October 30, 2001
10:20am

Last night a girl in my drawing class told a story about the reason one of her projects was a little messed up. Apparently, when she walked into her dorm studio to pick up her work for class some kid was using her assignment to spray fixative on his work. Of course, she lost it and yelled that he was ruining her project. He told her she should have put a sign on it that said it was a project. She replied, "You should wear a sign saying, 'I'm a dummy.'"

It was hilarious.

My drawing teacher also showed us a book of signs and symbols. It had signs for everything. Did you know there are international symbols for suicide? One of them was a generic stick man (like the kind you see on bathrooms) hanging himself. Another had a generic man blowing his brains out (which was pretty funny in a morbid way). One of the symbols for labor unrest consisted of a some generic stick figure men beating another stick figure man with clubs. It was kind of disturbing. Who thinks of these things, and when would you use these symbols? I really don't think I'd need a sign in order to understand that someone was getting the crap beat out of them.

I had a massive episode yesterday. I was working on my drawing project and becoming really frustrated because I had been trying to think of something to do all weekend. The project was due in two hours, it was sucking badly, and there was no way I was going to finish it in time. All of the sudden I became so overwhelmed that I threw it across the room and cried hysterically. The only thoughts that ran through my mind were that I was a bad artist and I'd never pass this class. I was crying and banging on the floor and acting totally irrational. Every time I tried to get up I fell on the floor and cried some more. I knew I was overreacting, but I couldn't stop. It was very scary.

I felt like I had to call someone or go somewhere. I needed some help, but I didn't know what to do. All I could think of was crying out to God and asking him what I should do. I was completely panicking.

Then something told me to call Pam, my therapist. I thought that was a bad idea because she was probably already seeing a patient (the psych clinic is always booked), and I didn't think it was fair for me to interrupt them. However, I realized that I needed to do something while I still had an iota of sense left in my head. So I decided to just go to the clinic and see what happened. I cleaned myself up as best I could and hurried out; praying that I wouldn't kill anyone on the way there because I drive very badly when I'm upset.

Luckily, Pam's last patient had cancelled and she was just hanging around the office when I arrived. I couldn't even speak when I saw her. She rushed me into her office because she could see that I was on the verge of tears. She managed to calm me down after a half-an-hour. I felt so stupid as I sat there explaining why I broke into hysterics. It was just a drawing project. It wasn't a life or death situation. Even if I did flunk the class, it still wouldn't be a life or death situation. It was all so stupid, but I felt like I would absolutely die if I didn't get this project done.

Pam convinced me to go to class early. I talked to Craig (my teacher) and explained why I didn't have my project done. Well, I didn't tell him I had a minor nervous breakdown, but I did tell him I was suffering from a severe creative block.

Everything seemed to turn out alright, but it has left me very worried. I felt completely out of control. I don't even know how I managed to make it over to the clinic. What am I going to do with myself now?

I suppose I should get some sleep. I haven't slept properly for four days. I was so worried about my project (or lack thereof) on Sunday night that I couldn't even close my eyes for more than five minutes. Maybe that's why I'm going insane.