I just don’t know what to do. There is too much on my plate right now and I’m losing my grip on everything…or so it feels. I’m ridiculously hard on myself and set standards that are far too high to reach so I have lots of fodder with which to berate and beat myself when I start to feel like I’m failing. I should be able to carry all of this at once….I’ve dealt with more in the past…maybe it was the energy of youth that kept me moving along despite the hardships…I don’t know. Right now I have a ball of anxiety in my chest that is making it nearly impossible to breathe and the only thing I want to do…the only place I want to be is in my bed and the only thing I want to do is sleep. *This* is an avoidance response, not a sedated-out-of-my-mind-for-no-reason-and-passing-out response. Between the two I could probably just go to fucking sleep and never wake up again. Comacide.
It’s hard to remember, sometimes, why I bother fighting so hard this….all this ‘gloriousness’ that is my world. I had a three and a half hour meeting with one boss yesterday (and we’re meeting again tomorrow, for crying out loud) and although she was happy when she left my office, one small issue and bam, she hates me again the very next morning…sighing at me like I’m completely useless. She sat in my fucking office from 1:00 until 4:30 (I’m done at 4!) and mostly just complained about how I’m not getting stuff done. ??? Today, I had to sit with the other boss for an hour to be told how the woman who had this job before me did things differently in ways that worked so much better. She did too….you know why? She was a doormat, refused to fight back, took any shit they shoveled at her, worked for free every morning, every night and every weekend, never took vacation, never said no and basically sucked their dicks on a daily basis to keep the peace. I’m willing to do my fair share of free overtime…I might not be the most efficient person at this job in the world, but I’m not getting anywhere…they’re bitching at me over fucking tiny, insignificant issues with no regard to the enormous amount of work I do accomplish. They use the guilt they see in me to motivate me to work harder, faster and do more more more but are never satisfied with the results. I don’t know what to do anymore.
Today, after all that meeting time, I’ve been bitched at, made to feel like I’m completely useless and I feel like it’s all for nothing. I’m exhausted. I’m coping with so many things at once and now my head is just chanting about how useless I am and Dayne keeps calling to tell me how he’s about to get fired or laid off or that they’re closing his division or that everyone is against him and we’re about to be absolutely fucked because I can’t afford all this on my own and what happens next?
I want to give up today. I want to go home, quit my job, go to sleep and stay asleep for the rest of my life and then, when I’m old I’ll just die in my dreams and hope my heart stops for real. Maybe I can just live out that life, instead of living out both. I don’t really want this one anymore. I want to go work in the mall where the most taxing task is dealing with a bitchy customer. I want to take the bus so I don’t have to drive or pay for a car….I want to go back to not having a house. I want that simplicity of just waking up and surviving without really owing anything. This job isn’t worth it. The stress isn’t worth it…none of this is worth it.
I feel really down today, after the meetings with the bosses. One of them was a freaking arguing match over the parameters I use to run MY reports when I’m doing MY audits at the end of each month. “You don’t need to have the staff names in your report” She says.
I explain why I have them there. She doesn’t care and just talks over me, showing me her way which is better. I justify why I have them, conceding that she’s right, it might not be entirely necessary but that I have my reasons.
“Well, I’m not going to argue with you over it….” she says, arguing with me over it.
Then she repeats her process for me to see again. Eventually, I just give up and tell her I see her point and fucking drop it. It will never end, otherwise.
Yesterday the other boss sits in my office for three and a half hours and keeps me half an hour late, but won’t approve my request to take flex time because … well, I don’t know why she won’t approve it. She just doesn’t want me to take it. I’m still taking it. I’m leaving today at 3 just because I feel so totally unmotivated.
I feel frozen in time. I feel nothing but that heavy feeling of dread in my chest and a sickening sinking feeling in my stomach and disappointment in who I am and how my life works and just a little pissed off that nothing ever seems to be okay, no matter how hard I fight or how I try to twist myself into this world. Today is a day I wish I had just died with my parents, all those years ago.
