It's Monday morning at 3:20am, which means that the neighborhood is dead quiet - not even a car rolling by, all I hear are the birds singing. I have my window open, since it's late April and pretty nice out. My husband is next to me, sleeping the sleep of the calm and happy (he's snoring, so I can tell, hah). And I'm wide awake, since I actually fell asleep after my exercise session at the gym and got a good bit of rest.
Seems a good time to reflect upon recent events.
The truth is that there really isn't too much to say. I've achieved most of what I've planned, so far. I'm married now to a good man who loves me (and I must say that this second marriage is already a thousand times happier than my first, even after only a month). I'll be graduating from college in three weeks, a feat that I never in my wildest dreams thought would happen, ever. I've lost almost eighty pounds in two years, with more slated to come off as my exercise routine gets better, and stronger (and it is... more about that in a minute). My three-year waiting period for the house ends in a week (you know, the 8k tax credit - I have to live here for three years in order not to have to pay that back to the government. Once it ends, I can move and I don't owe anyone anything), so... if I want to move, I can (not that we're planning on it soon, but you know).
The only sour note is that I'm way behind in my finances. I was hoping to have a lot more paid off than this. Unfortunately, the bullshit with the legal case totally derailed that - but I'll eventually catch up. I'm still not sure if I'm going to graduate school yet - it depends on the economy and whether sequestration will continue, etc. So far, it doesn't look good - no one's even mentioned it coming to an end. It may never come to an end, at this rate.
So that's up in the air. But everything else, so far, is on track.
I was in the gym today, working out, and I was really getting into the routine - feeling the sweat pouring down my face and my body, which is normally a pretty icky feeling to me (and it's one of the reasons that I dislike working out, to be honest). Today, though, I was reveling in it for some reason - then I started to notice that I would feel a little "nudge" in my legs - it was the feel of the excess fat/skin/whatever rubbing up against my leg. It wasn't a lot (just so you all don't get grossed out, you know), but it was enough to motivate me to work out even harder. It was like, "oh my God, you're nasty, go AWAY." Know what I mean?
Suddenly, with each step I took, with each rotation on that elliptical, it was like I was saying "fuck you" to everyone who had ever told me that I was worthless, grotesque, ugly. It was a constant "fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you." (Yes, I'm actually kind of laughing thinking about that.) But it was incredible. I worked out so hard today, almost 700 calories burned in one session, which for me is insane.
Yes, I'm a beginner. But for some reason... I think this time it's going to stick. There was a time where I did it to make an impression on others - this time, this shit is for me, because I don't have anyone I need to impress. My husband loves me whether I'm obese or not - he's proven that.
This time, it's for me. This time, I'm saying "fuck you" to the ones that never believed in me.
The music helps. I've been working on my mp3 collection (yes, again, I'm so freaking obsessive, that's NEVER changed about me), so I've had to use Slacker Radio for workouts. Oddly, they've come up with stuff I never knew about and that I'm seriously digging. The song below is one of my newer favorites:
I marvel at how far I've truly come.
I wonder sometimes, only sometimes, what those who put me down before would think of me now. I wonder sometimes if I'm strong enough to confront those that have tried so hard to see me in the ground, either figuratively or literally. But, to be honest... that wondering only extends to what I would do if I saw them again. I'm vindictive enough to laugh in their faces.
Anger is a powerful, powerful motivator. But... in the end, you know what? It's only useful when it helps me. I don't think about it beyond that.
I think I'm going off into a tangent now, so I'm going to stop here. But... my life is good. It's getting better. It's going to keep getting better.
:)
Showing posts with label rambling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rambling. Show all posts
22 April 2013
28 October 2011
"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemingway
As always, I have little bits and pieces of thoughts throughout the week or during the periods of time where I don't write. Things that pop into my brain - "hey, yanno, I really should write about that" - only to have them disappear into the ether. What I should do is write them down as they occur to me, but even if I do (and I've tried), I usually decide that it's not really worth expounding upon later, for the most part.
