So here’s something about social anxiety that you might not realize: sometimes, we actually want to hang out. We just don’t know how to make ourselves approach people in order to hang out.
One prime example is me today. I had nothing to do, but I wanted to do…. something. I didn’t know what; all the things there were to do involved peopling. Go hang with my husband who was standing guard for the Queen? People. Going to an art class? People. Wandering through the vendor tents? You guessed it: people. So what’s a girl to do?
Well, this girl slept. I took a depression nap because I had nothing to do that didn’t involve being around people who were mostly strangers to me. Not exactly fun.
It’s hard to articulate. I mean, for people who don’t have social anxiety it might seem stupid. But it’s a thing. A real thing. And sometimes it pisses me off. I want to have something to do. I want to hang out. But I don’t. I don’t want to. Fucking frustrating.
It’s like wanting a cookie. But you’re allergic to the nuts in the cookie. Or rather, your brain tells you you’re allergic to the nuts in the cookie. Your brain tells you that if you eat that cookie you’ll fucking die. But hot damn, that cookie looks good.
Right now I’m among close friends, so I’m cool just sitting around. I can handle this. I’ve got to learn how to let myself relax around semi-strangers, though.
I can only take so many naps.
Category: Mental Health
Survival mode…deactivated?
I made it through the week! It was touch-and-go there for a while (mentally speaking), but I made it. I even learned a new thing at work. My stress hasn’t completely evaporated–there’s still a slight chance that I might end up with some of the same stress piled back on me next week–but I’m not on Red Alert all the time now. It’s more like Yellow Alert…maybe a bit less.
There are still garments to make for Yule, a whole slew of events to schedule on social media, holiday presents to make for friends and family, and Gods only know what else I’m forgetting at the moment. So yeah, work-stress is lessened, life-stress keeps on trucking.
Overall, though, I think I’m feeling better. I don’t have the panic attack hangover I had yesterday, and I feel pretty calm. Is it a calm-before-the-storm kind of calm? I hope not. But I’ll take the calm feeling while I can.
Beatdown
I’m done. Done. Totally, completely, 1000% done.
Except I’m not. I have more to do, farther to go, deeper to dig. In other words, I’m shit out of luck.
Ok, let me back up a bit.
I’ve been covering for a co-worker who had surgery a week ago, and even though I learned how to do that position a little over a year ago, my training was quick and dirty. Basically, the only backup person for that position quit and I had to step up and dive in. Speed training.
Incomplete speed training.
Yeah. There are huge chunks of aspects of the position that are missing from my knowledge/experience base. Some of the things never came up during that speed training, and despite me pointing this out multiple times it has never been rectified. I literally am the only other person “trained” in this position, and as the past week has demonstrated I am not truly prepared.
I didn’t realize how much stress I was under this past week until this morning. My worsening insomnia, which I had been attributing to just me being me, has most likely been due to this sudden change in work duties. This afternoon, the buildup of stress and strain and pressure came to a head in the form of a massive anxiety attack. During the work day. Full-blown crying-my-eyes-out find-a-place-to-hide-from-reality anxiety attack.
It has been a long, long time since I’ve had an attack that bad while at work. I have to admit, I’m more than a bit ashamed of it. I thought I was past this kind of thing.
Guess not.
Now, work life isn’t my only stressor right now. I have other things going on that are probably not helping matters. Could I cut back on one or more of the non-work activities? Sure. I could. Will I? Probably not too much. Some of my private life things demand a certain degree of responsibility, and some of them involve dear friends who I do not want to disappoint or let down. So I’m going to plow through my off hours just like I’m plowing through the work stress. Will that mean more breakdowns? Probably… but hopefully I can keep any impending meltdowns to times when I can get away and hide my shame.
I’m not sure what I’ll do to destress aside from the date night that my wonderful husband has planned for tomorrow. Work will calm down eventually. I’ll get my personal life sorted to the point where I can function.
I just wish I could fast forward to this stress leveling off.
Soon, though, right? Please?
Mixed blessings
So, like, is it a good sign or a bad sign when your insomnia leaves you conveniently awake at the right time to clean up the cat puke while it’s still fresh? I mean, on the one hand I was able to wipe it up right away and, since I heard him hacking, I was able to avoid stepping in it (because stepping in cat puke–fresh or not–is gross). On the other hand, I got maybe an hour of sleep before my brain woke the fuck up and refused to go back to sleep. This makes three out of the past four nights where my body wakes up after less than three hours, and nothing I do seems to fix it.
I’d say I’m sick and tired of it, but I’m not tired. At all. (As for the sick part, I might still be a bit queasy after cleaning up the cat puke.)
