Well, reality did in fact hit.  Only about a week and a half after the diagnosis.  Maybe a little more.  The long and short of it is that I’ve been very sick and miserable.  I’ve also been depressed, and have spent a lot of time crying.  It’s been a while since I’ve been this sick, and even the last time I was, it didn’t take nearly the emotional, mental and physical toll that the last few weeks of horrible flare ups have.

All of the food at school is contaminated.  While this doesn’t necessarily mean that I react to it, chronic, low-level exposure doesn’t ever do anything good.  I had a full-blown provoked reaction, and have just been completely out of whack since then.  I decided that the only thing that I could do to make everything better would be to move home and detox again.  Detoxing was so much fun the first time, I really can’t wait to do it again.  (Sarcasm.)  Anyway, between being sick and having whatever is less than zero energy, not being able to ask my RA how to do it and a few other factors, I haven’t been able to start the moving home process yet.

However, after tonight’s near-panic attack and reaction, tomorrow after my classes (if I can get myself out of bed for them), I’m going to the Quad Office to get myself the fuck out of here.  Otherwise, I will be so sick that I will have to drop out.  That’s bad.  I think there’s some placebo effect involved with knowing that no matter what, tomorrow you WILL handle whatever needs to be done.  Then, I will go see my aunt to try to get myself more in whack, and then I’ll go to the Friary.  Then I’ll study for my next midterm.

Being depressed as all hell has made me unable to write.  I often can’t write when I’m upset.  Lately, I’ve taken up really bad bitter/depressed poetry again.  When I was a young teenager, I wrote lots of emo poetry.  Not so much since then, as I don’t think I write good poetry.  The fact that the poetry has returned is not a good sign.

I hate autoimmune disease.