Status Updates From Girl, Interrupted

This time I read the title of the painting “girl interrupted at her music”
Interrupted at her music: as my life had been. Interrupted in the music of being seventeen, as her life had been, snatched and fixed on canvas: one moment made to stand still and to stand for all other moments, whatever they would be or might have been. What life can recover from that?

“I’ve never been there” I said. Then I thought maybe I had been. I didn’t say anything, I’d learned not to discuss my doubts.

I was thinking of whether I could graduate from high school if for the second year in a row I failed biology. I was surprised to be failing it to because I loved it. I loved it the first year.

Maybe I was just flirting with madness the way I flirted with my teachers and classmates. I wasn’t convinced I was crazy though I feared I was. Someopel say that having a conscious opinion on the matter is a mark of sanity but I’m not sure that’s true. I still think about it I’ll always have to think about it

“The disorder is more commonly diagnosed in women” note the construction of the sentence

The college business. My parents wanted me to go, I didn’t want to go and I didn’t go. I got what I wanted.

Emptiness and boredom: what an understatement. What I felt was complete desolation. Desolation despair and depression.

What would’ve been an appropriate level of intensity for my anger at feeling shut out of life?

A solution to what? I quote from the manual “this behavior my counteract feelings of numbness and depersonalization that arise during periods of extreme stress”

“Self mutilating behavior (wrist scratching or in my case thigh and stomach scratching)” I’ve skipped forward a bit. This is the one that caught me by surprise. Wrist scratching I thought I’d invented it. No body knew I was doing it.

“Instability of self imagine, interpersonal relationships and mood…uncertainty about… long term goals” isn’t this a good description of adolescence? Moody fickle faddish insecure: in short, impossible

It appears to be a way station between neurosis and psychosis: a fractured but not disassembled psyche. Though to quote my post Melvin psychiatrist: “it’s what they call people whose lifestyles bother them.”

“Uncertainty about several life issues such as self image, sexual orientation, long term goals or career choice, types of friends or lovers to have” I relish that last phrase. I still have that uncertainty. Is this the type or friend or lover I want to have.