Yawn...

I'm so tired! I am giving myself a well earned break from revision. Well, i say well earned, but perhaps if i hadn't waited until Monday night to start revising for my exam on Thursday... i wouldn't have had to work quite so flat out. Oh well.

The exam on Monday went reasonably well. The amount of work i put into it, i ought to have done brilliantly well. But i just can't tell with them being essay questions. I know i wrote at least one dumb thing- i got ataxia and agnosia mixed up and wrote that Alzheimer's sufferers show ataxia. I couldn't even know what ataxia means... though i thought it was right at the time. Anyway, i wikipedia-ed it, and, well, Alzheimer's patients really don't have ataxia. Nobface Head of Module will be marking it as well, which doesn't roll in my favour. Oh well. I'm sure i've done enough to pass, which is the main thing i suppose.

I picked my essay marks up yesterday as well. I got 68% in the Neuroscience one, which is fine, particularly since apparently we were all meant to have failed it... I got 65% in my Clinical pathology essay, which is fine as well i suppose. I'm pretty disappointed with that to be honest. When i was writing it, it sounded really good. I did a shit pile of research for it and i honestly thought it was the best thing i'd ever written, despite the incredibly dry subject matter. Plus, i just happened to notice... that someone much stupider and much less conscientious than me (and who i particularly dislike) got 75%. Which seems pretty unlikely. But i suppose that just serves me right for being nosey...

I think, the transition between second and third year is a lot steeper than i previously imagined. Without wanting to sound big-headed, in previous years i've never found it particularly difficult to do well and get firsts in essays and exams, without making any special effort. But this semester it seems as though i have been working my hardest and not coming out with anything spectacular. I'm not going to be 2:1 snob... but i suppose i'm kind of half hoping/expecting to get a first. I know the result is not the be all and end all of getting a degree, and that after i get my first job, noone will much care what degree classification i got. But it would just be nice. I'm not good at much. I'm not good at people and friends and socialising. I'm not good at sport. I'm not a particularly good daughter or girlfriend.I don't even look that good. But I am good at Academia. I can be clever and learn things and get good results. I can impress people and please my parents and feel good about myself that way. I feel like this first expected of me now, which is incredibly pressurising. Maybe i'm just not as clever as i think. Maybe i'm just being a twat. Who knows.

Last exam tomorrow anyway, which is something to look forward to. I am doing strategic revision, so i hope to God it pays off, or i am royally screwed. I'm about past caring at the moment.

Anyway, i was meant to be catching up. Being at home is lovely, but there is no real scope for private computer time. Hence the lack of blogginess. The basic gist is like so:

. I went home

. I watched a lot of TV

. I ate a lot of food (Actually, i ate a lot of junk food. Actually, i ate a lot of chocolate. My skin is being most unforgiving)

. I spent a lot of time with the boy. He spent Christmas day at mine, which was lovely

. I spent not quite enough time at home, and thus spent a lot of time feeling guilty about that

. My sisters annoyed me for various reasons

. I did a bit of revision (With emphasis on the "bit", hence the shit-creek type situation occurring currently)

. I was good and socialised, with Sarah, Beth, Sally and Caz! Four whole people!

And there you have it. Three fun packed weeks in the life of me!

Now i am back in this hole of mediocrity. Not for long however. Mwhahaha.

Irritated...

I really need to start thinking of more imaginative titles for my posts...

The internet is being exceptionally slow and shit today, which is pissing me off.

Yesterday i went in to the hospital to discover that there were no samples for me again. Which i am less than impressed by. Its not even as if there literally were no patients to take samples from- i spent a couple of hours in specimen reception this week and last week, and saw at least four serum amylase requests each time. At a rate of four every two hours, i could complete the whole bloody trial in one day, instead of stretching it out over the whole semester... If anyone ever bothers sending the urine samples that is... Its not as though its something i'm putting them out for either! The consultant in A&E wanted this trial doing! Yargh. I refused to spend six hours at the hospital doing nothing, so i came home at about half 11, and futzed around for the rest of the day. Joey and I had drinks and a long chat at The Orange Tree in the evening.

Spoke to Abbie briefly on MSN last night, and she seemed happy enough, having spent the day with her friends. I can't imagine Mum was very happy about her being out with Kayleigh-The-Bad-Influence again, but i am glad she is taking the psychologists advice at least.

