NO, but thanks for playing… we have some wonderful parting gifts for you…

Before you read any further, hold up your right hand and solumnly swear…
“I will not hold Dory responsible if after reading this entry I get a far-off look in my eyes and zombie-like get into my car and drive off the nearest cliff without batting an eye.”
So be it.

OK. Last chance to click your browser’s back button. If your eyes got big or you stumbled the wording or raised your eyebrows, this is your last warning. MOVE ON, looky-loos. Nothing for you to see here. It’s 12:19pm. My next class starts at 1:25. I thouroughly intend to whine pitifully for the next hour. Consider yourself warned.
I’ve spent the better part of a month see-sawing between a miserable funk and suicidal ideation. I’ve spent the better part of every single day see-sawing between a merciful dull lack of total feeling and claustrophobic, I’m this friggin close to an anxiety attack, either tears biting the backside of my eyeballs or just outright streaming down my face, stomach shaking, God just please don’t be mad if I will myself to stop breathing, spinning vortex to the portal of hell.

“Just tell us how you really feel, Dory, quit SUGARCOATING it.”
Either I can’t sleep or I take any freakin opportunity to escape into black slumber. I have no hunger pangs; I eat because I get dizzy and think “oh, yes, I haven’t eaten for almost 24 hours.” (Sue once told me in that special loving way of hers, she chuckled and said “oh honey… *chuckle*… sweetie… it takes a special kind of stupid to forget to eat. But I still love you.”) I can’t concentrate; even my ADD-addled attention span is a shell of its former self. I have no ambition. Nothing interests me. I do things because I’m required to do them or they’re expected of me.

Stop the world, I want to get off. In every single vital area of my life… my marriage… my career… my financial security (or lack thereof)… my own OKness… I’m failing horribly. I’m just absolutely friggin miserable. Since 4pm on 09/22/2003 (when I got laid off) my life has been almost surreal in its suckiness. Sometimes I look around and think any moment now I’m going to wake up from a horrible nightmare. I’m so fucking unhappy. I’m SO fucking unhappy. Let’s break it down.
a) my marriage. I’m not happy with Tom. And it’s not his fault. He tries so hard. He’s the most wonderful man in the world. Why can’t I will myself to be happy with him?! Am I just that fucking selfish?! He says, “What can I do to make you happy?” I don’t fucking know. “Why are you with me?” I don’t fucking know. “Should I start packing?” I don’t fucking know. “Why are you so unhappy with me?” I DON’T FUCKING KNOW. “I think that adults must choose their feelings, that we give way to much power to feelings (i.e. “I can’t help it, that’s just the way I feel” = COP OUT) and that we must choose to feel positive, loving, et cetera. And I’m sure I still believe that. But doubts are creeping in. I’ve tried to feel “in love” with Tom since about the time I got laid off and I decided I felt that there was a possibility for reconciliation. I’ve read self-help books and christian books and prayed and been prayed for. I’ve spoken positive thinking and done communication exercises assigned by the marriage counselor. My husband is the most wonderful man in the world and he treats me like a queen and I just want to be alone. I’m a freak.

b) my career. I thought I was on the right track, jobwise, when I got the job at mcleod. I had spent ten years of my career in the customer service field; six of those years in telecommunications. I thought I had a valuable skillset. I was relatively content; 8am-5pm, my own desk, my own phone, my own vm, my own tasks with a tolerable degree of self-direction (i.e. I could work without checking with a supervisor every few minutes making sure I was doing the job to their satisfaction), an enjoyable work atmosphere with developed relationships in a few different departments so as to both give and ask favors in my workplace. So I was reasonably content. Now, I will admit, the layoff was probably a blessing in disguise. I was reasonably content, but not happy. I would not have gone back to school at this point had I not been laid off. I think I will be happy in the career that I am in school for now. But doubts creep in. In my prior career, I was pretty successful in my endeavors… BUT I was measured against a bunch of other people that didn’t have a college degree. Now how successful will I be when matched up against other people with at least my college degree and a lot more? You’ll have to excuse me for being mired in self-doubt, my friends; it is not easy to talk myself up at this point. What if/when I submit my resume I am rejected again and again? I will have worked at this for nothing and wasted my time and fallen flat on my face. Fantastic.
c) my financial security. I have never been this fucking broke in all my life. I pull $273.70/week in unemployment. My mortgage is $724.00/mth. My utilities (electric, gas, water/sewer, phone) are about $400/mth. My car pymt is $147.16/mth. My minimum credit card pymts combined are about $125/mth. Then gas, food, etc. You do the math. I was able to make my Feb 1st house pymt, but then I was about to get my electric and gas turned off so I had to pay that rather than my March 1st house pymt and my license plate tags were overdue and I got a ticket for expired tags and I just found out yesterday that the check for those bounced (the first check I’ve bounced in a friggin YEAR) and so now the state is gonna come after me for that. Son… of… a… BITCH. My unemployment runs out in late April or early May so I need to get a job WHILE going to school fulltime when I am barely happy with my progress in school while not having to work and just concentrate on school. I do have all A’s at midterm, but now I have to maintain them. How the hell am I gonna be able to get good grades when 20-30 more hours a week are diverted from school to work???

