Out of my over loving mind

I am going to snap pretty soon. I feel like I’m at the end of my rope in all aspects of my life. Work is going to send me back to the looney bin. The sheer amount of just non-work related talking and at the top of their lungs, is enough that I want to gouge an eye out. With a spork. I could give a shit about where Karen was a year ago (Disneyworld if you wanted to know). One of them pissed me right off and I am doing all I can to not hurdle over their cube walls and help her bounce her head off the desk 2 times. The old fart is talking loud because she can’t hear a god damn thing. And the poor Middle Eastern guy across from her is usually the target of her racist rantings. The admin has eaten about 17 carrots and made sure to snap them off and chew open mouthed over the last couple of hours. The lying of one of our contract managers is rampant this week and I’m tired of getting my ass handed to me by some of the divisions The two-faced one is having a fake sugary talk with someone and as soon as she hung up, informed me that he was a fucking dick head that knew shit about….you get the point. I was in the toilet when she came in one time and she was whispering to herself. Sounded a lot like fucking asshole, I’m going to fucking kill them. I’m not exaggerating about any of this. I know I’ve written about this before but it bears repeating myself. If for nothing else to prove to the authorities that I was justified in my leaping from the top of this building to stop the voices in my head start arguing with the idiots in my office.




It doesn’t take a lot to actually be out of my mind. I am a mental patient but a “high functioning” one. Whatever that means. I went to a bipolar support group when I was going through the divorce. I was floundering and was just desperate to find something where I felt like I belonged. I sat through that meeting absolutely high on fear. These people were hard core nuts. Most (like ¾) didn’t have a job. More were living with their parents. All thought this support group was intended for bitching and complaining and hooking up. I was so so fascinated with the dynamics within the group and of course saw all the ways I could fix these people. They were lazy and just not willing to be an active participant in their lives. I’m sure you can understand when I stopped going to the group after a few weeks because I was starting to gloat about how I’m better than them. Not to mention, I was “high functioning” and didn’t need this damn group. Sayonara dip shits! But I think that was a wake up call to me. I’m just a manic or depression episode away from living in my parent’s basement. I am not as concerned about my mental health as I am about my living situation. My parent’s basement is gross.



I think I’ve hit a crossroad. I’m absolutely disengaged at work. To the point that I’m half expecting a visit from HR and a promise that they’ll forward my personal belongs soon. While I worry about that a lot and it keeps me motivated to do at least the bare minimum, I think I would find it a relief if I were to find myself unemployed. Don’t get me wrong….I would be seriously fucked if I lost my job. I would have to break my lease, find a basement to move into (and one big enough for Crawford), make at least enough money to pay for the, hopefully cheap basement gig and car. I think it would be pleasant to not have to worry about big things like I do. I’m tired of making decisions and deadlines. I get up every morning knowing that I’m going to be yelled at and/or stabbed in the back. I don’t really take pride in my work anymore. This is all very strange to me because I was so incredibly engaged in my work until a year ago. I would work at night and weekends. I know the ex wasn’t very happy about that but it didn’t matter. I was important and I worked hard. Now, I’m out of my mind while at work. I check out and live in my head for 8 hours.



So, I had a therapy session yesterday and my cool therapist put me to the wall and gave me an assignment. She’s really good about calling me on my BS. I’ve been with her for years. And she knows me. Really knows me. I have an assignment and I have a time frame. I’m to email her Sunday and let her know what I’ve done and then I’m held accountable for what I do from there. I’m not the most consistent person, I tend to get really into it and then I slowly (or sometimes not so slowly) stop doing things. And I’m right back where I was originally only usually worse off. Something has to change and that something has to be me. I don’t want to live in a basement when I’m 37. Makes me feel like I haven’t done anything with my life.

I'm just working myself into a dead end and I don't want to start thinking about what my life is going to be like if I find myself sinking into a level where a basement apartment looks really fucking good.