I love tattoos. I love the meaning behind them and the ones that mean nothing. I love that people own their own skin and can decorate it to carry things they love with them always. I love it when people are not afraid to express who they are, however they want.
Here is some of my work to date.
Some of mine have stories, some have special meaning. I have more than I’m showing here.
Dayne also has some beautiful work. He said i could post a few so here you go:
I fell asleep at 3 pm yesterday afternoon, after getting up early to go to the market for a load of fresh fruit and coming home to have a nap mid-morning. I also slept a decent 11 hours the night before and yet, I was standing next to the couch drinking a Pepsi and a coffee at once, fighting sleep with everything I had and then, through an explosion of tears I just gave up and sat down. I was asleep before I even wipes the tears from my face and my eyelids were dried shut when I woke between dreams.
I slept from 3 in the afternoon on Saturday until 930 am Sunday. I could have kept going too but Dayne dragged me out of the bed. I woke up a fair amount between dreams. My arm would be numb or my spine twisted in a weird way. My hips and legs would ache and I’d dream that something was trying to rip my leg off. It sucked. I dreamed of my mother and my sister, places I lived and people I know only in dreams. I was working and showering and trying to find the right combination of public transit to get me to the places I was heading, not familiar with many of the areas. I woke up exhausted.
I decided I need some sun today so I’m heading to the beach. We have dozen of fresh water beaches around here and I haven’t gone in years. I was wary of the whole bathing suit idea but I actually found one that fit, covers most of me, hides my flabby places and somehow manages not to look like a suit made for a granny. (Lol we’ll, the ink kind of makes up for that anyway).
I do love getting to show of my tattoos though. That reminds me. I was going to post some more pics of them. Stay tuned for that.
Hoping to get some nice shots at the beach. For now, here’s a pretty little web I caught on the deck this morning.
I don’t know if I’m okay. Tired and sore and was dreaming of being in labour all night. I have cramps ravaging my abdomen yet no period to speak of yet. Stupid menopause. I hate that it’s happening to me so early in life. I worry that it’s something else but the tests say menopause. I suppose I should just believe what they tell me.
I’m exhausted. I got up today and went to the market to get more fresh fruit and now I’m home and I’m ready for sleep again. I slept from 3 pm yesterday afternoon until about 11 pm when Dayne got home and woke me. I then went to bed and slept (while labouring for what felt like days in dreams), got up at 8 or so, showered and went to the farmers market and now I’m ready for bed for the day. I’m not falling asleep against my will yet so there’s that to be thankful for, I suppose. I did okay yesterday too; no passing out on my feet but so exhausted. This quality of life is stressing me out.
Anyway. I have to clean my house. I’m so glad we threw out so much stuff when we moved because it makes the cleaning so much easier. The closets help a lot too…having somewhere to put things.
Right now all I want to do is melt on my deck in the sunshine and pretend I have nothing to do but lie there. I’d like to get drunk too but I generally can’t do that anymore as the first drink makes me instantly sleepy. Man. I feel like I’m 80 some days.
Few pics for fun.
That was a hell of a long night. I have been trying to modify my diet a little to get some more calories into me through the day as I am not, and never have been, a breakfast eater. I generally don’t eat until dinner time aside from a few snacks through the day but it stands to reason that providing more energy to burn can only help me stay more awake. It’s not really working so far but it’s not even been a week yet. I’m trying to eat fruits and whole raw foods through the day and then carbs for dinner so my metabolism starts working properly again. Will see how it goes.
… still, I’m so messed up from this exhaustion.
Last night Dayne was working late so I got Colt some dinner (leftovers, thankful for those) and figured I’d wait for him to get something to eat myself. I wasn’t hungry at all and my head was pounding so it was really just an excuse, but I bought into it just fine. At 6:15 I started to fade…could feel the detachment of thoughts that comes before I start to fall asleep. I got up, showered, tried to keep myself from sitting down, but the hot water made it worse and I nearly had to crawl to the couch when I got out. Colt came upon me in the hall.
