Struggling

All I can do right now is just whine, or curl up in the fetal position and make communicate in noises that only dogs and dolphins can decipher.

I'm really struggling with depression right now. Struggling to stifle the urge to just cry at my desk. I'm overwhelmed with resentment at work, this isn't what I signed on for 15+ years ago and now I'm trapped. No one will hire me in my current position, because currently I make more money than anyone will pay someone at entry level; furthermore, no one will take a chance on me if I wanted to transition to a project management position. Round and round I go, obsessing on what needs to get done, and then realizing, yet again, that it relies upon OTHER PEOPLE to help me make that happen, and the realization I keep coming back to is that OTHER PEOPLE just fucking disgust and disappoint me.

It's Thanksgiving week, and I'm depressed and anxious, and wondering why the hell I do this to myself every year. I enjoy the planning, but when the day comes closer I regret ever doing this. It's a lot of work in a general sense, and even more work when you factor in I am physically not up to it. Even less up to it when you couple that I'm depressed.

More details about what's going on with my mom and my brother are on the other blog; however, those two situations haven't resolved themselves, and there's the combination of angst and relief (but really much much more angst than relief) of living so damned far away from my mother and my brother for me to even BE THERE in any sense of the word, to help. But to be graphically honest, they are both beyond help. And being the elephants that they are, they cannot swim, and they will make very, very light work of dragging those (who attempt to help) down into the abyss with them.  

I sent in my resume via LinkedIn to another government job--and it remains to be seen whether I'll even be called in for an interview. I'll be equally happy or pissed, either way. The stoic in me sees that the end result, whichever it will be, will ultimately be met with the same emotion. I recognize if I do land the job, it'll be akin to going from the frying pan directly into the fire itself--but I'm ready for a different kind of awful, and perhaps a fresh start with some new assholes. And again, I don't see this going anywhere. It's yet another of my acts of futility to try to bolster or ease my mind that I do have value, even if the assholes where I work do not validate that.

My stomach is up in knots, and my To Do List is extensive, and I'm hoping it'll save me by way of distraction, however, there's the matter of being trapped here at work, when I should be home, either working or napping (either would be equally productive at this point).

Pain, in one form or another, is my companion. Not a day goes by without me being aware that something hurts, or that I can't do something (or do it as long as I'd like) because of my limitations.

I had to reschedule my therapy session for this week, because the director insists that I come into work tomorrow by 8:30, robbing me of that additional hour sleep I need so desperately in the morning, to cover staffing because the other two secretaries are both scheduled out--something that should never have happened, because the director insists there are two secretaries working at all times--YET when it comes to me, it's perfectly acceptable. Fuck her. So I don't even get to talk to my therapist this week because of the director. Yet one more reason for me to get the hell out of here. The double standards and bullshit are too much.

I don't know why I even bother blogging. I doubt anyone is reading. It's merely a scream into the abyss at this point. It's like that bit about "if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around, does it make a sound?" If I blog and no one reads it (or no one reacts to it), what's the point? Do the words and sentiments exist? But then again, there I go again, that fucking trap of OTHER PEOPLE.   

I keep circling back to worrying about "is this as good as things are going to get?" and then flailing (at least internally), as I am most-decidedly NOT content with this aspect of my life, and yet, I am powerless to remedy it. I don't want heart emojis or "thoughts and prayers," or "thinking of you," or even "I wish I could help..." Just fucking help me. I'm capable. 

Right now I am living each day this week on an hour by hour basis, trying to not just power through until my Thanksgiving feast is over, but also powering through until Friday evening, as I will be working on Friday, so I am trying to focus on Friday evening, and then take a muscle relaxant and just sleep for 12 hours if I can.

And there's all this, and then the existential, interconnected angst of realizing that never again will I be able to go to my mother's house for Thanksgiving (or for anything else for that matter). My mother hasn't lived in her house since July, and soon her house will become someone else's house. I cannot even process this loss, as there's just too much other shit that needs my attention this week.  

And on top of this, well-intentioned dinner guests pinging me, asking me what they can bring. JUST BRING YOURSELF. When I say that, I truly mean it. I have everything under control with food. Just come, and bring your appetite. And now I have to worry about making sure everyone else feels like a participant--which they should be, participating. I'm not in a good mindset for this.

And whatever. Even FB seems like screaming into the abyss or a political echo chamber, and it's not even a distraction anymore for me. I've been gradually culling people off my friends list of people who don't go out of their way to interact with me--so why should they be on my list? They know how to find me if they want me. Perhaps I'll end up whittling the "list" down to a solitary splinter, and... well. Whatever. What's the point of all of this. 

I better quit my yammering and hit publish. Fuck you, Tuesday.