Riding a Possessed Elevator

DISCLAIMER — this is a really an extremely long post…covers Friday to today.  This is why I should try and post over the weekend instead of doing a marathon blog on Mondays.

I think my last post was on Saturday morning (or possibly Friday night, or maybe even Saturday night), but I am having a hard time keeping track of my days so I could be wrong.  To clarify, it is now Monday evening.  Today has been very difficult, and perhaps may not have been so, if I had not had a glimmer of a good day over the weekend and told myself that I was “cured.”

Friday was fairly crappy.  Nothing really new crappy — just depressed, anxious.  Saturday started out rough, as one can read in Treading Water.  I was up early writing that post (or maybe wrote it late the night before) and ended up going back to bed on Saturday morning and laying there until around noon. 

I then dragged myself to Mom’s, because I had told her I would help with some bookkeeping and it would give me structure.  I felt better spending time with her, knowing I was being helpful, useful even.  We walked around her yard (she has a beautiful yard…a true green thumb) and it made me feel somewhat motivated to get my own yard together.  I made that my goal for the next day.

Since I had been at Mom’s, I didn’t take an afternoon nap, which probably helped fight back some depression.  I woke up yesterday feeling overly energized, with a huge list of “to-do’s” in my head, and this feeling that I would get it all accomplished.  I started early and went to the Res to buy cigarettes.  I then went back to Mom’s and worked with her again on bookkeeping for about three hours. 

We then went to the grocery store, which was nice, because I am tired of having someone else do it but cannot yet really bring myself to do it alone.  I actually bought a few things that I wouldn’t normally buy…kind of pampering myself (Sacred Self) like we are taught to do in group…kiwis, hummus, pita bread.  I’ve been struggling with personal hygiene and bought a new kind of body wash that has little beads in it that I hoped would motivate me to shower more often.  Then we went to the hardware store and I bought some plants to put in pots for my back porch and Mom made sure we picked up ones that would survive once I move to AZ. 

I then went home, bound and determined to get some of my own yardwork done.  In my head, I was saying…mow, weedwhip, plant.  The only thing I managed to get done was mowing, but I mowed the WHOLE yard and the physical exertion didn’t kill me, which I had been worried about.  I then sat on my porch and admired my yard and drank a beer (a very VERY rare occasion for me) and talked to Malcom.  And Mom.  And Dad.  And Grandma.  Anyone I could think of to call.  Then I ate dinner and watched the season finale of “Dexter” on TV.  I went to bed feeling satisfied.

And woke up feeling that way, too.  I was up by 5:00 a.m. and spent some time drinking coffee, smoking, and waking up on my back porch.  Just as I was about to go inside and get on the Internet, Malcom called and we ended up talking until 8:15 a.m.  A really good chat.  I almost felt GOOD when I got in my car to leave for group.  A better word may be hypomanic. 

That which comes up, must go down.

Without thinking, I called work, intending to change the message on my voicemail.  I don’t know how to do it without listening to my messages first, and there were several.  Clients not knowing where I am, when I am coming back, the front desk calling and saying my 9:00 appointment was there.  I felt very confused.  I changed my voicemail to say that I am on medical leave and that my supervisor should be contacted during my absence.  Which I thought they all would have known. 

I then called D, our secretary.  I asked her if she knew that I was on medical leave.  She said that she didn’t, but she knew I wouldn’t be in this week.  She said that my supervisor had just been sending out emails at the beginning of each week, saying that I would not be in that week.  And it appears that, along with not telling anyone at work anything about where I am (in a non-specific way), she has also not been contacting my clients and informing them that I may be gone for awhile.  I asked D to put me up on the board as out on medical leave and told her that any calls or clients that come to the desk need to be directed to Kristin. 

When I hung up, my chest was tight and I could barely breathe.  My thoughts were racing, my head was exploding, and I barely made it into the group building’s parking lot.  I felt like I was going to throw up, and might have if I had consumed anything other than coffee so far that morning.  I sat in the parking lot and smoked for a few minutes, although I knew it would make me late.  I just had to calm down a little bit before I could even think about moving. 

After smoking and pondering driving right back home without going in, I decided that I had driven all the way here and I needed to just do it.  Who knows, it might even make me feel better.

