Maybe it is the slow build up, over decades, of disappointment after disappointment; of defeats and expectations and obligations. I don’t know what tiny weight broke the camel’s back, but I suspect it began with the whole internet fracas of yesterday; the way I was so happy to be getting a high speed data line and the way I was imagining all the things I could do with it; and the awful realization that set in after it all fell apart: this is just how it always goes with me. My life is a never-ending line of things going wrong.
And I got very mad. And this morning when I woke up, laying in bed as always dreading getting up, I thought of how my ex’s partner is being made assistant manager of a JC Penney store, and will make approximately three times my salary even though I’ve worked at my job for 11 years; I mulled over the crashing news that a job I have been working to get for the last month or so was no longer within my reach; the news was of more gay bashing in my state’s legislature; when I went to work the road was closed; when I got to my office there was a stack of nitpicky little things that I had to do or risk upsetting someone; calls from people wanting me to do them yet another favor; counting the dozens of projects I have to finish without any help from a non-existent assistant who left a long time ago and I was never allowed to replace; noticing that my $500 cell phone wasn’t working, and even when it is it doesn’t get enough signal to make a call; noting that when other people in the office don’t have time to do something that is their responsibility that I end up doing it for them even though I don’t have the time either; the realization that the organization I work for doesn’t want to rock any boats and thus is irrelevant…. it all began to crush down on me and my anger got hotter and hotter and hotter and the room got smaller and smaller and suddenly I started crying.
And I couldn’t stop. I sat there at my desk crying, and finally got up and came home. And it’s 3 hours later and I am still sitting here crying.
I IMed my ex, not knowing who else to turn to. He must have been busy, because he just signed off rather than reply. I called him. I left a message. Later, on my way home, driving even though I could barely see where I was going, he called me back. His response was that he didn’t know what to say. Neither did I. Then the connection cut out, and he’s never called back.
It just points out another item for the list, the complete lack of anyone that I can count on, talk to, be open to. With few exceptions, the people in my life only contact me when they need something from me. It could be something minor — they have good news and want to tell me. Or something major — they want me to produce their film festival. Or some family member has a computer question, because to them I am a two-dimensional person: I sit in front of a computer all day, so I must be a computer genius and that’s all I am. I am tired of being alone day in and day out. I’m tired of sitting on the couch and eating something because I am alone. I am tired of people in my life wanting things from me but not wanting to actually know me. I’m tired of being scared of people and being afraid to meet or talk to people because I just know that they are only going to end up wanting something from me. And if they don’t end up that way, I know that I am going to force something on them because I think that’s what I should do. Like how I had only known B for a couple of months but had already bought him an iPod for Christmas. Or constantly paid for dinner. Or started to create a website for him. All things he never asked me to do. But I don’t know how to not be that person that everyone expects to do things.
I am stuck in a huge tar pit and every time I struggle to get out, I end up deeper. It’s like my career and financial situation: I am frustrated by my job and would like nothing better to leave it behind. But I can’t find another one and while my salary is very low compared to the average in this area, I’ve been wise enough with my money to afford a nice home and things. But I don’t have enough to create a cushion that could sustain me without that paycheck. And assistant managers at JC Penney are making three times my salary. Six digits.
It’s a situation that I am loathe to talk about because frankly, there are millions of people who live below the poverty level, who dream of having a roof over their heads while I sit in my townhouse worth $380,000, type on my $2500 laptop, and drive a $27,000 car. It’s unbelievably selfish of me to think these thoughts… yet, there they are. And in many ways, it’s not about the money. I just feel stuck, like I will never have a better career. I will spend my entire life doing the same thing every day, not making my life or the world any better, meaning nothing to existence of any sort.
