I told my (now ex-) therapist it feels weird to go to work after a night of feeling like hell. I said it feels disrespectful almost, like it feels like I’m not honoring my needs or something. (This is not a ploy to get out of work; I like my job quite a bit, and that’s significant because I don’t like many things right now). (By the way this therapist laughed at me and that’s part of why I’m moving on).
I know it sounds weird. But imagine this: You have a life-threatening illness but you don’t know when you’ll die. You are lying there one night and you feel like everything in your life is about to end right at this moment. It’s not even a suspicion it may happen–you feel you know it to be true.
You start preparing. You start thinking of things that will suck after you die for the ones who love you, so you do things like clean your room a little bit or write down your cell phone/computer passwords so it’s easier to access your contacts. Throw in a load of laundry. Quickly text a couple people you love them. Dump and soak days-old coffee mugs. Hang up your bow ties.
You’re prepped. You’ve felt this many times before but this is the real time. This is when it’s actually going to happen and you’re ready.
Then you wake up to your alarm. It’s 7:03 and you should have gotten up already if you want to get to work on time.
That’s what it feels like for me, every day. When I say it’s disrespectful, I really just mean it’s a fucking whirlwind. I go to work, I sit at my cube, I get visitors who want to hear I’m well because they care about me. My boss wants to hear I’m gonna do well not only because she’s a manager but also because she cares about my life. I go through some motions. I can have like up to 3 hours of feeling pretty good. I get in the zone. But then sometimes the fatigue of constantly dying sets in. And you know what? It feels a little insane to be at work.
But as long as I still wake up when it’s 7:03 and as long as I continue to perform at least most as well as I normally do, then I’m kind of expected to be chill about things. If I were in crisis of course I could go the the hospital–but wait, I’m often in crisis, lol. What’s the crisis of crises?
If you’re wondering what you can do to help, I thought of two things:
- Do not expect me to perform for you. Create a space where I can be good or bad or whatever I am, but don’t make me talk about wherever I’m at if I don’t want to (which I sometimes don’t). My job cannot be to take care of you or reassure you because I’m exhausted already. 🙂
- If you think of me, text me. (Or leave a comment, or PM me, or whatever). It doesn’t have to be anything substantial. It can just be “Hey I thought of you when I was on Timehop today” or “I saw a ginger and I thought of the Weasleys first but then I thought of you next.” Even if I don’t reply right away or like ever, being thought of is pretty nice when I feel isolated.
Cool News Tidbit To Cut The Bite: I’ve lost 4 pounds already which is p cool. #180to180