Fortunately for me, there was a change in the schedule and one of my favorite therapists came in and did my favorite stretching/meditating/mindfulness exercises.  This loosened up my body some, but I was back to feeling pre-exercise not five minutes later. 

We did goal sheets for the week, and I realized that I accomplished very little that I had set out to do last week, but still put a whole bunch of things down to accomplish for this week.  I don’t know why I set myself up like that.  My goals for the day were to plant, weedwhip, make to-do lists, take a shower, paint my toenails, listen to music, and see my Grandma tonight.  I can tell you right now that not a single bit of that got done, even though this morning I kinda thought I could.

During the second group, we had extra time since there weren’t very many people and I asked if we could talk about self-hatred and negative self-talk and shame and just feeling bad about yourself all the time and always playing that negative tape in your head.

We did.  I expressed a lot of anxiety, depression, shame, guilt about not working right now, which leads me down the path of “you’re such a fuckup…a failure…never good at anything…worthless…can’t do anything for yourself”…I could go on and on. 

We talked about it for awhile in group, and talked about being very mindful of these feelings and releasing them.  There was a girl there who talked about how she had to quit her job and felt the same way and she shared some things that made me feel a little less alone. 

But my anxiety tripled, my head was being bombarded with all of my little inner voices yelling at me, my chest was tight, I couldn’t breathe, and I just wanted to sit there and die.  Literally die.  Not exist.  Wanting and doing…two different things.

I managed to make it the rest of the way through the third group and talked to my counselor there, J, very briefly.  I basically walked in her door and blurted out that I didn’t want to go back to work full-time, that I wasn’t really working full-time anyway, that how-in-the-world am I going to go back to work when I can’t even function.  She was minimally helpful, just saying that it should be the least of my worries right now.  Thank you, J, for invalidating my fucking feelings. 

I got out to my car and called Mom.  Felt a little better.  Talked to Dad, who was really supportive and kind and said some things that I just need to hear, even if I don’t believe them, like “It’s tougher to work on it than ignore it” or “You’re being very brave and its fucking hard” or “We’re proud of you” and telling me that neither he nor Karen thought any less of me for not working, but were proud that I was doing something to help myself. 

I went to his house from Lawrence and ate lunch, even though he had to leave to go see a client.  But I did get to see him and hug him and he told me he loved me and was proud of me and that what I am doing is “fucking rough.”  You’re doing just what you need to do to help me, Dad.

I then went home and changed around my laundry and put on some more comfortable clothes.  My desire to plant and weedwhip and make to-do lists was non-existence.  I tried to force myself to do it.  Couldn’t.  Tried to force myself to do anything.  Couldn’t.  Couldn’t stop thinking, ruminating, beating myself up, feeling anxious, feeling like I just didn’t want to feel anymore. 

So I went to bed.  I literally couldn’t do anything else.  Couldn’t.  And I had really REALLY awful nightmares that I couldn’t make myself wake up from.  I suppose that’s karma or some other force biting me in the ass for not being productive.  So I woke up even more depressed, more anxious, panic-stricken, unsettled, scared.

I called Mom.  Told her I wasn’t coming over and got the number to cancel with Grandma.  Asked her to call me when she got home. 

Talked with Malcom briefly.  He was at the bus depot and he couldn’t hear me and I couldn’t hear him. 

Left with no one else to call, all alone with my own thoughts, feeling like shit, like I wanted to just disappear or blow away like dust or even to just not FEEL, not THINK, not HEAR that g’damn voice in my head yelling at me, telling me what a g’damn failure I am.  I had to do something to make myself feel better or I was going to totally lose it.

So I colored.  That’s right.  Broke out my new set of colored pencils, my Winnie the Pooh coloring book…and colored…for 45 minutes straight.  Nothing else but coloring, sitting on my back porch, watching and listening to my dog and the sounds of the neighborhood.  And felt better to the point where I could breathe again.

Mom called after work and we chatted for a little bit.  Told her about the work BS (which got me all worked up again) and she sang me that “sun will come up tomorrow” song from “Annie.” 

I got off the phone with her and colored some more.  And then went and picked some lilacs and put them in my house. 

I still feel on edge, shitty, depressed, like I want to not feel a damn thing.  But at least I did a couple of things to make myself feel better. 

That counts for something, right?

Already loved this song.  Just found homemade video (from this YouTuber) that makes it even better.  Tom Petty Angel Dream.  Enjoy.