You'd never know that I actually used to write on a creative level when I was younger. Not by the disjointed posts you see here today, anyway. I'd love to get back into that, but I don't feel that I have enough talent to do it, or originality to be honest. When I go back over the few writing pieces of mine that exist today (mainly really bad poetry on Literotica and the like), I cringe with complete embarrassment. That's usually a sign that I'm not cut out for the writing scene, heh.
Just that I'm thinking about trying to start again, though... that's as close to "normal" as I can ever remember being. Writing used to be my passion, what I lived for, and I might have had a shot at it if it hadn't been for a really painful experience when I was younger.
Yes, folks, here it comes. I'm purging yet another painful memory. Get ready.
Between the time I was about, oh I'll say sixteen or so, and nineteen... I was ass-deep in the writing of a book, an actual book. It doesn't matter what it was about now - something about a smart-alecky cat traveling the country having Kerouac-like adventures - but it was really, really good, or so I thought. I'd written, written, rewritten, revised, gotten critical opinions, revised again... etc. I was actually going to try and publish the damned thing, more fool me. At nineteen, I had a lot of dreams, still.
To make a long story short, the asshole that I was with at the time was abusive - in body, mind and spirit. This is the only douchebag that ever dared to hit me on a physical level, and to this day I don't know why I ever stayed with him - I guess I was conditioned to take that abuse, just like I was conditioned in childhood to accept emotional abuse and neglect.
This asshole, in a fit of rage, ripped up my book. The only copy I had. You see, there were no computers accessible back then to the general public - you had to have serious money to afford one in those days, which I didn't have. So... no copies. No way to get anything back. He took each page, and deliberately ripped it in halves, quarters, eighths. Scattered them all around the rooms. It was a big, huge, hurtful "Fuck you, bitch - you're nothing. Your so-called "talent" is shit."
I cried for weeks. That crushed my spirit like nothing else could have. At nineteen, something profound died within me. I've never been able to retrieve it since. Not ever. I have never written a word on a creative level since. Only bad, inept, stuttering poetry that is a fraction of the ability I used to have. Something inside of me still hears that limpdick's voice, echoing that sentiment. "I'm nothing. I'm shit."
Isn't that awful?
It doesn't matter how many people tell me differently, either. I just can't seem to get over that one thing, the destruction of something that I poured my heart and soul into for almost 4 years of my life. I guess you just had to be there to understand the depth of the pain.
Just the fact that I'm thinking about writing again, or even trying is a huge, huge positive sign that maybe I'm returning to the young, idealistic woman I used to be. Believe it or not... I did have hopes and dreams once, underneath all of this hurt and all of the tears I've cried incessantly since I was old enough to walk, pretty much.
Ugh, tears again. Always more tears. But it means I'm healing, doesn't it? Even if it seems to take absolutely forever.
I'm finally accepting the hurt, the pain, the fact that I endured abuse heaped onto yet more abuse. I'm finally getting that it happened and that I can't pretend it didn't and that I can't change it. But when am I going to get to forgiveness? I'm conscious that forgiveness is for myself, a way to keep people out of my head and heart... I'm getting that, too. But when is that going to happen? Am I going to carry all of this darkness within me forever?
Questions, questions, yet more questions. I want answers, damn it.
Heh, I can hear Greg's voice in my head now going, "Paaaaayyyy-shence."
Quick update on the rest of my life, here:
- Greg and I are doing wonderfully fine. Now past the 5-month mark and counting down to half a year. Hard to believe that this wonderful man is still with me, despite all. <3
- I just won the annual incentive workplace award, again, for the third year in a row. Which essentially now means that I'm set for life here, should I want to be. Not that I want to take urine for the rest of my life, that's for sure.
- School is in full swing again. This time I'm taking film history (wonderfully fun) and public safety policy (boooooring, yawn). Semester ends December 18th, hopefully I'll pull good marks.
