Tag Archives: postaday

Mayhem in my mind

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There is no easy way to put this. I am in an emotional meltdown. My therapist is out for a week with surgery, and my psychiatrist is new, and I am uncomfortable with calling him over the weekend. But, if I don’t improve by tomorrow I may be calling him because I am scaring myself with the depth of my hopelessness.

Today was a better day at work, but just a smidge. I didn’t break down, and I kept it together. But I certainly felt teary and on the verge of tears. I had this heavy feeling of dread that I could not shake. I made it through the day, and cried on the way home.

I got home, glumly ate dinner, and cried while I ate. My friend, Dave, called me to see how I was doing, and insisted on coming to get me. He brought me to his place, and I’m starting to feel somewhat safe again.

This morning was a huge fog. That is not unusual after a huge triggered event. I felt very dissociative, as if I was walking in huge swaths of cotton. My body was heavy and felt leaden. I found my electric toothbrush on it’s side, out of it’s stand. I always return it to it’s stand. This means that I’m losing time again. That has not happened in many months. Damn. I’m regressing, going backwards.

A Move

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This was one of those very bad days. Let’s be clear, it was a historically bad day in the history of my bad days, and that’s saying quite a bit. Where to begin? Perhaps with some context …

Moving, any kind of moving has been a trigger for me for the longest time. I don’t know if it has to do with my childhood fear of homelessness, as that’s the only clue I have as why moving is so upsetting to me. Moving a residence, an office cube, even a bedroom is triggering for me. I wish it weren’t. Honestly, I do. Truly, I feel like a nut case that needs to be put away because this is such an issue for me.

So, where am I moving? Out of the state? Across the street? No, that would actually make a bit of sense. I am moving from one office cube to another on a different floor, and I was a basket case today about it, an authentic loca woman. I’ve been freaky friday stressed about it with all the packing and distraction from my work. However, today was the breaking point with the discovery that the area that I indicated would be best for me was given to another colleague who was asked if they wanted the very same cube. Yes, for normal people this would not be a breaking point. I get that completely. However, when I saw that I was sitting right in the middle in the midst of racket and noise I just fell apart. I felt disregarded and dismissed.

I started to get that feeling like I was in a tunnel of which I could not escape. I’ll spare you the details except to say that I melted and cried and felt floaty.

I wish I could have remembered how to do the tapping technique during this mess, and a mess it sure was.

We just have to get though this. I can get through this.

I have to convince myself that moving my cube is not homelessness. It’s not. It’s just moving from one work space to another. That is all. Nothing more.

Empty

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So, we go from awesomeness to stress! Such is my life, unfortunately. I’ve got that freaky anxious feeling today that I can’t shake, and it seems like I can’t shake any opportunity to start freaking out: work assignments, money, etc. It feels like my insides want to take off and run. Even when I’m sitting trying to relax I feel like I am tight, unable to relax.

I got teary at work talking about my work load. We have to move out of our spaces on the 4th floor and move up to the 5th floor. Moving, any kind of move, is historically not a good thing for me. It doesn’t help that I already don’t have enough time to get my work done. Everyone is trying to be supportive at work, but still, I got teary. I just feel like a dope.

Those feelings are back, the feelings of worthlessness and futility. I should stop typing because this is hardly inspiring. As of yet, I have no readers. But when I do get readers this isn’t exactly the type of drivel most people want to read.

Searching my brain for something worthwhile to say, and I am coming up empty, which is how I feel – empty.

Fighting ideation. That’s bad bad news. It’s the unwelcome guest at the inn.

I hope tomorrow is better.