I was very manic last night, I couldn’t sleep at all, and so I overslept in the morning.  I missed my first class.  I’ve had my business teacher for previous classes and he knows I’m bipolar, so I emailed him with an explanation.  I also sent off an email to the university bookstore asking them if they can hold a book for me until Friday afternoon.

Both of them were really nice.  The bookstore will hold the book and the teacher understood.

Then I started throwing up and I couldn’t go to any of my classes at all.  I think it was induced by stress and anxiety over missing a class.  Missing more classes, of course, just made it worse.  And to top it off, I’m still tired.  So I had to send emails off to my two other teachers, neither of whom ever bothered to get back to me, even though I had a question for one teacher about the homework.

I still felt really guilty, so I called my mother, who made me feel worse by getting angry with me for missing class.  I did all the homework to try to assuage my guilt.

I retreated into story writing, and then tried a nice, soothing cup of coffee.  No nausea, so I finally tried something to eat.  I felt a bit sick, but not nauseous.

I watched Jane Eyre on Netflix and did some snacking.  I was starting to feel really good about things.

Then the real kicker came.  I have a music lesson tomorrow, and my mother texted me at six o’clock in the evening to tell me she finally put the money in for my music lessons.  When I have class tomorrow and then I’m supposed to have music lessons right after.

So I had to cancel music lessons this week and promise to start up again next week, when I’d actually have time to go to the bank and get the money out.

My parents had the goddamn nerve to get angry with me for not wanting to go to the bank at six o’clock in the evening by foot when I’ve been sick to my stomach all day.

Fuck this.

The last email I got today was an online fanfic review insulting my writing skills.