“Uhh mom? Are you okay? Do you need help? Can I get you an energy drink from the fridge?”
He could tell immediately what was going on. I usually keep my physical (and emotional) issues to myself around my son. I’m honest with him about it all but I try not to burden him with worry and I think I do a pretty good job of it. He knows that sometimes I have really bad headaches and sometimes I’m really, really tired and just need to rest.
“I’m good sweetheart. Just sleepy.” I answered and took his hand as offered. He lead me to the couch and I sat down and was asleep before anything else could happen.
I dreamed that someone was trying to get into my house. I had only just sat down when the door started to rattle and bang, like someone was trying to break it down without turning the doorknob. I jumped up from the couch and ducked below the window line, crept to the second bathroom and tried to peek out the window to see who was out there. I caught a glimpse of two people and then saw my neighbour across the road who was frantically waving at me from her porch, trying to get my attention. I ducked down and tried to will her to stop waving at me…she was looking right at my bathroom window and I didn’t want the people at the door to know I was in there.
“GRAINNE! They have FIRE!” she began to yell at the top of her lungs.
Oh god no. Colt was in the house with me and I didn’t know how to get past the other windows to his room without them seeing me. I left the bathroom on all fours, creeping slowly along and caught a quick glimpse of more figures standing on my deck through the kitchen sliding glass door. Our escape routes were cut off. I thought about the side door or jumping out a window since we were on the main floor, and redoubled my efforts to get to Colt.
Suddenly, directly in front of me, the ceiling began to collapse and bits of plaster and drywall rained down on me. A large chunk got caught in my hair and the dust was blinding me so I reached up to pull it from my hair and wipe my eyes when I realized something around me was burning. I opened my eyes and they began to burn from the debris but a yellow hot light blinded me caused tears to flood, clearing my vision. Everything around me was on fire.
“Colt!” I screamed, “Get out of the house! There’s a fire!”
My voice was swallowed up by the raging flames.
“Mom!” I heard Colt call and I looked around me, choking on the smoke that was beginning to fill up the room, black and acrid. “Mom! I’m outside! Where are you?” he called, worry in his voice.
I was so glad he was outside and away from the fire until I realized those people were still out there and might be hurting him. I jumped up in a panic and, on my feet, began to run the length of the hallway, heading for the side door. My feet kept slipping on something on the floor and I felt them go out from under me as I crashed, head-long, into something I couldn’t see. My head filled with a sharp pain and I clamped my hands to the sides of my head, trying to contain it. When I did so, the raging sound of flames and heat stopped instantly. It was so surprising I forgot about the pain in my head for a moment and dropped my hands, looking around for the damage that had just been surrounding me.
I was awake (for real), on my knees in the hallway and the door that separates the kitchen from the side door was half closed, blocked from behind with a laundry basket. I knew, somehow, that it was the door I had just run into. My head was killing me, ears ringing and I was shaking from head to toe – the adrenaline from the dream still in my veins. I knew the feeling well enough to realize I had been dreaming and sleep walking.
I stood up carefully and went to Colt’s room (door closed, Youtube videos blasting). I knocked and opened the door a crack and peeked in. He wasn’t in there although his ipad was still on his bed.
“Colt?” I called, thinking he must be in the bathroom.
“Yeah mom?” I heard him answer but his voice sounded like it was coming through the vents…from inside the walls somehow. I thought it was my hearing. “Where are you?” I asked.
“I told you already! I’m outside.” He answered.
I had a dizzy wave crash over me and I felt like the room started to move under my feet. I went into his room and looked out the window and there he was, standing on the front walk with people I didn’t know. As soon as they saw me the front door rattling and banging started again.
I ran out of the room and to the front of the house, thinking of nothing but getting Colt back inside and away from those people but as I came to a stop at the front door I put my hand on the handle and everything stopped again, dead quiet. I looked around, hand frozen on the handle, and heard a noise behind me. Someone was coming down the hall! I was absolutely frozen with terror, not knowing who it was or how they had materialized through a hallway with no external doors and then I heard Colt right beside me.
