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Tag Archives: shit that happens to me

Complacency Kills

Today I got a little reality check cashed that I wasn’t expecting.

I thought I was doing so well with my depression and my coping issues for months and months and months now. I’m no longer on antidepressants, my therapist released me from ongoing therapy, and my life has been on quite the upswing. But today was proof that even when everything seems to be going right, shit can still creep up on you and flip you ass over tin cups.

I work with a girl who frustrates me to the point that I have become obsessed with everything she does wrong, just to shake my head, tsk-tsk in her direction and say things like “I don’t know how she still has a job”  behind her back. Her lack of work, while I bust my ass, and the way I feel that management has allowed her behavior with no consequence, straight up makes me resentful. You see, I have a job where I do what I’m supposed to do, my manager and I sit down every couple of weeks to go over my case load, and unless someone starts jumping up and down in the meantime, I’m pretty much left to my own devices otherwise, and expected to just do my job. This girl I work with takes advantage of our freedom and often spends more time during the day texting or surfing the internet than she does actually WORKING and I’ve become too concerned with what she does, or doesn’t do, each day that I’ve been making snide comments to fellow coworkers. Apparently others have heard my comments and went to my manager about them, thus resulting in a call today. I can be an awful bitch at times, for sure, and heaven help those who get on my bad side as I can say some nasty stuff with proper motivation – and you best believe that this girl gives me proper motivation. Through all of this, I have not lost control of my caseload and I do not have issues with unhappy or neglected clients, but I have certainly delved into the zone of negativity which is a place I strove for a very long time to climb out of. It’s a place I haven’t been in a while, and slipping back into it was so easy, it kind of scares me.

I feel a lot of shame, too. Shame for being so petty about this girl, shame for being naive enough to think that management had no clue of her shenanigans, and shame that I made my manager waste some of her precious time just to tell me that I needed to get a grip. I can’t believe that I’ve forgotten where I was when I started this blog years ago – miserable, negative, hating everything, feeling nothing and being just plain depressed and anxious – and how long and hard I struggled and cried and learned and fought and what I implemented in an attempt to change all of that. And here, I have allowed one co-worker, in a matter of a few months, to ruin that for me and start to take away what I worked SO HARD to obtain.

My manager was ultimately right, and I thanked her for bringing this to my attention. Sometimes, it’s hard to see how extreme a situation has become until an outsider points it out. I promised her that I would let it all go, and starting tomorrow, i intend to do just that. I’m going to let go of the resentment, let go of the shame and let go of the negativity – I don’t want to be that person again because at this point in my life, I have too much to lose.

 

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Daddy Issues

I’m going off of memory here because I’m lazy and don’t like to incorporate research (BLECK) into blogging, but I believe it was Freud, and Oedipus, that theorized our first loves are our opposing sex parent when we are babies and young children. Little boys love their mothers and little girls love their fathers truer and deeper than they think they’ll ever love anyone else, and the reaction of said parent is more important to how we shape our views of ourselves than I, and most people I’d wager, ever realize. Whether this is true or not, I can’t tell you, but I know for me, my father and our relationship has proven to be the catalyst for most of my crazy issues as an adult.

My parents divorced when I was about 5, and most of the memories that I have of the time before are not so peachy. Lots of yelling, lots of fighting and lots of pissed off dad. His anger was scary, he’d yell and scream and throw shit, and as a 5 and less year old kid, I had a decision to make – be afraid of my own father, or try to do things that didn’t make him angry. Queue the emergence of my brilliant wit. I learned quickly that when dad was laughing, he wasn’t yelling and the choice for me was obvious – I wanted a laughy dad, not a screamy one. Besides, a couple of hits on the ass with a wooden spoon would have even made Jesus renounce his religion, if it had happened to him as a three year old.

Flash forward to my adult life and the main lesson that that little girl learned – do whatever it takes to avoid confrontation and make sure everyone is happy in order to avoid chaos and fear. To this day, I make jokes in tense situations to avoid the anger or sadness that may present itself otherwise. Laughter beat out dads anger, but the laughter was just masking my fear, not displacing it. Don’t get me wrong, I love laughing and having a good time, but I pushed myself into being that way as a child because it was a way better option than being screamed at and cracked over the ass with a wooden spoon by my dad because I spilled some milk on the kitchen floor. Remember – 5 years old and less….

