Desiderata, or: Give me a reason to try.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste
And remember what peace there may be in silence.

Relapse. It's a deceptively benign word. Not particularly ugly, nor frightening. Just a few consonants and vowel-sounds. Relapse.

I told my psychologist today that I was tired. Tired physically and mentally. Tired of adrenaline always being a bad thing. Panic disorder has robbed me of excitement and anticipation; any time adrenaline surges in my veins, even a little, it's fear. It's always fear. Tired of having my independence robbed from me. Tired of being a slave to all these pills. Tired of trying--and failing--to convince myself that it's not my fault, it's a disease like any other, I did nothing to bring this on myself and there's nothing shameful in being sick.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

The receptionist in my school's clinic has a daughter with Sensory Integration Dysfunction, and she brought me in a few books today. The Highly Sensitive Person's Survival Guide; The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You. They're comforting.

What's not so comforting: crowds, neon lighting, excessive warmth, loud noises, high-pitched noises, too many different noises at once, flourescence, the reflections of metallic/shiny objects, headlights, taillights, streetlights, bare lightbulbs, colored lightbulbs, garishly patterned things, strong perfume and cologne, the smell of industrial cleaning supplies, unexpected movements, strangers in close proximity, strangers touching me, unexpected touches in general. Those are just the triggers I've found so far. My family physician wants me to see an occupational therapist to learn how to deal with it, but that has to wait until summer, if it happens at all. But I need to learn how to deal with it. I want to be a normal, functioning human being again.

Therefore be at peace with God
Whatever you conceive Him to be

I wish so much that I had faith in anything, but I don't. The only thing I know with any certainty is that life is inexorable, in me and in everyone and everything else. But I wish I could lean back on a greater truth, that there was something to cushion the fall. My mom said to me this week that she could have kicked herself for not taking my sister and I to church as children. She said that even though she didn't attend and didn't really consider herself any type of Christian, she still believed in something called God and prayed when she needed support or comfort.

I don't pray. I take medication. I try to keep myself occupied. I grasp at straws. I call people. I wish I could pray and feel God but when I try, I just feel silly, and there's a big part of me that says, 'What are you doing? Why are you wasting your time? You don't really expect to feel anything, do you? You won't; there is no God.'

Whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life
keep peace in your soul

I'm doing okay. I'm on top of things. I'm in touch with all my professors and they all know that I am doing the best I can, and they know I would be doing more if I could. I'm an academic. Class is what I love.

They're cutting me slack because they know I'm sick. I can't cut myself slack because I feel, deep down, like I deserve this. And I don't know how to dissuade myself.

So I meditate and I read inspirational books like the ones Betty gave me, and I keep my room smelling softly of lavender and rose, calming scents; I listen to white-noise tracks of the ocean and I make myself go to bed early so I get enough sleep. But it's just not enough.

Peace. I want peace. Sometimes I think the only peace is the one that comes after life, and then I yearn for that. A couple times I've come close to acting on it, but then I remember what his death did to me, and I wonder how I could ever even consider doing that to my little sister, to my parents, to my few true friends. And there's part of me that still believes life is what I want, and that part, though small, is strong. So I cling to it as much as I can.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

I am trying. I will succeed. To finish is to win and I'll finish. I'll finish no matter what it takes.