Still in a confuddled state about the whole thing. I spent most of the day with her on Monday, shopping and chatting. Bullied her into eating some chips. Mum said she seemed a lot brighter afterwards. I should spend more time with her. Guilt...

I miss The Boy a lot. The weekend was rather strange and disjointed, and so we didn't really get to spend as much time solidly together as i would have liked. Half of the time we did spend together we spent arguing. Or me crying, and us not having sex. To be fair, i haven't exactly been difficult to upset/ annoy recently on account of my increasing stress levels... I shouldn't have taken it out on him.

(He did start an argument with me in the middle of an Indian restaurant about M however, which he fully deserved to be shouted at about... but thats a whole other blog entry...)

Saw a lot of Dad and Maddie this weekend, which was nice. I hardly ever get to see them, which is a bit rubbish. I should make more effort really.

I totally buggered up my budget this weekend also, by "accidentally" spending 50 quid on Elle McPherson underwear, and then since i was in the swing of shopping and had already made a mess of the finances, i bought a jumper from Topshop as well. I was doing so well as well. Sigh.

It is exceptionally nice underwear though. And i never usually have expensive underwear.

I might take the jumper back. I haven't decided yet. Its sitting in the wardrobe, awaiting its fate.

I shop to make me feel better about myself, but then always end up feeling worse with the guilt. Is that an addiction? I don't know.

I need to go to my meeting with my dissertation tutor woman now. She insists on me seeing her every week, but since i'm only in the research stage and i don't really know where she wants me to take the thing, i never have any idea what she wants to talk about. The complement system is infintely boring. Methinks i should have chosen my title more carefully...

Muddled...

Just got back to Keele after an extended weekend at home. I am feeling that blah-y way that i always feel when i'm here after a while away.

The weekend has been strange. After worrying so much about Abbie all week, i was a little annoyed to get home on Thursday night and find that everyone was just acting as though nothing had happened, and Abbie herself barely acknowledged my presence.

On Friday i went to Abbie's first appointment with the psychologist, with Mum and Dad. The psychologist asked about lots of generic psychologist things, like how long my Mum and Dad had been divorced, had there been any traumatic or significant events lately, etc. Mum was finally forced to admit to suffering from depression, and i was momentarily terrified that i would have to do the same.

I wasn't awfully impressed with the psychologist. She seems very overly focussed on the issue of Abbie's alcohol drinking. Ok, drinking at 15 is not exactly ideal, but lets be honest here, everyone does it. It doesn't mean we're all destined for a life of AA meetings. The events of last weekend were disturbing and unpleasant, but not a commentary on my sister's mental state as a whole. On finding out that Mum's father was an alcoholic, the psychologist took it upon herself to tell Abbie that she was in danger of dying as an alcoholic also. Which seems more like scare-mongering than counselling to me.

On the other hand, she did confirm my thoughts that Abbie's self harm problem, is more like a "self harm problem". Something quite superficial and not really to be worried about. Incidentally, having seen the cuts for myself, i can say that Mum was definitely exaggerating...

My biggest gripe with the psychologist, is the fact that she refuses to address Abbie's biggest problem in my mind, which is the fact that she no longer eats anything.

"Abbie doesn't want to talk about it, so we're not going to"

I'm no psychologist... but how the hell does that make any sense whatsoever!? Surely that just proves that the problem exists in the first place, thus highlighting the need for it to be addressed? Euch.

She even fucking told Mum that Abbie is already in the peripheral stages of an eating disorder. Her extreme sensitivity to the cold is a key sign that her body is beginning to "shut down".

That phrase has haunted me for the entire weekend. Body shutting down equates to the beginning of the end in my mind. Maybe i'm being over dramatic, but i can't shake off that thought. I don't want my baby sister to shut down.

I just can't get through to her that however miserable she feels now, it is nothing compared to how bad she is going to feel in ten/ twenty/ thirty years time when she is dealing with the consequences of starving herself.

To conclude, the psychologist handed out lots of advice which i should imagine seems rather counter-intuitive from my parents' point of view, like not to punish her, or stop her from going out with the bad influence friends to the places she usually goes to drink...

I can see her point. Despite my outrage, i am reluctant to force the issue with Abbie about exactly what kind of friends stand by and allow you to drink yourself into oblivion, and then not even hang around to deal with the aftermath... i don't want to make her feel more depressed by implying that her friends are not really friends, and that in reality she has no meaningful relationships. But i think Mum and Dad found it difficult to swallow.

