being stocked out of stuff at work is so hard to deal with. i hate having orders pile up that i can't do anything about, i hate knowing that as soon as we do get stock, the sales guys are going to be riding me to get everything out that same day. i hate having panic attacks because i'm unable to stave off all the anxiety. (stave it off, one two three...and now we can count to three...) so i'm doing what i usually do, faking a good mood and acting like everything is great when anyone's around, cracking jokes, etc. but this stock-out and work anxiety, on top of everything else i'm trying to deal with is making me absolutely crazy. if other people didn't have a key and could come in here at any moment, i would be curled up under my desk and sobbing.
why do i always feel like i'm riding waves? why do i go through spurts of peaks and troughs and feel like i have absolutely no control over my life? i've always blamed it on just having an "artistic temperament" but i really think i've got at least some sort of issue. i have been completely miserable and trying to ignore it for the better part of three months. last week it got so bad, i tried to, well... the same thing i've tried before. and when the cops got there, i was going to jump out my third story window when they let me go change into some clothes they could take me down to the hospital with, but then they sent my mother in to keep an eye on me while i was changing. and then i just wrapped up in a big blanket and sobbed while some well-meaning but completely off the mark officer tried to convince me that everyone has the problems that i do, and that fixing it is easy.
it's not easy, it's not just depression. and now this week, i've been completely manic. i can't sleep, i can't sit still, i don't want to eat, i can't stop my mind from going a hundred miles and hour and i can't stop writing and i can't stop freaking out and i can't help but feel like a wind-up toy that is being overwound and overwound and overwound and i'm just going to explode - but just because i'm feeling so hyper and crazy doesn't mean that i'm not still miserable! and the misery just overwhelms everything so that every time i've tried to talk to someone all they do is slap a depression label on me and then tell me to go back on fluoxetine. the fluoxetine didn't help... i remember being on it. it just felt like my brain was glitching, it made my thoughts all clattery and disjointed, and like i was just supposed to look at them objectively and make a logical, rational decision about them... that's what it felt like, i remember writing about it, my thoughts rolling around my head like marbles, little balls of light, that i couldn't react to - how can you be an artist when you can't feel anything? i wasn't feeling anything. i wasn't happy, i just couldn't feel... i couldn't think... it was such an empty mess. i didn't care about anything, and i didn't care that i didn't care, and i couldn't handle that. maybe i am just depressed, maybe that's how it's supposed to work? but if i'm supposed to just not feel anything and have that make me better, i don't want to be medicated, i don't want to be diagnosed, i don't want to talk to anyone... i don't know... i may be crazy, but i'm not stupid, and i know when something's not working.
i know when I'M not working. why does the only clear thing seem to be the fact that no one can help? and when i think someone can, they leave - everyone always leaves. and i get left with an empty heart and no hope. and it's that fucking gaping hole that comes from loving everything so damn much that nothing will ever fill it, and everytime i think that it's ok, that it will be different, i just get a bigger chunk ripped out of the edge of it, even more space that cannot be filled. god, why does it feel like i have to see and feel everything in a different way than everyone else does? why do i feel like i'm meant to do and make and be things that i too paralyzed and crippled and afraid of to do and make a be. i am tired of it. i'm tired of the churning, the gasping for air and there being none, feeling my lungs bursting all the time.
why does every feeling have to be so intense? i'm a ragdoll dropped into the surf, every day a riptide from another unseen direction dragging to another unseen destination, until all my colours have bled out into the pounding waves and i am torn apart at the seams. i drown in it, god i drown in it every day. and they'll tell me there's hope, that things will get better, but they just delude themselves, and i refuse to be so duped. i know how it ends, and it won't end well.
but... i can't say that. i've said it too often and everything i do and say now has ended up like me: hollow.
haha, just kidding, i'm having an awesome day, yep. fantastic.
i posted this. and then didn't want to, and then i figured if i was going to be honest about things, then i needed to stop picking and choosing and just be honest about it all, and so i should post this. *sigh*
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