The Bloody Doors Off

This is what my psychiatrist said to me today, that I’ve turned a corner.

I know what he’s saying, I just wish I believed him. I’m trying to. But there are just these little things that continue to creep in that drive me down. Or up. Or sideways. The point is, I don’t feel it like I’m supposed to. Or think I’m supposed to. Christ, I have no idea.

How frustrating is that? I’m not ignoring the blog. Good thing. Ideas are gelling for the play and I’m plodding through it. Good thing. There’s moments where I found myself bopping along earlier today with my MP3 player. But I know — I KNOW — that there’s so much more that I NEED to be in a good place.

There’s so much in limbo. No work coming in (don’t know if I could handle it), yet I spent an hour today working on my resume. Won’t know until the end of the month if I’ll get the medical extension for EI, and I’m afraid to spend a goddamned dime on things I need (and don’t get me started on something I might want, no matter how cheap it is). Every time I log an expense into the computer to keep track for my bankruptcy, I feel daggers metaphorically sticking into me. Asking me “do I really need this?”, “is this something I can honestly justify?” And so I go back and forth, yes, no, no, yes.

And then there’s the heating situation in the apartment. Turns out the bedroom heater ‘clicks’ CONSTANTLY when it’s on, and it does so because it’s trying not to overheat. I can hear it from the living room, so imagine what that’s like trying to sleep. So I have 2 options: turn the thermostat down in my room and freeze, or run the little heater in the bedroom at night. Option 2 makes sense, right? Only it jacks the hydro, and the landlords would prefer we not do that, and instead pay for the gas. But I need to sleep, and the clicking is a shit option. So yeah. Do what I gotta do, and try and NOT feel guilty about it.

I’m really missing my last apartment. I hated the management company who took over (they treated everyone like ass), but at least I didn’t have to worry about gas or clicking noises, or upstairs neighbors who scream at each other and run the washing machine 20 hours out of the day or bang on the floor at all hours.

So yeah. Turning a corner? Not feeling it.

What I am feeling is that pressure in the back of my head and neck, just like before I broke down. There’s a few similarities from then to now.