Anxiety.

Today started out fairly well; when I woke up there wasn’t a half an inch of ice out there waiting to torture my attempt to drive to school. Classes before 10 were canceled, but ours started at 10, so I headed in for that. It was long and it was rather boring (I can’t expect Research Methods to ever be described as “fun”), and I found out it’s better off we didn’t miss another class, ’cause now we have to make up two hours (by extending our class from 2.5 hours to 3.5 hours -TWICE). But! We went over the homeworks I’d been trying to get to and failing at completing, so that was a slight load off.

After class I raced to DVHS (after changing my shoes and brushing my hair), which was similar to South Oaks, only smaller, an actual school and run better (so: nothing like South Oaks, actually). I met with the head psychologist/principal and for a while it almost sounded like I should definitely work there…then he informed me of the questions I should be asking on interviews-a total morale buster. Then he gave me a test. Really, he handed me a case study with a whole form to fill out for diagnostics and prognostics. I hope my facial expression didn’t reflect the only feelings I had at that moment: (1) a desire to flee; (2) hopelessness.  If my acceptance is based at all on that case study, I can kiss them goodbye. That reminds me-I need to apply to a few more of those externships tomorrow, despite already applying to three. I have a feeling this is going to be much more difficult than I had imagined.

I was there for over an hour and a half, so I rushed home to eat a sandwich and head back to school for my SPEC meeting. It went…as planned. All first years generally get a 3/average on the academic and professionalism scales (nothing can be said for clinical just yet) and then the meeting ends. Someone called me ‘enthusiastic,’ so that was nice of them. I asked my advisor about the experience I had had at the interview and she said it sounded like I made an educated guess and that I shouldn’t have been expected to diagnose or create a treatment plan at this stage in my academic career. She also suggested I speak with the practicum advisor; I decided I’d speak to a fourth year student that attends that site for her practicum as well.

I smoked the last cigarette I had on the way home, ’cause damn I needed it. It was the second of the two Stefan left me when I headed back to Philly. I had one on my way back Monday, in traffic, and the other this afternoon. I feel like I’m definitely going to need some this weekend, unless this crazy girl stuff goes away by then. At present, I feel like screaming or punching or kicking something or crying my face off. But it’s just one of those times (that occurs roughly every 26-28 days). I want a whole bunch of stuff I have no right asking for, and I’m tearing myself up inside by shutting myself off. But it really seems like the only option right now.

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