Figuring It Out (long and rambling)

It's been a really hectic couple of days. My sister's big birthday bash was last night so I spent much of the day driving around doing last minute errands for her, including picking up her $65 custom cake. Her co-workers were supposed to take a collection to help with or cover the cost, but nothing had been collected when I swung by there on the way to the bakery. I'd asked my sister about it before I left and she was going to give me her card then remembered while I was out she needed to go shopping so she wouldn't be able to give me the card and she didn't have any cash in the house. I picked up her friend who was supposed to help me carry the cake and we get there and of course the friend doesn't chip in either. I was annoyed and then even more frustrated because I've been feeling blue and a bit out of control and *really* needed to talk to my counsellor yesterday. I had an appt. at 5 and knew I'd be cutting it close with having to pick up the cake and drop off the friend, thing is, it would have worked if we'd left for the bakery on time. The friend showed up 15 minutes late and even with driving like a madwoman I missed my appointment.  I was and continue to be upset about it, but I put those feelings aside and tried to be positive for the party. There was drama of course. The bar's phone wasn't working yesterday so no one was reached to confirm the table reservations. Luckily the owner stepped in and quickly resolved that. There were personality clashes: some of her friends don't get along with others of her friends. One girl's husband is an abusive *&@^* and was dragging her off every 5 minutes. I was mostly there to people watch and be the sober one, and give my sister her gifts. What irked me though was that after all the hullabaloo about the cake she didn't even cut into it and no one ate any. In fact, at the end of the night she called the manager over and asked him to give it to the staff. So basically, it was a $65 prop. What gets me is that the cake...well, my sister is very buxom and people are always commenting on that, so she basically wanted a cake of a woman's torso with an open shirt with exposed breasts. I wasn't sold on this idea, but it was her birthday and that's what she wanted. I thought the "shirt" would be open with an exposed bra...nope. What was funny was when I picked it up and the baker told me how much fun she and her partner had making the cake but when it came time to do the nipples they didn't know what colour black women's nipples were supposed to be, so in a very embarassed whisper she told me they went and looked up some porn. I thought that was hilarious.  So yeah, we spent the whole evening with breasts as a centrepiece. Granted, it was tastefully done, no vulgar protrusions or anything. looked a bit like a cake version of those Herb Ritts art photographs with nude models. Of course, random guys kept coming round the table to oogle the cake, which was just awkward. My sister got crazy drunk, but she's a happy drunk, so she just bopped and danced around, looking silly but not hurting anyone.  At two when the bar closed she decided to go to another club that stays open 'til four, but I had an appt with my Brit Lit professor this morning so I didn't go. Her boyfriend had come by that point so I knew she had a safe ride home (or so I thought. She flirted with another guy at the other club and he left in a huff so she went home with another friend who's doesn't drink much).  So went home slept okay for once and got up early to go to campus. Problem: water main break or something, no water in the house and our cousin had school this morning, I had my appt. and the boyfriend had work, so I went out to the store to get gallons of distilled water and we all took spit baths. I hadn't counted on the extra time so I was late. I did call my Brit Lit professor from the road and asked to reschedule, but he said to come on in that he was working in his office all morning. I ended up being about 45 minutes late. That made me anxious, but it was okay.  The meeting went okay. He wants the Accomodation letter from Student Disability Services ASAP. And said I need to be caught up on the online labs by Monday, but he'll cut me some leeway. What was not okay: He asked me about myself, why I was in the program, etc. So I was honest. Told him a little about my undergrad studies. He asked who I studied with, so I told him, turns out he knows one of my former mentors. Then he wanted to know about my failed attempts at graduate studies before. I told him a little, but he kept probing. I explained I had a bipolar episode/psychotic break in 2004 and withdrew from graduate school at that point. It felt like he just didn't get *why* I have problems. I tried to explain I sometimes have memory issues and cognitive function difficulties, that what someone else can say in 5-10 minutes takes me days to work out, especially if I fixate on something (like the 4 hours