A Heart's a Heavy Burden

Uh, so the depression is still here, weighing me down.

You guys missed a lot of drama in my life because I was too wrapped up in my depression to ass myself to write, but we almost went on strike. There were two straight weeks of intensity in this area, with our union voting 82% in favor of a strike (and 2/3 of our 3,200 teachers voted), and the district and union duking it out over funds. They had all-day mediation sessions for 10 days straight, including over this weekend. It was very stressful not knowing whether we were walking or not. A lot more stressful than I expected, being in limbo. They finally reached a tentative deal at 2am this morning:



I'll update you guys when hopefully tomorrow I get to see what kind of deal was reached that apparently doesn't add to the deficit, because the whole problem was that the district said they were willing to shell out $2 million and the union was asking for $159 million over two years (lol). How they narrowed that gap while getting what we wanted has got to be some sort of magic. I'd typically be more suspicious because LAST TIME we had a contract up, we ended up getting offered more pay and literally nothing else that mattered, when that's not even what we were fighting for in the first place (that time we authorized a strike vote but never voted). This time we have a new union president and a new superintendent and I trust Nick more and that he fought tooth and nail to make this happen - hell, we almost had the first strike in our district since 1946 (which happens to have been the first organized teacher strike in the US, btw) and we have the largest district in the state.

On the work note, I can feel the crushing weight of me not doing well at my job - that is, the paperwork. I'm TIRED. ....Okay, yeah it's the depression. Struggling pretty hard over here to breathe. All I do is sleep basically. My social media consumption - particularly Facebook - increased a hundred fold since Christmas, as scrolling is definitely an escape mechanism, a way to be awake without having thoughts, etc. I finally acknowledged that this weekend, and now I'm not allowing myself to scroll anymore. Cold turkey.

One interesting thing I did was watch The Red Pill, a men's rights activist (MRA) propaganda film that my dad asked me to view and report back with my opinions. I went into it with a really defensive posture, super anxious and tight-chested. I didn't read anything about it beforehand because I wanted to keep an open mind - it was a 50/50 shot that my dad was being genuine vs trying to piss me off. Because it's a propaganda film, it was actually presented with a strong sympathetic overlay for the MRA leaders in the film, which helped ease me into the insanity. They want to take the edge off their hatred and reputation, so they were depicted as reasonable and honest-to-god misunderstood - no one can deny the fact that men do face real issues with regards to alimony, child custody, child support, homelessness and domestic violence! Those are legitimate men's issues.

There are plenty of articles about the film that you can read online - almost all of them angry or mocking, which, ironically, plays into the film's narrative that feminism is a frothing, brainwashing, extremist movement that devalues men - so I won't summarize it any further here. However, I did have to explain to my dad that the primary problem with the film is that the leaders and general followers of MRA are actually just woman-haters. And they don't want to bring men UP, they want to bring women DOWN. They present themselves in the movie as normal humans just trying to bring about equity, when in fact their day-to-day proseletyzing is in strong favor of actively abusing women.

My dad is just ignorant and misinformed. He means well, but he's been the unfortunate recipient of a lot of situations that make him completely not understand the plight of actual minorities. For example, he doesn't understand profiling because he considers himself Mexican and because he's Data from Star Trek and doesn't comprehend racial bias. He IS half-Mexican.. but he LOOKS white. NO ONE would see him and think Mexican. Sorry. When he's filling out a race/ethnicity card, he should do like me - ethncity: Hispanic, race: white. It's the truth. He also has experienced child support issues (though I'd argue his was more annoyance that my mom got the funds and not me and my sister directly), and his ex-wife Pam abused him. So he's experienced some of the things that are reasonably discussed in the movie. I did tell him I'd like to know more about his experiences with these issues, since I've only really ever heard my mom's side of anything. My dad was always very good at not letting his relationship with my mom impact our time together and never made it my problem.

I think it's a lot like when the Tea Party first became a Thing. He thought, Oh my god, fellow Americans who believe like me! He of course is the physical embodiment of the character of Ron Swanson (albeit with less humor and mustache), and the Tea Party proved to be too radical for him. Because he is staunchly anti-liberal, he has likely never seen the horror that is the general MRA. If he spent some time on those MRA forums, I can guarantee he'd be sickened and say they were a bunch of wackadoos. But it's encouraging that he's trying to find SOME group to be a part of and learn more, even if it's down the wrong path for now. The good news about my dad is that he is not one to be bought over with tricks and lies. If he continues down the MRA road he'll realize the error and move on.

