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.