Tuesday, November 03, 2015
Yesterday Was Broken
Not a ‘bad day’, no ‘rainy days and Mondays’ bullshit; it was simply megabroken for no reason whatsoever.
I spent the day scattered amongst the emails starting one, seeing another pop up; woops, this ticket is aging; hey answer this in IM even though I sent you an email already; I'm calling because you didn't answer me fast enough when I didn't even send my email to you; I've asked six people the same thing but maybe if I ask you I'll get a different answer; hi, I'm gonna stand behind you like a creeper until you notice I'm waiting for you to answer my question.
If I had to create a recipe for feeling like a failure it would begin like yesterday. And continue like yesterday did. It would probably end like yesterday, too. Honestly, it would just be yesterday.
I'm sure I was busy all day but I can't recall achieving anything until my last two hours.
I cried all the way home.
Everything hurt; all my intangible parts, that is. Angerballs prowled my stomach, my head was full of bees, my craving was elusive (I want -waves hands around- something), every thought slipped through my fingers to shatter on the floor, I need to talk to someone but I can't remember whom. I could scroll through my phone but it wouldn't help; I know that I get like this, I know these symptoms, and I know there is no cure.
Driving home I cried because I love how Snoop’s back up singer reinforces his insults. I cry because I saw the Bangles walk like Egyptians in concert and it was amazing. I cry because Syd Barrett needs to shine on and that is the sweetest love song ever sent to a friend lost in their own mind. I cry because traffic is light, and, since I worked late, all the lights look pretty through my tears.
I cry for all this and no reason at all.
I cry when Rod Stewart sings, “I found it hard to hide my tears; I felt ashamed, I felt I'd let you down”. I wondered if Mandolin Wind was actually about love surviving a blizzardy winter of hardship or the people who stick with you though mental illness because I feel like I let those people down constantly but there they are, within reach at the end of the day, carefully gauging whether to ask questions or just hug me. I imagine how frustrating it must be to know that “normal” and “typical” are worthless here. They're playing a game where the rules change constantly and they just roll with it. They are extraordinary superheroes who don't need flashy costumes or capes to save lives daily.
I cry because I love those people so much it is sometimes agony for both of us.
I wonder about my family. Do they understand how bad things really are? Is that over dramatic? I have better days on occasion. I have entire days when I can pass as human. I imagine telling them all the things about me that I hide from them and then mentally add “I eat babies” to the list so I can say, “just kidding… I AM all that other stuff but I don't really eat babies” to them. The ridiculous I use as a coping mechanism fails to amuse me.
I move my arm to use my turn signal AND the steering wheel at the same time and I'm startled that I don't sound broken inside when I move, then I'm startled that I’d even had that thought. I contemplate the sound of broken glass vs the sound of broken pottery in a bag. I figure the bag is cloth and debate pillowcase or burlap finally deciding that being broken should sound like glass falling into fine China while it is grinding upon itself in a cheap polyester pillowcase. Something with an old lady floral pattern on it.
I have to be responsible when I get home; bills need to be paid and I should log in and work for a bit and that makes me feel tired and shrunken. I don't want to adult this evening. Neither do I want to child. Or eat, read, game, talk, sleep...nothing fits. I wander around the house, disconnected and listless, looking in the fridge when I'm not hungry, walking into the bathroom I don't need to use, drifting from room to room not sure what I need or want.
Bills got paid, hugs were accepted and my agitation level lowered from an 8 to about a 5. Everything was still disjointed and confusing so I hid in bed, lights out, under my covers, swiping this out on my phone because anything else was just too much.
I don't log in to work and chose not to set my early alarm because I just couldn't care about that right then and I knew that being behind would drive and focus me the next day, anyway.
"G’nite," I whispered to myself, "Maybe tomorrow will be better behaved."
I spent the day scattered amongst the emails starting one, seeing another pop up; woops, this ticket is aging; hey answer this in IM even though I sent you an email already; I'm calling because you didn't answer me fast enough when I didn't even send my email to you; I've asked six people the same thing but maybe if I ask you I'll get a different answer; hi, I'm gonna stand behind you like a creeper until you notice I'm waiting for you to answer my question.
If I had to create a recipe for feeling like a failure it would begin like yesterday. And continue like yesterday did. It would probably end like yesterday, too. Honestly, it would just be yesterday.
I'm sure I was busy all day but I can't recall achieving anything until my last two hours.
I cried all the way home.
Everything hurt; all my intangible parts, that is. Angerballs prowled my stomach, my head was full of bees, my craving was elusive (I want -waves hands around- something), every thought slipped through my fingers to shatter on the floor, I need to talk to someone but I can't remember whom. I could scroll through my phone but it wouldn't help; I know that I get like this, I know these symptoms, and I know there is no cure.
Driving home I cried because I love how Snoop’s back up singer reinforces his insults. I cry because I saw the Bangles walk like Egyptians in concert and it was amazing. I cry because Syd Barrett needs to shine on and that is the sweetest love song ever sent to a friend lost in their own mind. I cry because traffic is light, and, since I worked late, all the lights look pretty through my tears.
I cry for all this and no reason at all.
I cry when Rod Stewart sings, “I found it hard to hide my tears; I felt ashamed, I felt I'd let you down”. I wondered if Mandolin Wind was actually about love surviving a blizzardy winter of hardship or the people who stick with you though mental illness because I feel like I let those people down constantly but there they are, within reach at the end of the day, carefully gauging whether to ask questions or just hug me. I imagine how frustrating it must be to know that “normal” and “typical” are worthless here. They're playing a game where the rules change constantly and they just roll with it. They are extraordinary superheroes who don't need flashy costumes or capes to save lives daily.
I cry because I love those people so much it is sometimes agony for both of us.
I wonder about my family. Do they understand how bad things really are? Is that over dramatic? I have better days on occasion. I have entire days when I can pass as human. I imagine telling them all the things about me that I hide from them and then mentally add “I eat babies” to the list so I can say, “just kidding… I AM all that other stuff but I don't really eat babies” to them. The ridiculous I use as a coping mechanism fails to amuse me.
I move my arm to use my turn signal AND the steering wheel at the same time and I'm startled that I don't sound broken inside when I move, then I'm startled that I’d even had that thought. I contemplate the sound of broken glass vs the sound of broken pottery in a bag. I figure the bag is cloth and debate pillowcase or burlap finally deciding that being broken should sound like glass falling into fine China while it is grinding upon itself in a cheap polyester pillowcase. Something with an old lady floral pattern on it.
I have to be responsible when I get home; bills need to be paid and I should log in and work for a bit and that makes me feel tired and shrunken. I don't want to adult this evening. Neither do I want to child. Or eat, read, game, talk, sleep...nothing fits. I wander around the house, disconnected and listless, looking in the fridge when I'm not hungry, walking into the bathroom I don't need to use, drifting from room to room not sure what I need or want.
Bills got paid, hugs were accepted and my agitation level lowered from an 8 to about a 5. Everything was still disjointed and confusing so I hid in bed, lights out, under my covers, swiping this out on my phone because anything else was just too much.
I don't log in to work and chose not to set my early alarm because I just couldn't care about that right then and I knew that being behind would drive and focus me the next day, anyway.
"G’nite," I whispered to myself, "Maybe tomorrow will be better behaved."
Labels: Confessions, Depression, Words
