I don't own Degrassi. I've never met the people that own Degrassi. I'm sometimes ashamed of my own addiction to Degrassi. But damnit, I'll love it until I die. Title courtesy of Black Tape for a Blue Girl. They're an awesome ethereal goth band.
Apparently I'm a chronic liar. I actually said a few things in therapy today. It was just getting so exhausting, sitting there for an hour an a half staring at the wall and trying not to think. Of course, I never succeeded in blocking out my thoughts, and it ended up being more painful than talking, because all I could think about was my mom, and my dad being gone, and whatever was bothering me that day.
Oh don't sound the bells. I never claimed that I said much. I just told her some random stuff, like how I play guitar, and what Caitlin has me working on. She said it was good that I was "making an effort." Wow. I saw a few words and I get praise. Isn't there some psychobabble about how I'm being rewarded for doing what normal people do? Probably not. Ho hum.
I didn't tell her about last night, and I didn't show her, either. But hey, since this is a journal, what the hell, eh? I had a killer science test today--physics unit, which is incredibly blah. I hate science. I mean, I like science for what it's provided me with, but I just don't give a damn about it, you know? Anyway, stupid me left my books downstairs, and by the time I realized it, mom was drunk.
Now, I've gone downstairs before when she's drunk, but only after she's been out for awhile. When newly inebriated, she can be a drunk of the nastiest kind. So, I was scared to go downstairs. I knew I had to if I didn't want to fail, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead I sat in my room making pretty designs all over myself. Some were deeper than I've ever gone. I mean, they're still not deep enough to need stitches, I don't think, but they were gaping slightly, which is new to me.
I've developed this thing about showing my arms. I mean, I showed Paige no problem when I knew she knew, but now, the thought of someone seeing just scares me to death. They're mine. They're my personal dirty secrets, every damn one, and I just, I don't know, I can't give that up. Sauve's picked up on it, I think. At first, she never bugged me to show them, now she's at my throat about it. She knows I'm still doing it, I guess. I mean, I never came right out and said it, but it's obvious that therapy's not really doing anything for me. I know that's my own fault, but I don't want to be helped. Well, I don't think I do. I don't know. I can't tell her about my mom. If anything happened, dad would just... tailspin. And I know I shouldn't try and protect him--he's the adult I'm the child--but I just can't hurt him. He's the only good thing in my life right now. Ash is so busy with Craig, and I don't blame her, and Marco and I are drifting apart because I don't have the energy to put anything into, well, us. And I have the co-op position, but if my grades keep dropping, they'll take that from me, too. I don't know how to handle this anymore.
It's just... hard.
-El NoLabels
Comments: 2
partyon I don't really know you, so take this with a grain of salt, but you seem to be starting to realize that this isn't a good thing. it even seems like you're starting to want some help. you are starting to talk to the councelor after all.
Ashley (This user was not logged in to post a comment.) God, Ellie (I'm assuming this is you, and not some other random Ellie with friends called Ash and Marco), I wish you could have told me. I didn't mean to seem so wrapped up in Craig. I'm sorry. How's this: mom was planning to take me to Montreal soon anyway, so I'll try and convince her to talk you along. We can have some r&r, reconnect and all that. Have a really good talk, for a change. I miss you. I miss being with you. And I'm sorry I haven't been.