I have been on this odd sick path of ups and downs since Halloween. I was very sick for a week around Halloween, then got a bit better save for a lingering cough and stuffy nose. Then after Thanksgiving I repeated the cycle, only worse.

I've missed 5 days of school in the last two weeks D:

I went to the doctor, finally. I was wearing a mask and the lights were too bright. I pulled my hood over my head and looked like a sith lord.

My doctor asked, "Are you managing your work-life balance better?"

"....not really..." Sheepishly, through my mask.

The doctor sent me on my way with antibiotics and a steroid, a note to stay home one more day, and a stern look.

Nero meows disapprovingly when I cough.

The meds are kicking in somewhat... I feel loopy and lightheaded and headachey from coughing and my nose still requires Afrin so I can breathe, but I haven't felt aches or chills in 15 hours or so. Steve said it would be interesting if we had documented how much I have slept in the last week.

Yesterday I could have cried thinking about all the responsibilities I'm behind on due to this inconvenient sickness. Today I acknowledge the challenge and feel like there's hope. I'm just going to do what I can to manage, and it will be okay.

I've been inspired to begin yoga again once I'm well. I want to take care of myself better. I don't want to give in to being overwhelmed with work.

I want to manage my food better. While being sick, I haven't had much of an appetite, nor motivation to eat, so most of my diet has been chips and bread. Thinking about food was incredibly overwhelming and I couldn't even identify what I ate when I was eating well. I'm going to work on fixing that over the coming weeks.

It's like I'm starting to rise from the ashes of my former self, to put it dramatically. But I have never, in my entire life, been sick like this or for this long. I had mono when I was a child, and that's the closest comparison I have. I'm hoping this motivation and momentum continue. I just really need to stay organized and not let life bring me down. I need to be healthy first, mind you, but I am definitely working on it.

I’m trying not to freak out about next week. I am working on two commissions for scarves, trying to get them done by Christmas, but I really don’t think I’m going to make it… one for sure will be done, and that one is a higher priority because the first commission said the scarf is not REQUIRED by Christmas, but it would be nice. When I talked with Becca about my hours when I was hired, I was very clear in that I didn’t want more than 10-15 hours, no matter what. I was assured that it would NOT be an issue because there were so many people hired. Next week I am scheduled for 26 hours. Including a day I specifically said that I couldn’t attend because I have my super important program meeting for school that day. Ugh. Steve reminded me that it’s just my crappy part-time retail job that I don’t care about, but it’s still pretty stressful. I have this uncontrollable sense of guilt for any remote feeling of letting people down or putting them in a bind. Heh.

 

 

 

So on top of 60 working hours next week I also have another tattoo appointment, which Laura has graciously decided will be a free session (mostly because I’ve been paying $250 per session and providing a generous $50 tip for her each go – tattoo artists often get shit to zero in tips), my program meeting, AND a regular face-to-face session for school. Oh, and my urology appointment that will probably mean I am late to BBW that day. DEEP BREATHS.

 

 

 

I’m a bit sad because working means that I am missing Christmas dinner with Steve’s sweet grandpa on Tuesday, going up north to visit Steve’s family (most notably his sister and her kids) on the weekend, and possibly some of my own family’s Christmas on the 24th. But! I will at least get SOME family time that day (I feel like it’s unlikely that I will be working that full day but I could be wrong), and most important of all, I get Christmas Day with Steve. It will be amazing. I bought him so many great gifts this year!

 

 

 

