I know that this blog should probably be called "Heartbreak and Crying" or "Sad Violins," or some such misery-evoking title. It seems all I do here is highlight my sadness and worry and desperate need for pity. For this I offer an apology...and a request that you don't pity me; my life really isn't that bad...I just have some sort of chemical imbalance, I think, that makes me sad a lot (especially when exhausted, as now). Just make me laugh now and then and I will love you forever (whether or not you really want me to). :-)
Anyway, so I am sad and tired today. Probably more tired than truly sad, but the tiredness makes me weepy, so it's hard to tell. (In case you don't know, I have two main stages of exhaustion -- the first is an inexplicable near-constant recall of random German phrases in my head. The second is weepiness, which progresses from a point of mild hide-able over-emotional reactions to full-on tears streaming down my face beyond my ability to control. Seriously, I am not making this up even though it probably sounds insane). There is good reason for sadness, I assume...I feel trapped in my job, I'm trapped in a living situation that continues to get more and more stressful, I lost two very wonderful grandparents within the last 8 months, and I have no money. Though it gets me in trouble to tie those all together, they are linked (well, some of them anyway) -- I think it's pretty clear. I realize that my life could be much worse, of course -- I could be on the street eating out of garbage cans or have some terrible disease or something along those tragic lines -- I could be fighting to survive. Instead, I am surviving. But that's all I feel like I'm doing most of the time...just numbly pulling myself along. And I am heavy...the effort takes considerable energy.
What does it take to feel like I'm actually living?
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Work and Worry
When I'm in the shower in the morning before work, I allow myself to think about all the things I have to do once I get to work. (The shower is the only place I permit my brain to dwell on work-related issues in order to avoid hatred of my life beyond work, which is a disease that I'm genetically susceptible to). This means that when I get to work, I'm ready to divide and conquer, and I usually manage great productivity and focus. Until about noon or so. After I eat lunch, I find the urge to run screaming from the building much stronger, as if the meager nourishment of my packed sandwich and banana have given my brain the fuel to get ridiculously bored and subsequently panic for fear that my life is floating by without my doing anything to stop it.
And so I work and worry...and wonder. Would it be so bad if I were doing something I enjoyed? I mean, I don't freak out so much when people just leave me to accomplish my to-do list, it's when they start asking for assistance and favors that I really start to get rattled. Maybe if I just worked with more people that I respected? I've come to realize that respect is a big deal to me, and you really have to give it to get it from me. I know, I know...standards too high...this is a perpetual problem for perfectionist me; I expect a lot from myself, so I expect a lot from others too. Maybe it's a combination of a lot of different things. I just don't know.
It's afternoon right now, don't you know, and so I'm naturally worried. It's rainy outside and so I'm a little sad on top of my usual anxiety. With this, though, is the specific concern that my dog is going to die. (Whoa! That came out of no where, didn't it)?! My dog is old -- will be 17 in just over a week, and she is mostly deaf and somewhat blind. A few days ago, she suffered some mystery problem (stroke? fall from parents' bed?) and now can not walk -- she can sort of hobble, but it's like half of her body isn't responding how she wants it to. She still has an appetite and has been bathroom-ing mostly normally (except that someone has to carry her to the grass and set her down in it), and she hasn't been crying in pain. I don't know enough about dog strokes other than that they can have them, and the only other thing internet research can point me to is that she may have slipped a disk in her back because, as a Shih-tzu, she's a long-back-short-legs dog and they get back problems sometimes, especially with age and/or trauma. But what can the vet really do, you know? We have an appointment after work tonight, but what are they going to say -- I can't imagine she could have surgery of any kind...she's old and seems even skinnier than ever (she's always been a thing dog). Are they just going to say "sorry, we have to euthanize your dog?" I guess she could have a brain tumor -- maybe that's why her barking habits changed lately, too...but she just doesn't seem to be suffering. Dogs suffer worse than cats, don't they? They yelp and cry with pain while cats are more stoic (I've read this, at least, and have had some sick cats in recent years)? Ugh, too many questions...too much worry. I've said goodbye to so many people and creature friends in the past few months/years, that I just don't know if I'm ready yet again.
