Bad news bears. My mom’s dog died. It’s hard to explain to people when your dog is ACTUALLY your best friend how hard this is.
It’s hard. Loss is hard.
I can’t seem to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, laugh, run, avoid, work, or beg the sadness away. How do people get out?
Day 120 – Sad Day
YOU GUYS. If I’m not having an anxiety attack, I must be asleep. Actually, I have anxiety even when I’m sleeping so never mind. Constant anxiety.
I am missing him so much. I don’t know what to do with myself. WHAT IF HE STOPS LOVING ME WHILE HE’S AWAY? That would be weird, right? Right? I can’t tell. Is this why people take meds?
My parents’ dog is not doing well. My mom will be devastated. Too much tragedy for my family. We do not have the greatest coping mechanisms, but we do have the worst. Like usual, I am dealing with all my feelings by watching TV and eating. What do other people do? When will I have better coping skills? Help.
Day 109 – So many feelings.
We talked it out. Maybe I need to calm myself, but I don’t know how. Other people must be really good at life, because they seem to be succeeded and, even, flourishing.
I don’t get it. I just cycle through panic attacks and in between (and during them), eat a ton of food. So it goes like this: wake up, moan about being awake, start to panic (heart beating fast) so I check my phone to make sure no one has tried to get ahold of me, pee, eat, panic again about the time it took me to pee and eat because I have to get to work, start driving aka constantly panicking (heart beating fast, stomach roiling, sweaty palms, racing thoughts about how everyone is a terrible driver), get to work, panic about everything from parking to the parking attendant to getting inside to sitting down without my stomach popping over my pants to whether or not the coffee creamer I like will still be there, eat second breakfast, panic about work and whether or not I can do it and how much I want to run out the door and get on a plane and fly far away, then snack. It’s now 10 am. This will continue until I attempt to fall asleep.
Day 105 – Anxiety and Coffee
I’m trying really hard to like my new job. I like the people I work with. I like the parking situation. They have free coffee.
I know everyone expects me to like it. I know everyone thinks I should. I know I’ve complained about my job(s) in the past. (I complain a lot…it’s what I do. It neither makes me charming nor cute, but it’s true.) I know people who love me want me to be happy. And by happy, I mean employed. And by employed, I mean making money and having some purpose every day. And by purpose, I mean something other than writing, because I’ve gathered that no one sees that as having purpose until you’re JK Rowling, and then money talks. Right now, money isn’t talking to me. Right now, it’s a silent reminder that I have to do what everyone eventually has to do as an adult. Get a job. Make money. Get insurance on things like cars and rental apartments and my life. Dream about what kind of fence I’ll put around my yard (white picket, I’m told). Plan for retirement, when I don’t have to work this job anymore. Pick out some sort of school area I want to be in if I have kids. I’m supposed to have kids apparently. Meal prep so I can do the smart thing and save my money because eating out is a waste. Invest it so I can give it to the kids I’m supposed to have. Use the job money to buy gas for my car so I can drive to work to make more money to buy more gas. Go to bed early so I can be well rested for the job I sit at to make money so no one has to worry about me any more or wonder why I’m so useless and pathetic when they all thought I’d be somebody. Ignore all feelings of wanting to write or run away because that’s not practical. Not nearly as practical as sitting at my desk day after day and making money so I can come home too tired to remember that writing is the only thing that makes me happy. Forget about happiness so I can work because adults are supposed to have jobs they don’t like. Who am I to think I get to pursue my dream? Who do I think I am? Unless I become EL James somehow and write the masterpiece* Fifty Shades of Grey and then it’s okay that I wanted to be a writer. Then, despite the content and the quality, then it’s okay because I have the money to show for it. But until then… I should stop trying to write and be lucky I got a job.
Day 99 – Mo’ money…
I wish I could be one of those people who had sweets in their house and…not eat them. I thought I could convince myself to do that, but then I ate everything with sugar in it that I could find. And licked the wrappers. I’m fine. It’s fine.
In this never-gonna-happen scenario, dessert lasts longer than one night. Like, I make cookies and eat one tonight and maybe one tomorrow and then freeze the rest and eat some a month from now. But, like, are those people even real? I can’t do it. I’m not one of those people. I’m not. I have to eat all the cookies. Right away.
Sometimes I think – genuinely think – that people who “just aren’t into sweets” cannot be my friend. “I’m more of a salty person.” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? DO YOU HATE YOURSELF? I love potato chips, but I will not choose them over cake. And neither should you. Unless you’re a monster.
You’re a monster, aren’t you? Well, I’ve figured out how to distinguish the sociopaths from the rest of us. Try to let them eat cake.
Day 96 – Cookie Monster
It takes a lot for me to admit when I’m wrong. Who wants to be wrong? Especially when I’m right all the time. Kidding… Kind of.
