Our cohort had a meeting today with the graduate director of our department to discuss things like dissertation and committees and other official things.  I wouldn't be able to tell you how it all went, unfortunately, because not even 10 minutes in, I found myself spacing and starting to freak out.  All I kept hearing in my head was how much of a failure I was; that I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do.  That I have no interest in anything academic.  That my desire to run away or disappear is becoming greater and greater and I'm afraid because that usually leads to more destructive thoughts and those aren't fun at all and getting in the mindset of those constantly bouncing around is super dark and something I felt like I only barely crawled out of and I don't want that dark pit to consume me again. 

So I did what I usually do when these...situations happen: I ran.  I ran to the bathroom to try and calm myself down but in there those thoughts just became overwhelming and I soon found myself sobbing and unable to breathe or think about anything other than my perceived failure and how I'm a disappointment to everyone around me and etc., etc.  And after being unable to truly calm down after...some time, I ran upstairs to see if Nancy was available, rather than choosing to return to the meeting (despite, you know, all of my stuff still being there).  I had to wait a bit, since she was with someone, but since I was shaking and crying and couldn't calm myself, I decided that was better than showing my face downstairs again.  

And so when I got to see her, she was concerned and listened to my word vomiting about how I feel awful and sad about my lack of interest in anything academic (or really, most things, which is why I feel like I cling to my fictional worlds and stories like a child; they not only are my way to escape, but are also one of the only things that interest me anymore).  While I know I want to do stuff with math, that isn't enough; I have no substantive interest to attach to it, and we don't do pure methodological things here.  Besides, even if we did, I'm not confident in my mathematical abilities to actually be successful in that area.  

I also talked about my feeling like a failure to Callie; that her behavioural things are my fault, and that I could have prevented them. 

Also how whenever people talk to me about their work or say how much they "understand" my plight, I want to punch them in the face.  Because no, you don't understand (roommates).  You don't.  You have had at least a general area that you have always been interested in since the beginning: human rights.  Neither of you have swayed from that, really.  You don't understand how much this sucks.  I don't read anything because the idea of doing so is so unbearable and boring, rather than simply because I don't want to read it.  When I start reading anything academic, lately, I find myself continually asking the "what's the point" question.  And not "what's the point of this research?"  No, I'm asking myself what the point of my presence even in this discipline.  What is the point of fucking anything, really.  The job market is shit anyway.  We keep being reminded of how if we don't have x, y, and z, there is no way we will ever be acceptable, and while that might be true, it is kind of awful to keep hearing over and over when you aren't even able to think about ideas for x, y, and z.  And you know that others will have all that and better and that you could be passed over for political reasons or some other bullshit.  The sad thing is that I'm aware of all this being the reality in almost any job.  The only way I could possibly get out of it is if I become self-employed.  

And the "well everywhere is like this" thought is the worst.  My idealistic vision of academia being "above that" so to speak was naive and has been shattered and I was an idiot to believe it would be better.  

I ended up going to Wegman's with friend and she and I nommed and we chatted for a long time, which included my word vomiting to her about some of this stuff.