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Academic Despair in Massive Proportions

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Never in my life have I felt so hopeless when it comes to learning.  Oh, god, I did take my incredible memory and reading skills for granted.  I used to call myself stupid and "not good enough," and now I could kick myself every two seconds for being so idiotic and delusional.  

I'm slaving away over some ridiculous reading about art and museums for an honors class, and had my brain been intact and unmedicated like it was two months ago, this work would be simple and possibly interesting (even though I hate art).  Instead, I get through a paragraph and I cannot even recall to my mind a word, phrase, or very general topic.  How can I go on like this?  The very fact that I forced myself to actually attempt the reading is an incredible step in itself, but I've failed horribly.  I have four large papers that are due the first week of December, and every time I try to start writing and outlining one of them, I give up after an hour of mediocre "progress" and too much gnashing of the teeth.  I want my old brain back!

The question of whether or not I should stay on my medication is looming larger than ever now as I realize what's at stake in terms of my school performance and prospects for success in the future.  So what if I may be a crazy person?  At least I'll have something to show for myself.  

And then I'm realistic and honest with myself when I consider what sort of life I'll live as my illness, I've been told, will become worse and worse until it's unmanageable and I'll be in and out of hospitals for decades.  Do I want that?  No, no thanks, but maybe that will all surface in many years when I've already established myself as a productive member of society--and as a smart, educated woman?  

God.  I am not suffering, as Kevin so often wants to put it.  I'm just angry and frustrated.  Who isn't these days?  Sometimes I truly believe this will all go away, that it was a phase, a distraction.  Deep down I know that's not true--I can feel it.  I am stuck like this forever, either medicated or dangerously moody.  I refuse to feel sorry for myself and I will not lead myself to think, Why me?  A majority of people will get stuck with a life changing problem.  I am no different.  In fact, in being mentally ill, I have just joined the ranks of people who are basically "normal" if you look at it that way.  This lends me no comfort or consolation, but I at least recognize I'm not at all alone.

I have to wonder why I do feel so alone then.  

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