And so I work and worry...and wonder. Would it be so bad if I were doing something I enjoyed? I mean, I don't freak out so much when people just leave me to accomplish my to-do list, it's when they start asking for assistance and favors that I really start to get rattled. Maybe if I just worked with more people that I respected? I've come to realize that respect is a big deal to me, and you really have to give it to get it from me. I know, I know...standards too high...this is a perpetual problem for perfectionist me; I expect a lot from myself, so I expect a lot from others too. Maybe it's a combination of a lot of different things. I just don't know.
It's afternoon right now, don't you know, and so I'm naturally worried. It's rainy outside and so I'm a little sad on top of my usual anxiety. With this, though, is the specific concern that my dog is going to die. (Whoa! That came out of no where, didn't it)?! My dog is old -- will be 17 in just over a week, and she is mostly deaf and somewhat blind. A few days ago, she suffered some mystery problem (stroke? fall from parents' bed?) and now can not walk -- she can sort of hobble, but it's like half of her body isn't responding how she wants it to. She still has an appetite and has been bathroom-ing mostly normally (except that someone has to carry her to the grass and set her down in it), and she hasn't been crying in pain. I don't know enough about dog strokes other than that they can have them, and the only other thing internet research can point me to is that she may have slipped a disk in her back because, as a Shih-tzu, she's a long-back-short-legs dog and they get back problems sometimes, especially with age and/or trauma. But what can the vet really do, you know? We have an appointment after work tonight, but what are they going to say -- I can't imagine she could have surgery of any kind...she's old and seems even skinnier than ever (she's always been a thing dog). Are they just going to say "sorry, we have to euthanize your dog?" I guess she could have a brain tumor -- maybe that's why her barking habits changed lately, too...but she just doesn't seem to be suffering. Dogs suffer worse than cats, don't they? They yelp and cry with pain while cats are more stoic (I've read this, at least, and have had some sick cats in recent years)? Ugh, too many questions...too much worry. I've said goodbye to so many people and creature friends in the past few months/years, that I just don't know if I'm ready yet again.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
H1N1
Did you ever see the movie Outbreak? Yeah...the one with the monkey that apparently also played Marcel on Friends. (Whoa, look at me with the 90's references)! I can't help but keep thinking of that movie all the time in the past few days with all of this "swine flu" nonsense. That's right, I called it nonsense! The freaking thing responds to available treatments (i.e. Tamiflu, which I can personally advocate as effective against the regular flu), and we're over here talking about closing down and canceling events that have been planned all year.
It would be unpleasant if a lot of us here got sick all at the same time, but as I read in an op-ed piece in the NY Times (thanks Lanester), there are more people who will probably die from "official ineptitude" surrounding this outbreak than will die from infection. Judging from actions and reactions I've witnessed thus far, that definitely seems plausible.
Anyway, I just wanted to express my concern for people acting especially foolish right now. Panic never solves anything, don't you know. :-)
It would be unpleasant if a lot of us here got sick all at the same time, but as I read in an op-ed piece in the NY Times (thanks Lanester), there are more people who will probably die from "official ineptitude" surrounding this outbreak than will die from infection. Judging from actions and reactions I've witnessed thus far, that definitely seems plausible.
Anyway, I just wanted to express my concern for people acting especially foolish right now. Panic never solves anything, don't you know. :-)
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
April
I always thought that Eliot got it wrong...February is the cruelest month, or maybe October (at least in my personal experience). But I learned this year that April is probably truly the cruelest month. Beyond the fact that the weather has been crazy this April, school kids are unruly (racial incidents at local colleges -- and note that most of the worst school shootings in US history took place in April), and more bad things have happened in my own life (relative to my previous post) to punish me for declaring 2009 a good year. Not that I really believe that some higher force is punishing me for optimism, but it sure appears that way when I consider recent events.