- My wrist is more or less out of the soft cast (though it's not supposed to be yet, but I can't stand wearing the fucking thing one more day). It aches, it's VERY stiff in the mornings, but that's the way it goes. It's liveable. I can deal with it.
And that's it, for now, I guess.
Cheers from the verbal vomitorium. :p
You'd never know that I actually used to write on a creative level when I was younger. Not by the disjointed posts you see here today, anyway. I'd love to get back into that, but I don't feel that I have enough talent to do it, or originality to be honest. When I go back over the few writing pieces of mine that exist today (mainly really bad poetry on Literotica and the like), I cringe with complete embarrassment. That's usually a sign that I'm not cut out for the writing scene, heh.
Just that I'm thinking about trying to start again, though... that's as close to "normal" as I can ever remember being. Writing used to be my passion, what I lived for, and I might have had a shot at it if it hadn't been for a really painful experience when I was younger.
Yes, folks, here it comes. I'm purging yet another painful memory. Get ready.
Between the time I was about, oh I'll say sixteen or so, and nineteen... I was ass-deep in the writing of a book, an actual book. It doesn't matter what it was about now - something about a smart-alecky cat traveling the country having Kerouac-like adventures - but it was really, really good, or so I thought. I'd written, written, rewritten, revised, gotten critical opinions, revised again... etc. I was actually going to try and publish the damned thing, more fool me. At nineteen, I had a lot of dreams, still.
To make a long story short, the asshole that I was with at the time was abusive - in body, mind and spirit. This is the only douchebag that ever dared to hit me on a physical level, and to this day I don't know why I ever stayed with him - I guess I was conditioned to take that abuse, just like I was conditioned in childhood to accept emotional abuse and neglect.
This asshole, in a fit of rage, ripped up my book. The only copy I had. You see, there were no computers accessible back then to the general public - you had to have serious money to afford one in those days, which I didn't have. So... no copies. No way to get anything back. He took each page, and deliberately ripped it in halves, quarters, eighths. Scattered them all around the rooms. It was a big, huge, hurtful "Fuck you, bitch - you're nothing. Your so-called "talent" is shit."
I cried for weeks. That crushed my spirit like nothing else could have. At nineteen, something profound died within me. I've never been able to retrieve it since. Not ever. I have never written a word on a creative level since. Only bad, inept, stuttering poetry that is a fraction of the ability I used to have. Something inside of me still hears that limpdick's voice, echoing that sentiment. "I'm nothing. I'm shit."
Isn't that awful?
It doesn't matter how many people tell me differently, either. I just can't seem to get over that one thing, the destruction of something that I poured my heart and soul into for almost 4 years of my life. I guess you just had to be there to understand the depth of the pain.
Just the fact that I'm thinking about writing again, or even trying is a huge, huge positive sign that maybe I'm returning to the young, idealistic woman I used to be. Believe it or not... I did have hopes and dreams once, underneath all of this hurt and all of the tears I've cried incessantly since I was old enough to walk, pretty much.
Ugh, tears again. Always more tears. But it means I'm healing, doesn't it? Even if it seems to take absolutely forever.
I'm finally accepting the hurt, the pain, the fact that I endured abuse heaped onto yet more abuse. I'm finally getting that it happened and that I can't pretend it didn't and that I can't change it. But when am I going to get to forgiveness? I'm conscious that forgiveness is for myself, a way to keep people out of my head and heart... I'm getting that, too. But when is that going to happen? Am I going to carry all of this darkness within me forever?
Questions, questions, yet more questions. I want answers, damn it.
Heh, I can hear Greg's voice in my head now going, "Paaaaayyyy-shence."
Quick update on the rest of my life, here:
- Greg and I are doing wonderfully fine. Now past the 5-month mark and counting down to half a year. Hard to believe that this wonderful man is still with me, despite all. <3
- I just won the annual incentive workplace award, again, for the third year in a row. Which essentially now means that I'm set for life here, should I want to be. Not that I want to take urine for the rest of my life, that's for sure.
