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Reflection from October 24th, 2008 @ Age 27


Well, to set the record straight, I’m a big fat liar.  I told Dr. G that I had not been drinking, which is true in the sense that I’ve not been habitually drinking—but not true in the sense that I had had drinks during the time period in question.  Last time I was in to see Dr. R I lied about my cigarette smoking past in part, as I told him about my smoking in college and law school but not about the current smoking I’ve been doing over the past year.  Today I went downtown to file my bar application and the guy at the front desk asked me if I’d been there before and I just said no, point blank—when in fact from that second on I was thinking I had been there before.  I changed my answer and he said that’s what it looks like because my ID was on record from when I went to file my registration application.  I looked at him and just lied.  And I don’t know why.  It was over nothing, just the simple fact of whether I’d been there before.  I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me.  And here’s the worst one today…

I hit a car in the parking lot this morning, then took mine to get an estimate and they buffed out the other car’s paint and filled in my scratches with touch up paint.  It looks like nothing ever happened—but it did.  I did not leave my information for the person who I hit either.  It was raining so I have an excuse today, but not for long.  I have to decide whether to stand up and be a woman or cower down and be a nothing.  Problem is, my insurance rates just doubled and I really can’t afford to have another accident on my record.  Not to mention I don’t have money to fix this other person’s car.  But it’s not right.  I mean, how would I feel if somebody hit me in the parking lot and never left their information.  Someone did that to my mom, and never left their information.  It just wasn’t right.  And I would be taking the low road, the dark road, just hoping and praying nobody saw me make the error.  How can I live like that?  And do you know what I did when I went to get my car fixed?  I told the girl at the counter that I had gotten hit by another car and she’s all, “that’s real mature,” and I’m like—ohh my god, I’m going to hell.  Today was a bad, bad day. 

So I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know whether to lay low on the car thing and just hope for the best (for my side of the story).  Or to be a woman and own up to my mistake.  And I don’t know what I’m going to tell the bar examiners if they ask me if I had been drinking, and then say, “why did you tell your psychiatrist otherwise?”  And the same thing about the smoking of cigarettes with Dr. R.  And can you believe if anyone were ever to subpoena these journal records?  I’d be exposed for the fucking liar that I am.  Why am I lying?  Because I’m tired of telling the truth and getting myself into trouble.  But maybe I’m just the kind of person who’s meant to get in trouble.  Who’s meant to fuck up and screw myself over in the end.  What really strikes me though, is that I lied to the doorman.  I mean there’s no reason why I did that, the “no” just came out and I stood there thinking he prolly has my driver’s license on record.  And he did.  And what if he tells that to the bar admissions people?  God I wish I wasn’t me!  I see what Paul means when he says that suicide is just an easy way out for people who have fucked up their lives by their own doing. 

So now, if my psychiatrist asks me if I have been drinking I will have to be honest and say, “yes, I had a drink but only because Dr. R told me it would be okay to have a drink every once in a while.”  And then I’ll have to sit there listening to her tell me that it’s not okay to have a drink every once in awhile and that Dr. R is wrong and then I’m afraid she might bring up some condition of not drinking in response to the bar examiner’s inquiries and then I’m fucking screwed.  I could say that I wasn’t drinking at the time she asked me whether I was drinking.  But the honest to god truth is that I did have some drinks in there, even if just the few.  But then if they want witnesses to testify that I didn’t drink at all from January until the last time Dr. G made an inquiry into my position, I will have no one.  I wouldn’t make my parents lie.  I would have to tell them that I thought she meant habitual drinking and that since I had only drank a couple drinks over those numerous months that I didn’t think that her inquiry applied to me.  Ohh my god I don’t know what to do with myself.  I feel like I’m going to hell, even though I don’t really believe in the afterlife anymore.  I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I don’t feel there’s a person in this whole world who I can trust with my ugly truth.  I can see all their disdainful faces looking back at me—me looking at the floor so I don’t have to meet their gaze.

