No idea what to write today, so I guess we'll see what comes out. I went to start my first day at the mind-mush job at Starbucks yesterday. Evidently, the trainer was out sick and so I went over there for nothing. They postponed my first day for another week. I left and was immediately irritated, then this extreme feeling of disappointment came over me. It was really stupid, I think I actually had a little anxiety attack over it. I was short of breath, had a nervous stomach and then I got really nauseous. I'm experiencing more and more of this physical manifestation of stress. It seems so weird that emotions would cause actual physical ailments in my body. I don't think I've ever experienced this before. The past two weeks, I've had daily migraine headaches and am nauseous quite a bit. Anyway, so after I got home from Starbucks, I took 2 Adavan, which made me feel better, but then I went to bed and slept for 12 hours. yikes. Now my head hurts more than ever because I slept so much.
I am now regretting that I told my dad about how my doctor suggested I walk 2 miles a day. He came into my house at 6am this morning and suggested I go out walking while it's still cool outside. I should have been just fine getting up at 6am since I'd been asleep since 6:30 the night before! I just wouldn't do it because HE came and told me to do it...at least that's how I took it. All his suggestions are like a command to me--I can't stand it. Sometimes I just want to scream at him to leave me alone and stop directing my every move. He says he's trying to work on that, but I can feel his habit creeping back in. It's disgusting--even in my own damn journal, I want to put a caveat in this and say that he doesn't ALWAYS try to tell me what to do, or he doesn't mean to tell me what to do, or he is just helping me remember to do things I otherwise might not have. He's paying my bills since I left the hospital and my job, until I can get well enough to make a living on my own again. Even though he's spoken to my therapist about this, and promised to change, I know he still believes there are strings attached to his help. If he helps me, then he gets to direct my life for what he thinks is right for me. I can't stand this. He did the same thing when I was in college, which is what prompted me to cut the apron strings myself and pay for my last year. I couldn't take any more of it. I know I am not ready to go back to my chosen profession because I think I'd land myself right back into the hospital. Another job as stressful as the last one would put me over the edge, I'm afraid. The thing is, I'm SO tempted to say F*CK it and do it anyway just so I can get out from under him. He's always here, always watching over me. I feel like a child. It's sad that I would consider foregoing therapy that could get me healthy for life, just to get away from him.
The minute I woke up this morning I had this overwhelming feeling of dread. The first thought I had was that I didn't want to wake up because I didn't want to have another day of this pain. Yesterday was a pretty bad day. I guess I can only blame myself because I can control each day, and I refuse to do it. I want to go work out, go to the batting cages, visit the pound to play with the puppies, whatever--I just can't seem to bring myself. Or just don't feel like when it comes down to it. One more thing to be ashamed of, I guess. I'd write more, but I don't know what to say.
I am quite lachrymose today. That's my 50-cent word of the day from Dictionary.com.
Haven't gotten around to writing in a while. I promised my therapist I would keep it up, so here I go.
I'm feeling a pretty decent today, not as tired as I usually am. I'm actually sad that it's nearly 5pm because my good day is almost over. I'll work on having another one tomorrow though. I heard a quote in a movie that really resonated with me... "Live each day as if it were on purpose". Words to live by. I'm going to do my best to remind myself of this every day.
So my therapist has given me "homework" to do in my recovery. I don't really agree with the word recovery, since it's not like I'm an addict or anything. But I guess addicts haven't cornered the market on recovery. Anyway, I digress. One of the first things she wants me to do is to find a "mind-mush" job, as she puts it. Instead of jumping back into my chosen profession (advertising) which is extremely stressful, especially for someone like me. It's this ridiculously fast paced, immediate results oriented circus I've been in for 10 years now. I guess it IS time for a rest now, so I should be taking several steps back now and work on healing instead of burying myself in the distractions of my work. I haven't let myself feel the pain in so long, I don't think I know how to do it anymore. I have become very accustomed to feeling only numb; it doesn't even take any effort. Avoidance is such a natural coping mechanism for me, which explains why I am 34 years old and still don't know who I really am.
So getting back to that mind-mush job...I once worked at Starbucks as a Barista for a Summer during college when my brother and I ventured across the country to spend 3 months in the East valley of the San Francisco Bay Area. I can honestly say, it was the best job I've ever had! I got up at 3am to open the store by 4am, drank coffee all day, goofed off with the customers...what could be better?! Of course I made menial wages, but I didn't care, I was having so much fun.
Therefore, I've decided that this is the perfect mind-mush job for me. I have no idea why they would hire me, so I am not holding my breath waiting for that phone call. I would REALLY have to dumb down my resume, but I can't exactly lie about my previous vice president and director titles. I am thinking of just lying and telling them I plan to go back to school for my MBA (which I am, but not for at least a year) and so I just need a low stress part-time gig to offset the "rigorous" program I'll be in. Hope they buy my story.
