I'm here again. Whining about wanting to quit. I'm tired of saying it, tired of typing it. I don't *want* to quit. I just feel beat down and feel like it's the best option. But I know it's not.
I know that in 8 months, when this is all said and done, I will come back to this post and say "you're an idiot, you should have stopped whining".
I'm mentally beat down, physically ill. Why? Because of stress. I'm stressed that I'm not doing anything right, that I'm going to fail.
Usually I'm OK with failure. I've learned to accept my mistakes as lessons and even have learned to take personal responsibility for my actions.
I'm a quitter. Always have been. When the going got tough, I got going. I've been like this since childhood. Fear of success has held me at bay as well. I know that once I get past the hurdle and the little voice telling me to quit, I'll be ok. But WILL I get there? Will I give in?
I used to be so smart. Witty, on top of it all. The last 8 months, I've felt like my brain is slowly slipping away, and taking my intellegence and perception with it.
I'm so depressed I can't stand it and I don't know what to do about it. Will my therapist even help? Sad thing is, I can't even afford to see her.
I love art. I love illustration. It's the only thing I honestly know how to do. I'm good with numbers (and a calculator) but drawing is where my heart is. I convinced myself to go back to school (and I'm so glad that I did) because I didn't want to be 75 years old and regret not going back and getting my degree. It's taken me over 10 years to get to this point. I can't quit. But it seems the Universe is fighting me, and I don't know how much strength I have to keep going with these odds.
I do feel a little better, but the pressure is getting to me. I'm so afraid.