Number one bad thing is that my grandmother unexpectedly died last Monday, just 6 months after my grandfather passed (not so unexpectedly). She was 83, which isn't young, but isn't really that old either when you think about life expectancy these days (or read the obituaries in the paper where most of the deceased were like 93 or 101, for example). I miss her a lot because she was like my second mom...she was my mom's mom and they were extremely close (they even shared a birthday), and she was just always there. She took care of me and brother a lot when we were pups because we lived across the street and our parents worked through the summers (unlike her, the lunch lady at my elementary school who would bring me my cheese sandwich when I forgot it or give me a little jar of honey on chicken nuggets day because the school didn't provide any sauce other than ketchup...hahaha). She took us to Mt. Gretna and to parks all over the county to feed ducks and go on sliding boards, and she couldn't hold back laughter when we back-talked (unlike Mom). Her sense of humor was always sharp, and she never felt the need to censor what she thought of anything. She left strange messages on the answering machine and always cleared her throat before talking when you did answer a call from her (which became a family joke). Everyone thought she was getting foggier as the years progressed, but I knew she was just losing her hearing and didn't want anyone to make her get a hearing aid. She never complained about health problems (probably because she thought other people whined too much about being sick)...she was selfless and really didn't tolerate fuss over anything.
And now she's gone. She hadn't wanted to pick a tombstone for my grandfather, but finally did just a couple of weeks ago...and now we had to call and have them add her name and dates, too. She passed just two days before what would have been my grandpa's 90th birthday. It just all seems so strange.
And we've been cleaning the house now -- getting things in order for an eventual sale. She never threw anything out (and had only just begun to sort through my grandpa's things); there is a dresser drawer filled with tiny hotel shampoos and soaps and lotions (some probably from as far back as the 1970's)...and about 10 or so brand new, still packaged toothbrushes. And I can't forget the boxes just filled with lots of smaller boxes, or the three bedrooms plus the attic with all the closets and bureaus packed full of clothing (much of it new...some of it still with tags on). We've adopted her cat and I've taken all of her orchids and other plants home. There's just so much yet left to do.
So yeah, April...not really my favorite month. I guess I never shouldn't trust good ol' T.S.
Number one bad thing is that my grandmother unexpectedly died last Monday, just 6 months after my grandfather passed (not so unexpectedly). She was 83, which isn't young, but isn't really that old either when you think about life expectancy these days (or read the obituaries in the paper where most of the deceased were like 93 or 101, for example). I miss her a lot because she was like my second mom...she was my mom's mom and they were extremely close (they even shared a birthday), and she was just always there. She took care of me and brother a lot when we were pups because we lived across the street and our parents worked through the summers (unlike her, the lunch lady at my elementary school who would bring me my cheese sandwich when I forgot it or give me a little jar of honey on chicken nuggets day because the school didn't provide any sauce other than ketchup...hahaha). She took us to Mt. Gretna and to parks all over the county to feed ducks and go on sliding boards, and she couldn't hold back laughter when we back-talked (unlike Mom). Her sense of humor was always sharp, and she never felt the need to censor what she thought of anything. She left strange messages on the answering machine and always cleared her throat before talking when you did answer a call from her (which became a family joke). Everyone thought she was getting foggier as the years progressed, but I knew she was just losing her hearing and didn't want anyone to make her get a hearing aid. She never complained about health problems (probably because she thought other people whined too much about being sick)...she was selfless and really didn't tolerate fuss over anything.
And now she's gone. She hadn't wanted to pick a tombstone for my grandfather, but finally did just a couple of weeks ago...and now we had to call and have them add her name and dates, too. She passed just two days before what would have been my grandpa's 90th birthday. It just all seems so strange.
And we've been cleaning the house now -- getting things in order for an eventual sale. She never threw anything out (and had only just begun to sort through my grandpa's things); there is a dresser drawer filled with tiny hotel shampoos and soaps and lotions (some probably from as far back as the 1970's)...and about 10 or so brand new, still packaged toothbrushes. And I can't forget the boxes just filled with lots of smaller boxes, or the three bedrooms plus the attic with all the closets and bureaus packed full of clothing (much of it new...some of it still with tags on). We've adopted her cat and I've taken all of her orchids and other plants home. There's just so much yet left to do.
So yeah, April...not really my favorite month. I guess I never shouldn't trust good ol' T.S.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Miscellany.
