Showing posts with label Depression and Irritability. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Depression and Irritability. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Chasing Understanding


I haven't really been feeling all that great lately. I had to reserve a crying day to rid myself of some of what's on my mind. And I felt completely stripped afterward, needing a few days to recover. Deep in the throws of re-evaluation, hard pills have been swallowed. The conclusion: I need to walk away. That just isn't something I do. I don't just throw in the towel the first, second or third time around. I stick shit out, fight to the death, and even when its clear that I've done all that I can do, and been all that I can be, I still hold on for a little while longer. However, there isn't just a thin line between love and hate, but also one nestled between loyalty and stupidity. Like I said, hard pills.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Now Taking Applications for the Mental Breakdown Club


Maybe it'll be a win-win, because, you know, most of the greats were/are mentally disturbed in some form or another...

I've always said that, if I could have chosen my mental illness, I would have chosen to be either bi-polar or schizophrenic. No, really. Once you're able to recognize your manic states and decipher the who's who of the voices in your head and the friends in your circle, productivity and creativity take the forefront. Very few productive or creative moments are bore from depression, and those that are aren't necessarily arrived at organically, but rather dug from deep within. Deep rooted expressions of pain are painfully beautiful. Unfortunately, mental breakdowns are not.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Pet Peeves



I guess sports are to men as soap operas are to women.

I don't think I'll ever understand the logic behind amplifying the television in order to quiet the voices of children. Noise only begets noise, it sure as hell doesn't silence it. And I'll tell you what else it does, it beckons migraines. My head is much happier with just the sounds of intense play. I'm quite crazy with the bellowing sounds of baseball coming from the idiot box. I can't tell you how much I despise sports. Not just baseball, and not just any one sport in particular. All sports. I don't get excited for playoffs and superbowls. I don't huddle around the television with snacks and team spirit. I'd rather just be excluded all together. Every single day, since His return, the television has blasted sports in some form or another. During a time when I'd rather unwind, process the events of my day, and prepare my mind for what lies ahead, I am instead trying to drown out the sounds of static noise, and plot my move. The exact moment when I will snatch all the pillows off the couch, put our pajamas on and "go to bed" - because that is the only indicator that we are ready to settle in for the night. The time on the clock doesn't mean shit.

I was waking up every couple of hours last night as a result of one loud month or another. 2am - 3am - 4am - 4:50am - 5:20am, eyes peeking open at 6:29am, and alarm ringing at 6:30am. I yawned through my training at work today.

I asked if there would be headache-free days ahead, and was told yes. I sure hope so.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Time Is Now!


She had had another unexpected inspection that day. She hates when they just pop up without notice, or give a same-day notice that an inspection is imminent. No time to clean (read: no time to hide shit behind other shit), just a forced reaction to authority figures and their clipboards. She's always angry after they leave. Mad that they've seen all that there is to see around here, even though their notes are for the purposes of making things better around here. Embarrassed by a cramped space, again, reactive, throwing things out over there, pointing and yelling about things over here. And when she almost knocked over a glass collector's plate she had been given as a gift, catching it in her hand, and attempting to put it back in its place, she completely lost it. "DAMMIT! You can't get to ANYTHING around here". Apparently, my things were in the way. She snatched a bag of crochet supplies from a larger tote when she grabbed for the tote. With both bags in hand, she slammed them back down to the floor, repositioning them. I thought I was gonna have a panic attack. I couldn't stop the tears.

Then I got caught. My effort to disguise my sniffles, took away from my efforts to wipe away the tears before they fell. Emma noticed my glassy eyes and asked me if I was crying. I told her no. I lied. The anxiety swelled up in my body, and radiated through my left hand like an electrical current. The left side. I am so unkind to the right side of my brain. I took my episode to the shower, were I could cry without being made.

Today, I went out in search of something healthier. I collected some resources on transitional housing, mental health services, and homeless shelters. I printed some affordable housing applications. I fantasized about having a place to think clearly, without the sounds of screaming, fussing, bickering and frustration hammering away at my sanity. I want to be content. I have a job that I enjoy, am excited that Emma is excited about her new school year, I am trying very hard to be happy. Happiness shouldn't have to be this hard to hold on to. Its time to move on.

Life



I wonder what it feels like to want to live...

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

A Place Where Nobody Knows My Name


I'm so irritated right now that I can't even organize my thoughts. I'm 100% sure that I'm not cut out for co-habitation. I often wonder if I'm even cut out for co-existence. There is nothing I hate more than being subjected to other people's lifestyles. I can't survive for too long in a space that belongs to someone else. Having to be a part of their routines, their house guests, their retarded ass kids - all with no retreat. Point blank, I'm not a people lover, especially when I have to deal with them day in and day out. Too much time with the same people and I'm bound to go fucking nuts! Factor in irritating habits or shit talking and I'm bound to go the fuck off. I like to stay to myself and socialize when I deem its appropriate, not when someone else deems its time to be all up in my space. These are the moments when I need rapid progression. These are the moments that make me crazy. These are new moments that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

I'd have a house out in the country if I could. Where I could breath in fresh air and where interpersonal relationships would require driving into town. If you can't tell, I get burnt out really quickly. This is such a torturous time for me. I absolutely HATE living in an environment in which I'm extremely uncomfortable. I'm gonna try to save as quickly as possible so I can get the fuck away from here as quickly as possible!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Being Expendable


I wonder what all of this means. What does it all really mean?

