Due to my roommate telling sleeping me to turn off my alarm clock one day,
I did.
I was supposed to be studying for Calculus.
I failed the exam,
and now I will be recieving a high C in that class.
Rather than the B+ I was hoping to recieve.
I had an anxiety attack last night.
My roommate got sent to the hospital for barfing all night.
She has a kidney stone.
I'm not sure how to handle this.
I'm being as kind as possible but she keeps doing her normal stabbing comments that cause me to freak a bit.
I told her I had anxiety finally.
She said, "that's cool and all, but I'm in pain and I don't care."
I just wanted her to know.. You know, just in case I have a panic attack in the room.
Talk about a great situation for a pacifist with anxiety.
In good news, I know what is wrong with me.
My entire life, I have been so confused as to why I have these attacks.
These moments where I run away terrified and freak out.
It was worse when I was little. I hallucinated.
I thought I had asthma.
Mom knew.
She just didn't want me to get hooked on Xanax.
I think I have Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.
Causes
The divorce
The stripper
The mental abuse
The early drug exposure
The heartbreak
The deaths
The drugs
drugs
drugs
The modeling
The education
The lack of friends
The rape
The physical abuse
The alternatives
The older sister
and
The disability
I learned something else about myself last night
When I was young, I couldn't speak.
This is one reason why I blame myself for that girl's death.
I mixed everything up.
I thought I was stupid.
I could read chapter books, write poetry, and overall had the reading level of an 8th grader in kindergarten.
I also had juvenile seisures.
During the seisures I was forced to have an MRI, a CAT, and some examination where wires were placed all over my head.
The medical system here is warped.
They found one interesting thing, but never looked into it further.
Apparently, it had nothing to do with my seisures so it didn't matter.
On the left side of my brain,
there was an obstruction.
They never really pushed it further after realizing it wasn't a tumor.
Just,
damage.
My mom made sure she remembered exactly where it was.
The lower part of my frontal lobe.
Right before the temporal lobe.
On the left side.
After researching, I discovered this was Broca's Area.
I had Broca's Aphasia.
The speech therapy didn't come until I was five though.
Until that time,
most people just ignored me and said I had behavioral issues because I got extremely upset when nobody understood me.
They usually didn't understand me.
Dad didn't know the little girl was using my leg to pull her back to the surface of the water,
he just jerked me out.
And she stayed behind.
It wasn't my fault.
It was brain damage,
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