Well, I fought the urge to post whilst stuffing envelopes all week last week, but I just can't help myself from writing a little today to make it appear to people outside my office that I'm working. For some reason, I can't seem to find any big (or small) projects today beyond putting really old papers in one of the filing cabinets under my care (= BORING), though I do have that nagging feeling that I'm neglecting something important. Oh well -- as I wait for the terror of realization to set in, I think I should probably exercise my writing skills.
So, I was looking back over previous posts and wondering if I sort of damned myself with that one about 2009 being a good year. Bad/crappy stuff keeps happening to me and those around me: joblessness, relative sicknesses/deaths, car damage, illnesses/aches & pains. So much for general optimism, I guess. Relating to myself, I've been thinking about making a doctor's appointment to talk about hypothyroidism. I just feel so run-down and fatigued most of the time (along with some other symptoms I don't care to elaborate on here). I'm nervous to make and attend doctor's appointments, though. I just really despise sitting in stuffy gross waiting rooms and then talking to people I don't really trust. And, if I'm going to talk about a thyroid problem, blood will inevitably have to be taken, which adds substantially to the fear factor. If I could start feeling better, though -- I assume the risk of passing out with a needle in my arm is worth it. I'm just such a wuss when it comes to health and body stuff. I am amazed by surgeons and nurses who can dig around in people's insides and not have a panic attack. Hell, I can't even eat tomatoes because they look somewhat like insides when sliced up. Seriously. Ew.
Well, I guess I really don't have anything profound or even vaguely interesting to say. I ate too much food at Easter dinners yesterday, and am suffering the consequences today. I am planning to help Karyn do her taxes tonight. I have a bunch of junk I want to sell on Ebay, and started a crazy campaign of spring cleaning last night. I think I'm just ready for warm weather to finally show up and stay around for awhile. Enough of this 54 degrees in the day and 29 at night crap.
Okay...enough grexing. Time to go do some more filing...or something.
So, I was looking back over previous posts and wondering if I sort of damned myself with that one about 2009 being a good year. Bad/crappy stuff keeps happening to me and those around me: joblessness, relative sicknesses/deaths, car damage, illnesses/aches & pains. So much for general optimism, I guess. Relating to myself, I've been thinking about making a doctor's appointment to talk about hypothyroidism. I just feel so run-down and fatigued most of the time (along with some other symptoms I don't care to elaborate on here). I'm nervous to make and attend doctor's appointments, though. I just really despise sitting in stuffy gross waiting rooms and then talking to people I don't really trust. And, if I'm going to talk about a thyroid problem, blood will inevitably have to be taken, which adds substantially to the fear factor. If I could start feeling better, though -- I assume the risk of passing out with a needle in my arm is worth it. I'm just such a wuss when it comes to health and body stuff. I am amazed by surgeons and nurses who can dig around in people's insides and not have a panic attack. Hell, I can't even eat tomatoes because they look somewhat like insides when sliced up. Seriously. Ew.
Well, I guess I really don't have anything profound or even vaguely interesting to say. I ate too much food at Easter dinners yesterday, and am suffering the consequences today. I am planning to help Karyn do her taxes tonight. I have a bunch of junk I want to sell on Ebay, and started a crazy campaign of spring cleaning last night. I think I'm just ready for warm weather to finally show up and stay around for awhile. Enough of this 54 degrees in the day and 29 at night crap.
Okay...enough grexing. Time to go do some more filing...or something.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Old Friends
I've had opportunities to spend time with a lot of old friends lately due to both sad happenings and happy ones, and I felt the need to document my gratefulness (I don't really know how else to describe the feeling...it's positive, yet quietly melancholy to me...so goth, I know).
Getting together with people who knew me back in the olden days (when I was both more and less of a loser) always makes me feel like I matter and have an identity beyond just my own sick, sad thoughts about who I must be. It's comforting. Yet, the future keeps always moving and pulling (pushing?) us in different directions, and I get a little wistful for the days when we did see each other constantly with our big dreams intact and our endless possibilities still ahead of us. Doors close now every day (but other doors open, of course, as is the old adage), and I have to sort of mourn each tiny slam just a little. At least for me, every slam shuts out one more bit of potential greatness and, I'm afraid, locks in an ordinary existence. So love and loss mingle when I relive the past and I feel both at home and lost in the forest (the forest of open and closed doors? Yeah, how's that for mixing metaphors?).