I spent revising my 3 sentence introduction for the observation paper assigned to my methods class due last Sunday). I don't think I explained very well and in the middle I started ticking/getting twitchy, which he politely tried to ignore but I think bothered him. He asked me if i thought it was ethical for the university to allow me to study there when my history has shown that i'm only capable of functioning for a few months then i crash and burn, and was it fair to spend money and effort when it wasn't likely i will complete the program. My anxiety levels were already rising and I had the shakes a little but after that I kind of spiralled away. I made it out of there seeming relatively calm and collected I guess. I didn't make it out of the building before I broke down though. Medium anxiety attack, plopped down in a corner and started sobbing, shaking, couldn't breathe, you name it. Lasted a while, finally got it together, and talked myself to the parking lot. I tried reaching my counsellor, called my sisters, just anything to try and have someone help break me out of it. No dice, no one was available and it was awful. I felt so alone and vulnerable and out of control, and *ashamed*. When I pulled myself together a bit I got up and just kept taking to myself--over and over, "you can do this, just get to the car, break down in the car, get to the car."   I got to the car and broke down a little but there were too many people. I get worse around people. I think they're all watching me even if they're not. So I drove out of town as fast as I could, still shaking and talking to myself. There's a picnic pull-off about 20 miles out so I went in there parked in a space in the darkest, most tree-covered area and let it all go. I tried logging into DS, but I couldn't get the web browser on my phone to work all that well. I also think my counsellor must have called me back then because there was a message from her on my phone but I never heard it ring. I wore myself out and must've fallen asleep or gone non-aware (I don't feel like I slept, but I don't remember being conscious or aware of what was happening around me. I think I was in the place where you're awake just not aware--zoned out). All told I was there for maybe an hour and a half, two hours.   The rest of the trip home I was shaky, and I feel wrung out now.  I wonder if I should quit school now before I do worse. I want to finish. I want my degree, but maybe I'm just fooling myself, maybe I am as pathetic as I feel and have wasted all my chances and will never contribute anything to the world.   I thought about it on the way home, why I was so freaked out talking about myself. It's because I trust my counsellor. I don't trust professors. I know they talk to each other and others, there's no promise of confidentiality, They're making judgements, and I feel they're deciding whether I'm a worthwhile person. I hate that feeling. I confided in a professor in undergrad once and felt really betrayed afterwards. I don't know my Brit Lit professor. He's not invested in me, but i told him things about me, things that will make him look at me differently. With pity, or scorn? He might mention me to people I've lost touch with, like my old mentor and she'll think badly of me too.  I realise that I have defined myself by my academic involvement. I've always been student, then sister, then partner-when N and I were together, then whatever other roles I've taken on in my life (friend, mentor, volunteer, whatever). It's how I see myself. And to be judged as a poor student, or a bad scholar translates in my head to being a worthless, bad person. I have nothing beyond what I've been able to do with my booksmarts. I'm not pretty, or engaging, or social (though I used to fake the last two). All I am/have is my intelligence as it's measured by academic success or failure. Exposing my illness to the ones making the call on my worth, makes me afraid, and I want to run away and hide and never, ever come out again. My first response today was to retreat, find somewhere dark and quiet, where they could not see me. I felt a little like I did in my super-isolated, agoraphobia days. That's what I used to tell my therapist then. I didn't go out because I didn't want anyone to see me. If they didn't see me they wouldn't know I'd failed (at school...at life).  I don't know what to do with that particular nugget of information about myself. I want to retreat today, and regroup for tomorrow. Likely, I'll do the reading for Brit Lit. I'm going to have to push 2xs as hard to motivate myself for that class now. It's good I communicated to the professor, but when I feel exposed I try to avoid, and I know I'll be doing that now, so I will have to work hard at going to class and doing the readings and labs and not just succumbing to my habit of withdrawing.  I feel awful. I want to go away from myself for a little while, so I think I'm going to take a nap and decide what to do when I get up.