This didn't really come out right

I don't know what has happened to me when it comes time to blog. There is plenty going on in my head - too much, really.

My current state is extra hot mess. I am physically and mentally all over the place. So many things are breaking me down. 

Recently, my dad's death has been hitting me hard. It's been harder than it was in the beginning months. It's just this weird feeling that it's not real. I think about it and wonder what will make it seem real? Will it be the first time I go to Cleveland since his death? Will it be seeing his grave in person?

The world and all it's changes get me to stay in bed. COVID, Texas laws, Afghanistan are all more than I can think about right now. I get choked up over the news. 

Work has me stressed out. There are changes that I don't know how to handle. My anxiety at the idea of certain tasks is manifesting itself physically. I'm not cut out for certain things. I'm not a people person.

I should be able to get my shit together. I used to accomplish things with less anxiety issues. Now, I tend to isolate and it's not because of COVID. Nausea is a constant and diarrhea is regular (so far no vomiting). Headaches and muscle aches are common. I'm quite tired. It's all part of the mess.

I have an appointment coming up with my shrink. I'm not all that optimistic right now. There are probably going to be med changes and that is a whole other thing I don't look forward to.

I'm just so tired.    

I'm bad, but not in the good "Bad" way

I'd say it's been a month of dealing with the mess of mental illness, probably longer. I've pulled back, retreated, isolated and not for COVID. The world is, in fact, too much and I can't tell you how this ride is going to go. This is going to be a trip in my head as it has been recently.

I'm afraid, like seriously afraid of 45 winning in November. I'm not thrilled at the idea of Biden, but I would say, "President Biden" with ease. I don't think I've actually ever referred to 45 as "President". I'm concerned the Bernie people will do a protest "vote" by not showing up and, therefore, voting in the incumbent. 

I'm surprisingly not as scared about COVID as people think or expect. I'm just frustrated that there are people who aren't taking it seriously. I'm also annoyed that wearing a mask is such an issue. Just wear it. Protect people, loved ones or not.

So, Shawn kind of put a suggested ban on me watching MSNBC. 

That stuff is so minor compared to how really bad things are.

I don't want to leave the house. Not because of COVID. I don't want to go out except when I walk Jarvis. I have to really work on convincing myself to do it. I put everything off. I need Shawn to be with me. I suck it up for work...that's because Shawn and Jarvis coming to work with me didn’t work out well. We thought Jarvis would love to have a yard to play in, but he knew I was in the building and that didn't work for him. Shawn takes me to the bank. He goes grocery shopping with me. The anxiety is so much. We shopped at Costco the other day and I cried in the Fish Oil section because none of the brands had the right potency. And, if I bought enough to make up the difference, the cost would be too much.

I get my shit kind of together to do work, respond to work emails, update our account on a pet search site. Otherwise, I don't communicate much with anyone but Shawn, Jarvis, my mom, and my BFF - Shawn and Jarvis being the most. I just can't right now with so many things.

My bedtimes vary. Super early some days and really late on others. I sleep late and stay in bed a lot.

The anxiety is terrible and the meds aren't working. A change to the meds is being worked on. As many who deal with mental illness know, med changes are tough. They can take a long time to start working. It can be a couple months. I'm not sure I have that in me right now. 

Shawn is amazing. He is super talented and I'm not going to deny that I'm jealous - or envious - whichever sounds less like an asshole. He just has so much going on in his life and that's not including taking care of me.

I used to be proud of myself, I think. Maybe I just used to be less hateful toward myself. I had a real, significant income that helped us out. I mean, I was making double payments on our fertility treatments to get them paid down as quickly as possible. Now, I can't imagine what I could possibly do. 

I cry. I cry about all the things. I can't tell you what it will be about. I mean, I cried in public about Fish Oil. I cry at TV shows and movies. I cry taking a bite of dinner. I cry in bed while using my coloring app on my phone. I cry when I fail at something, like spilling something. I cry at moments of pride about Conner, so that's kind of an okay thing to choke up over. I cry.

Lately, I've been thinking that ECT fucked me up. That it made me worse. My anxiety leads to vomiting and diarrhea (TMI?). I don't remember that before. But, I don't remember a lot of things from that time. 

