The Bloody Doors Off

I need to get my foot checked out. There’s a near constant pain on the side. If I sit for too long and try to stand, it’s pretty damned difficult.

There’s a pinprick pain, occasional, in my arm just above the elbow. I was convinced for a time that I’d left a piece of plastic from the tag still in (even though I hadn’t, and it’s been through the wash already).

In short, I’m breaking down. If this is 47, I fear 48. And don’t get me started on 50.

Eye strain at work is getting to me, but I had my eyes checked last week and the left eye barely changed, and the right one hasn’t. I could get new glasses, but that’s a couple hundred bucks. Chalk it up to fatigue and tiny typeset.

I’m on 8 different types of medications (3 of them to help me sleep). Speaking of, I can’t seem to sleep until my alarm these days. I dream about work constantly.

Doctor, it hurts when I do this.

So don’t do that.

Then what the hell should I do?

Well, no, we can’t.

Context: they’re filming a movie outside the building I’m working on contract. I got held up on the corner this evening coming back from grabbing dinner, as they set a rehearsal where a mob run about in a panic. (Think it’s the Godzilla sequel?) And some guy near me, also disrupted from wherever he was headed, said that to his buddy, obviously miffed that they couldn’t be extras in the scene.

And that was my response. Not that I don’t like New Yorkers, or New York. It’s a great city; but Toronto, you ain’t New York.

Some days I think about leaving. I wonder if I’d be happier elsewhere.

Happy’s difficult on a good day. Would a change of cities make a difference?

Doubt it. I wish I knew something that would.

I had something on my mind earlier, but can’t remember it now.

This is the Sunday I wanted to have a week ago.

I took a walk in the sun. I don’t do this enough.

Good Saturday night.

If you had me getting manic after midnight and needing to sweep the apartment, give yourself a cupe doll.

It’s like a kewpie doll, only it’s got a great benefits package.

Monday, I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. Aside from having to work at being happy, a major suggestion was “Embrace the chaos”.

It came from me.

I can’t control what I can’t control. So why not embrace it instead?

You ever see Parenthood? The movie, not the television show. There’s a moment where Steve Martin is mentally on a roller coaster and he looks like he’s gonna throw up. But then he has a moment where he decides instead to embrace the ride, and it fundamentally changes him.

Oh, right. Spoilers.

So fuck it, I said “I’m gonna embrace the chaos.”

Today I got more responsibility at work. It already swallowed me up and spit me out the other side. But tomorrow’s another day. It threw me around the room, body slammed me to the floor, but I’m getting back up again.

The only reason I didn’t put in overtime was, I had 2 jobs from different clients waiting for me at home.

And I’m up early to do more edits.

Just wish there was a reset button in my head, basically a ‘temporary files’ wash-out. So I could sleep. Man, I need sleep.

I feel like it’s all a lie.

Today was designed to humble me. That’s how it felt.

The day started off great. A client I’d worked for last year on a sub-contract, who needed my skills as a Microsoft Office Specialist, called today. They’ve got two small jobs in the pipe; one will be due Friday.

I thought about what my doctor and I talked about.

Embracing the chaos.

So naturally I said yes.

And felt amazing over it. Being where I wanted to be. Busy. Productive.

The rest of the day ganged up on me. I’d forgotten to put on my belt. Random. Never happened before, or at least I’d notice it and grab it before heading out. Not today. Sometime during the day my pill box fell out of my pocket, and I’m out a half-dozen Metformin. I’d apparently fucked up a job I’d worked on last Saturday. There goes my streak.

The capper was coming home. Did you know a streetcar can’t go in reverse? Major fucking traffic fuck-up because a streetcar just ahead of mine ended up turning left instead of right (you’ve got to manually change the track). Waiting for a shuttle bus took 20 minutes (even though 1 sat in the southbound land for just as long, not moving).

By the time I got to Greenwood, I desperately wanted to take my frustrations out on an inanimate object.

Which I didn’t do, because that would be bad.

Even though it feels like life was kicking me in the head all day.