Unexpected Zippyness

Score: +3.5

Ok, so the end is in sight… and that’s reassuring. So maybe knowing that has helped me, while also making plans to have some fun with my time off. Today marked a substantive increase in my energy, which peaked around lunch and carried me through the day. It was a tough one out there, and I had to tackle some new problems and learn a whole new procedure. So I needed my focus, and I handled the things that needed to get done today. 

Amanda and I talked about the upcoming 3 day weekend, and we have some great ideas about what to do. Activities to look forward to help make the ceaseless onslaught more endurable. I’m expecting a crash tomorrow, as there’s no way I’m going to be able to replenish my battery. I’m strung-out. 

But I only need to grind for two more days. I can do that. Tomorrow I go see Margaret, and I hope I bring some energy to it. It’s generally pretty taxing to do therapy, and I’m going to have very little go-juice left by the time my session begins. I may be gassed, but we’ll see. I have hope. 

Things have been good, if not draining. Amanda pointed out that my energy level has gone down over the last several months having changed my shift from 9:30 am start to 5:30 am start. I guess that’s fairly accurate. It is hard to wake up at 4:30 every day. I have to push myself HARD to get up, but I do. I have found ways to cope. I have my 4 cup coffee pot at work, and I do a couple of those to jar myself out of the funk. Once the cobwebs are clear, I do a lot better. 

People were actually talking to me today, which was weird. Normally people just ignore me, but I was involved in several irrelevant discussions, much to my surprise. People only really talk to me when they have a question and a supervisor isn’t around to answer it. I have 2 to 4 of those a day. 

Well blog, I’m ok. Tomorrow is 11 of 12. Sounds marvelous. 

9 of 12

Score: +2.5

My patience was running short at the end of the day. My after-lunch coffee provided no additional boost. Sigh. I struggled to stay focused, but overall I felt my energy was slightly better than yesterday. 

I keep reminding myself that I have done this before, and that although it is hard, it is not insurmountable. They don’t know I’m mentally ill, so they treat me like any regular bloke. But being unable to rest is a terrible thing for me. It stretches my patience, it dilutes my enthusiasm and it sends me into a sort of waking torpor. I do not function correctly under these circumstances. But I would also never admit that to anyone. I’m just the asshole who who has the exacting standards and doesn’t fuck around. I come there to do my job, not be a part of comedy hour. I’m not your “bro,” I’m Westin. 

I’ve started not caring about the total failures of discipline and respect that go on there every day. I am simply separating myself from any form of concern. It’s not my problem, and nothing I could do would fix anything. 

With the time that I am not at work, I have been enjoying with Amanda. She’s what I think about when I feel particularly beat-down at my job. I just want to be home with her. I relish being in her company. We don’t have to say much; it just feels good to be in the same space together. I talk all day long, it’s nice to not have to do that when I get off. 

Well blog, I’m going to try and unwind some. I am going to see Margaret on Thursday. I hope I’m able to be productive in therapy, considering how FUCKING exhausted I am. Or, will be. 

Oh Boy…

Score: +2

So it’s day 8 of 12, and I’m beat. This Monday felt like two Mondays had fucked and made an extra evil super-dense Monday. I was being scraped across sandpaper all day. Everything was labored, and exceedingly difficult. I got decent sleep, but after the run I’ve been on, it’s hard. Very. 

Other than that, I feel fine. I’m so drained, it’s hard to write right now. I’m hoping that you all have a good night. Day 9 tomorrow. 

Some Things

I’m still a person in progress, and proud to self admit to this status. I recall a time when I was not so, before my symptoms manifested. I was closed minded, and beloved a select few “truths” about living. I remember professing in my ignorance that there was no way I would ever get married, and that there was no way I would have a kid. I remember believing these things to be as rock-solid as any declaration I could make. 

But life isn’t like that. If we don’t constantly change and progress, we are swallowed up by reality and discarded, empty. Some people refuse to accept the world for what it is. Instead, they invision it how they would want it to be, and believe that to be accurate. I used to be this person. 

I remember when it changed for me: I was 20, and just making my way into independent life. I was in school full time, and had two part time jobs. I was living with college graduates and my world-view was expanding rapidly. Then something happened, and my grip on the wheel became weaker. My emotions started shifting around inside me like parasites. I grew paranoid, fearful of others. I tried to hold on to this accelerated life I had been living. One night, I was in my car at a park well after sunset. I saw my idea of what my life was supposed to be disappearing. I opened the door to my car, and I thought to myself: I’m going to go walk out into traffic. 

It took me some time to go get help, and I was in agony over it. The admission that I was unable to do what I wanted to do. It was defeat. It was total, unconditional surrender of my vision for myself. I took it hard. I never really accepted it, and four years later I was back in school trying to make it at UCSB to become an english professor. I just wouldn’t let it go. I had to be THE BEST. I had to show everyone how brilliant I was. I dropped out of college and went into the deepest depressive cycle of my life, culminating in my entire independent life collapsing. I moved in with my parents in Sacramento two years later. 