- School is in full swing again. This time I'm taking film history (wonderfully fun) and public safety policy (boooooring, yawn). Semester ends December 18th, hopefully I'll pull good marks.
- My wrist is more or less out of the soft cast (though it's not supposed to be yet, but I can't stand wearing the fucking thing one more day). It aches, it's VERY stiff in the mornings, but that's the way it goes. It's liveable. I can deal with it.
And that's it, for now, I guess.
Cheers from the verbal vomitorium.
25 January 2011
Strangely disconnected... but okay.
Life rolls on as it always does. I go to work, come home, eat, sleep, feed my cat, do laundry, go to therapy - it's a long, never-ending but oddly comfortable routine. Still, I can't help but feel... well, weird. There are days, of which this is one, where I walk through life doing what I need to do, but I feel like I'm watching some fucked-up reality television program. You know what I mean? I eye situations from a purely "outsider" point of view. It's as if I'm there... but not there. And I'm actually okay with this, because I don't really want to be noticed, anyhow.
I'm really in a weird point in my life right now. While I won't be unhappy if I'm around people, I don't make efforts to be social or to 'strike out', and I'm happy with my own company 99.9% of the time. This IS a big change from the first time I lived alone, where I was almost always miserable and lonely. These days... well, I occasionally feel a bit lonely, but I can usually forget about it rather quickly - and when I think of actually meeting new people, spending time with them, it's... vaguely unpleasant to me. Even more striking is the feeling that I get when I think of meeting someone new in a romantic sense - I actually shudder with revulsion. I think that I'm either finally adjusting to being single/alone - and LIKING it - or I've lost so much trust in people that it'll be virtually impossible for me to ever open myself up in that sense again. Maybe it's a combination of both, I don't know.
I've been diagnosed with avoidant personality disorder (AvPD). The symptoms/characteristics fit me almost 100 percent. I have a very close "inner circle" (as close as I'll allow, anyway, which is not very), and I only trust a very, very, very few. Otherwise, I shun social situations. And now that I actually know I do this, and that it's NORMAL for AvPD people to do this... I actually feel an odd sense of peace. That I'm not a freak, that I'm not alone, that others feel the same way I do, that others are just as lonely and frustrated as I seem to be. I wish that I didn't have it, of course, just as I wish I didn't have depression... but both conditions are permanent and with me to stay. So be it. I'll have to make the best of what I have, even if it proves to be very difficult. Eh, well. My life's never really been what I'd term "easy", so why start now? :p
There's a lot of things that I've been meaning to do lately - there's a shit-ton of mail I have to answer (both E and otherwise), I've fallen out of touch with people that I've been meaning to talk with - if you're one of them, patience, I'll get to you eventually. Like I said, when I inhabit this strange place, I often shut out the world around me and concentrate on introspection. I think that therapy has really helped with my introspective qualities. I'm not focusing as hard on the negative as I once did, and I'm really trying to make improvements - and yes, to be good to myself. Still some work to go on that, though.
I've lost another 2 point something pounds. Doesn't sound like much, but I'll take any improvement I can get. I don't expect that I'll be able to take off enough in order to avoid the surgery, but I'm working it the best that I can. Again, I'm sort of in an apathetic fog when it comes to that, just as I have been with a lot of other things. That might be bad - as a matter of fact, I know it is - but right now I'm comfortable with where I am, so I'm not going to make an effort to change it.
I don't know that apathetic is the right word, though, because I DO care. Maybe it should be "fatalistic" - i.e., whatever happens, happens. I'm not going to create stress for myself over things that, for right now, I have no control over. My philosophy is "do what I'm supposed to do and let everything take care of itself". And that's what I'm doing, I guess.
Yes, I have a lot of regrets. But regret doesn't change what is. All that I can do is continue to move forward - and hope.
