Saturday, September 16, 2006

Failure and weakness

Mission: Move-In was a failure.

Correction. *I* am a failure.

I hate being so weak. Dad and I moved in all my stuff to my new room, then I got sick. (Anxiety sick, which feels just as bad as "real" sick.) So I escaped back home. My stuff is still in that room, only partially unpacked, and I'm going to try to get things changed with Housing and the Disability Services.

I hate being high-maintainance. I try to live up to the standards of "normal" un-anxiety disorder people, and I fail. So now I don't feel like I can live in a residence hall with communal coed bathrooms. And now I have to admit that I'm "special" and am going to try to pull strings to get special treatment. It feels like cheating and admitting inferiority at the same time.

I cried for about two straight hours. I hate the way I am sometimes.

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