april 22nd, 2025
to end it all, i never wrote anything down after that. i didn't think i needed to, because the whole reason i started was to set the pace for the progress - to be able to go back and see a renewed man, who was not burdened by his old apartment dragging him down, where he couldn't make the progress he wanted, and the new apartment was all he needed to prove to everyone that the apartment was the problem. that never happened. i moved apartments and told everyone, and myself, 'now you'll all see', and that i did nothing but repeat it all again.
this semester has been the worst semester i've had in my life. i got so burned out from the movie - a constant year of working on it, from the moment i woke up to when i went to sleep - and by january, i physically couldn't model something or animate something anymore. it was like the one thing i truly knew i was good at left me one night and i didn't know what to do anymore. i waited, waiting to see how long it would be before the my mind would bounce back, but it didn't. february came around, then march. i was on the first project while everyone was starting their third. on that track, i was about to fail all my classes a few days before graduation.
i went to my sculpture class with michael on march 24th, with a pathetic attempt at some mock-ups that i hoped would give him some confidence in the fact that i was actually doing something, but he saw through it. he asked me if i enjoyed making art anymore, and i told him i didn't. we talked for a while that day, which ended in him telling me i needed to get help, and that i should do it before i even start working on his class work.
the first day of the check-up, she told me i exhibit severe symptoms of OCD. it was a moment i knew was coming. i told michael that day, when we were outside AJ talking, that i didn't get help because if i didn't know what was wrong with me, i didn't know what was wrong with me. that vagueness in the air was easier to digest for me. but, when she told me the symptom thing, even though it wasn't a diagnosis, i felt relief. i didn't feel my world crashing down. i didn't feel like my life would never be the same again and everything just nose-dived. i felt peace. i felt good, because i felt like, at least, now i knew what was wrong, and i didn't feel alone. i felt seen.
my first assignment from her was to write down every time i felt something became contaminated and i did. today, i'm still not done with the apartment, but i'm working on it. i've started painting my kitchen cabinets. each painted cabinet gets a fresh set of hinges - black to match the faucet. after that, i clean the inside, and set it up. sure, i guess i did fail in proving that 'it was always the apartment' but i've found it better to come to terms with the fact that i'm the problem. because, at least now, i know what to do. i'm working my way through my illness, but i'm getting there.