I did admit it, though. And I got the “well, do better next time” response. Which, fair, but frustrating. If you’re already eating crow, it’s not exactly fun to have someone twist the knife. But also, maybe I do the same thing to other people. Unsure.
One of the hardest parts about being sad all the time is not taking it out on other people. I try to keep it bottled up all the time, but if it gets out, it always lands on the people that I love the most. I SHOULD take it out on that asshole driver Mark (don’t know his name, but it could be Mark) who cut me off or that woman who couldn’t figure out how to use the credit card machine but instead I take it out on my mom. Sometimes others, but usually my mom, who doesn’t deserve it. She deserves flowers and hugs but instead she got me. Unfortunate for her.
I don’t live with her or anything, but I know how to work a phone.
Day 91 – Right is wrong
Big fight tonight. I often lose track of what is okay and what is not okay. I lose track of what I should fight and what I should accept. Is yelling okay? Is it not okay? Should I yell back? No? Yes?
Maybe these are the “ups and downs” people talk about. I don’t know anymore. I’m scared to lose people now. I’m scared into keeping most things inside. I want to know the right thing to do or say. The best way to get through to him. The best way to make myself clear yet still be able to listen. I literally don’t know anymore. But I will say – it didn’t feel good (or right) to be treated like that. Now what to do?
Day 85 – Fighting for it
After a 14 hour work day for which I didn’t get paid, and in fact paid out quite a bit, for which I won’t get any credit or any benefits, all I can think of is an image of a cartoon character’s jaw hitting the floor in shock. Because how dumb is that? Every businesswoman/man the world over is appalled that I would work for free, I’m sure. The thing is, that’s how much I love my line of work. I don’t want to do it for free, obviously, but I sometimes do anyway.
I love what I do. I’d love even more to get paid for it and to work consistently. I have this conflict a lot. I WOULD work for free, but I wish I didn’t have to. Okay, enough complaining (for now). I’m trying to move forward.
But I hate people and interacting with people and seeing people and having to work with people. Hey, is this why I don’t get work with people? I may have just cracked the code…
I feel like I need someone to help me figure this all out. How do I get paid? How do I get work? How do I get up in the morning and face the world and not want to cry, eat cake, watch tv, and cry some more?
Day 75 – Help Needed
It’s hard to watch someone you love struggle. I have seen this several times in my life, but every single time I can’t help but think: You’re too good for them. When other people choose to hurt you or drag you down, they’re really just showing off their own insecurities. But it doesn’t feel like that.
Fuck them. Fuck them all. They don’t know how good they have it. I know I’m biased because I love these people, but I am not blind. I am not ignorant. I am self-aware. I can point out my own flaws and those of the people I love. But fuck anyone who would try to drag the good ones down. Because that’s usually who gets it. The good ones.
You are one of the good ones. YOU ARE TOO GOOD FOR THEM. I’ve said it a million times before, and he didn’t listen, and it broke my heart and I don’t like that it’s happening again to someone else I love. Fuck them. Why do we pick on the best people and leave the poor workers, the idiots, the rude, the hurtful, the inefficient, the bullies, the jerks alone? Or, worse, promote them? Humans are the worst.
Day 72 – Fuck Them All
I had a great time with friends tonight and simultaneously realized I am 95 years old on the inside and want to be home in pajamas by 10. WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN???
I genuinely tried to talk my friends out of going out after we watched THE LION KING in the park like children. We ended up going out. It was lovely, but I swear to you the minute one of my friends yawned, I pointed at her and was like, “YES” then said I felt the same and was ready to go. I left before her.
On another note, I think sometimes people don’t live up to our expectations, however low we feel they are, and it can be really hard to accept and navigate. I give 100% to every thing I do. If I commit to a project, a person, a lifestyle, a sport, an activity, to help someone with something, etc. I will go to the ends of the earth to be successful at it. Apparently, not everyone is like that. I feel pretty frustrated by this realization because even though no one has to be AS committed as I am, I cannot believe people want to half-ass things or agree to do something but not really do it. WHAT? Don’t agree to it. People are counting on you. Don’t accept responsibilities. Don’t pursue a difficult career. Don’t claim you’ll do something. If you are a flaky, non-committal, irresponsible, half-assing, low-effort, inconsiderate, unreliable person, don’t agree to anything with any other humans. People deserve to be able to count on others, however large or small that thing is. I know that it might seem easier to agree sometimes and then work out the excuses later, but that’s crap and also only works when you’re low on the invite list to an acquaintance’s party where they won’t notice your absence.
Honestly. I want to be able to count on other people. I know we’re taught to look out for ourselves, but it’s in everyone’s best interest to be present and to follow through. Everyone wins. I cannot see a downside. BE A PERSON. SHOW THE FUCK UP. That is all.
Day 69 – Unreliable People and Pajamas