Why is it that when you actually have something of importance to write about, you find you just don't want to? That you want to sit and be silent...mute in shadow...?
When I uploaded the message Wednesday with the preface that it was already out of date, I wasn't kidding. After being out sick again Monday and Tuesday, I went in Wednesday to a mood I have become all too familiar with...the mood that notes the beginning of and end...of things that need to be said and done, but that are hard and therefore postponed. As those of you who have been keeping up with my journal will know, I've been having problems at and with work. Both my continuing illness, the travel, distance, and commute, as well as the general level of satisfaction with duties and responsibilites...On Wednesday at 4pm, that all ended.
I sat down in a meeting with my boss and his boss and listened to them sum up the pretty grim situation. How much they loved my work and myself as a person, but with the unreliability of my schedule, the wear-and-tear the drive caused on my wellbeing, and because they truly had no other course of action, I was let go. It was done so nicely that it hardly felt like I was fired. *sigh* On the positive side, they are giving me a severance package of salary through the end of the month as well as continued insurance through that time as well. (with of course, option to COBRA it after that-but at over $200 a month which is basically impossible)
...
I don't know how I feel about it all. On one hand, I'm relieved that it's over. That I can stop forcing myself all that way for what felt like nothing. But...where does this leave me? This problem will never be solved in two weeks and that means I'm back to square one. Try to find another job (one closer to home this time), suffer through without insurance, hope to make it the 90 or so days and face this situation all over again. I'm so sick of this game. I'm so sick of these little roles I'm supposed to play. I feel like a dog being made to jump through hoops for the amusement of others...
My emotional state is pretty bad right now. I'm pretty much convinced that I truly am manic-depressive. I feel myself exploding in anger, tears, and hopelessness only to ten minutes later, laugh, smile and joke about nothing. It's like I'm on ice, sliding around; shifting without my conscious control. It's scary actually...to sob and scream one minute only to goof off and be happy the next.
What doesn't help is my mom just called. She was giving me the weekly once-over to maneuver all the little events of my life out of me...and of course, she wouldn't let the health talk go, or the work talk...you have to understand, my mom has a problem knowing when to just stop. She pushes and pushes and pushes even when you say "I don't want to talk about it, please stop" She will keep offering suggestions. Like I mentioned that I had dozed off on the couch. Didn't mean to, have errands to run tonight, but the phone startled me awake. This came to "Well, you've been up since 6am, right?"
I mumbled out something meant to sound confirming, but it didn't satisfy her.
So I get, "You did go to work today, right?"
Another mumble.
"What's going on? You are still working right?"
"Mom, I don't want to talk about it, ok?"
Then starts the nagging. "You didn't quit did you?"
"Mom, I said, I don't want to talk about it, please."
"They didn't fire you did they? Because you still have your insurance right? So, I don't understand."
"Mom, please just drop it, ok?"
"But honey, I just want to know what's going on...I'm worried about you."
"Mom, please, I don't want to talk about it!"
"Why won't you tell me what happened? I just want to know..."
In tears at this point because of my highly volatile emotional state "FINE! They fucking called me in the other day, fired me, but I have salary and insurance through the end of the month. Happy?!?!"
At this point, I hung up the phone and threw it across the room.
She just doesn't understand boundaries. She thinks of me as her baby and therefore, incapable of handling anything on my own. (That's what I get for having a sister 11 years older then me) She doesn't understand that if I'm not ready to talk about something, it's probably for a reason. That if I've not even written a journal entry-my own version of self-theropy-then it's not something I'm ready to deal with. And most certainly not something I want to discuss with my Mother. Arg. It makes me so mad...She has never learned when it's ok to let something drop and still be considered a "good parent." She thinks it's a failing if she doesn't pester every little thing out of me...
What else doesn't help was the fact that I was anticipating a call from a dear and old friend of mine. I called out to him in request for help the beginning of the week and got a reply that he'd be in touch tonight after 6pm. As it's 8:30, so much for that. I'm alone, head is killing me, I have a ton of things to do (with little time left to do them because things start closing soon) and I don't want to do any of it. I'm only writing so I won't start crying again. I just don't feel like a person anymore. I feel like some shadow or figment. I feel like I'm not really here-because I'm so easily dismissed and forgotten. I read my own words even a day later and they seem foreign, fake, but I know that they're not. It's just that I'm so out of touch with myself that I can't even feel or see my own pain. It's there or it's not even though it really is. I don't know if that made any sense, but it's very accurate. Even when I don't feel it, it's there...even when I ignore it, it's a noose around my neck...I'm drowning all the while pretending I'm not even in the water....
And I find that I care but then again, I don't...
~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream
at 2/16/2001 08:21:16 PM ~
~