Today–or I guess I should say “last night” since it was before midnight that I woke back up–I was able to identify at least part of the problem: My damn train of thought. See, I went to bed a little … disappointed, I guess? Or maybe a bit hurt. It’s one of those things that happens to normal people and it’s not even a thing, but because I’m me it became a thing. Enough of a thing that my brain decided to blow it out of proportion and make it a huge thing that probably really isn’t even a microscopic thing. My feelings get hurt so damn easy, and often for no good fucking reason. I’m starting to annoy the snot out of myself with it. This thing-that-isn’t-a-thing shouldn’t have me up late at night crying and stewing and moping and pouting. I should be sleeping like a baby. But no, not me. I apparently decided I was going to get upset and worked up over this not-thing. So yeah. That’s why I’m here, writing this ramble of a blog post. I’m kinda hoping I bore myself back to sleep with it. (So far it’s not working.)
I guess I’ll lie here in the dark and try to not think or something. I don’t even know what else to do at this point. Definitely no thinking though. Thinking leads to things-that-aren’t-things. Things-that-aren’t-things lead to butthurt. Butthurt leads to insomnia.
Shuffleboard
Life is definitely a strange game lately. As if things weren’t hectic enough, I am having to cover for a co-worker who had surgery last week. It’s only for a few more days, but it has been enough of a kick in the ass that I had to finally admit defeat and give up a job that I once really enjoyed. As of this morning, I no longer am working for Talk Nerdy With Us, either as a contributor or as an editor. It was a hard decision, but I just don’t have the time anymore.
There’s the paying work. There’s the volunteer work for the SCA. There’s the writing. There’s the sewing for the SCA. There’s the holiday season coming up. I could go on, but I’m sure you get the drift. I’m exhausted, and right now I can’t afford the kind of effort it takes for what, in the end, is a nonpaying job. I’ve got enough of those, thank you very much, and the ones I’m “keeping” are more satisfying at this point in time.
Now I have a few moments of break left before I’m back into the fray. I’m hoping to get a sewing project done by tomorrow morning and then I can start knocking out this mile high list of things to do.
Copycat attack
I’ve been on Pinterest a little too much lately, I think. After spending a few days cranking out baby shower gifts on the sewing machine, I now have the crazy notion in my head that I can look at a thing and determine how it was constructed and make it on my own. And who knows? Maybe I can…for some simpler things, I mean. It might take some brainstorming and visualizing, but I’ve already got a few things in mind to make for myself, and I’m thinking of making gifts for some of my friends and family this year.
On one hand, it’s a good thing; I can utilize fabric scraps (that I don’t quite know what to do with) in a useful way. On the other hand, this could potentially be the early stages of a manic episode, so I had better be aware of my emotions and keep my impulses in check.
Sometimes I wonder if I can harness this manic energy that comes to me and use it to be productive…but then I remember how out of control I can get if I’m not careful, and it’s very, very hard to be careful when you’re in a manic state. Part of that mania involves a lack of…how can I put this? A lack of concern over consequences. I know that impulsive action A can potentially cause bad consequence B, but I really don’t give a rat’s ass whether B happens or not.
Then again, I might not be manic. Not every burst of creative energy is caused by an episode. It could just be that I’m in the mood to make stuff. But going off of past experiences and probability factors and all that science-y stuff, the scales are tipping heavily in the manic direction.
It’s frustrating as hell, that’s for sure. Not knowing if you’re slowly losing control or just in an unusually good mood. It sucks.
I’m probably still going to make the stuff though, if I can find the time. Whether it’s an episode or not, I’ve gotten it in my head that I can do this thing, and now I have to take on my own challenge.
Let Sleeping Demons Lie
It’s World Mental Health Day, and I thought I’d take a little bit of time to discuss mental health–largely because it is most definitely directly relevant to my life. Sometimes I joke about it, because the humor helps relieve the pressure. Other times, though, like right now, I want to be more serious about the subject of mental health. It’s a very serious thing, and one that needs more awareness.
It has been a while since I’ve mentioned this here (because, well, it shouldn’t be something worth mentioning): I’m bipolar. I don’t have it as bad as some people, and the medications keep my emotional state mostly under control, but it’s there all the same. I don’t get to take a vacation from it. I don’t get to say, “Y’know, I think I’m not going to be bipolar today.” It’s there. It’s a daily thing, regardless of whether or not it’s at the forefront of my mind.
The fates have been kind to me lately in that I have been able to almost forget that I’m bipolar–almost. My moods have been running fairly stable, and aside from the daily pill regimen to keep those moods in check I really don’t have any constant reminders these days of the horror that I used to endure. I can’t really describe it adequately in prose; poetry sometimes better conveys the roller coaster of bipolar life. I’m going to add a poem here that the narcissist in me is quite proud of: “Hostage in My Head,” a poem written during a more difficult mental state.
