The Bloody Doors Off

I spent 2 hours out walking on Sunday. It was a perfect summer day with blue sky, sunshine, a great breeze and not too damned hot.

It took almost that long to discover the joy in it.

A perfect fucking summer day and it was pretty much lost on me.

I’ve lost the joy in the little things. That’s the truth of it. It’s gone, and I’m struggling to get it back. Which also explains why I’m finding it so hard to blog. I’m too depressed to complain about being depressed.

I know it’ll swing around again, but I’d like to find a way to hurry it along. The longer this lasts, the more I fear it won’t. (Even though it will; it’s taking longer to sink in, and it doesn’t go as deep at the moment.)

I’ll write when I can. Let’s hope it’s a lot.

There’s a part of me that likes to be busy. But being too busy, and not enjoying what you’re doing, lethal combination.

I used to love this work. Now it gives me anxiety on a daily basis. Has the job changed, or have I?

Last night I suffered a brutal moment when I realized I was drifting into very dark territory. Enough that I wished I was back in hospital. I saw it as an escape, and a saviour. I don’t want to go back, and I’m not going to walk away from my contract because I’m frustrated. But the same build up happened last summer. The outlets I can partake to let off steam just seem so hard to reach; there’s no time, there’s no desire, the worry that I’m not centered and therefore might inflict damage accidentally (which pulls me even further back).

How do you be a team player when you’re not sure if you want to be in the sport any longer? And what the fuck do I do if that’s the decision? My skill set is very limited here.

The desire to run away is very strong today.

I’m on a downward swing; finally realized it earlier tonight. Been fighting the current for days (if not over a week) and it’s threatening to dash me against the rocks. And I’ve said before, I shouldn’t swim against it and instead use it to my advantage. But fuck, how do I ride a depressive episode without getting swallowed up?

Worried this is gonna be a bad one, and this time I’m not afraid to ask for help. Anyone got a floatation device?

Today was a wash. Started with hope, got laundry done and ran an errand. But the weather permeated and rain clouds became metaphoric. It took more energy than I thought to get out to my uncle’s 75th birthday. I was overwhelmed. Hate that it still happens. Used to be good in group settings; now I get anxious. Thankfully a few game of pool in the basement centered me and I got through the rest of the night. Back to where I started, I think.

A good time to sleep then.

I’d make a lousy supervillain. Supervillains have plans and they follow through and rage and shit. Me, I’d forget the key component to the doomsday plan. Hell, my fart gun would backfire.

Today I forgot not only my work pass, but my wallet as well.

Let that sink in a second.

I got all the way to the office, right up to the door where I need a key card to get in, before I realized it wasn’t hanging around my neck.

And it wasn’t until I decided to go get a coffee that I’d discovered my wallet wasn’t in my back pocket. It was on the ottoman back home. The one thing I’d remembered was to bring in lunch. Or dinner. Whatever you call it when you’re working from 1-9:30pm and haven’t eaten since 9am and your stomach growls at you.

A stupid end to a stupid week.

If it walks like a mental downward slide, and it quacks like a mental downward slide.

And you know I can’t afford one of those right now.

I used to think I could just adapt, go with the flow. Lately, it’s been the opposite, and I don’t know why. I get my back up, my anxiety kicks in, legs go akimbo. It sucks.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m suited for this line of work. And then I realize, yes I’m good at what I do; just not happy with the hours. I put in close to 10 years on midnights. It contributed to the death of a relationship, my insomnia, depression and type 2 diabetes. And being the new guy on contract, I don’t have the bargaining power to work the hours I need. (Yes, not ‘want’, ‘need’.) I want a life; to enjoy the evenings (I’m no longer a night owl) and fall asleep under the moon. And the hours right now are all over the map: yesterday I worked the late shift, tonight I’m here until midnight and tomorrow I’m back to the 1-9:30pm shift. But towards the end of the month, when 2 people are on vacation, I’m working 1-10:30pm. Can only hope September gets better, because my health (mental and physical) should be more important than pulling a paycheque but I can’t afford to eat on hope. And I’m still not set up on self-employment EI because my accountant is not on top of things. And given I never know when I’m going to be bloody awake, it makes it hard for me to connect with him. (And it’d take a solid year of working contract and contributing before I’d qualify.)

There’s too much to do, and no time to do it.

That’s nothing new.

At least I’m realizing that I’m not at my best these past couple of weeks. Just wish I understood why.

Had ample time to write yesterday and didn’t. Took a small amount of effort to do so now.