“Mom. Pssst, mommy? You’re scaring me. Are you having a bad dream mom?”
I felt like I was going to faint. I dropped to a low crouch (I don’t know why I did that) and half-crawled around to the front of the couch near the front door. (Where I usually sleep) I found Colt there, kneeling down and whispering into one of the pillows. I felt something touch my arm and I whipped around and I screamed, eyes clamped closed even though I wanted to see what it was.
I felt that nausea inducing sea sickness sweep through me again and realized something was wrong. Things were at the wrong angles. I was squatting down beside the couch but I could somehow see both the fireplace and the ceiling at the same time; the coffee table from both the side and top simultaneously. I could feel the wood floor under my bare feet and the blanket on the couch covering them. I was upright and lying down; upright and lying down; upright and…lying down down down….and I was opening my eyes. I was lying on the couch with the blanket around me, balled into my white knuckled fists. Colt was about two inches away from my face, his worried blue eyes searching my face to make sure I was okay.
“Hi mom. I think you were having a nightmare.” he said, reaching out to stroke my hair the same way I’ve always done for him when he wakes from a bad dream.
I started to cry and then struggled to stifle it because he was on the edge of tears himself.
“Whew, thank you for waking me up Colt! I did have a bad dream but now that it’s over I feel much better now.
“Was it about the men with the guns who robbed us like in my nightmare? They killed you and daddy and I was so scared I peed the bed when I woke up.” he said.
“Something like that sweetheart. We didn’t get killed in my dream though. We fought the bad guys and we beat them in the end.” I lied. (Colt has been struggling to grasp the facts of life and death these days. It’s been pretty hard on him so I didn’t want to feed those fears if I could help it).
I have a lot of these dreams documented over the years. Some are far worse and some are just downright crazy sounding so I tend not to post them. Sometimes, when I wake up I can still see the dream images around me so clearly I can’t tell if I’m actually awake or not. It’s alarmingly disorientating and I feel like if I talk about this I’ll end up committed. Even the people who love me most tend to deny that there’s something physically wrong with me…they all think it’s ‘in my head’ or a ‘part of the depression’. The previous sleep studies showing irregular sleep patterns and extensive periods of REM sleep mean little to most and people often tell me I’m looking for answers where there are none – I’m creating this issue somehow, through the depression, PTSD or anxiety. Those were labels they gave me….when I was young and ‘undiagnosed’ it was my ‘imagination’ that caused these dreams, apparently. Even though I was only a child and would wake, screaming and fighting for my life, clawing and biting and hurting myself and those around me….too vivid an imagination was the end decision. Mind you, there was a lot of abuse going on then and my parents were afraid of being exposed so would not pursue any medical testing that might let the secret out. But now, even, I hear the same bullshit.
Because of all this I trust very few people enough to share this part of my life. The only people who believe there’s something going on other than the depression are the ones who are forced to live with me and experience it on a nearly nightly basis. That said, Dayne won’t listen to the retelling of them anymore – he’s had his fill after all these years. He would just really like to see it go away because he can see the stress it causes after the fact.
Anyway. I don’t want to get my hopes up as I’m sure this sleep study will end up as useless as the rest of the testing I’ve put myself through. I wish it WAS related to the depression so I could work on it somehow…try a few new meds to stop it all. They tried to treat it as a symptom of PTSD for a few months once but I felt like I was wasting my money, going to therapy and talking about dreams the entire time.
I really dislike this part of me.
*sigh* Okay. Rant over. Time to try to get some work done so the bosses will ease up on me a bit. (hahahahaha…riiiiight).
i just slept the entire weekend. I slept from yesterday afternoon until noonish today, went to work for a few hours, came home, slept. Almost there again. I missed the whole fucking weekend.
Ps. Central air is amazing. It’s over 100 degrees here today and I only noticed I my walk to the car and to the office from the parking garage. My old house would have been an oven. 🌻