Let’s see.  In order for me to be held responsible for the hit and run, someone would have had to see the accident and taken down my car type and license plate number.  Or they could put it together by matching up the scratches on my car with the injury to the other person’s car.  Ohh my god I could be guilty of a hit and run.  What if they bring a lawsuit against me to make an example out of me?  What if I get cited for the same and have to report it to the bar examiners?  What if I’m found out?  What if I’m not?  Could I live with myself and the damage I’ve caused, or shall I cause even bigger damage to myself by owning up?  Or am I causing even bigger damage by not owning up?  Ohh my god I don’t know what to do.  I feel like an awful person and I’m literally just waiting for someone to find me out and crucify the hell out of me. 

Ohh my god, now I don’t even want that weed from —!  I don’t want to live the next six months of my life.  I told the truth and I got burned.  Now I’m lying and I’m sure I’m about to get burned.  Can I never win?  Maybe I’m just not meant to be a lawyer.  Maybe I don’t have the requisite character and fitness.  Maybe I just need to go through with all of this, do the very best that I can, and see how things turn out.  I’m terribly afraid the bar examiners are going to catch me in the lie I told my psychiatrist, or that the person’s car who I hit will find me out.  Can I really be the kind of person who makes these terrible decisions?  I guess I already am.  And do you know what it makes me think of?  It makes me think of —’s affair and how I really shouldn’t judge him because look how easily I’ve fucked my whole situation up.  Ohh I don’t know what to do.  I better go study, but even that may be pointless now.  Ohh I just don’t know what to do.

You know what else they told me?  That I would have to travel to Cleveland for my bar interview and she also said there’s a very good chance that I will be denied entry to take the bar exam again.  That I may have to appeal their decision again and go through with the hearing and put witnesses up and documents—I would have to hire an attorney and pay to have my doctors come testify.  I think there’s a very good chance I might not be taking this bar exam ever.  I just don’t know what to do with myself.

I see what they mean though, weaving a web of lies and all.  It’s like you tell one and then you have to tell ten more just to keep up with the first one.  It’s a horrible way to live.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.


Well, I can’t do anything about the situation right now.  The best I can do is leave my name and number under the windshield wiper of that other car on Monday and hope for the best.  For the other, the best I can do if questioned is say that I thought my psychiatrist meant “was I drinking habitually,” which is why I answered in the negative.  And finally, ohh I don’t know.  I hate my life.  I have $165.00 to my name, $500 in savings which I’m about to blow paying for this car that I hit, or maybe I’ll just have my insurance pay for it.  I don’t know.  Life isn’t good.  I can’t see it getting any better anytime soon.  I best get used to living with my parents because that’s what I’m going to be doing for a long, long time to come.  Hopefully neither of them gets fired or else I have no idea what I will do then.  I owe them so much money, it’s not even funny how fat my tab is now.  I hate that I went to law school.  I hate that I had to prove to everyone that I was smarter than they thought.  I hate that I can’t get by for a whole year without drinking or smoking pot.  I hate that I hate my life so passionately.  I hate that I’m turning into a hater and a liar.  I hate my life.  No, that’s not true.  I love my family.  And my friends, as few as there may be.  I can’t say that my entire life is shit.  I can say that I am going to shit though and I better do something about it before it’s too late.


Oh my god I’m freaking out!  What if they ask me in my interview whether there is any evidence that I know of that would negate my assertion that I have not smoked pot since September 2007?!  Am I supposed to go through all my journals and delete any references to smoking?  Am I supposed to lie?  Oh damn me for not being stronger!  What if they want to drug test me?  I could pass a piss test but not the hair test!  But seriously, who tests people’s hair for drugs?  Not even Bobby’s hair was tested for drugs I don’t think, though he could easily shave his head whereas I cannot unless I go all Britany Spears kinda crazy.  Oh my god, what have I done?  What have I done?