Stressed Out…Typical

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“Say what’s on your mind
And you’ll find in time
That all the negative energy
It would all cease”

Do you promise?


Thanks to all who asked about my family. They are still in Houston. My mother is a nurse so she couldn’t leave. My family didn’t want to leave her, so the house is full. My relatives that live near the Ship Channel were evacuated days earlier. They’re fine…I believe. I say believe because with my cell phone network strained, I can barely contact my immediate relatives, much less the extended ones.

For the last three days I’ve been glued to CNN, which I don’t think is particularly healthy. Their coverage has definitely contributed to my lack of sleep…and studying. For about a day I didn’t hear from anyone. At one point my sister was fleeing to Austin, but then changed plans once word came that the storm could possibly rear its ugly head there, too.

I talked to her yesterday briefly and she said everyone was afraid. Typical. I’m scared for them.

The storm has shifted east somewhat, though with a storm that huge, it will still affect my city. I feel awful for the people of Louisiana, especially New Orleans. Another option besides Austin was going to find those Narcisse’s (mom’s side) and seek shelter with them. So much for that.

Before there was even talk of Rita, my head had already been spinning. The last two weeks have been bad. Really bad.

Today, like a week before, I was listening to “Stressed Out” by A Tribe Called Quest featuring Faith Evans and got teary eyed. I don’t like to cry, because I don’t care to show weakness. Typical male response, right?

Despite it being convocation, I had an exam and a quiz today. I failed both miserably. I didn’t even bother to show up for the first class. I had to send the professor an email explaining that my head just isn’t in it and that I’ve been worried about my family more than anything else. I did show up to the class giving an exam. Late of course. Typical.

I literally blanked out. All I could do was write about what I’ve been feeling: Fear, confusion, more fear, more confusion. I’m sure the professor thinks I’m psychotic.

For some reason on Wednesday, I thought about my mother dying. We’ve never been close, but distance can bring two people together. For so long I blamed her for keeping me around my father, which has pretty much fucked my head up forever. For the longest I’ve pushed people away. I would never allow them to get close. Never give them the opportunity to hurt me because I’ve been hurt enough. Being told by your father that he will kill you if you dial 9-1-1 will do that to you.

I know it was wrong to blame her for that, but at the time I had to vent my frustration somewhere. Same for pushing folks away. I may have made lots of friends, but that doesn’t mean any of them really knew me. Now that I’m opening up to people about my experiences, I wonder how many of them will stay.

My mother worries about me. Worries that I’ve fallen out of God’s good graces because I finally told her that organized religion just isn’t my thing. Wonders why I’m the complete opposite of everything she’s use to. Concerns herself over my health, because as she puts it, “You don’t eat enough anymore.”

She may be on to something there…at least lately anyway. I haven’t eaten anything all day. Just haven’t been thinking about food.

Last year there was a breast cancer scare with her, and I teared up then. Hated tearing up, but hated the idea of my mother dying of cancer more.

She’s become one of my biggest supporters, though she still doesn’t understand my way of thinking. She doesn’t have to understand, she’s just supportive. That’s all I need.

She wants to see my walk across that stage in May, which is why I’m currently taking 8 classes to do just that. But, I also write for the paper and serve as the President of the student chapter of NABJ. What was I thinking?

I hate school. More and more each day. Regurgitating material you read in a textbook in class isn’t an indicator of intelligence to me. I think it’s my major, though. Broadcast journalism for a person who really wants to just write about what exactly he’s feeling: Sounds like a recipe for misery.

I want out of college just as much as my mom wants to see me walk across the stage. I thought maybe I could finish in the summer, but mom would have to wait a year to see me walk. By then I wouldn’t bother to go back.

In all honesty, I’m just now getting over the shit I had to deal with growing up as a child. This summer I was finally happy. Now I’m already [this] close to going back to sophomore year — where getting out of bed was a struggle.

I’m frustrated. I’m sad. I’m miserable. I’m worried. I’m losing what little bit of sanity I have left. It shouldn’t be this way.

C’mon baby we gon make it (yeahhhh)
We gon make it (yeahhahhahhhh)
Don’t worry we gon make it (we’re gonna make it)
We’ve gotta make it (we’ve gotta make it)

I’d like to believe so.

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