My avoiding messages and not being active on social media is not you, it's me. It is really me. I can't handle myself right now and so I can't handle things and people outside of myself. I'm sorry if that is hurtful, but truly, I mean it, it's not you, it's me.

I don't know when I'll be back. There is so much more to everything in my head than what I've written here. Too much, really. I need to figure things out.

Life is better for whom?

Earlier this year, I started volunteering for the animal rescue where we got Jarvis 4 1/2 years ago. It was kind of an idea that Shawn, my PsychNP, and my therapist were all pretty much no board with. My PsychNP and Shawn really didn't think I was in any shape to get back in the actual workforce. Actually, this conversation may have started at the end of last year, you know, the time of my life that is lost to me. For some reason, I think my ECT psychiatrist was in on this whole thing, too.

It took me awhile to work through my anxiety enough to contact Life Is Better Rescue. Then, I think it may have taken some extra drugs to actually go that first day. The first few days involved cleaning out the cat cages at the Care Center. I had this super skinny, super tall, young kid showing me the ropes. One day, I was slated to go solo, I grabbed Shawn for the assist. As the part of my DNA that is strong within my siblings and I kicked in, I was gagging to dry heaving to being on the verge of vomiting. For some reason, taking a little green poop bag and grabbing Jarvis' shit isn't so bad; but cat boxes and kitties covered in the shit they shat is more than a Kendel (or maybe Sawhill, it might be my mom's genetic contribution) kid could bear.

So, I sucked up my overwhelming sense of failure and additional anxiety, and confessed to my ineptitude.

There was still other work to be done. I didn't have to deal with people or shit (it's hard to tell which of those things is worst) nearly as much. I was doing spreadsheet updates and microchip registrations. Officey, nerdy, anti-social stuff. I was fitting into my niche. But, anxiety still reared its ugly head because, well, fuck my life. I am still filled with an overwhelming sense of ineptitude.

New challenges have been added to my plate. I wish I was talking about a nice piece of chocolate cake, but this is the proverbial plate. So anxiety is kicked up yet another notch. My intolerance for idiocy and assholery is strong. I take the comments of bitches and douchebags too much to heart. I need to get stronger. I need to get harder. But, I also need to be tactful in covering up my disdain for those telling me to "contact me ASAP!" about their application; telling me they'll just go to a breeder; and, telling me I have taken their potential "Savior" away.

With all of these things that probably sound pretty miserable, I manage to muster my way through...still with breakdowns because I am still the mentally fucked up person I've been for much of my life.

The rescue's name is Life Is Better. It's about making life better for the animals we bring into the organization. It's about saving Fallon from euthanasia because grass awns (google it! YIKES!) were in all four of his feet and the shelter couldn't handle that. Now, he has a family ready for him and he walks just fine. Or, there's Gabe who was displaced from his shelter due to Hurricane Harvey and managed to survive treading water for 2 days. And, my loves! The Rottweilers Carl and Chloe, a 1 year old male and 6 month old female who were impounded when their owner was busted for drugs.

But, in my time volunteering, I've come to learn that the name applies to the human animal. Life Is Better. I get to play with and just hang out with dogs and cats of all types and ages. I'm almost a cat person, if the litter box isn't involved. I have syringe fed kittens who don't even have their eyes opened yet. I've learned cats have lots of breeds. I've felt the choke in my throat and the tears in my eyes when a dog I've come to love finds the exact family he/she is meant to have. The happiness that comes when a person emails me about the joy they feel knowing his/her application was approved.

So, yes, all of my issues pop up and almost win the fight; inadequacy, anxiety, and all the other shit my medication cocktail should be helping, come at me full force. But, a lot is better for this human animal's life.

Did the right thing

In my Facebook memories for May 30th, 2008, this was one of my posts:

quit her job, doesn't know what she'll do, but at least she still has her morals.

So, I posted this today:

Nine years ago today, I walked out on a job with nothing lined up in its place in order to maintain my sense of morals regarding the treatment and unjust firing of one of my employees by my superiors. Sometimes I feel a pang of guilt for not doing more about the situation and for still shopping at Barnes & Noble.

