basically one step above rough drafts but a step below actual pencils or inks. We had almost 5 days to do it. I did maybe 27 thumbnails and I barely managed to rush 6 pages. And it was due today.
So of course I didn't just panic- I had a complete meltdown. Literally, I stared at the paper wishing I were dead for about an hour, called my dad at 1am to prepare him for my imminent failure, woke up Rae (who had to be at work early this morning and hasn't been sleeping lately), and sobbed uncontrollably until I guess I passed out around 4 or so.
The best part of the entire thing?
The professor didn't expect anyone to finish. He literally just wanted to see how much we could get done. I ended up doing more work than most of the class. We now have a week to finish it, and our next project is 5 pages. We have at least a week for it, if not longer.
Yet again, another horrible end-of-the-world reaction to something that ended up being perfectly fine. I think the worst part of it all was that I hate waking her up when she has work. I always seem to need her right when she needs sleep most of all, and yet if she's upset she won't wake me up. God, I'm such a horrible girlfriend. I also freaked my parents out enough to where they called me back at 2am to make sure I was okay, called me this morning before classes to make sure I was okay, and texted me... to make sure I was okay.
And I wasn't. I honestly wanted to cut again, which I haven't done since... I think summer was the last time, and it'd been about 6 months before that. I just didn't want to exist anymore.
So this morning, before class, I finally remembered to take my Lamictal for the first time. I was wide awake, probably off my nerves, until Rae picked me up, got me McDonald's, and passed out with me for three hours. And now I have 9 drawings due tomorrow, a short story to finish up, and a long list of stories to read by tomorrow. Hopefully I can deal with the stress tonight, since I'm still a crying mess despite everything being fine. Hopefully I won't slash at my skin or actually off myself in the bathtub or overdose on Lamictal and Adderall or something stupid like that.
All I can focus on now is how upset I am about everything. My art isn't good enough- I don't like it. My drawings are due and here I am whining on the internet instead. Rae's asleep and I wish she weren't so short-tempered lately, and that I weren't always so oversensitive and stupid and making it worse. I'm a disappointment, an emotional and mental mess, and I hate myself.
I don't know what's wrong with me but please, please, after playing this mood game for so long, I can't do it anymore. Just make it stop...
Eden.
Post a Comment