I just finished my final final (ha) of the semester. It’s a huge relief to have this semester finished, but at the same time, I know I didn’t do as well as I should have. I’ve been distracted by so many things this semester, and I have not had my head in the game at all, and I am feeling pretty bad about it.
I can only blame myself. I’ve been allowing my mental illnesses to control me, rather than controlling them.
“What?” you say. “Illnesses, like, plural illnesses?”
Well, yeah, of course. Do you think someone as maniacally creative as I am wouldn’t have a screw or two loose? Normally I have a pretty good handle on it, and I’m pretty passionate about removing the stigma from mental illness. I’ve been hesitant to blog about it, but let’s face it — it’s real life, it’s my real life, and if I’m not willing to at least write about it, what business do I have talking about removing the stigma? So I decided to walk the walk a little bit.
I live with no fewer than five diagnosed conditions. Three of them (Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and Trichotillomania) include compulsion and/or impulse control problems as symptoms. This has been a lifelong struggle, and while I normally have it under control, this semester I got swept up in my own mania and wasn’t even interested in controlling it. I can’t say it was a total loss, though — I formed the Art Expose’, hosted the Expose’s first charity event (Night of the Living Fed, where we raised food donations for the Salvation Army’s food pantry during the Halloween season), and got in touch with an awesome realtor (Jamie Clark, look her up if you’re in the market!) who may be able to find us a large but inexpensive space where the Expose’ can become a physical, brick-and-mortar, actual thing. And I love that, I love the idea that I’ve created something that can help and serve people, serve artists, help them get started in a career in art. This is my thing, man.
But while I was busy creating a thing, all my schoolwork sat around waiting for its turn. I developed a bad habit of putting everything off until the last five hours of a Sunday night, and then yelling at my husband for making sounds while I was frantically typing. That poor guy.
So basically I feel bad about myself because I know I didn’t do well, I know I could have done better, I know I would have done better if I had managed to control myself, and I really hope this semester doesn’t kill my overall GPA, because then I can kiss my student loans au revoir.
Just keep your fingers crossed for me, that I might actually break a 2.0 this semester. heh.