Things on the relationship front have been pretty good. I’ve been working on not being as aloof (with 50/50 success tbh), and Steve and I had an opportunity to discuss what we simply call my Autism – because that’s really a fair diagnosis – when he was having a bad day and I was trying to comfort him. He got a phone call from his dad in the middle of it and THAT was when I learned he was going up north the weekend of the 21st/22nd, unbeknownst to me until that moment. During our conversation he pointed out that I completely shut down when I am processing surprise information. In light of that revelation I actually burst out laughing. See, when I was with Dan all we ever did was explode. I feel like I am a talker, an arguer, a let’s-work-this-out-don’t-you-dare-walk-away-er. When Steve made me realize that apparently in reaction to being a yeller, I have actually moved to the other side of the spectrum. As a person who feels incredibly self-aware (and really, just aware of everything in general) it is rare that I don’t know something about myself. I thanked Steve for helping me realize that, and now that I know this information, I can work on it. I still tried my best to explain how me processing information is extremely rigid and I don’t know HOW to be there for him when I am struggling with a change (a CLASSIC part of my Autism), which was his primary concern. He was upset that I was being selfish and stopped trying to make HIM feel better because I decided my problem was more important/urgent. We discussed that because Steve gets mopey less often, I have less practice in working through things that send me into Reaction Mode. Dan was a pouter, a moper, a crier… all for attention. He wanted me to coddle him, to hold him, to remind him over and over again that I cared about him. It got to a point that I was so annoyed with him any time he behaved like that, I would start screaming at him, telling him to suck it up. I have dragged him down stairs, I have left him sobbing in hallways… I didn’t have it in me to take care of him that way. I am not a touchy-feely person, and comforting someone when they believe I have hurt them in some way, when they are behaving so dramatically, and ON PURPOSE, is too hard for me. Dan would admit that he would act in those ways so that he could provoke a certain reaction or a certain phrase for me. He said he relished my efforts to make him feel better so he would draw out the attention as long as he could. Which in turn would absolutely infuriate me. Tangent aside, I still struggle with the fear that Steve will begin behaving the same way because he craves attention from me. I realize that while it speaks to how people will do anything for attention. But I am also aware that this type of pattern shows that I don’t provide enough attention, enough affection. Which isn’t good. I need to fix that.

 

ETA: I just received another payment for a scarf,  this time without the buyer discussing it with me. hope she doesn't want the scarf before Christmas because... no.

Pathetic kitty with shaved arm XD

I can already tell the difference in him from the last time. This hospital ain't cheap (Bill was $1600), but they were worth their money. He was not grumpy or loopy when I brought him home, whereas from Banfield he was groggy and flipping out and didn't want to move. Grim has bright eyes and is affectionate. He's eating pretty well (though he still won't touch the wet stuff - what kind of cat is he?!) and drinking, and he's had TWO normal pees. They told me that him never peeing more than drops for the last week was really concerning, and meant that his blockage was likely not corrected the first time. GRR!!!

They also gave me antibiotics and muscle relaxers along with painkillers this time. He's only gone to the litterbox twice with YAY success, versus all last week when he was basically LIVING in there with very little success. Of course, I was reminded a million times that he can get messed up again ANY SECOND, but I'm crossing my fingers that he's going to be good eating the special food.

I found someone to cover me on short notice for tonight which helps A LOT, because otherwise I'd be spending every second at work being worried. Not to mention I haven't slept yet - I took a nap from 11:30am-1:30pm but was too tightly wound to sleep after I heard I could take him home today.

At the moment, life is great. <3

I don't know what happened to me yesterday. One minute I was fine, just job and apartment hunting like normal, then.... BAM! Intense depression, listlessness, everything was gray and my life was THE WORST EVAR.

I called Steve on my 10-minute drive home like I always do, but he can always tell when something's wrong because my voice gets this tight, squeaky quality to it when I'm about to blow. He insisted on talking me down from the ledge, but like, there was nothing to be done! I was just wrapped up in this cloud of despair and complaints and saying "I don't know" at the end of every sentence. It was almost surreal, how I felt. Like I was just floating along, being a part of The Machine and not being or doing anything worthwhile.

He was very cute and tried very hard to cheer me up, and it worked for a bit but I was quite depressed. I ended up just laying in bed all day. I had to go to bed early to get up for my 2-hour meeting this week anyway. I had bad sleep, dreaming about job applications and housing and money. It was not helpful. When I was at my meeting I was a bit better, and when I woke up today I wasn't listless anymore.

But still, I am down. I need to let my depression run through me, embrace it, so it can go away. I anticipate a lot of sleep while Steve is at work tonight, or at least a lot of staying-in-bed-cuddling-the-kitties-at-my-private-pity-party.

Lj Land, I am going to be a bad person this week.

I have a lot of school responsibility, and I feel that it is heavy upon on my shoulders.

Because of this, I am shirking my duties as a Prompt and Responsible netizen.

That is, I do not feel like writing real entries, replying to emails or comments, even responding to something I find interesting (though I'll probably still do that). I even am being lazy about keeping up with all my interneting in general.

So, what this means for you, dear LJ friends, is that I will continue to read your LJs and comment if I want, but otherwise I am going to be a flake this week.

I am deeply sorry for my brain taking an unscheduled vacation.

Love,
Me

Also, a casserole dish from HELL fell on my foot, and it is quite painful.