Another rejection. It would be nice if the rejection could at least come after the interview. I've never even made it to the interview stage. They don't have to see me in person to know that they don't want me working with their establishment. No matter how much I try to prove myself on paper, its just not enough. How can I be what these people want when I'm not even sure what they are looking for? I illustrate all the ways that I can meet their needs, all the ways that my skills can be beneficial to them, the ways in which I can do the job, and their response is that they went with someone whose skills better fit their needs. Why can't someone just give me a chance? With each rejection I fade more into the background. With each week/month/year that passes, my resume becomes less desirable, less relevant.

Was I really supposed to be working in an office - gaining experience, while going to school full time, raising my daughter on my own, dealing with death consecutively, never making a full recovery from being raped, in and out of depression, already not getting the most out of the education that I was getting? Did others around me do it because they were "only" raising children while doing school and work? Or because they had a boyfriend or husband living at home, bringing in the money, leaving them to focus more on family and academics? Did I not try hard enough? I did try! I did more than just try. I went to work. Sometimes forfeiting my classes and school work to be in the office longer, so I could see more money on my paycheck, to feel like it all was worth it. I felt like I had finally found my "place" when I was in that office. I felt like a contributor. Like I made a difference and was needed. I had made friends, was a part of the pack, or so I thought.

A year passed, and still, I was thinking ahead, about how I could be of service to the company. I was nearing graduation, so then I would be available full time. I was looking at housing closer to work for when it was time to relocate, I was even thinking about how my first love of journalism and my interest in photography could benefit the company. Since "I" was already the Marketing Department, I wanted to apply myself more during showroom travel. Photographing the showroom for the company website, making a suggestion to the CEO and COO that we should become a completely electronic based office where documents were concerned. I never got the chance to make it known that I saw myself as a permanent part of the company. I had started sensing that there was something not quite right with my scheduling. I had tried making myself more available, and would be told that I wasn't needed for the number of hours that I was available, when months earlier, my availability was welcomed. Then the day came. I was asked into the CEO's office, he gave me a speech about no longer being able to afford to keep me (due to the economy), told me I had two weeks, and if I needed a letter for my next job he'd be happy to write me one. There was no farewell party for me, like there had been for a coworker who had left the office. No one said anything. No one emailed me when I didn't return. It was as if I had never even been a part of the company. As if I had never shared anything with the people in that office. It was such a hurtful ending. I'm obviously still affected by it.

And now, as I search for a comfortable, fulfilling office assistant job, I find that companies are looking for people who have all of this experience. Asking a minimum of 2 years, which isn't much to someone who actually has worked for 2 years. My last experience was the longest that I have ever been at any one job. One year and 5 months. I feel like, in every aspect of life, I always come up short. Like, no matter what I do, how hard I may work or fight, I come up short. After everything that I sacrificed to be available for my company, my ass got kicked to the curb, and my time there isn't paying off for me in the way of experience, I still come up short. I'm reminded of that every time I open a new job ad or apply to one.

For anyone who reads this, I already know what you're probably gonna say. "Its the economy." Yeah, I know all about the economy. I'm sick to death of the fucking economy, and being told repeatedly that its the economy. Its worst than being told, its not you, its me. Which brings me to a random thought: What the fuck is Arnold doing making an appearance in a movie? With the state of California, his ass should NOT be on any big screen unless he is gonna be putting the money from the film into the pockets of Californians! AND, its not essentially just the economy. People are getting jobs. I know this because I am friends with some of the people who are getting jobs. So, what the fuck am "I" doing wrong? Perhaps you will suggest that I do more, such as take another class, take a different kind of job - anything that's available, go to a temp agency. Simply put, I'm really doing all that I have the capacity to do. I just really need for things to change. I deserve for things to change. Nobody deserves to invest so much of their time and money into a University, believing that in doing so they have insured a future free of poverty, only to end up homeless, with no possible leads to employment. So many that I know chose to go to grad school because of this very reality. They didn't want to face it. I chose to face it head on, because I desired to work. I needed to work - a change in my routine, a new direction in my life. I've been in a classroom for 21 years straight, I'm fucking tired of that lifestyle! I believed that I would find something.

So what now?

Continue applying for jobs, hoping to be chosen.

Try to think of ways to be more creative in my approach to employers.

Navigate the trap of being over qualified and/or under qualified.

Sharpen my computer skills through online program training.

All while functioning at half capacity, and being extremely depressed.