>> 16 November 2015
Friday: Today I got so overwhelmed by my work that I ended up curled in a ball, crying and shaking in a corner of a stairwell. It felt like my entire body was breaking into pieces that I had to physically hold together. My soul feels like it has come completely unmoored from the rest of my existence. Nothing I do is ever good enough, fast enough, smart enough.
Sunday: I've taken a couple of days away from it all and I still want to throw up every time I look at the document that I must complete and resubmit as soon as possible. Every little delay increases the risk of a potentially life-altering failure. James keeps telling me to focus on the product and not the process. He is worried about me. He is worried about my health. He is right to worry. All my hopes are fading, I can see my goals and my timelines slipping away from me, and I don't know why I'm doing any of this any more. Nothing matters.
It's Monday morning now, and I'm re-reading the two paragraphs above. I'm feeling a little better today. I've finished and re-submitted that awful paper, but not before I cried over it twice, spent 6 hours on a single page of revisions, and wondered how much further I could push myself before I would break again. James doesn't understand why I'm so hard on myself, and it is extremely hard to explain. I'll try again when this semester is over.