Be more explicit when asking questions.
Learning that in life.
Must teach students how to do the same and how to understand implicit questions.
People do not always break things down.
How do I teach them what to pay attention to and what to annotate?
Doctoral annotating is hard for me.
Being a teacher and a student is harder.
It makes me feel overwhelmed, all of the time.
And the loss I recently experienced has added on
to my inability to think straight.
Can’t focus as easily as I was able to a month ago when I was finally getting a hold of my procrastination and perfectionism.
For the past 2 weeks I’ve been immensely inattentive and it’s harming me because when I sit off task, daydreaming and ruminating for too long, fear takes over my entire body.
Last night I admitted myself to the ER. Funny how the nurse remembered me from 4 years ago. He asked if I ever finished my PhD and how my family in New York was doing.
He made me feel safe as I was asked to remove all of my jewelry, my coat, my socks, and my shoes to put on the hospital socks and urinate in the cup with my name on the side. It was loud in there but at least it didn’t smell like piss and meth, like the entrance’s waiting room. It was cold in the room. They gave me an iPad to watch Netflix. I decided to listen to the sounds of the ward, instead. I listened for art in wails of the woman two doors down. She was hollering but no one moved to check on her. No one seemed alarmed or bothered.
I was hungry. The food looked nasty so I ate the goldfish and crackers—saltines and graham. Apple juice was cold but it wasn’t Martinelli’s.
The doctors were young and relatable. I opened up to them and I got watery eyed but I would not let them see me cry. They asked me if I was going to hurt myself, I said, “No, I am a teacher.” They asked me when did this all start and I swallowed my breath as I began to recall the very first time I was unknowingly experiencing a panic attack.
I’m home, now. They diagnosed me with anxiety. I have to go to a different doctor, next but I have to wait until Monday.
My sis said, “Anxiety isn’t anything bad, though...”
It’s bad when you feel it physically, from head, belly, and toes. I don’t like it.
I change my thoughts but the physical feeling of paranoia still exists inside of me.
That’s why I went to the hospital. It’s like fear, not the same mental sadness that I used to have.