I gotta go to class… to be continued…
2:32pm… I’m back from Intro to Micros. My new teacher used the word “aspect” 19 times in a half hour. I’m thinking about adding this to my journal each day, in the manner of Bridget Jones’ diary and documenting how many pounds she gained/lost. For those of you just tuning in, my original instructor for Micros had her baby on Friday during spring break and now I have a new instructor. He’s a jerk. He has some major insecurity issues which he expresses by marching around showing everyone he’s the boss. At any given point in time, I half expect him raise his knuckles from scraping the floor to start pounding his chest with his fists. More on that later. Anywho. Where was I? Ah, yes, back to the swamp.

d) my OKness. Here’s where it gets REALLY ugly, folks. My OKness with me, my self-esteem, sucks ass right about now. *thinking* … *trying to find words for thoughts* … my failure to make meaningful progress towards my goal of successful reconciliation with Tom (as well as the other aforementioned failures listed above) has dealt an almost fatal hit to my security. I have such a hard time reaching out to people. I have an even harder time asking for help. I absolutely hate, no I mean ABHOR, the thought of being a burden to anyone. Everyone has their own issues and everyday drama and I am so afraid of reaching out and being an unwelcome intrusion. So then when I reach out and ask for help and I get a negative result it stings all the more. So the safest way to express myself is in my writing. Then I can’t see any reactions. So you can read this and ignore me or roll your eyes or purse your lips or avert your gaze uncomfortably or not sympathize or say out loud “grow up, you pathetic excuse for a person” and it’s no skin off my nose. But I feel like I’m lying bleeding on the sidewalk and there’s people all around me; some walk around me in a daze and don’t even notice me; some look down and quickly avert their gaze uncomfortably back up; some look down but look completely through me uncomprehendingly; one or two people offer me a small band-aid for my slit jugular. The episode that hit me the hardest, and this is difficult to speak on but here goes, happened on Sunday morning. Backtrack with me to Wednesday morning where I suppressed tears for a few hours and then went over to the church to seek solace before I went to school. I really wanted to speak with a certain pastor who knows me and Tom’s story but unfortunately he was out. I spoke briefly with another pastor I didn’t know, and he did try to help but I couldn’t talk to him; I just couldn’t open up to this guy I barely knew. Somehow I made it through my afternoon at school and then went back to the church for my weekly boundaries class. I sat at the table and looked around me at all the people milling about, getting ready to go to each of their different classes, and I might as well have been on a deserted island. After getting through the two hour class (tears kept escaping despite my best efforts, the traitorous bastards) I was able to speak with one woman and that helped me get through the next few days. However, I got home that night and had an absolutely fruitless conversation with Tom and we walked away from the discussion no better no worse. OK, I just brought you up to Sunday morning. After Sunday school was over (Tom and I are taking a marriage enrichment class) I reached out to a certain person at church and told her how bad I was feeling and she encouraged me to keep pressing on. OK, I appreciate it, but it’s a lot easier said than done. So I go into church and almost as soon as I hit the door, I start crying. I don’t know why; perhaps the daunting prospect of continuing to breathe in and out regularly; who knows. And I continue to cry, I can’t stop crying, for like, the next 30 minutes, all the way through the worship part of the service. Then the time came when the pastor says ok, anyone with prayer requests, now’s the time. I couldn’t do anything but cry. I couldn’t reach out. And I look at this woman who I had just confided in perhaps 45 minutes earlier and she’s praying with a group of other people (who knows what for or to what degree the severity of the situation; whether it was a hangnail or cancer, I guess that’s not important) and I just was like, God, I can’t reach out; Tap her on the shoulder for me (figuratively of course). Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I felt so totally, utterly, unbearably ALONE. And then the worship part is over and the pastor says, turn around, it’s the say hi to your neighbor part of our show. So then this lady I had confided in turns around, looks at me with my red puffy eyes, and averts her gaze uncomfortably. SLAP. If I felt alone before, HOO BUDDY, that was a tea party compared to now. So. Now I have to decide whether I’m being too sensitive or an attention monger, and if that’s true, then what do I do with these feelings? And even more difficult… if I’m this upset and have a valid reason for it, THEN what do I do with these feelings? Either way, I don’t know. I’m completely clueless. I feel like no one understands me or even wants to understand me. I feel weak and weary and alone to the nth degree. I feel maybe I’m not even understandable, I’m just a freak.

On that cheery note… Once again, time has run out. I have class at 3:35 and I gotta scoot.
Current Music: None
Current Mood: crappy