Welcome to Rock Bottom

Well that didn't take long. Tonight, I actually did hit rock bottom. The kind that involves scissors. And it wasn't the experience of being torn to pieces in court, or the hectic training schedule, or the pressure of work, or being blown off again but the OtherHalf that doesn't want me. It was feeling rejected by the only real friends I think I have in this place.

We've been playing this card game, where you're not allowed to discuss the rules and more and more are made up as the game goes along. I've played it before - with them and back in my first year - and it's an awesome game. But their basic rules are different to mine - so I spot the hard stuff but get screwed over by things everyone but me knows not to do. Which is fine: it makes me laugh. But tonight we played in a fairly large group and this one girl kept mocking me for every bad card. Somehow when the guys do that it's ok - maybe because I know them but actually because I think they genuinely are nice about it. But she just kept pushing my buttons.

I was scared about tomorrow - well I still am: I'm terrified. And I wanted to talk so badly. But playing cards seemed a nice alternative. So when I finally got fed up and folded I went back to church and sat for a while, talking to God. Except He's not replying at the moment. And gradually it dawned on me that He wasn't there for the tough training, and He hasn't been there while I've been worrying about court tomorrow and... actually... He's been absent a lot lately. And pretty soon after all this the tears came. Half an hour later I just wanted out; just needed to calm down. And as fate would have it I had some scissors - not particularly sharp ones mind so it'll heal fast.

That's probably the fastest I've come down. Generally once the adrenaline kicks in you can go one of two ways: into wake up and stop mode or into harder and faster and deeper mode. You can't do either if you don't really need that - I discovered in my teens how impossible to cut it is when you don't really need it (at least if you use a relatively blunt knife, which is a good call if you don't want to risk your life). So I guess I can be proud of that in a way. Just means I've fallen off the wagon again... 9 months on... except last time I'd managed 18 - my longest ever. And last time I felt like a failure. Now it seems an inevitability. Am I slipping again?