Stay tuned...and wish me luck!
-C
I don't want this life. It isn't even a life, I shouldn't even be allowed to call it that. What I have is an existence. I'm just an inhabitant sucking more oxygen than I deserve for all that I give back to the world.
I am so burried under all this loathsome uncertainty. How do I get out? Do I ever get out? Or do I just "live" this way until I die? So if that is the case, then I'm just waiting around here to die? There has to be something else. I hope to god there is something else, and I just can't see it yet. How long do I wait though?
People (myself included) walk around in this suspended state, waiting for their life to "start". I guess mine already did, I was just all alone and I screwed it up. I know there aren't any second chances to go back and do it right. I guess I could just start from here and make the rest of it right. I just don't think I'm equipped to do that. Besides, I'd have to know what I want for my life to begin with. It's not enough to say "I want to be happy". What the hell is "happy"? I want something to keep me occupied with until I die. There, I did it. I figured out the meaning of life. Yay me.
I am in no mood to deal with anything today. I lost my job and I can't bring myself to go back there to return my computer and stuff. I don't want to face them. The "horrible" manager, fired. Ding dong, the witch is dead? It must have been an exciting day for them. Even more satisfying that they were given a bitch session about me with the CEO.
Damn it, I still can't figure out what I could have done differently. I did everything in my power to make it work under the constricts of my boss's "management style". I followed his directive, carried out his messages as though they were my own, and in the end, I am the one who washes out. I can't be that bad, can I? How could I have tried so damned hard and STILL fail?? I am so utterly confused by that. The thing that pisses me off is that he's not a bad guy. He's not a bad boss, and his managment style is documented as a very successful method. So, it must be me, right? Why doesn't anyone I know even want to consider that may be true?? Everyone is so ready to throw this guy or that company or those employees under the bus, all the while "excusing" me of any responsibility for my failure.
What's the use of learning something if you failed anyway?? Sure, Pollyanna, tell me how I'm supposed to take that learning and make the next experience a success. Bull*. The things I was trying so hard to teach myself were the things I needed SPECIFICALLY for THAT damn job. Now it's over and I have no idea if it's me, the job, or the learning itself that was useless.
I was sort of freewriting and wrote down all these words that just popped into my head without any real thought. Then, I wrote a sentence or two about each one. Some I left blank, and some make no sense at all because I wrote them at about 2am in a sleepy haze.
SUFFOCATION is a way of life as long as I stay and be soft and broken.
SPINEY on the inside. Any pressure from the outside gouges at my brain, my stomach, my empty heart.
ALONE because they can hear only their own thoughts, fears, should-haves and could-haves.
INTUITION is illusive. People only see what they wish to be true and call it intuition.
SMART people. Smart lovers. Smart beginnings.
FAITHFUL servants to ugliness and lonliness. I am faithful to my empty insides. I embrace it.
INTERMITTENT DESIRES to scream run love hate be stupid
ENGAGE
CIRCUMFERENCE of the hole is too large for discovered measurement.
BORN AGAIN to life but things haven't changed while they have.
SCATTERED leaves of thought and desires. You can see them floating but you can't catch them all.
BAFFLED
EXCUSE
WINDOW
MISTAKEN
LOVELY
EMBARK
PILOT
DOUBTFUL
ENTANGLE
INTRUDE
PERFECT
BEAUTIFUL
CONSCIENCE
EMBUE
I went to the hospital on the 23rd of April after a suicide attempt. I tried to commit suicide on the evening of April 22nd, 2008. It was my first try (and only, I certainly hope) and I intended to die without reservation. This wasn't an empty threat, a "cry for help" kind of thing a lot of people try. That's the gist. I'll stop writing for now--I find myself not in the mood to hash it all out again.
I'm glad Mitzi wants to see me. I made a collage for her to see. It's not done yet. I'm using paint and fabric of magazine cut-outs. I also promised her I would journal, so here I am.
I bought a few books on creative writing; maybe it'll turn into a talent. It reminded me of freewriting, so I'll do that once a day without knowing or thinking ahead of time about what I'll write. We'll see what kind of nuggets of gold wisdom come leaking out.
Out of the dark shadows my failures came out into my contiousness after a few days spent in the hospital. While I was locked in there, I find myself so inspired by the people around me even though (or maybe because) they all had such greater obstacles than mine. My brightness glowed for just a day or two after I discharged and went home to my family. I shared it all with them, but sensed their eventual boredom. After those few illuminated days, my life went dull and fuzzy again. Now I'm just confused.
I don't think I know anything about anything anymore. I doubt I ever did have a handle on it then or now. I do not have a spec of purpose, although I don't feel angry today. I want to live now, but I don't know why yet.
OUTCOMES TO ACHIEVE