Strange, that word, hope. But fitting.
I'm really in a weird point in my life right now. While I won't be unhappy if I'm around people, I don't make efforts to be social or to 'strike out', and I'm happy with my own company 99.9% of the time. This IS a big change from the first time I lived alone, where I was almost always miserable and lonely. These days... well, I occasionally feel a bit lonely, but I can usually forget about it rather quickly - and when I think of actually meeting new people, spending time with them, it's... vaguely unpleasant to me. Even more striking is the feeling that I get when I think of meeting someone new in a romantic sense - I actually shudder with revulsion. I think that I'm either finally adjusting to being single/alone - and LIKING it - or I've lost so much trust in people that it'll be virtually impossible for me to ever open myself up in that sense again. Maybe it's a combination of both, I don't know.
I've been diagnosed with avoidant personality disorder (AvPD). The symptoms/characteristics fit me almost 100 percent. I have a very close "inner circle" (as close as I'll allow, anyway, which is not very), and I only trust a very, very, very few. Otherwise, I shun social situations. And now that I actually know I do this, and that it's NORMAL for AvPD people to do this... I actually feel an odd sense of peace. That I'm not a freak, that I'm not alone, that others feel the same way I do, that others are just as lonely and frustrated as I seem to be. I wish that I didn't have it, of course, just as I wish I didn't have depression... but both conditions are permanent and with me to stay. So be it. I'll have to make the best of what I have, even if it proves to be very difficult. Eh, well. My life's never really been what I'd term "easy", so why start now? :p
There's a lot of things that I've been meaning to do lately - there's a shit-ton of mail I have to answer (both E and otherwise), I've fallen out of touch with people that I've been meaning to talk with - if you're one of them, patience, I'll get to you eventually. Like I said, when I inhabit this strange place, I often shut out the world around me and concentrate on introspection. I think that therapy has really helped with my introspective qualities. I'm not focusing as hard on the negative as I once did, and I'm really trying to make improvements - and yes, to be good to myself. Still some work to go on that, though.
I've lost another 2 point something pounds. Doesn't sound like much, but I'll take any improvement I can get. I don't expect that I'll be able to take off enough in order to avoid the surgery, but I'm working it the best that I can. Again, I'm sort of in an apathetic fog when it comes to that, just as I have been with a lot of other things. That might be bad - as a matter of fact, I know it is - but right now I'm comfortable with where I am, so I'm not going to make an effort to change it.
I don't know that apathetic is the right word, though, because I DO care. Maybe it should be "fatalistic" - i.e., whatever happens, happens. I'm not going to create stress for myself over things that, for right now, I have no control over. My philosophy is "do what I'm supposed to do and let everything take care of itself". And that's what I'm doing, I guess.
Yes, I have a lot of regrets. But regret doesn't change what is. All that I can do is continue to move forward - and hope.
Strange, that word, hope. But fitting.
19 December 2010
Like I said... it'll pass. And it did.
I've woken up this morning feeling much better today. A good night's sleep, something that I haven't admittedly had in a while, cured me of whatever malaise I'd been feeling, and I'm now happily enjoying a hot cup of coffee and a vegetable-packed cheese omelet that I just made.
It's funny, but there's always been something a little special about Sunday morning for me. Maybe it's because I know that I can sleep in if I really want to - or that I can just kick back in my pajamas and enjoy a hot cup of coffee while watching the world go by my windows. It's being able to catch up on the news at my leisure, usually with a Sunday paper resting at my feet, or if I want to go worship a "god" of sorts, I can do that. (And... this may come as a shock to some of you, but I have seriously thought about going to a service or two recently. It's not because I've suddenly "found" religion - I'm too much of a cynic for that - but perhaps I DON'T know every side of the story, and I should make it my business to find out. A questioner, in my mind, leaves no stone unturned to find their truth, even if it might be distasteful to some.)
