Chapter 3: Actually… really stressed.
It’s Friday but it feels like Monday because yesterday was the Anzac day break. I’m feeling a little frazzled as I head to uni on the train. I can’t really think clearly and I know that I should be looking after myself better. I decided that I need to make some decisions and cut back on some of the things I have down for the weekend.
“Hi, I’m not doing so well in terms of stress. I think I should give the play on Sunday a miss. If you can’t get a refund for the ticket I’ll give you the money when I next see you,” I text to my friend.
—
As I walk up the escalators at Melbourne Central station I feel so tired, physically, emotionally. The only thing that propels me forward is the routine of the day.
As I walk to the bank on burke street Cancer council volunteers are looking to sign up donors. One approaches me with a big smile and an extended hand. “Hi, I’m Peter! What’s your name?” I don’t have the energy to refuse, and I think I really needed that smile, so I stop to listen to what he has to say about the work that the cancer council is doing. He doesn’t seem disappointed that I’m not able to sign up right now, and wishes me a good day.
I think I might make it through the day okay.
—
“Yo! Jinghan!”
I turn around to see who it is entering the maths building behind me. “Hello.”
“How are you?”
“Oh… well… tired.” It doesn’t sum up how I’m feeling completely, but apparently my expression fills in the gaps.
“Hey I haven’t drunk any of this coffee yet, do you want it?”
It’s very nice of him. But I don’t think coffee is what I need right now. “Thanks, but I think I might just head off to G69 and get some marking done.”
“Oh. Okay… See you then!”
As I walk away I wish I had been more expressive of my gratitude for the care he had shown. I didn’t need the coffee but I think I needed the offer.
—
In G69, the graduate study area, I sit down with my marking for my first-year maths tutorial that I take. I stare at it. I’m so tired. And I realise that I can’t think.
I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think.
As a default defence against myself I take out some paper to write down my thought so that I can sort through them and work out what’s wrong, but instead of logical thoughts all I can think is,
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me????
Nothing happened but I’m falling apart.
What’s wrong with me?
Help.
Help!!!
Some of my classmates come into the room. But my mind has gone into shut down. I can’t even look up and ask them for help. I’m not sure whether they can tell if I’m sad, maybe I’m hiding it too well, I’m too ashamed to be more blatant about it, but I really wish someone would come and help me. But maybe it’s better that they don’t…? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
I feel completely on my own though people I know are in the room. “No one cares. No one cares. No one cares,” says my mind to itself. Even though part of me knows it not to be true, there’s nothing in me that is able to stop it feeling true.
I have class in 5 minutes. I am completely unable to make any decisions. This scares me enough that I text a friend.
“This is bad: I should be going to class but instead I’m having an emotional breakdown for no reason. What do I do?????”
“Unfortunately, you’re about to have to leave the room because you are about to get an urgent phone call. How does that sound?”
The authority of her words is what I needed. “Okay. Thankyou~”
We talk. She tells me that it’s okay to be stressed that sometimes we have days when we are stressed. That it’s okay if I don’t go to class because essentially I’m unwell. She tells me that if I need to I can come over. Not what is said but just having someone to talk to, to break the bubble of destructive self thought that – though I know to be false, I found that I was unable to stop on my own.
When we hang up I’m feeling less crazy, though still drained and unable to make decisions about what to do next. I sit outside the maths building*, residue emotion still coming and going.
A friend stops by, “Hey are you okay?”
No.
“Do you need a hug?”
Yes.
She helps me decide that I should go home and do something brainless and relaxing for the day before making any further decisions about anything at all.
“There! See? People care!” says the part of my mind that knew this to be true all along. “Okay. You were right.”
—
I don’t go home. I can’t bare the idea of being on my own in the house. So I go to my friend’s house. The rattling speed of the train is calming and good for me.
My friend is doing some painting. I watch for a little, but I have a overwhelming desire to sit on the floor in the next room and just read.
I go to the next room and sit on the floor and attempt to read. My mind is not yet capable of reading again.
Actually, I just want to lie down for a bit.
So I do.
But this is not distracting enough from residue emotions.
Actually, I wish I had my embroidery with me, distracting but not requiring too much thought. But it’s at home.
With that is the overwhelming feeling that I don’t feel like I should be here, sitting alone in someone else’s home. It wouldn’t be weird to do this in my own room. But I just got here… But the overwhelming feeling of wanting (now) to be home grows.
“Um… is it weird if I just, uh… do home now?”
So I head off home. I realise I haven’t had lunch and at 2pm I’m quite hungry. I eat my banana but I need a microwave to heat my lunch. Need to get home.
It train takes agonisingly long to get to the station. It take the train agonisingly long to get to Flinders Street station. It takes agonisingly long for my homeward train to arrive. And just before it does, I look at the time and realise that I could… if I wanted… no, I won’t go to my last class or volunteer tutoring in the afternoon. Must get home so I can eat lunch.
I get on the homeward train. But suddenly and mysteriously, I feel better.
I test myself. Yes, I’m thinking normally. I don’t feel teary or weepy. The thought of going to tutoring this evening doesn’t make me feel completely drained and immobile… actually, I’m starting to feel like I might regret not going to tutoring… Should I go? Should I go? The train starts moving. I have two stations before it’s really too late to go back…
It will make me feel better to have done something in the day. I really want to go. (And a moment ago, the thought of doing anything would have sent me into despair.)
I’m laughing at myself as I get off the train and switch back to a train heading back to Flinders Street station. This is bazaar how perfectly fine I feel now. Like it’s a whole new day. And I didn’t do anything to make it happen, it just happened. (And just now that terrible voice in my head was telling me that the feeling would never go away. Pfft! You liar!)
People are worried about me. But I’m not worried now. I’m curious about what went on in my head, what was horrible one moment is now exciting and curious.
Retrospectively, I find it incredible how much when things are bleak my mind just turned to “this just keeps happening to me and it won’t stop” “what did I do wrong?” “no one cares.” – I wasn’t strong enough to defeat all of those things in the moment but I feel like part of me is learning to filter out that these things are not true. There’s a voice that says “that’s not true, you are loved, you are valued, you are cared about.” It’s not brave enough right now but it will get stronger. I’m deeply deeply grateful to all the people who looked at me all worried and stopped to show that they cared (even if they didn’t know what to do with me), so that I could store up evidence for the second voice and against the first. Actually, I feel now, that one day I will just learn for good and be able to defeat these thoughts for good.
I pray that peace and strength be with you all~
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*Ironically I got bitten by a mosquito while outside the maths building. In Autumn too! This was amusing and was, contrary to your expectation, a point to look back on and laugh.