Shortly after my post, I received a private message from the above mentioned employee:

Meg,

I just saw your post about leaving Barnes and Noble 9 years ago. I don't think I ever told you, but your courage to resign following my termination absolutely changed the way I approach life. You taught me and inspired me to live life with courage and to stand up and fight for my morals and beliefs. You gave me the courage to have a voice. I used that voice to challenge my superiors while caring for many people in nursing homes and hospitals while I was a CNA, and also while I was the Human Resources director at my last job. I wanted you to know that you are and always will be one of the most influential people in my life. I owe you a lot of credit, so thank you, thank you, thank you.

I replied:

Oh my god, you just made my day. You are welcome. I'm glad a positive came out of such [a] horrible situation. When I came in the morning and Daniel told me you were fired, I went to the bathroom and got sick and left. I always lived my life the way my dad taught me, and that was to not burn your bridges because you may need those people again some day. Shawn told me I owed them nothing. I went with Shawn's thoughts. Those were people I knew I would not need again. I called the store and said I wasn't coming back. I wish I could have done more to fight back.

She responded:

You did so much more than so many people in that situation. That entire event changed my life path. I've learned a lot since all of that happened and I often look back and wonder if I could have done more to change the outcome. I have never regretted reporting to my superiors the concerns I had. I do believe that I was terminated to protect a certain employee in the organization, but I don't think I will ever know the whole story. It is suspicious to me that I was terminated within days of making a formal police report concerning the vandalism of my car in the Barnes and noble parking lot. All that being said, the situation motivated me as a Human Resources professional to protect my employees when they had legitimate concerns regardless of who the concerns were about. I was instrumental in exposing a high level executive (and the owner's son) in an embezzlement scheme at my last job and I had no reservations about confronting the problem head on. I protected the informant and went to bat for him time and time again. You taught me that, and you taught me that we all have a choice to do what is right so that we can look at ourselves in the mirror and see the person that we want to be.

I thanked her. The idea that I actually did bring about some kind of positive was, in a way, a sense of relief. After all of these years, after wondering if it really mattered, I received validation for the way I handled one of the hardest moments of my life. That means so very much.

Skill set

It's funny the way people will tell you what "you should" do.

I've had a number of people tell me, "you should write a book". They usually think that because I can share a good story about my experiences. That doesn't mean it would make a good book or enough pages to make a book. I write a blog. It's not the same, but it's what I do....too bad money isn't involved, but I'm not sure there would be money in a book by me, either.

People also tell me, "you should do improv". My kind of funny isn't really cutout for improv. I took an improv class and decided it wasn't something for me. I didn't continue to the next level. I think Shawn's disappointed in me for that. I think he thinks a gave up on it to quickly. But, I'm snarky and sarcastic, not someone who can ad lib a scene. So, no money there.

Neither of these things is helping me figure out a resume and a career.

Searching on and on

In the reality of my dreams, this blog was making me money and getting me book deals. Someone, somewhere, thought I was worth paying attention to and paying money to. So I wouldn't have to be dealing with the painful life's work of job searching.

Job searching sucks. I don't even know what I'm searching for. Also, I don't feel like my shit is under control. ECT seems like a failure. Meds are always being adjusted. I cry so easily. I simply can't keep emotions in check. How am I supposed to figure out this whole work thing?

Why can't I have some friends with some kind of employment connections? Why can't things be simple? Why can't the whys be answered?

Missing the M&M Man

Well, not much has changed on the job front. It really stresses me out, A LOT. I keep feeling like I'm only cut out for retail. There's this part of me who feels like I have to know what I'm doing from the get go; like there is no training for a job. I'm so afraid of not being good at whatever it is from the minute I start.

While I was walking Jarvis today, I was thinking about the job I had in Cleveland before moving here. The last time I worked a Monday-Friday gig. Boy, do I miss that place. I set my hours at 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. I loved that because it gave me a couple of hours before the majority of the office came in for the day. It wasn't anything that required me to have a majority of my time interacting with people. Paid time off was awesome and we had certain paid holidays; nothing like it in retail. My cube had quirky decorations and a fun M&M man dispenser. There were Starbucks runs and some occasional lunch dates with officemates. I camped out in my cubicle except for meetings and chats with co-workers.