Anyhow, what it boils down to is that I feel 100 percent better this morning. Sure, it would be nice to have family and friends around me during this time of the year - but in the end, this is going to be what I make of it. Someday I might meet someone, or several someones, that I can consider "family" or "friends". But in the meantime, I'm calm with myself. I'm still learning, you see, to be okay with my own company. And I think I'm doing better with that right now than I ever have previously. For the most part, I've been somewhat contented. I'm healing. I can feel it.
My debt is nearly completely paid off. I have a little short of a thousand dollars left, but that'll be nothing to take care of, considering that I dumped nearly ten grand off of the cards. I estimate that everything will be finally paid completely off by February, March at the very latest, if I keep to my original goal, which I intend to do. I still have my massive mortgage, of course, and my student loans - but they consider that "good debt". That's fine. I can live with that. I have a plan to go full-steam ahead on the mortgage once everything is paid off and I have what I need to have - I don't really want to be almost 70 years old before I can get this house paid up. Ditto with the student loans.
One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't get started on this shit sooner - like right out of high school. I guess that I was too immature, as most 18 year olds tend to be, to consider these things, and it doesn't help that I've been suffering from undiagnosed depression all that time, either. But there's no point in looking back and regretting things, because it's a waste of energy and it does nothing to fix the situation you're in now, you know what I'm saying?
Apparently, Sunday is a day to be contemplative, too. :)
Therapy today. I'm in need of a session, since I missed last week due to the exams and studying, bleh blah. I did get a B in the biology course. The web design course, unknown, though I know I did pass it. I just tried to run my degree progress report through the school's website, but they're making upgrades to it and it won't be available until tonight. Bluh. Oh, well. But in any case, I did pass my other two courses, so that's all right.
So now I'm rambling, heh. I think I should get more coffee at this point and sign off, but... yeah, I think I'm feeling better.
Pretty sure, anyway.
It's funny, but there's always been something a little special about Sunday morning for me. Maybe it's because I know that I can sleep in if I really want to - or that I can just kick back in my pajamas and enjoy a hot cup of coffee while watching the world go by my windows. It's being able to catch up on the news at my leisure, usually with a Sunday paper resting at my feet, or if I want to go worship a "god" of sorts, I can do that. (And... this may come as a shock to some of you, but I have seriously thought about going to a service or two recently. It's not because I've suddenly "found" religion - I'm too much of a cynic for that - but perhaps I DON'T know every side of the story, and I should make it my business to find out. A questioner, in my mind, leaves no stone unturned to find their truth, even if it might be distasteful to some.)
Anyhow, what it boils down to is that I feel 100 percent better this morning. Sure, it would be nice to have family and friends around me during this time of the year - but in the end, this is going to be what I make of it. Someday I might meet someone, or several someones, that I can consider "family" or "friends". But in the meantime, I'm calm with myself. I'm still learning, you see, to be okay with my own company. And I think I'm doing better with that right now than I ever have previously. For the most part, I've been somewhat contented. I'm healing. I can feel it.
My debt is nearly completely paid off. I have a little short of a thousand dollars left, but that'll be nothing to take care of, considering that I dumped nearly ten grand off of the cards. I estimate that everything will be finally paid completely off by February, March at the very latest, if I keep to my original goal, which I intend to do. I still have my massive mortgage, of course, and my student loans - but they consider that "good debt". That's fine. I can live with that. I have a plan to go full-steam ahead on the mortgage once everything is paid off and I have what I need to have - I don't really want to be almost 70 years old before I can get this house paid up. Ditto with the student loans.
One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't get started on this shit sooner - like right out of high school. I guess that I was too immature, as most 18 year olds tend to be, to consider these things, and it doesn't help that I've been suffering from undiagnosed depression all that time, either. But there's no point in looking back and regretting things, because it's a waste of energy and it does nothing to fix the situation you're in now, you know what I'm saying?