When I got home, I spent a half hour trying to log in to the CareFirst website to see what my mental health benefits were. It took literally 6 minutes for the login screen to finally load; another 10 minutes to create my account — when I created the account, it told me it was successful and that I would now be taken to the login screen… which took 2 minutes to load… and then told me my login was not recognized. Only then did I receive an e-mail telling me to confirm the account. Finally, I was able to log in, and then was presented with a message:
I don’t know how other people laugh at this sort of thing. I know that’s exactly what I should do. But I can’t stop crying long enough to do it.
I don’t know what is happening to me. I don’t know if I am having a mental breakdown, an anxiety attack, or what. And I don’t know why I am writing about it here. I guess it’s because I have no one to talk to in real life; because if I talk to someone, I know that it will all spill out in some incoherent rant through tears, that I won’t make any sense at all. I don’t even know if I am making sense here. It occurs to me that this has been building up for a long, long time. My house is a mess. I’ve put on so much weight that I am back to what I weighed last year before I lost a lot. My refrigerator is a vast wasteland. I creep out of the house to get greasy, fatty food and skulk home and sit on the couch and change channels constantly on the TV. I go into gay chat rooms and lurk, too scared to talk to anyone but pretending that I am around people. I write long rambling blog posts thinking that it’s somehow therapeutic but it doesn’t change the world or sway people to my way of thinking; it doesn’t even register enough traffic for comments most of the time except for 3 or 4 regulars. I don’t even know if it is wise to post this or not, I suppose that in the interests of honesty I should.
I wish I could keep a detailed log of everything that happens during my day, of every annoyance and disappointment and frustration; I wish other people would do it too so that I could assure myself that I am not the only person things happen to. Instead, I could wonder how other people deal with life, and wonder why so many people deal with it instead of fighting to change it.
I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know how to even find out. I don’t know what I want to do right now. Take some leave? Who would do all that work I have to do? I am indispensable, aren’t I? Hell, I came home because I was in the middle of some kind of mental health crisis, and was still stopped on the way out because someone couldn’t do something properly and I had to bring it home with me to do later.
Check in to some kind of mental health clinic? I can’t afford it, and I don’t have the energy to deal with my HMO. I don’t even have the energy to deal with getting someone to watch my pets. Everything right now is just at the lowest energy level that I can deal with, and I can’t even deal with that.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve stopped crying now. I just feel like I am in a daze. And again, I feel alone.
Hold on there, my man, hold on!!!
Fark the DSL, fark the daily annoyances that I know add up. I’ll never negate them, but ley them go.
I suffer thru Blue Cross myself, and they deserve more venom than Verizon, trust me.
Sorry this is way later than your post…just find someone, Whitman-Walker maybe (you’re not too far from DC), or a GLBT hotline in your area: I know, for example, Chase Brexton in Balto will kick ass to get you in, most importantly, and work hard with(or against) your insurance agency to get you covered financially as much as possible. The workers from Whitman-Walker strike me just the same.
Sometimes, you need to actually worry about yourself first, and worry about the bills later. From what I gather, reading you not only once, but sometime twice, thrice, daily, You’re worth it.
Please post soon.
There’s so much to say I don’t even know where to start?
I guess first things first. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. These feelings are NORMAL.
Many people are afraid to even speak about such feelings they hold them inside but really that only makes things worse. It’s good that you can talk about it.
I understand what you’re going through, no really, I understand. I read these words and marvel at how similar they are to what I wrote to a friend not so long ago. I’ve been there. (and may go there again?)
Do you not have someone you can talk to? I’m not talking about a professional (though that would help) I’m talking about a friend. We all need our friend’s ear every now and again; do you have one you could turn to?
It sounds like an anxiety attack, ignoring it won’t work.
Talk to someone, a friend, a Dr, a Therapist, a counselor… Someone you can talk to and work out these feelings. It’s much better to work them out than to allow them to eat at you. Unless there’s no other way, avoid any Dr that wants to start you on medication or antidepressants. Maybe for a short (specific) period of time while you work together but if all the Dr wants to do is give you a pill? Find another Dr.
And please….PLEASE… keep me posted
You have my email address, don’t be afraid to use it