Our relationship as adults is less of a relationship and more of a requirement. He expects me to honor and obey, and forgive him when he tells me that depression is something I should be able to handle myself, and that it’s ‘stupid’ that I am on antidepressants. He wants me to go out of my way for him and give him the unconditional love that he’s never given me. He wants me to yearn for his affection that he withholds like it’s the last jar of peanut butter on earth. Yet, despite all of that, I still try to make him happy. I still try to be uplifting and funny and I still try to be that little girl who he used to get so much enjoyment out of  – but as an adult, it’s harder for me to suppress the fact that I’ve never felt my dad loved me for who I am, only for the laughter I could create. I’ve always felt he loved me just because I could make him not be angry, and that isn’t the unconditional love that a child needs from their father. It’s made me derive my self worth through how I can make others feel – if I can’t make people turn that frown upside down, then I’m worthless. If I can’t solve a problem for someone, I’m a piece of shit, and so on and so on.  I want him to be happy, I want him to enjoy life, but every time that I try to bring that to him, he shoots me down. He makes sure every conversation ends with a ‘reality check’, which leaves me feeling like the world is terrible and not worth being a part of. He’s so resistant to letting go of his negativity and constant belittling that he makes no effort to ease our strained relationship, despite the fact that he is acutely aware that it exists. And that makes me sad for him, and sad for me because there is so much more to this thing called life than just hating on it and bitching about the bad shit that happens to us all sometimes. I want to have a relationship with my father that is healthy and loving and where I feel he accepts me and that I am good enough to be called his daughter, but I’m realizing through age and therapy that that just isn’t going to happen. He’s always going to think I could do more, or be better, or thinner or prettier or a harder worker, but not in an encouraging kind of way, more like a ‘you are not good enough’ one.

Tonight in my therapy session, I realized that my dads happiness is not my responsibility, and it’s OK that that makes me sad. I cannot live my life for him, and I cannot allow him to drag me down when I find something to be positive about. I love my dad, and I always will, but I don’t LOVE my dad, and I wish that I could.

 

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Who’s got two thumbs and a serious case of the Mondays? This girl.

I once saw a bumper sticker that read “Mondays are a horrible way to spend 1/7th of your life.” It made me laugh and nod in agreement then, and it still pops up into my head now when I have a day like today.

My job is technically based – I work with computers and in multiple proprietary applications all day long, in and out. When I have a computer problem, it effects my entire day. Today, I had internet issues, then VPN connectivity issues, then Outlook issues – it seemed never ending. I was in the midst of a conversation with my manager via an internal instant messenger service when my internet went out for the first time, cutting the conversation off mid sentence. I did all of the things I knew to do – reboot the router, reboot the comp, try my personal comp, then call my ISP. Turns out it was most definitely an ISP problem and it took them a couple of hours to fix it.

I finally got logged back in around 2:15p this afternoon only to find that the email message I needed for a task was unavailable because my outlook took a shit and didn’t want to open up properly, due to the loss of VPN connection from earlier, when my internet went out. Long story short, technology is aggravating me today as nothing seems to be working properly. In the past, I’ve always relied heavily on technology because most things are a computer program of sorts – and computer programs DO get bugs in them, but are often fixable easily enough, even if you have to revert code to a previously working version. Computer programs make sense to me – tell them to do something and they do it. Most often, if it doesn’t do what you intended, it’s because you made a coding error. So it’s understandable when a technology/computer fail totally screws my day, and my mentality.

I am not in a ‘bad’ mood, or depressed; I’m pretty much just annoyed with everything today. Struggling to WORK is a mood killer and definitely is aggravating and makes me want to punch a baby in the face, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll stew in my annoyance tonight and probably roll into work early tomorrow to try to get my shit together and accessible while I’m connected to the mainframe directly, not through a VPN connection. I’ll have to work a long day to make up my missed time due to my malfunctions, but I do have the hope that tomorrow IS another day, and that my tech bugs will sort themselves out and go bother someone else. I don’t know if I can manage two, completely unproductive days in a row, because of computer issues. If that happens, tomorrow’s post is bound to be much more on the downswing than this one.

So, Mondays. Why do we hate you so? Oh, perhaps it is because you come directly after the most loved days of the week, and signal the return to reality that most of us would rather not see as often as you come around. Perhaps it is because, in a client facing business, clients stew all weekend and then explode phones and emails with pointless issues and merit-less concerns first thing in your morning. Or perhaps it is because we have, as a society, been so indoctrinated to HATE you, that we cannot help it; if you don’t hate Monday’s people think somethings wrong with you. Perhaps you have taken on the embodiment of all things great and evil and you give us a fixed point to direct our disappointment and anger at. Or perhaps it’s just that we hate having to work 5 days, and only getting 2 for play. Whoever came up with this 40 hour work week shit should be drug out into the street and Pink Bellied until they split that shit to 4 days on, 3 days off… Meh. A girl can dream, can’t she?

