Thursday, March 24, 2016

The Harsh Reality

     Before you decide to lynch me for disappearing out of no where, at least read the post. I have some pretty valid reasons.

     Also, hi all remaining two readers! If you're easily triggered by talk of mental illness (specifically depression and anxiety), suicide, or any form of abuse then I would highly suggest clicking away now but thank you for stopping by.

     I've opened up many times before about my battle with depression, anxiety, and other struggles. (Self esteem, bullying, general shitty things that just plain suck.) But I don't know if I've ever opened up about what it's like when you're going through a particularly rough patch.

     It's been a really long time since I've been so mentally broken that I've completely lost motivation and felt like nothing would ever get better. I mean, I've had on and off bad days for years. Sometimes those days will last a week or two, but I can still see the light at the end of the tunnel during those times. For some reason, the past few months, that light is so far away and so dim, that I forget its even there.

      Here's the thing with mental illness. It's always in the back of your mind. That doesn't mean you feel it every single waking moment, but you might. It doesn't mean you don't know its there, because you do. Every person is different and feels different and has a different experience. But for me specifically, I was on a four-year streak where the good out weighed the bad and I could go weeks without a peep from the asshole side of my brain, and when it did decide to make an unwelcome visit, it was short and not as harsh as it used to be.

     When I say it used to be harsh, I mean I was so suicidal when I was 17 that I was willing to throw myself out of a moving car, just to make everything stop. The only reason I didn't was because that was the one time, my dad chose not to speed.

     I was doing pretty well, up until this year started. Before you get too worried, no I am not about to throw myself from a moving vehicle and yes everyone is alive.

     Through a serious of unforeseen events, I basically found out that my dad has never loved me and he fully expects to control me with the threat of being cut out of his will should I choose to do anything he doesn't like. Which may not shock any of my long term readers considering he's a douche battle ship (that's more douchy than a douche canoe) but in my nativity, I still thought that he at least had a little piece of love for me in the black hole that is his heart. And of course, I found this out, about two weeks after having a nightmare about him. That was a hard blow to take and I'm not sure I'm quite over all of that yet.

     His mother is hospitalized due to her own stupidity. (Folks- when a doctor tells you to do something or you're going to die, you should really listen because otherwise there's a very high chance that the doctor is right and you could die. Just throwing that out there.) The last time I heard from her was over two years ago when she called me to chew me out about how she hadn't heard from me in two years, when I hadn't even had her phone number for probably three. I also learned some horrifying things from my aunts (which I cannot discuss because it's not my story to tell) so I cut all ties. But the thought of her dying alone, since nobody will go see her, makes me sad. And I feel guilty that I'm not more sad because she's my grandmother, even though she's a wretched human being.

     I've been working six days a week, or sometimes two weeks straight (getting a Sunday off and working all the way through to not that same Saturday but the one after that). I've also been having to cover a lot of shifts. Without our seasonals, we only have 4.5 employees, including myself. The half employee has next to no availability but she's good at the job so we use her where we can. I'm not complaining about working so much, because Lord knows I need the money, but it's left me completely drained.

     Most of my days take one of the two patterns:

     Wake up totally fine and go to work. Something happens during the day. (Angry customer/Something from my dad's family/Etc.) I slowly sink lower and lower and lower to the point I literally only want to sleep so that I can feel better. Then when I get home, having planned to clean the apartment or write a blog post or something else productive, I've lost all motivation and crawl into bed but I can't sleep so I just play on my phone for hours.

     Or I wake up with this pit in the middle of my stomach that makes me feel so much dread I want to throw up. Then my brain starts screaming that something is wrong and I should check on people or stay in bed or literally do the exact opposite of what I need to be doing. But I have to fight through it because panic attacks don't pay the bills. So I spend the entire day nervous and jumpy, so I get exhausted with in a few hours, and with the exhaustion comes my brain being a grumpy asshole because it's tired and then comes in the self doubt and hatred and anger until when I get home, I'm either completely drained or so emotional that I shut down so I can protect myself and others from a potential melt down.

     On Saturday, I started up my own phone plan.

     On Sunday, I had a minor break down but my friend distracted me for several hours until I was able to finally relax and go to sleep.

     On Monday, I went to lunch with a friend and talked to my mom and my grandma (the good one; the one who isn't in the hospital).

     On Tuesday, I opened the store, I left, and then I was called back in to close and cancel my plans so I had a extremely bad... I'm not even sure what it was. Let's just call it a rage attack. And another friend calmed my ass down.

     On Wednesday, I was sexually (verbally) harassed by someone and took it pretty harshly. (More details on that in another post). But I decided that I would not let that asswipe decide the future of today.

     Today is Thursday. I woke up early and had a nice chat with a friend. Then I cleaned my bathroom. Then I did laundry. Cleaned most of the kitchen. Organized my closet/found my side of the bedroom floor. And in about half an hour, I'm going to make dinner and do the dishes and make the bed (the blankets are in the dryer right now) and then I'm going to shower and watch TV with my boyfriend.

     Because yesterday I realized, even though I've been fighting an unseen monster, the harsh reality is that I'm letting time get away from me and I've been losing that battle without even realizing it. Because I've been fighting to survive, but I haven't been fighting to actually live.