But what was I really doing? I was throwing s tantrum, one that played out over six years. I refused to redefine myself. I would not let go of the idea of who I was supposed to be. One day, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought: this isn’t so bad. I was still basically the same person I had always been: charismatic, humorous, articulate, rational and determined. Just because I was mentally ill didn’t mean my life was over; my reality simply needed to be reimagined. I am never going to be a college professor, or a senator, but I will be an amazing man who is proud of who he is. I found a way to earn the respect of the one person that really matters… me. 

It took me a long time to get past the feeling of dismay, but the more I talked about it, the less painful it was. In order to be truly happy, I had to discover myself. How can I be proud of the person I am? What do I have to do to stop resenting myself for being mentally ill? I will admit that it took me 12 years to accept forgiveness for that, but once I did, a new world of possibilities and hope emerged. I love who I am. I am sincerely proud of the things I do with my life now. I changed my reality, and now I can breathe free air, and stand in the sun. I do not hide behind lies to please myself, I am who I am, flaws and all. Mistakes? Fuck yes! Lessons learned? Truly. 

If you have fought a similar battle with reality, I’d love to hear at what stage in the journey towards acceptance you are at. 

7 of 12

Score: +3

Well blog, I didn’t think I was working all weekend, but found out at the last minute that I was on the schedule for Sunday as well as Saturday, making this one of those 12 days in a row at work type things. This happened to me a few months ago, and I was pretty beat by the end of it.

The call volume wasn’t bad today, though it’s the boring that really gets to me. I tried my best to stay distracted. I played Peggle on my iPhone. beat it, and then beat Peggle Nights too, still with hours left to go in the day.

I had an unexpected affirmation today about the things I have been claiming about Jax. I can’t really go in to it, but let’s just say that I’m not making statements that can’t be substantiated. Thus, I have really, truly, closed the book on her. I’m not going back to her blog, and I’m not talking to her at the clinic if we are to accidentally bump into each other. Over it. Goodbye. /ignore

This will be a great test for me, this block of 12 days working. I know I missed day 4 with a stomach bug, so it’s not really 12 straight… but I should be taxed to a new level during this run. I have a lot of hope that this will be a really strong showing, and that I will not deteriorate into a pile of ash.

It has been hot the last two days. I did not sleep well in the 93 degree apartment. I turned the A/C on in the evening… too little too late. I was just miserable.

I hope you all did something fucking amazing with your weekends. I will get a good one coming up, with two fantasy football drafts to conduct. SWEET.

Right

Score: +3.5

It seemed like things were back to normal today. I completed my shift and kept up a high level of energy while I did so. For once, someone was nice to me today… which was totally unexpected. So things were good overall. 

I keep checking in on Jax’s blog, and lately it has been pretty ridiculous. She’s quite pissed off at me still, which seems like a big waste of time. She got all butt-hurt that I reached out to her in sympathy and forgiveness, calling me a “dick,” and my life a “fucked up mess.” I guess I find it pitiful, because I’ve moved so far beyond those crazy emotions I had right after we broke up. I still feel things, don’t get me wrong… but am I angry at her? No. Do I hold on to any resentment towards her? No. What’s the point? 

I guess I have let her go, which really means I just expect us to live our separate lives without needing to revisit old wounds all the time. I must admit to being curious about how she is faring on her own, which is why I find myself reading her posts. It was definitely a mistake to try and be remorseful with her, she seemed to take that as an attack. We were never particularly good at communicating with each other anyway. But her world, as she describes it, seems very turbulent. Certainly not demonstrative of good mental stability. She is jumping from one traumatic event to the next, and this is entirely her own doing. No lessons have been learned since we divorced; she got right back into a (from my initial perspective) doomed relationship and when that fell apart, she got right back into another without hesitation. I really just hope, at some point, she tries to be an individual for a while… it’s tough just being with yourself. She seems to be avoiding it desperately, even to the point of subjecting herself to breakups and fights then to be alone. 

I have one more day of work tomorrow. My shift starts at 6:00 am PST. so I get to sleep in for an astonishing 30 minutes. Boom. I then have to cram in my chores Sunday to make sure I am caught up for the coming week. I’m meeting Angi again before she goes back to Italy. Her life is on shaky ground as well, and I’m just trying to be there for her. 

And Then… Barf

Score: +1.5

Today was an unintended step back. I felt like utter crap from the moment I woke up, but took my meds and drove to work anyway. Just after taking my first sip of coffee, I ran to the bathroom and proceeded to vomit what little contents there were in my stomach. I broke out in sweat and felt weak. My head was throbbing. I quickly decided that this was no condition to do my job, so I left, using my final paid holiday to keep my paycheck in order. 

I have been home fir a bit and I still don’t feel very good in my stomach. I had a little coffee, but it was only to keep the withdrawal headache away. I don’t know if I can do food today. Everything down there is churning and moving around. It does not feel good. 

I have two more days of work. I feel guilty because I have missed time again, and I told myself I would not do that. I will not fail on  Friday and Saturday. I have to be consistent. 

So, I generally feel like shit in my body, and my mental state is burdened by guilt. I have let myself down. I gave failed at being a stable working person. Albeit, some of it was out of my control. But I still take responsibility for this delinquency.