Apparently, Sunday is a day to be contemplative, too. :)
Therapy today. I'm in need of a session, since I missed last week due to the exams and studying, bleh blah. I did get a B in the biology course. The web design course, unknown, though I know I did pass it. I just tried to run my degree progress report through the school's website, but they're making upgrades to it and it won't be available until tonight. Bluh. Oh, well. But in any case, I did pass my other two courses, so that's all right.
So now I'm rambling, heh. I think I should get more coffee at this point and sign off, but... yeah, I think I'm feeling better.
Pretty sure, anyway.
15 November 2010
It just occurred to me...
...sitting here on the train, that I've lived in a solitary, painful world for most of my life. Why is this a new revelation, you might say? Well... I guess that this whole thought process began while I was listening to my music and thinking about the events that transpired this weekend - which honestly wasn't all that much, just homework, therapy as always, and brunch with a friend on Sunday morning. But, during that brunch, I listened to my friend's plans of philanthropy - getting out into the world and making a difference for other people.
Now, at the time, I just kind of shrugged it off, as overly positive people tend to annoy the crap out of me, heh. But the more that I thought about that conversation, the more that I realize that I've been so closed off. I've never really felt too positive about anything, and I'll be honest - I used to feel guilty about that, guilt that I didn't have it in my heart to help others out or even to much care about whether other people did.
However, I've come to the realization that I can't start helping others out until I help myself. Until I'm further along in my healing process, I have to accept the fact that, for right now, I'm not going to be much good to anyone in that philanthropic sense. It's honestly a wonder, I think, that I still feel any sense of compassion at all, given the things that I've been through.
I plan on starting a volunteer position at BARCS around Christmastime. It's not really that much in the grand scheme of things - I'll be helping out homeless animals, setting up cats and dogs with potential adopters, that sort of thing. But it won't make me feel totally useless, I suppose, and it's a step in the right direction. That's really all I can manage right now as far as "helping out the world" is concerned. But maybe that's enough.
I have a long, long road back to sanity, still. It gets so tiring sometimes.
Little things make me realize that I'm so far away from achieving "normalcy" still. For example, when I was waiting to be seen at therapy yesterday, I was leafing through the doctor's pile of waiting room magazines - mainly because I was bored out of my skull and I like to read, heh - but it occurred to me that I hadn't even looked at a magazine since... I can't even remember when. Not even online. It's a small thing and maybe not really that important, but it's one of those things that make me wonder just how "out of touch" with my surroundings I really am. If that makes sense.
Bah. Sometimes I wonder if any of my rambling makes sense, heh.
Off to work.
Now, at the time, I just kind of shrugged it off, as overly positive people tend to annoy the crap out of me, heh. But the more that I thought about that conversation, the more that I realize that I've been so closed off. I've never really felt too positive about anything, and I'll be honest - I used to feel guilty about that, guilt that I didn't have it in my heart to help others out or even to much care about whether other people did.
However, I've come to the realization that I can't start helping others out until I help myself. Until I'm further along in my healing process, I have to accept the fact that, for right now, I'm not going to be much good to anyone in that philanthropic sense. It's honestly a wonder, I think, that I still feel any sense of compassion at all, given the things that I've been through.
I plan on starting a volunteer position at BARCS around Christmastime. It's not really that much in the grand scheme of things - I'll be helping out homeless animals, setting up cats and dogs with potential adopters, that sort of thing. But it won't make me feel totally useless, I suppose, and it's a step in the right direction. That's really all I can manage right now as far as "helping out the world" is concerned. But maybe that's enough.
I have a long, long road back to sanity, still. It gets so tiring sometimes.
Little things make me realize that I'm so far away from achieving "normalcy" still. For example, when I was waiting to be seen at therapy yesterday, I was leafing through the doctor's pile of waiting room magazines - mainly because I was bored out of my skull and I like to read, heh - but it occurred to me that I hadn't even looked at a magazine since... I can't even remember when. Not even online. It's a small thing and maybe not really that important, but it's one of those things that make me wonder just how "out of touch" with my surroundings I really am. If that makes sense.
