First Time Being A Sick Alien

It's incredible to me how differently your body can act when succumbing to an immense amount of pressure that seems to build in small increments. Constantly on your shoulders, it weighs on you a little more each day. Some days, you wake with the right attitude to bear it all and still fight to do more with the day than to just make it through. Other days, you feel crushed and withered, shrunken and it's a struggle to even make the first few steps outside your door. I am sure everyone has different degrees of this to experience, but for some wonderful reason, my mind and body have decided to take the extreme versions of these. I can go from feeling like one of the most lucky people in the world and on top of things to feeling like a lowly piece of crap, burdensome to everyone around me and a waste of space, feeding off of everyone's time and energy in a matter of moments. I thought I had issues before with a bipolar lifestyle.... This is a whole new level of hell here.
My fellow foreigner coworker tries to gingerly remind me that to live here and have this job, you have to have thick skin. I keep wondering what will become of me since I know that can't be me, I can't desensitize and lose my overempathetic and compassionate and sensitive nature. I wonder sometimes if due to the great differences between how I am and what I need to be, if I'll be eaten alive or swallowed by the build-up of all these things I am learning are far from my control. I am sure there might come a point where I will just adjust to "this is just a job, a means, not an end." I don't seem to be close to getting it yet.
For now, even small things area frustrating, panic-worthy aspects of trouble in my life. For some awesome reason, I am constantly hyper-sensitive and prone to freaking out. I can't really place my finger on the exact reason why.... It could be the fact that my independence and feelings of self worth have diminished appreciably in the context of having no ability to "do it by myself," in always "needing" someone there to help me do just about everything but breathe for me. Just asking questions like what kind of facility I go to for something causes a stir. People start worrying about who has to take care of the poor little incapable pet next. So on to the current embarrassing situation.
I had the comment made to me this morning that I don't even know my ownbody. No, not really... Not right now. My whole physical condition is in a state of freaking. So in all honesty, I sincerely thought I had a sinus infection Monday. I got home from Kenji's that morning, and as soon as I laid down to rest, I discovered that my body wanted to make it apparent that I had no energy and that my skin was sore and I ached all over. I took a nap and awoke to oozing yellow mucus and an awful sinus headache... Later on, I had a kind of low-grade fever and my throat had the sensation that someone swabbed it with sandpaper. This all continued into later that evening, when I cried over the burnt toast that was intended to be my dinner and I gave up on the day and went to sleep. I awoke the next morning with a lesser feeling of the same symptoms, but because I still felt relatively weak, I thought it could ne a problem needing to be fixed before gaining a new level of seriousness. After asking around for a nearbyclinic and how to describe certain symptoms, I hadalarmed my manager enough to the point of scheduling to meet the next morning to go to a clinic... Because there is no way I could could possibly do it on my own. Here comes the shameful part... After being all worked up over going and preparing to describe how I felt, I wake up to a new day and a huge difference in my condition. In normal circumstances, one might be happy or even relieved to conclude on their own that it turned out to be a minor and sudden cold, but in my circumstance, I find it to be a burdensome joke of nature. I can't help but now feel like I not only wasted time and patience from others, but that I can't really be taken seriously. It now looks like I just flip out on all the small things, like the girl who screamed,"Dragon!" I am seriously considering telling myself to f#<¥ off for awhile and ignoring the things I imagine are happening.
Ugh, I've become such a damn headcase. The thing I hate the most of all, though, is the fact that the frustration won't go away from being an infantile alien. Everyone sees it as a duty to "take care of" you, but in acting all the time, there is no freedom or feeling of accomplishment I can get. I feel more and more worthless each time I am shown that I "couldnt possibly have done this on my own." I just feel like a weight on anyone who happens to volunteer in "assisting me." it just adds to that pressure I was mentioning. I guess this is why beer is a necessary lubricant to functioning. At least it dulls those pangs of worthlessness that you still think about at the end of the day. I just need to prove myself... To accomplish LIVING here.