I cannot tell my mother this or she will bow her head in shame. I spent all my financial aid money and now I have barely enough left to pay the registration and insurance fees for a used car I bought. Where will I get gas money? Coffee money? Money to pay my smartphone bill? Lol, get the irony of that, the cell is smart--I'm not, or I wouldn't be in this predicament.
I used to weigh 180 pounds and most of it was due to medications, but the part of it was me emotionally over-eating whenever those medication-induced hunger pangs started. Now, I'm 30 pounds lighter. I no longer emotionally over-eat. Instead, I seem to have found a novel approach to self-destruction--- binge shopping. By binge shopping I mean spending hundreds of dollars with a couple of clicks on amazon dot com (in a day).
I try to control myself. Like all my previous self-destructive behaviors (cutting, binge eating, starvation dieting, promiscuous sex, pot smoking), this one overtakes me. I literally feel that the only way to fill the psychological gap left by my chaotic past is to buy something that promises to make me happy.
Not to mention this week is Suicide Awareness week. My cousin died from suicide last year during July. His birthday would have been around this time. So, I am going into my binge shopping feeling depressed, lonely, abandoned, uncertain, and mournful. Suddenly, that 200 dollar smart phone seemed like a good idea; as did the fancy car stereo for the car that I cannot drive until I get the registration paid and the smog inspection cleared. I guess I can always just sit in the garage in my car and listen to my fancy, pointless radio.
This is getting depressing. Okay, here is what I am going to do: make money. How? If I knew that I'd be rich. I honestly don't know. I'll sell artwork, I'll sell my IPOD, I'll sell sell sell. Or maybe I'll just go take out an emergency loan (gasps of horror from the readers---yes, I said a loan). My ex-boyfriend wants me to move out to Las Vegas and become a stripper. He keeps pestering me about it, saying I'm just as cute as the strippers. He often tells me all my money woes will be solved if I just move out there and learn to scale a pole. If this Master's program doesn't go as planned I just might start to consider that (I can hear my mother's shrieks of flabbergasted disapproval now).
See, I often define myself as a schizo-affective mental patient, despite the fact that I haven't had symptoms in over 3 years. What am I then, if not a paranoid schizo-affective mental patient? Apparently, I am a compulsive shopper. I am emotionally fragile. I am broke. Now, if you will pardon me, I am going to surf the internet for jobs on my brand new Samsung galaxy tab 2, 7.0 which turned out not to play amazon instant videos, a main justification for buying it.
Gah....at least this insures that I will not have any choice but to succeed at graduate school so that I can get more money next semester and learn not to throw it at random items like 5 pairs of 50 dollar bras, sized 34F and 34FF. Ah well, the bras fit nice.
I used to weigh 180 pounds and most of it was due to medications, but the part of it was me emotionally over-eating whenever those medication-induced hunger pangs started. Now, I'm 30 pounds lighter. I no longer emotionally over-eat. Instead, I seem to have found a novel approach to self-destruction--- binge shopping. By binge shopping I mean spending hundreds of dollars with a couple of clicks on amazon dot com (in a day).
I try to control myself. Like all my previous self-destructive behaviors (cutting, binge eating, starvation dieting, promiscuous sex, pot smoking), this one overtakes me. I literally feel that the only way to fill the psychological gap left by my chaotic past is to buy something that promises to make me happy.
Not to mention this week is Suicide Awareness week. My cousin died from suicide last year during July. His birthday would have been around this time. So, I am going into my binge shopping feeling depressed, lonely, abandoned, uncertain, and mournful. Suddenly, that 200 dollar smart phone seemed like a good idea; as did the fancy car stereo for the car that I cannot drive until I get the registration paid and the smog inspection cleared. I guess I can always just sit in the garage in my car and listen to my fancy, pointless radio.
This is getting depressing. Okay, here is what I am going to do: make money. How? If I knew that I'd be rich. I honestly don't know. I'll sell artwork, I'll sell my IPOD, I'll sell sell sell. Or maybe I'll just go take out an emergency loan (gasps of horror from the readers---yes, I said a loan). My ex-boyfriend wants me to move out to Las Vegas and become a stripper. He keeps pestering me about it, saying I'm just as cute as the strippers. He often tells me all my money woes will be solved if I just move out there and learn to scale a pole. If this Master's program doesn't go as planned I just might start to consider that (I can hear my mother's shrieks of flabbergasted disapproval now).
See, I often define myself as a schizo-affective mental patient, despite the fact that I haven't had symptoms in over 3 years. What am I then, if not a paranoid schizo-affective mental patient? Apparently, I am a compulsive shopper. I am emotionally fragile. I am broke. Now, if you will pardon me, I am going to surf the internet for jobs on my brand new Samsung galaxy tab 2, 7.0 which turned out not to play amazon instant videos, a main justification for buying it.
Gah....at least this insures that I will not have any choice but to succeed at graduate school so that I can get more money next semester and learn not to throw it at random items like 5 pairs of 50 dollar bras, sized 34F and 34FF. Ah well, the bras fit nice.
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