At one time, I thought I hated it. That was when I thought I was supposed to be doing some kind of world changing work. Did I know what? No. But, I also thought I was Catholic and trying hard to believe in God, so that kind of played into it.

When I realized that, nope, not Catholic and actually an atheist, I started to look at my job differently. I'm not saying that atheists can't do world changing work. When I was going through all of this self-realization, I had a talk with a friend of mine. She said something to me about how not everyone is cut out to do world saving work, some of us just need to do the nitty-gritty, day-to-day stuff that makes the world go round. That put my mind at ease and gave me a sense of peace about doing my everyday work. That everyday work did include opportunities to volunteer for Habitat for Humanity and other stuff, so I did get to do good deeds.

So, here I am without a job. I just want some regular hours, non-retail work. Something like the editing work I did all those years ago when I still lived in Cleveland. The quality assurance kind of stuff. But, I just don't know how to begin to look and find it. This makes me sick to my stomach. The "want ads" are a vast sea of options and I'm not really a skilled sailor to get through it.

Whistle while you work

This is a little less intense than yesterday's post. There are still tears, but less urge to vomit and less diarrhea.

Since starting ECT, I have stopped working. It was initially going to be a leave of absence, but ended up as a much needed, according to Shawn, resignation. The resignation was a hard pill to swallow, not because of love for my job, but because unemployment does not sit well with me.

Tonight, I was crying as I thought about how I need to get a job for a few different reasons; to make money; to fill my time; to be a grown-up; and, to have a sense of purpose and value. But, I can't get a job at this point in my mental health treatments. So the time on my hands makes me think about wanting a job to take up the time on my hands. Just like the wheels on the bus, these thoughts go round and round.

Something Shawn brought up to me tonight was that I was brought up with a very strong work ethic and that that was a good thing. Now, it's time to be okay with taking a break from working. It's time to recognize I'm not in a place where employment is an option.

So, I'm trying to accept the fact that it's been a few months since I've been whistling and I don't know when I'll whistle again. I do get to look back at a very long timeline of whistling as I worked.

There's helping my parents with volunteering and being a sidekick for my oldest brother on his paper route as far back as I can remember. Then, in 4th grade, I got my own paper route. I delivered the Plain Dealer from 4th grade into college. Babysitting was an added gig once I hit about junior high age. This still included volunteering.

Once high school hit, without giving up any of the previous gigs, I started to work for my city's parks and recreation department; winters at the ice arena and summers in concessions for the baseball diamonds or for the summer day camp.

In college, I eventually gave up the paper route and the parks and recreation gigs. I took a job working at Perkins, which I did along with the Plain Dealer delivery for a little while.

When I graduated from college, I stuck with Perkins while I looked for some kind of degree related job. After a few months, I got a full-time editing job with a legal publishing company. For a little while, I tried to keep my Perkins job on weekends while working my editing job full-time Monday through Friday. But, eventually I had to stop this because it was too exhausting.

My publishing job became my main source of income. I did really well with advancement at this company. It may have been my only paying job, but there was a lot of volunteering outside of work, too. After almost 8 years, I resigned from this job to move to Colorado.

The last 11 years I've been in Colorado. In this time I have whistled in retail, temping, volunteering, and retail again. Until now, as I deal with some pretty major bipolar depression, the whistling has come to a rest.  

Don't let me go retail again

I'm pretty sure I would have had pretty shitty scores on the Beck Depression Inventory all the way back in the 3rd grade. Perhaps even earlier. Feelings of anxiety were already building stronger and stronger.

In high school, I doubt people really would have pegged me for suffering anxiety and/or depression. At least, those who did, didn't really do anything about trying to get me the help I needed.