Bah. Sometimes I wonder if any of my rambling makes sense, heh.
Off to work.
21 July 2010
At last, a bit of respite. But only a bit.
The pressure has been lifted a little now that I've turned in my crim exam - and let me tell you what, I think that's probably the hardest I've ever worked on an assignment since I went back to school last year. It had better get a passing grade, by Christ, or you will see one upset little bitch over here.
Powerpoint is a great program, but it takes forever to build ONE presentation. Who knew that it would cost me six days' worth of time? Sheeeee-zus.
Anyway, while other things are still bubbling away in the misery pot, things have eased up enough so that I can breathe some. I slept like the dead last night, the first time in ages. I guess that's because I was finally able to relax just enough so that I didn't toss and turn on the sofa all night long. How I miss sleeping on a real bed! I know, patience... patience... meh.
They recruited someone from one of the other units to stand in as the lead technician at work. The poor bastard. I give him three months, although he might be up for it, he's a little tougher emotionally than the last two we've had. Time will tell. He'll work with me on my transportation issues, because he also catches the same commuter trains that I do - this is a plus.
In a general conversation with Eye Candy, I found out that he's blissfully occupied with his girlfriend - in fact, moved here to be with her. So much for that, heh, but in a way it's a very good thing, as now I have no reason to be interested in him as anything more than a coworker. The second he said "girlfriend", I was like, "orly?" and all prurient thoughts that I might once have had shut down - instantly. Again, I'm thinking that it's likely for the best.
I'm not emotionally ready to get involved with anyone, anyhow. I'm learning how to.. well, be single, I suppose. Probably what I need.
Bleh. My quiet time is over, as someone just walked in the door. I don't mind working the early shift sometimes, as I get here earlier than everyone else and it's a rare change that this place is ever silent. The lights are off but for one, and it happens to be right over my desk, so I enjoy being alone here sometimes with just my thoughts, the darkness and the silence to keep me company. Unfortunately, when someone comes in, it's all dispensed with.
I wish that people would sometimes appreciate the beauty of silence and darkness. It's not as negative as one might think.
That's enough rambling for now, I suppose.
Powerpoint is a great program, but it takes forever to build ONE presentation. Who knew that it would cost me six days' worth of time? Sheeeee-zus.
Anyway, while other things are still bubbling away in the misery pot, things have eased up enough so that I can breathe some. I slept like the dead last night, the first time in ages. I guess that's because I was finally able to relax just enough so that I didn't toss and turn on the sofa all night long. How I miss sleeping on a real bed! I know, patience... patience... meh.
They recruited someone from one of the other units to stand in as the lead technician at work. The poor bastard. I give him three months, although he might be up for it, he's a little tougher emotionally than the last two we've had. Time will tell. He'll work with me on my transportation issues, because he also catches the same commuter trains that I do - this is a plus.
In a general conversation with Eye Candy, I found out that he's blissfully occupied with his girlfriend - in fact, moved here to be with her. So much for that, heh, but in a way it's a very good thing, as now I have no reason to be interested in him as anything more than a coworker. The second he said "girlfriend", I was like, "orly?" and all prurient thoughts that I might once have had shut down - instantly. Again, I'm thinking that it's likely for the best.
I'm not emotionally ready to get involved with anyone, anyhow. I'm learning how to.. well, be single, I suppose. Probably what I need.
Bleh. My quiet time is over, as someone just walked in the door. I don't mind working the early shift sometimes, as I get here earlier than everyone else and it's a rare change that this place is ever silent. The lights are off but for one, and it happens to be right over my desk, so I enjoy being alone here sometimes with just my thoughts, the darkness and the silence to keep me company. Unfortunately, when someone comes in, it's all dispensed with.
I wish that people would sometimes appreciate the beauty of silence and darkness. It's not as negative as one might think.
That's enough rambling for now, I suppose.
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