 

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Stoic people actually trim hedges

I have decided to rekindle my blogging while I am in a shit, depressed mood as this is usually when I do my best writing, nonetheless. Last night I had a friend essentially tell me off in an unprompted and rather curt way and that encounter has left me feeling a little, ok, a LOT under the weather. Some may remember how a similar thing happened to me last year, where a few women who I thought were my friends, ended up stabbing me in the back or just plain old forgetting about me, but, I have to admit that the debacle from last eve makes those women seem like fairy princesses who made me hand woven blankets of sugar and spice.

I’m up to a nice, round, even number of people in the last 18 months who have removed themselves from my list of contacts – last night makes 6 – And while I like even numbers and all, this is just getting RIDICULOUS. I’m starting to feel like I am seriously dysfunctional, like I have a legitimate defect about me which causes people to drop me like a leper who doesn’t understand what PERSONAL SPACE means. Maybe I throw too much of myself into friendships, and end up expecting more out of people than they can actually give. Maybe I allow everyone else to borrow my energy, but never ask for any in return, thus making me out to be a push-over and an easy target for misdirected aggression. Maybe I’m so insecure with myself that I latch hold of people who I think NEED me, and through that, find a sort of value for myself, but can never really evolve into the equal contribution which ANY relationship, platonic or romantic, should be. Or maybe I’m just fucking crazy and attract crazies. Who knows?

My family is aware of my struggles, and my mom’s supportive, yet misguided, answer to all of my emotional problems is to always go do some yard work. Seeing how my mother never lets things get to her as easily as I do, or at least is better at hiding her emotional duress than I am, I thought WHAT THE HELL? and tonight I mowed, weed whacked, weeded my brick patios and edged my walk in an attempt to walk off my injury. I have to admit, those 4 hours I spent in my backyard went by much faster than a similar length of time spent with my ass embraced in the soft, chocolate colored micro-suede fabric that is my couch, but I still can’t seem to shake off the feelings of desertion and disconnect that I’ve been left with since yesterday – maybe I should have pruned some trees, too?

 

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If it ain’t one thing, it’s another

When I have a particular man er, MALE that I had dated, sending me random, strange, cryptic text messages regarding my love-ability vs. my craziness, is it really ANY doubt why I am in therapy?!

I was cursed DO’H! blessed with a ridiculously text book case of Cancerian astrological qualities. Anything you’ve ever heard or read about Cancers = ME. I’ve shared before that I am a religious zealot when it comes to reading my horoscope. I’m like, the Church of Jesus Christ of Ladder Day Saints, if they believed in horoscopes and not Jesus. Ok, so I’m less like The CJCLDS and maybe more like a Pagan or something, but the fact remains that it’s not what or who you have faith in, it’s just that you have faith. So, with that in mind, may I share with you, my Gospel of the day – my horribly fantastic horoscope:

The boundaries between friendship and romance could be blurred today as Neptune dissolves your 8th House of Intimacy. You are eager to be in a fun-filled social setting now, placing you in close proximity with people you like. Tread carefully, for your emotional needs can lure you into tricky waters.

Had I only READ my horoscope beforehand, I probably never would have responded to that damn text which in turn has given me enough to chew on for the next two days that I’ll barely have to eat.

 

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Ghetto-fabulous *snap*

Today’s entertainment came from the fact that rocks being propelled by lawnmower blades often create earth-shattering havoc on nearby car windows. Fortunately, the dude sought me out and gave me the name of a glass place that he apparently has an account with…seems he is no stranger to ::yeah, I’m ACTUALLY gonna quote a bad 80’s song, here:: walking on, walking on, walking on BROKEN GLASS!!

Glass - Car Seat

 

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Broken

It’s becoming more and more apparent that there are just no decent days in my week anymore. Mondays are just notoriously shitty, and lately, every other day has been just as notorious in my life. I feel like I struggle to catch a break most days, and this particular monday was no exception.

This morning, I walked out the door to my garage (which, BTW, is NOT attached to my house) as I do every morning, to get into my car and go to work. Sadly, there was a flaw in that typical logic and the powers that be decided to throw me for a loop first thing in the morning. Apparently, I have superhuman strength as I BROKE MY KEY OFF IN THE LOCK. The only lock, to the only door to get into my garage. Whoo effing hoo. I fear for what the rest of this week may bring…

Broken Key

 

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