Mum is, as usual, determined to take everything personally. According to her, the psycholgist is blaming the whole thing on her.

Listening to Mum lie about exactly how much alcohol she drinks in one week, proves to me that i'm right to be concerned about her in that respect... but thats an issue for another diary entry. She's by no means an alcoholic. And as contradictory as it sounds, i don't think her alcohol consumption is at the bottom of Abbie's problems.

Abbie told me that the psychologist thinks she is depressed. That, i can accept. The rest... meh.

My head is in a muddle, so i'm going to stop now.

I don't want to go to the hospital tomorrow...

Drama

This has been a weekend of revelations...

On Saturday on the way back from Lancaster (yes i did go to the tournament- and it was shit...), Mum text me to tell me that the police had rung her because they had picked up my middle-ing sister Abbie, drunk, in Leeds. I wasn't overly concerned, since i already knew she had been drinking a little in Leeds with her friends for the past few weekends and it seemed harmless enough. I assumed the police had raided the Corn Exchange, where they hang out, to give all the kids a bit of a scare, since its notorious for under-age drinkers.

In actuality, the police had called an ambulance, because she was so very drunk. Her so called "friends" all ran off and left her. When i finally managed to get in touch with Mum again, a good few hours later she told me that Abbie had been admitted to the hospital after the doctors found apparently self inflicted razor blade cuts on her arms. She told Mum she had done it because she was so unhappy.

I was beside myself. I just couldn't believe it. I know she is going through some "Emo" phase, and its cool to be depressed and dark. I even know that she's carved things into her arms with compass points before now in a fit of generic adolescent drama. But razor blades? I can't even begin to imagine how, or why. According to Mum, the injuries look horrific.

I felt so incredibly guilty. I know favourite sisters shouldn't exist, but she is mine. I love her so much, and for her to have been so unhappy and me to not even have known is just unthinkable. I thought we were close. I know i don't spend as much time with her as i should. Even when i'm not at Uni, i'm always with The Boy or somewhere else. And that's so selfish of me, i know it is. I know she doesn't have a good time at home, and i should have been there for her more. The thought of her in hospital on her own all night, and feeling so poorly just made me cry. I know it was her own fault, but still.

She wasn't allowed to be discharged on Sunday until she had seen a children's mental health team.

Speaking to her about it yesterday, when she had got home from the hospital, it appears the whole drama was over a boy. This boy she had been "going out with" and thought she was in love with had dumped her (she bearly eats anymore, on account of her massively distorted body image, and apparently tried to make herself sick the other day, which is why he ended it) and now has another girlfriend. Hence why she was drinking so heavily on Saturday. Apparently she drank three bottles of wine... three. She's fifteen! I can't even drink one. She drank so much, her body went into shock- she had a irregular heart rhythm- the paramedics thought she had taken drugs... I can't even begin to imagine how ill she must have felt. I suppose at least it has taught her a lesson about alcohol, that noone else could ever have taught her. Hopefully she will stay away from it for a good few years now.

I asked her about the cutting, if she was doing it for attention. She said she had been doing at first, but now it just felt like something she "had to do" when she had a problem she didn't want to talk about. I'm finding it hard to know what i believe. Part of me thinks she might well have a serious problem. She obviously didn't intend on getting found out, and only the fact that she got so drunk she had to go to hospital led to anyone noticing. But then, another part of me think she is doing what she thinks "Emo's" should do. Its like a trend. She's learnt it. Its not an innate urge.

I don't know.

Knowing what i know about myself, her, and our family, i know she is unhappy beyond her adolescent love-life. I strongly suspect a part of her, however small, has done this for the attention. Typically, my parents are brushing the whole thing under the carpet already. Neither of them has bothered to try and talk to her about it, which is infuriating me. And she refuses to talk to them. Which is fair enough. They're my parents too, i know how bloody unapproachable they are.

I just worry this will escalate out of control, without some kind of intervention. I have tried talking to her but she's so fucking nonchalant about the whole thing somehow, i just want to slap her. I desperately want to help her. I don't want her to be as miserable as i know i have been. But she just seems to see it as no big deal. Even when i try to explain to her exactly how much damage she is doing her body by not eating, she just shrugs it off. Infuriating.

Maybe it is no big deal. Maybe it was a moment of adolescent madness and i'm just projecting my own neuroses onto her as some kind of explanation for her behaviour. But i just can't see it. I'm sure its more serious than she's letting on.

I just want to go home and hug her.