I'm totally losing it. My computer was supposedly repaired, but it still will not charge, I pretended to be sick on Thursday to get it repaired and it charged enough to get through Friday, but now it's deader than a doornail. .I need the #$%^*&^(*!! computer to study or I'm going to flunk out of medical school.
For some reason my major bank account (the one that has more than maybe a thousand dollars of discretionary income in it -- has never been transferred over to my name alone,and I need a parent's signature to access the money .I'm sure it was an oversight and not an intentional attempt to control me through controlling my money. However, my father does not think I need a new computer and is refusing to sign on it. He has until Monday to change his mind before I use what little discretionary income Ihave to pay a retainer to an attorney and sue him for total control of my account. It'snot some flipping trust fund, by the way. It's money I've learned through my own hard work,plus a very smallsum of birthday and Christmas gifts from relatives, which, though they were intended so that I could purchase gifts I would like at the time, Instead, my parents required me to bank in this secured account to which i have no unencumbered access.
I don't particularly care if this irrevocably damages my relationship with my father or with both parents. (My mom could sign for me as well, but she's certainly not offering to step up t the plate, nor is she being forthcoming with the cash for the violin that belongs to me that she damage essentially beyond repair.) For all I know, they're hoping for an early death on my part so that they can have my money free and clear. they've given me little reason to believe otherwise.
I called a mental health again (a different one than last time) and was once again cut off because the lady manning the line didn't think my crisis was sufficient to warrant the use of her time. Mental health paraprofessionals suck - every last one of them - and deserve a worse fate than i could ever imagine for them. Mental health professionals may not be much better (my mother is one, and she's certainly not getting any awards for humanitarian of the year) but i will not paint them all with the same brush.
Right now I pretty much hate the world. I can't eat or sleep,and I have limited resources for studying. yet each night I put on my makeup and put on a fake smile while pretending to be \Sandy in Grease.
I have three more performances after this weekend. Mere words cannot express the sheer hatred I feel for the professor who onsisted that i take on this role. I wonder if he'll feel obligated to attend my funeral or visit my grave it doing this kills me.