Category — livin' clean

I’m sitting here, working the fringe benefits allocation and the FICA allocation, and it is taking all of my willpower not to just get up and walk out. I’m not talking about quitting. I’m talking about Just Not Being Here, and I’m not just talking about work. I’m talking about everything.

If I had a magic wand, I would move a week of my vacation time during the holidays to next week. I would spend the next ten days in complete and utter solitude. At home. With the dog.

The exhaustion that I’m suffering right now seems endless. I can’t hardly keep my eyes open, even after a full night’s sleep. I could sleep for a week, I think, before I felt better.

As someone who has stood on the very edge of sanity and looked over the ledge, I can tell you that while I’m okay in the sense that I’m not a danger to myself or other people, I am losing my mind.

There’s a paranoia welling inside me. I take things the worst way possible. When people speak to me, I question their motives. I question their loyalty and allegiance. When I don’t hear from someone, they’re ignoring me, they don’t care anymore, they don’t want me bothering them. When I do hear from someone, I feel pressured. I hate the constant stream of panic and frustration I’m dealing with right now, and I hate exposing people to it. I don’t want to spend all of my free time completely alone, but I fear companionship. I fear making a fool of myself, I fear being talked about behind my back, I’m afraid of becoming- no, I’m afraid that I’ve already become that person, that girl, the subject of irritation and pity and duty.

The slightest imposition, say, my boss expecting me to do my job, or a coworker needing some information, or a two minute chore for my second job- these things make me seethe with resentment and I’m overwhelmed by the pressure to perform and not let this ordeal affect my performance. I don’t want to go to school, and I don’t want to do my homework, and I don’t want to read my textbooks.

So the only thing that gives me comfort right now, that brings me a sense of calm and well-being, is retreating. Hiding from my life, its pressures and demands. Giving up on my social life in hopes that my attachment to people will fade, so that everything can end quietly and be easy for everyone and I can avoid the humiliation and drama that will come from figuring out that people are rolling their eyes at me and hoping I don’t show up to parties and not telling me about events on purpose.

If I have to calm my Mom down one more time, I’m going to quit taking her calls. I know she’s worried, and I know that she’s going to rightfully react with anger when she feels I’ve been wronged, but her energy is AWFUL, HORRIBLE and TOXIC (see, it runs in the family! i just have the sense to see and admit it), and I. CAN’T. HANDLE. IT.

People want to know what’s going on, and I want to tell them, but I get tired of relaying the same awful information over and over and over again, and I want them to want to know, but I find myself wishing that there was just some way to make them know without having to talk about it ALL THE TIME.

I’ve grown to hate talking on the phone. I wish that people would just come see me, come sit on the porch and have a drink and talk about what color I should paint the living room and whether or not we’ll have a lot of snow this winter and what are you doing for the long weekend. My house is pretty far out from town, though, and people don’t come out. A few people come out sometimes, but for the most part, I don’t have company.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish these entries and call my HR rep and see if I can’t plan a retreat, before I end up in a straitjacket in the psych ward.

“So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains/And we never even know we have the key…”

I love this line from an old Eagles song. It reminds me that the only limitations we really have are the ones we give ourselves. A good natured kick in the ass is almost never a bad thing, you know?

Life has been hard, and I let it drag me down. We all do that sometimes, the current is just too strong, and we are too tired to resist it. Swept downstream, through rapids, banging against rocks. The only way to stop it is to hang on to whatever you can find, as tightly as you can, until you can muster the strength to get out of the water and rest on the bank. I can’t live on the bank, though. It’s a nice place to catch your breath, eat a sandwich maybe, but it’s no place to live.

So then it comes time to find a place to get back into the water. Build a new boat, or patch the one you’ve got. Try to read the water and pick the line you want to run. That’s where I’m at. I’m in an eddy behind some big rocks, surveying what’s downstream and planning my next dance with the current.

I think that the time has come for me to conquer some demons. A few of them have been around far too long, simply because sometimes I’m just to scared to let myself feel the outline of that key in my pocket. The key to the chains I wear, out of some sort of twisted self protection, to ensure that I don’t become too successful or happy.

If I knew why I did this, why any of us lock ourselves up and weigh ourselves down with doubt and fear and shame, I’d never have to work another day of my life as a beancounter.

What I do know is that it’s time to get back in the river.