Nothing really stressful happened until around 6:30 PM, but for some reason every-day life got the better of me today. Clearing crap off of Megan's (my) computer took so much emotional concentration. It drained me, which frustrated me, which put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. The hard thing about frustration is that it's really good at masking other emotions, so it's hard for me to figure out how I really feel after one of these episodes. It's four in the morning and I'm so empty that I'm not even tired. I have to force myself to think about how I felt today because I'm not sure. All I know is while I was signing up for a gym membership, the guy in the office offered me a free month to help ease my immediate financial burden, and then I had a panic attack. It was really short and super pathetic.
Sometimes I feel like people think I'm putting on a show to gain their sympathy. As nice as Joe was, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm crazy (a lot of other stuff happened and our 30-minute consultation turned into an hour-and-a-half-long MESS). Or super manipulative. I'm sorry that you feel that way, Joe. I assure you, my erratic behavior is a result of my being emotionally disturbed (that's not crazy, right?). I am seeing a therapist, though, so I might not even try to kill you in your sleep.
Yesterday I ran out of gas on the freeway. It was odd to be trapped alone inside my car as the traffic whizzed eagerly by and Cornelius (my car) trembled in fear. The isolation and the danger and the time issue should have cause me considerable distress. It didn't. I tried to sort through my feelings, send a little brain man to thumb through the index cards I have on file in a rusty old cabinet and tell me exactly what it's like to learn that a final is two days sooner than it should be and to lose all hope of being seen as a punctual person and to have reckless semis zoom within feet of my head. I guess he didn't get the memo, though, because I was just as blank then as I am now. This makes me feel crazy almost more than anything else. Here I lie, calm, collected, wide awake, with not a care in the world, while somewhere just below the surface is a soul-sized knot of worry and fear and gross emotional smoothie. I guess it makes me feel crazy because I'm so out of touch with myself. I'm so not in control.
There are moments like the one at Anytime Fitness wherein everything explodes out of me at once for no reason at all, and then there are times like this when I can't seem to feel anything, not even the horrific panic that sometimes paralyzes me. I don't know whether this is just my brain trying to make up the difference, but I don't like it.
I mentioned earlier that I'm afraid of losing the battle, of losing myself in the sadness. Well, I don't want to lose myself in apathy, either. Just make me a robot. At least that way I can shoot lasers out of my eyes and be much better at math.
The only other thing I really did today was a spot of visiting teaching, and thank the Lord for that (the visiting teaching, not the utter lack of productivity). I have to admit, I thought that I could get along with Sephra because she is quite an agreeable person, but I never thought we could ever really be friends. She just didn't seem like my type, you know? I am SO happy to say, however, that we have quite a few things in common! For example, we're both bookworms who suffer from college sucking all of our leisure time out of our schedules syndrome, AND we both love British TV shows! I'm so glad there's another Doctor Who fan in the ward! There is no bond quite as strong as the one forged when nerds discover another nerd's deepest nerdy nature. Here's hoping for a never ending friendship!
I'm grateful for a Heavenly Father who knows me and who loves me enough to answer my prayers. It's kind of awesome to take a step back, away from the demands of life, and to discover that I have just exactly what I need. I'm in a really difficult situation right now (though I found my calendar, so I'm confident I'll screw my head back on soon). Even so, I've been blessed with the right people and the right circumstances to see me through. Basically, God is my Q and He's given me some pretty freakin' sweet gadgets because He wants me to 007 these shenanigans, minus the booze and the killing people.
This is good- the stony surface has cracked and a trickle of hope is shining through. I feel a bit better (but still NOT TIRED! Kill me!).
Anyway, Jim Dale and I have a date. I'munna see if he can't maybe put a little spell on me and read me to sleep. Fingers crossed!
If this is me as an insomniac, can you imagine me as an alcoholic?