The Bloody Doors Off

This isn’t the first time I’ve been in crisis, or at least recognized that I was so.

That was back in May 2013. Out of work, the (then) girlfriend was off into the ether dealing with her own issues. I was just starting Wellbutrin, and my former landlord was plotting to evict me because of an outstanding Sheriff’s fee ($150 or thereabouts). I’d had to scratch the funds, run to the Landlord/Tenant Board for a stop order, take it to the Sheriff’s office, and then give the Landlord notice I was taking them to court (they never showed).

Fuck, I digressed. And paused for like, two hours because the roommate just screwed me over again because of his lack of common sense.

Anyway.

It all built up and exploded. I called the crisis hotline and spoke with someone for two hours. What I realize now is that I had the same plan back then. Only they managed to talk me off the ledge. This week I was ready to jump.

And tonight, I still am.

It’s ridiculous to even consider trying to forget the first night, let alone the entire experience. I’m not going to come out of this any stronger by burying it. But you know how memories are: they come at you in fragments first, and not always in the proper order.

So I remember the green foam shoes. They had smiley faces.

After I was processed at registration, nurses quickly whisked me into a room with a window and a door. I wondered if it locked from the outside, but my friend Scott was there by my side, and he was able to step out and back in to take phone calls. A doctor came in and asked questions. I think I was proud that I didn’t hear voices, but like at the registration desk, I couldn’t stop crying. The weight was so hard on my chest, and there was a pressure mounting in the back of my head. That was a feeling I’d had many times before.

Then the doctor said they were going to move me to a different ward. But first, I had to give them my clothes. I could keep my underwear and socks, but not my shoes because they had laces. And so they gave me two dressing gowns (back to front, front to back), and those green, foam slippers.

I was escorted to the bathroom to provide a urine sample and change. Escorted by a security guard.

I never felt so small, so helpless. And those fucking smiley faces looking back at me. The colour reminded me of the pigs in Angry Birds. I wondered when someone would slingshot multiple birds at my feet to blow them up.

Just like my world was beginning to blow apart.

I kept the shoes after I was released, so I don’t forget.

Been very bad at this ‘daily’ blogging thing. Horrible, to be honest. I get a good day or two and I don’t write about it. And then there’s nothing to remind me of why it was good.

Same with the bad. For completely different reasons. I don’t want to be reminded of the hell I suffered. Which is stupid, because I won’t learn about my triggers and how to manage them.

Tonight’s rough. It’s been rough for more than a week. It comes down to money and a lack of a job. I’m applying almost daily. Hell, 2 contracts I was perfect for, I got turned down. 15 years in the biz and not even a first round interview. When I started the company I knew it wouldn’t be an overnight success. My best guess is it’ll take 3 years to get this going well enough where I can afford to live off of what I make. So in the interim I need other work. And good god I’ve been searching. It’s come down to thinking, “hey maybe I should apply to Wal-Mart”. That’s how bad it’s getting. And yes, I’d make less at Wal-Mart than unemployment.

Which I can’t get until the end of December. And if I do get even a seasonal, part-time job for minimum wage, I won’t get unemployment at all.

So basically. I’m screwed and I know it.

And that I don’t know how to deal with.

Rent is due in a little over a week. I need a couple of prescription refills. Insurance comes at the beginning of the month. Metropass. Food.

I’m gonna be dead broke by December 1st.

I’m fucked. And I have no answers.

A short update tonight. Emotionally I’ve been feeling more stable. Things with the girlfriend are better than good. The lack of work still sucks and EI says I don’t qualify until the end of December, which I’m going to fight. But overall, in this moment, I’m happy.

And honestly I’m not sure how i feel about that.

I wanted this to be a tool that got me writing again. A tool to spark my creativity. Yet it hasn’t been a daily exercise (not yet), and when I do eventually write, this is what motivates me. Granted, it’s good to write it down rather than keep it bottled up. Ultimately there will be perspective and I’ll develop tools to deal with it.

Here’s what I’ve realized this week.