( Opening with some lame TMI )

I finished my training yesterday, woooo! Now I have 6 hours down, and almost 10 more months to get the last 8, not to mention that it'll be cut even shorter if my class counts for hours too. I did a lot better in not getting incredibly anxious during the practice exerciese (how to escape from stirkes or grabs), and I talked a lot during the rest. I was singled out because I looked the youngest, and probably was the youngest, but Russ (the director) said he thought I looked 18 and used that in a de-escalation/empathy exercise. While I've miraculously never had my age negatively used in a mental health setting (same with my whiteness, don't know why), it came up a LOT when working in Nursing homes/assisted living.

Steve and I are going to try to start donating plasma. Pat is unemployed (and receives unemployment) and supplements his income with donating a couple times a week. Steve and I would be getting almost $200/week if we were each able to go twice a week. That would be amazingly helpful in paying off credit cards/loans/saving. When Dan and I desperately needed money in Grand Forks, I developed a complex and failed out because my heart rate kept speeding up. It didn't help that the machine only measure your pulse for 15 seconds and then multiplied it by 4, which is inaccurate. And they wouldn't manually measure my pulse. I start off faster when measuring my pulse than I end with. I promise you that my heart rate is not 120bpms. Promise. It's usually around 80-90. I just took it with my company's 15 second monitor and I came up with 122/81 with a pulse of 94. Bleh. Writing about it made me nervous again. As long as the pulse comes up under 100. Usually my blood pressure is about 110/70. I know because I've been to the doctor a lot >_< And I've NEVER been turned away when donating blood. My issue was always iron (interestingly, it's been both almost too low and almost too high), not my pulse. Q~! Wish me luck! Let's hope I don't freak out, because I'm terrified that I will. Which doesn't help. Never-ending cycle! (after a couple minutes I just retested and came up with 114/78, pulse 91. I can physically feel my body reacting when I get the cuff on. URGH. F U BODY). I'll probably request that I be sitting if they're testing while standing like the other place did, because first of all, that's the medically appropriate way to be taking it, and for two, it allows me to feel a little more relaxed.

All right, I really should get going on stuff I need to be doing!

Ending with a clip about responsibility from Hyperbole and a Half that completely and accurately describes me:

"What usually ends up happening is that I completely wear myself out. Thinking that I've earned it, I give myself permission to slack off for a while and recover. Since I've exceeded my capacity for responsibility in such a dramatic fashion, I end up needing to take more recovery time than usual. This is when the guilt-spiral starts.  

I really hope I get this job I'm interviewing for on Wednesday (tomorrow now I guess). The one working with the autistic boy fell through because even though the company offered me the job, the family chose someone else at the last second simply because they lived closer. Which is fine, it really would have been a long drive. But I still desperately need more than 12 hours a week.

My current location at work is being restructured, and I was offered a different position. Instead of working 12 hours Sunday night to Monday morning, they offered me midnight-8am shifts on Friday and Saturday. Um, no. For several reasons. It's only 4 more hours. And it's both weekend days. And I NEED MORE THAN TEEN HOURS JFC. I stuck it out the whole year I've worked there on the hope that I'd be able to find more hours than just the one night!!! So I turned it down, applied to a different position within my house but that is 99.9% guaranteed to another based on seniority and already having been working a similar position, and applied to a different location within the company. I didn't even attach a cover letter. I'm just so bitter. But I got a call anyway last Tuesday for an interview. It'd be overnights (3rd Shift, really), Sun-Th midnight-8:30am. If I got this I'd be making sooo much more money. And I am definitely qualified.

If I got this it would allow for Steve to freely pursue working overnights at Rainbow, because he's been cashiering for 4 years there (and maintenance for two previous to that) and he's sick of people's bullshit. He's friends with the night manager, who has periodically offered him positions jokingly or pointed out when they were hiring. He put a note in to discuss the idea of switching to overnights. The gears are in motion, fingers crossed I get chosen. I interview well, but since I need this job BADLY I'm actually nervous. Usually I'm pretty cocky about them because I can be really personable and I know what people want to hear. My parents definitely taught me well on that front; it's helped me out of tight spots more than once. But I feel like this is so dire. *deep breaths*

Another reason why I need this is that having 6 days off is really wearing on me. I spend almost all of my time until Steve gets home at like 11pm sleeping. Even if I have stuff to do. It's definitely having a progressively depressive effect on me. I need something to keep me stimulated.