Forgotten Hurdle

The first day back to work didn't go as bad as I feared but it was still rough. I managed to deal with the people all day without getting too stressed but I'd forgotten about an aspect of the job that's even tougher. The job is boring, the busy times are dull but the frequent slow periods are brutal. There's idle chit-chat and busy-work to help get through but it's all mindless stuff. I'd been dreading going back for all the wrong reasons, I fear boredom the most.

Outside My Door

I'm going back to work today after more than a month being out sick. I'm scared. I've been resting so much I'm wondering if I can take the long hours on my feet but, even more, I'm wondering if I can deal with all the people. The thought of being around strangers all day, having to make idle talk with my coworkers during the slow times, makes me want to stay home and not even try. I've got to do it, though, and make it continue until I don't need to earn money outside my door anymore.

The Day Before

On her first day back she got into a fight with the Snail, then she started taking it out on me. I snapped back at her and eventually started making threatening gestures, she kicked me out of the house. I got so mad at that I said the second worst thing I could say to her, it was a crushing blow. Everything blew over and I slept in my bedroom that night.

On her second day back she was still upset and started taking it out on me again, the blow up led me to saying the worst thing I could to her. I slept in a cheap motel and will stay there until I can find an apartment or the money runs out.

I never want to say the things I think but there are times when I say them anyway, my tongue is a formidable foe.

~~~

The day after the Snail and I were at a friend's place, I started getting very depressed and had to leave. The aftermath of a day of angry words, I can't guess how long it'll last.

Serenity

Change what you can, change your perceptions about what you can't.

God grant me
the serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change;
courage
to change the things
I can;
and wisdom
to know the difference.

Ancient History

This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before

I've shared my favorite Bible verse before but today it has come to my mind again. I'm pretty fortunate, unless I dwell on the past or something is a strong reminder what was is pretty much forgotten. On the other hand, the Snail's past haunts him all the time and holds his life back. He's powerless to go forward because he's mired in memories of what was. It's important to learn from the past, but if we go there to live we compromise our future.

Ehh

I was sick the past three days, I feel better but I have no motivation. There's always work to be done on the book but I have no interest in writing. The house is a mess but I just look at it with a jaded eye and do nothing. Life holds no interest for me, even the thought of eating sounds like a huge hassle. I feel like I'm half asleep and unable to make contact with the real world. I know the doldrums will pass but part of me doesn't care if I do another thing.

Precursor

I only slept three hours last night and I'm not in the least bit tired. I'm worried, usually one night of little sleep leads to others until I'm in the middle of a manic cycle. For a month I only slept three hours a night during my last cycle and the time before I went four days with no sleep at all. I'm going to hope last night was just one of those things, I don't think I could handle being manic at this point, it's only been a week that I've been stable.

Ducks

The ducks will be in my back yard soon, they always come after the rains have flooded the lower half. Ducks give me a happy-sad feeling because they remind me of an old love. I called her a duck lady once because, after she rescued one, the others near her cabin would come up to her like an old friend. As she talked with them in her gentle voice I would feel as peaceful as they. The ducks will be coming soon and I'll hear her once again.

Getting There

Driving is hell, I only do it when I have to. For over ten years now I've had nightmares of being in car wrecks, in the worst of them I live. If I do more than 20-30 mph I feel like I'm driving on a sheet of ice and about to lose control. Sometimes I get lost, even going to familiar places. It's a 30 minute drive to my clinic. I'm terrified when I get there and, as usual, I have to wait. I feel like the others in the room are watching and judging me, their loud talk rings in my head. I walk through a maze to get to the office, by the time I'm there everything has driven the words I rehearsed for two days from my head. I leave discouraged that very little was accomplished and I face another long scary drive.

Damn Darwin

I'm not writing this to complain about my life, it is what it is and somehow I'll find a way to get through it, but I am writing about me to hopefully illustrate a point.

I was homeless most of my 19th year and I still fear it today. When you have no home you cease to become a person, people don't want to look at you, they certainly don't want to hire you. Homelessness is a far end of the poverty spectrum, but even when you have a place to live, if you're poor people treat you differently, as if it's somehow catching, or the result of a shiftless attitude.