And with all that gothness above, I'm going to go start a poetry journal. :-) (But seriously, I do really take to heart reconnections with old friends -- it means a lot to me, and I hope we can always be part of each others' lives).
Getting together with people who knew me back in the olden days (when I was both more and less of a loser) always makes me feel like I matter and have an identity beyond just my own sick, sad thoughts about who I must be. It's comforting. Yet, the future keeps always moving and pulling (pushing?) us in different directions, and I get a little wistful for the days when we did see each other constantly with our big dreams intact and our endless possibilities still ahead of us. Doors close now every day (but other doors open, of course, as is the old adage), and I have to sort of mourn each tiny slam just a little. At least for me, every slam shuts out one more bit of potential greatness and, I'm afraid, locks in an ordinary existence. So love and loss mingle when I relive the past and I feel both at home and lost in the forest (the forest of open and closed doors? Yeah, how's that for mixing metaphors?).
And with all that gothness above, I'm going to go start a poetry journal. :-) (But seriously, I do really take to heart reconnections with old friends -- it means a lot to me, and I hope we can always be part of each others' lives).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Oh, the angst!
I'm having a sort of feeling down kind of day, but not a feeling sorry for myself kind of day; it's more raging against the proverbial machine than against myself, which I suppose is healthier. Self-loathing is not really useful, and it's not really honest either. I don't actually loathe myself in any way. (I do strongly dislike the fact that I don't understand how to dress myself properly or wear makeup or be a girl, but those are just small embarrassments, not life-threatening problems).
So anyway -- I felt the need to record some thoughts because of my gloomy day. Work is particularly tedious right now, though I won't get into specifics. You can ask if you really care to know, but I can promise that you'll really be sorry you did because I will talk at length and even bring props to illustrate my complaints. :-) Okay, just one specific complaint: fire alarm testing day is not my favorite day (and, actually, they've been testing the fire alarms every few weeks since the summer)!
I've just been sighing a lot today and sending emails with that little "top priority" exclamation point selected. Just feeling a little neglected and melancholy is all.
*One last random note before I go collate some more documents (wait, don't they have photocopiers that do that?!): in standing at my office window collating documents, I saw two hilarious things in the space of about 1 minute (it's market day, so that must lend to the interestingness on the street)... 1. a fat cowboy wearing a parka walked sassily by in black platform boots that HAD to be women's! 2. a shiny van for some business that I can't even remember the name of 4 minutes later pulled up to the light; it had a small picture of a very realistic cow on the side with the slogan "our business depends on udders." It made me giggle, but I couldn't grab my phone fast enough to shoot a picture.
*Sigh* The fire alarm is going off again for about the 14th time today, and my nerves are shot.
So anyway -- I felt the need to record some thoughts because of my gloomy day. Work is particularly tedious right now, though I won't get into specifics. You can ask if you really care to know, but I can promise that you'll really be sorry you did because I will talk at length and even bring props to illustrate my complaints. :-) Okay, just one specific complaint: fire alarm testing day is not my favorite day (and, actually, they've been testing the fire alarms every few weeks since the summer)!
I've just been sighing a lot today and sending emails with that little "top priority" exclamation point selected. Just feeling a little neglected and melancholy is all.
*One last random note before I go collate some more documents (wait, don't they have photocopiers that do that?!): in standing at my office window collating documents, I saw two hilarious things in the space of about 1 minute (it's market day, so that must lend to the interestingness on the street)... 1. a fat cowboy wearing a parka walked sassily by in black platform boots that HAD to be women's! 2. a shiny van for some business that I can't even remember the name of 4 minutes later pulled up to the light; it had a small picture of a very realistic cow on the side with the slogan "our business depends on udders." It made me giggle, but I couldn't grab my phone fast enough to shoot a picture.
*Sigh* The fire alarm is going off again for about the 14th time today, and my nerves are shot.
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