I’m usually fine during the day. Some mornings are hard waking up. Not because I don’t want to be awake, or hide from the day. Yes, I’ve been in that place. I’ve gone days, weeks even, where I could barely function. But I’m on Pristiq now (100 mg one day, 150 the next) and it gets me by. Used to be the moment I was out of bed I had to take my pills. But there’s enough in my system now that the daytime is fine. And the mood enhancers/stabilizers I’m on keep me even keel. But…

It’s late at night that things tend to hit me hardest. Earliest? 10pm. Sometimes not until midnight. But it hits. Holy fuck it does a number on me. When the girlfriend stays over, it’s nowhere near as bad. 90% of the time I don’t even notice the dip in mood. Maybe I’m not even dipping. Though I did once this week. It started creeping in, and it took a shitload to keep the panic at bay. I should’ve told her. I didn’t. She knows about my depression and anxiety attacks (another blog post). And if I feel the anxiety, I tell her. Keeping communication open is important for me, for us. But for some stupid reason, I didn’t on Tuesday. Because there are times I worry, and you can argue that it’s a stupid thought but I still have it — I worry that I’d be burdening her with it (which I know I’m not). But I also want her to know that I’m there for her if the situation was reversed. And I am there. No argument. When she gets back in town, I’m sure I’ll tell her.

Okay, focus. I get depressed and anxious late at night. It’s no longer an occasional thing. It’s happening on a more regular basis now. And I can’t identify why. I don’t know what the trigger is.

There’s no reason I should be depressed tonight. None. Yes, the girlfriend is out of town, and I do miss her. But as we both said early on:

“I just want to hold you, not hold you down.”

How fucking awesome is that statement? She and I share our lives while still living them. She teaches me a lot, and I’m thankful. So yeah, I miss her, but I’m happy she doesn’t need to worry about me when she goes off to do what she needs to do, or visit her friends, or needs time for herself. And I enjoy the same space.

Her absence isn’t the trigger. It’s not why my mood dips late at night.

I’ve been out of work since early August. Yes, that’s extremely stressful. I haven’t finished my resume yet. It’s so close to being finished, and I’m hesitating finishing it. But I’m not panicking about the next day. I’m concerned about it sure. But things will get better. Again, not the trigger.

Here’s the thing: today was pretty amazeballs. Woke up too early, couldn’t really function even with 2 cups of coffee but laid down for 20 minutes and it made a world of difference. Had brunch with a friend, went to an oasis in the city with more friends and… yeah, not writing about that. Not yet. But the color red figured in the afternoon prominently, in many aspects. I came home, made dinner. Watched Doctor Who. Got into a stupid discussion on FaceBook on American politics (and holy fuck I can’t believe I know more about their political system than they do…) and chided myself for getting sucked into the stupid.

Should’ve still been riding the high from earlier. But no. The depression seeped in again.

And I can’t identify the fucking trigger. And it’s pissing me off.

I’ve been way too fucking tired the past couple of days.

Sleep has been off, as it were. Sunday the girlfriend and I were up early and off to Guelph to see her daughter perform. It was a lovely day; not too hot and the sun shone down as if blessing the afternoon. We’d grabbed food from McD’s and sat in a parking lot while they talked. Then off to Zeller’s (so Canadian, shop at the store only after it’s been announced it’ll close and we’re looking for deals). Couldn’t keep my eyes open on the drive back. The awesomeness that is the girlfriend encouraged me to nap on the drive back. I closed my eyes a bit but kept opening them again. After we got home I took a 2 hour nap. She tried to join me but she couldn’t sleep.

That entire night was draining, physically. We had wonderful spaghetti with pasta sauce I’d made in the slow cooker (I rock), and muddled through jobs we both need to work on, plus a little TV.

We crashed for… 10 hours. She slept a good chunk of the day today. I don’t blame her. I poked around on the company website, she gave me a huge uplift on getting the stupid banner right. And now it’s just before 1am and we’re both tired again. And I have to be up a little before 9am to go to the doctor.

Noticing issues with the CPAP, which could explain my lethargy. Constantly readjusting the nasal pillow. But I bought the pillow a little under a year ago, and the previous one lasted years. I can’t afford a new one now. I don’t even know if that’s the issue.

All I know is, sleep is fleeting and fitful. Could be a part of my subconscious that’s disappointed in not getting any work. My resume’s about 90% finished; why can’t I make that final step and get it done so I can get it out there? Am I afraid of falling into the same career trap? Isn’t that why I’m also trying to freelance? So I can be creative?

Goddamn, I need a spark.

Ignored the blog for a few days. Splitting my time between trying to get the business website up and not writing in general. Note to self: do better.

I did make pasta sauce in the slower cooker though. That’s something.

You ever have one of those mornings where you wake up before the alarm with a start because you think you’ve overslept?

Now couple that with the fact you didn’t need to set the alarm in the first place. That’s the kind of morning I’ve had.

This is going to be one long-assed day.