I've been waiting for weeks to be interviewed for my Medicaid application, I've been told it can take months to get approved. In the meantime the medical debts are piling up, my eyes are failing, and the whole right side of my mouth is messed up from a fall. I try to find work but every time I start something I get sick again and have to start over. If I had money I wonder if it would have taken over a year to find the right meds and get stabilized (hasn't happened yet) or if I would have had to go to the shabby half-assed clinic they send people without insurance to?

There's more to poverty than the obvious lack of money, it seems the world is determined to keep the poor down or crush them out. Survival of the fittest?

I Wonder

To a degree I know what my mind is like, I always wonder how things go in other people's heads. For example, I usually like many things going on in my brain, I know part of that's bipolar but it's also upbringing. My home was filled with 5 kids, 2 adults, 6 disabled people, a dog and however many cats lived there at the time, so there was always an array of distractions. On the other hand, the Snail is an only child, which, in the early years was pretty peaceful for him. I'm used to a lot of interruptions while Snail can't tolerate them, I like to think about lots of things in lots of ways while he seems to be pretty narrow-focused. But I don't know what really goes on his mind, or anyone's for that matter. I always wonder.

Journaling II

I hate journaling. I don't like talking about my feelings, I don't like thinking about my feelings, I don't like thinking about me. I'm bored of myself, I'd much rather expend my brain cells on creative endeavors instead of reviewing my insides. I keep thinking about deleting this blog because as long as it stays up I'm going to feel compelled to post but, for now, I think I should keep it going. I guess it's about time I learned who and why I am.

Sweater

My fuzzy green sweater keeps me more than warm, when I put it on I feel a sense of peace, as if somehow the world outside ceased to matter. Snail likes the sweater, too, so I often have a hard time finding it in the morning, sometimes the search almost gets frantic. It's usually a tangled mess when I find it but I don't mind, nothing seems right until I have it on.

Blah

My head is full of cotton, it takes too long for a thought to get through so I try not to think. I'm awake but half-asleep, I want to go back to bed but I know rest won't come so I sit in a daze and wait for something to stimulate my brain. Days like today make me wish I hadn't gotten up, I'll be surprised if I accomplish anything.

~|~
As time goes by I get more and more stressed and depressed. It's not even noon yet and I keep wishing the day was over.

Perfect

Perfectionism has come like a plague, complaints and criticism will be the weekend fare. Striving for perfection is one thing but an obsession with perfection is something altogether different. The perfectionist is powerless, unable to make choices for fear of making the wrong ones, unable to deal with the imperfections of a normal world and unmerciful to those who somehow fall short. I'm going to be criticized and bitched at all weekend, the harassment is going to do wonders for my nerves and it'll take two or three days to recover. Perfection does more damage than its worth.

Lonely

I'm not much on human contact but today I find myself hungering for some kind of connection... a voice... a presence... a reminder that I'm not alone.

Happy My Birthday

Usually, like yesterday, when I look back it's with regret, usually I don't look back. It's my bday, though, and I feel compelled to consider last year. At first I was depressed, considered it the worst year of my life, ending with a stay in the hospital. I went to bed last night feeling so messed up I knew was going to be even worse but when I woke up I wasn't as groggy as usual and I was in a good mood, the Snail was still up and we enjoyed a little time together before he went to bed. He was half asleep when I realized it was my birthday and before I could get depressed again I remembered some important things about the previous year. I finished my second book ahead of schedule and came up with a plan to have the first one ready for publication by my next birthday. The Snail is doing much better, therapy has been helpful and it looks like he's on the right med. My stay at the hospital taught me a valuable lesson... change the things you can and change your perceptions about the things you can't... this is bringing me a measure of peace about my life, especially my family life. The meds I finally found after nearly a year of trial and error seems to be helping. When I see last year that way I think the rest of the shit was worth it. I feel pretty good today, relaxing by myself with my favorite diversions. Happy birthday to me :)

Journaling

"Do you journal?"

"I blog."

"I suppose that's journaling of some sort."

Journaling is supposed to be therapeutic so I thought I'd give it kind of a try. Most of what I write is fiction or fictionalized reality, I thought I'd try something closer to the truth for a while.

I feel like crap today, mostly because the thorazine keeps me doped up but I'm also starting to get depressed. I'll be 51 tomorrow, the past decade has been the worst, I'm almost afraid to hope for a good year, much less decade. I'll get over it, tomorrow will pass and then it'll be the same old struggles again.

~ Later


$100 came in mail from ex for my birthday... I cried. I've fucked up everything in my life, I can deal with failure but not the pain I've caused and somehow still cause.