Change is gonna come. I can feel it crawling over my skin. Change is coming. I’m trying to make it a positive thing. Just have to believe hard enough. But I’m afraid I won’t see it properly until it’s on me. That I’ll be focused so hard on looking for the signs that I’ll miss the exit and go right past it.

Went to VapeCon today and thankfully my friend Mollie was there to talk out what I was looking for (e-cig wise) and realized I didn’t need a new model especially with the sonic screwdriver mod already ordered. I’ve got new juice for the e-cigs, and some samples for a friend who wants to quit smoking. I was getting distracted by the shiny. Don’t need the shiny. Shiny gets me in trouble.

It just occurred to me the days are getting shorter. It’s 8:30 and it’s getting dark out. I had to check the news station because I thought a storm was rolling in. I feel like I’m under a cloud. I need to break it up and let the sun in. Hard to do living in the basement.

Gotta make a change. Gotta look up, way up.

Believe in me, because it’s not always easy to believe in myself.

Road trip today. L and I drove to Waterloo for a pork hamburger at a little dive called the Harmony Restaurant. So good. But that wasn’t the best part (though taking a road trip for food based on a third party recommendation was pretty good); it was our attitude. We’d gotten turned around a couple of times because apparently the signage to remain on King Street wasn’t easy enough for us to find, and fuck knows why Mapquest wanted us to get OFF the 401 onto Highway 6, drive out of our way and then get back ON the 401 (the prevailing theory is the directions were written by a sadist). After missing the turn off and having to use my phone’s GPS to angle us back towards the right road, we’d agreed that, well, we could always go with Plan B if we couldn’t find the joint. (I should also mention it didn’t help that the numbers on King Street E. went UP as we approached, and then turned onto King Street North, and the FIRST 90 King Street we hit was the WRONG one).

We weren’t going to be disappointed if we couldn’t find the place we were searching for. It was the journey we enjoyed, the destination was a bonus. (Even the coffee was good! Now I see why those Diner and Dives shows are so popular. The Harmony has been around for over 80 years and they never change their menu (or the prices, two burgers, fries, onion rings, and two coffees for under $20).)

We thought about taking a stroll through Waterloo but could see the rain clouds coming so we got back in L’s car and drove back to the city. Sure enough, we hit a downpour on the way. We’d been discussing plans for the rest of the day which, again, we made a Plan B and Plan C for depending on whether or not the rain continued (which it did). We ended up with Plan D and it was just as good, if not better, than anything we could’ve come up with. And that’s a huge takeaway: when we plan something together, it doesn’t work out. When we just set out on the journey, we end up having a helluva time.

I need to treat my life as a journey, and not worry so much about the destination. I end up happier that way.

I feel like a fraud, sitting for hours at work doing nothing. It’s the slow season (i.e. summer) in banking. Nothing new to me. But for some reason this time it’s hitting me like a ton of bricks. Like they might realize extending the contract is costing them more money than it’s bringing in. I know, it’s stupid. But that’s where I am. It’ll pick up by September. I know the cycles like the back of my hand, it’s going to happen. Maybe it’s the shift I’m on this (and last) week; reminding me of the days (years) I spent working midnights, and the nights there would be nothing to do. I can listen to internet radio, I can surf the news sites. Hell, I can (and am) read a book. (It only now dawned on me I could spend time writing in my blog to make up for the lack of writing when I get home around 12:30am, when it’s the last thing on my mind.)

But I need to feel busy. Being out of work for 18 months didn’t help, and I’m tying my self-worth too much into the job. I can’t figure out how to relax and just ride the surf.

And tonight I’ve been having muscle pain and I’ve completely convinced myself it’s heart-related, even though it’s on the other side of my chest. It’s a strained muscle, for fuck’s sake.

I’m taking this shit far too personally.

I’ve been struggling. Despite things going well at work, in spite of my personal life being more active than it was. Essentially, small problems arise and they give me anxiety. It becomes blown out of proportion and, while I can keep it bottled in and deal with it, the process isn’t healthy. Not the bottling, certainly not turning molehills into mountains.

And it makes no sense. But if you know me, it does. I have this need to be in control of my environment, to situate things to my advantage or at least minimize the risk. And when it’s not, it cuts deep and leaves a scar. Because I can’t just roll with it.

So, this brings me to today and what my psychiatrist thinks I need to get involved in: cognitive behaviour therapy. And probably group.

I’m open to anything at this point. I’m tired of feeling this way, being on the defense. This of course means adjusting my schedule even more, and learning to roll with it.