“Hostage in My Head” (from Kamikaze Butterflies by AJ Mullican)
Trapped alone
Awash in a sea of terror
No escape from my own deranged thoughts
Impossible futures scroll through my mind
Over and over on a continuous loop
My mental movie screen glows
As the macabre fantasy plays unbidden
Death and disaster overtake reality
Can’t focus on the here and now
When the “might be” looms on the horizon
Against my will my death plays out again
For the hundredth time this hour
I watch my lifeless form slide to the ground
Shot in the convenience store
Pulled from the mangled wreck
Coded mysteriously at work
At the sight of my imagined death
My heart rate soars and pounds
There’s nothing beautiful and delicate
About the kamikaze butterflies in my chest
Every single nerve
Teeters on the edge of a precipitous drop
With a nightmare at the bottom
Just one nudge
One little push
And everything will come crashing down
I tiptoe on the inside
Walking the fine line between sanity and oblivion
Pacing the padded room within my skull
Inside I scream for a reprieve, for escape
Even for sweet, sweet nothingness
But my calls go unheeded
The nightmare begins anew
I am my own personal terrorist
And I am the hostage
So yeah. Sometimes it’s like that. Sometimes it’s easy going. Sometimes it scares the fuck out of me. You can never tell what the next day–or minute, or second–will bring. And you know what else you sometimes can’t tell? If someone even has mental illness. That’s right, it’s sneaky shit. The stereotype is always the scruffy guy standing in the corner at the bus station, muttering to himself. That. Is. NOT. Typical of mental illness. Yes, it happens, but mental illness could be as innocuous as a slight slump to the shoulders, an unusual amount of energy, a sigh. There are infinite signs, and they can be infinitesimal.
To anyone reading this who suffers from mental illness, no matter what that illness is, I’m here. I may not be able to fully understand your personal illness, or even your own form of bipolar disorder, but I can talk. I can listen. To anyone reading this who is fortunate enough to be fairly mentally “sound,” if you know someone who is mentally ill, be that person who talks. Who listens. Sometimes just a little show of support and understanding is enough to keep the demons at bay.
For now the demons are quiet, and I think I’ll let them sleep a little longer.
So much to do, so little time for nothing
Eight to twelve hours at work five days a week. Either game or events on Saturdays, then Sundays are either visiting with family/doing laundry/rapier practice or more event stuff. Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings after work are for exercising, and Friday is more rapier practice. I occasionally get scheduled for a half day here and there, but inevitably someone calls out and I end up working the whole day.
That bugs the ever-living snot out of me. I feel like people see that I’m scheduled off-unless-needed and decide to suddenly be “sick” when they really just want a free day.
Why don’t I get free days? I don’t blame my bosses; they have to staff the clinic as is necessary. I kind of blame my coworkers sometimes though. Okay, most of the time. I mean, do they realize the kind of life I lead? If it wasn’t for my early-morning insomnia I’d never get anything done outside of work. No writing. No sewing. No artwork. Nothing. Just because I’m not out partying every night or don’t have kids to take care of doesn’t mean I don’t have things to do.
I’m tempted to request off more often just to get a break here and there, despite the need for PTO when I actually need the off days. I just can’t seem to catch a break.
Maybe this afternoon I’ll get the half day I was hoping for.
Maybe. But I doubt it.
Wandering blind
I’m not quite sure where I’m going
I barely know where I’ve been
I want to do more than I’m doing
But I don’t know how, why, or when
I’m not quite sure what I’m doing
I don’t know quite where to begin
To do things is not really helping
To do not seems more of a sin
I’m not quite much help as a listener
And speaking always comes out wrong
I don’t quite know what I can do
I don’t quite know how to be strong
Sub-standard
Okay, this upcoming three day weekend is much needed.
Last night I dreamed that a patient randomly started to fall face-first out of an exam chair. I mean, she was headed for full faceplant…until I jerked awake with a gasp. Work has finally invaded my subconscious to the point where I’m having semi-nightmares about it. (I don’t consider it a full-blown nightmare because it was more of a shock factor than a fear factor that woke me up…and I was fully aware that it was a dream the second I woke up. Usually nightmares have me really confused when I first wake up from them.)
I also had a weird dream that one of my exes was a serial killer. Hope I don’t have the FBI knocking on my door any time soon to ask questions lol
I keep telling myself that this weekend will help things calm down. I have a trip to Tucson with my husband and some new friends for cosplay and Costco shopping, so that may or may not be relaxing (sometimes even a day trip can wear you out), but Sunday and Monday should be all about cosplay work–except for an Independence Day dinner with the family.
Going to go finish that final belt loop on the Shatterstar pants that I have been procrastinating on due to sheer exhaustion, then I can finally get started on the coat…and learn how to thread and use my serger so I can make the Spandex stuff.
Yeah, I know, the cosplay push will be yet another thing to wear me out…but it’s a change from what I’ve been doing, so that’s a good thing I think. I just gotta keep up on it. Two months. Just two months. Can’t keep letting my physical and mental exhaustion get to me. I’ve got to get these done.
I can do it. I’m determined, just sluggish.
Weird dreams or not, I got this.