When I got to college, holy crap, anxiety was strong and mighty. I was an English major who was working toward certification in secondary education with the Department of Education. The Beck would have set off all kinds of red flags for sure then. There was a lot of bullshit going on at home with my younger brother and his education at the same time I was doing field work at a local high school. I was in full "HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?" mode. So, I withdrew from the certification program just a course or two before I was to start student teaching. Went on to finish up college with a BA in English in 4 years.

I had that degree and worked at Perkins with no idea what to do with that degree since I didn't have the teaching element attached. A want ad crossed my way. I filled it out, tested, interviewed twice (painfully so), and got it. I did well with the job, but that Beck Depression Inventory would have been very high. Honestly, I feel the urge to vomit whenever I think of my interviews and some other speaking engagements required of me. Otherwise, I did pretty well.

When I met Shawn and things got serious enough that I needed to move cross country, I would have liked to keep my job somehow in a telecommuting position. That didn't work. Finding something similar, also didn't work. So, I moved with nothing lined up and hit the online want ad sites.

Finally, I caved to retail. I went to Barnes & Noble because I thought being a bookseller made some kind of sense. They quickly promoted me to a lead position in the bargain section. Next, I was made manager of the cafe. I hated being in management. I also didn't respect my managers. Retail made me truly unhappy. Things came to a head and I decided, with Shawn, that it was time to quit. Quitting without notice was nothing I ever expected I would do. The actions of the store manager with a cafe employee just made me too mad to report to her another day.

At this point, I went on to a temp agency to see what I could get and perhaps develop into a regular gig. My lack of confidence was strong and anxiety was heavy on me. Thankfully, in this time, Shawn and I got married. He still wanted to go through with it and still loved me. The best part of all I was going through.

After the wedding was over, I was having a harder time with the temp placements. My bleeding heart took over and my wish to change the world was weighing heavy on me. I ended up at an Obama campaign office. I was doing data entry and office management tasks. Calls and canvasing were not my strong suit because of my high anxiety. That ended up being okay. Obama won and my work was done.

So, I went back to retail. I applied at Old Navy and was hired. Their product really fills my closet, so I thought it was worth applying. Again, another horribly, anxiety filled interview actually lead to a job. My advancement through the company was quick. My stress, anxiety, depression related to the job moved quicker. I loved merchandising. That's all. I hated any of the management shit I had to do, I hated the back-to-school season and the holiday season black-outs for taking time off. If I could just build displays, that would have been okay with me. I became an assistant store manager and that killed my self-esteem, that made me hate my job and my self. One day, I decided to step-down. The store manager was kind enough to get me a transfer so that I wasn't out of a job completely. I was transferred to work shipment at another store.

I haven't managed to figure something else out for myself. This has put my Beck results through the roof, higher than ever. ECT and a huge medication cocktail have become my life right now. This has me freaking out. I worry that I will be back in retail or food service. My loved ones and mental health professionals tell me that I don't need to figure out a job right now. I wish it was as easy as they are trying to make it seem.

Why, oh, why?

Well, it was back in April that I started ECT. Now, the ECT journey is only one day a week, typically. It's a Monday thing. With this change comes the change of medications. The hopes are that ECT will have rebooted my brain to accept medications better. I'm not feeling it.

Last week, I quit my job. I've been away from it during all of my ECT treatments since April. Shawn is all for me quitting. It wasn't a huge career for me. It didn't bring in loads of money.

Here is where the worst of what is wrong with me pours all around. I don't know what to do with myself; where am I supposed to go from here? Anxiety has taken hold and it isn't letting up its grasp. What kind of job am I really meant to find? Where do I go for a place to earn an income that will have flexibility? What will happen with Jarvis if I'm working full-time?

So many things I used to do are no longer on my list of things to do. I have coloring books and a coloring page-a-day calendar that I was really active with, but now, I hardly touch them. Walking Jarvis on a really long journey was also on my list of things to do. Now, taking him on walks backfires to too much time in my head. That time in my head is a real downer. I get really sad about not having any idea who I am, what I am meant to do.

Why should I continue to be?

Just wait a minute

November 1st is probably as good a time as any for a retail themed post. I am this blog's resident retail expert, so this task falls to me.

The other day I overheard a woman who was annoyed about how long she had to wait in line. Five of the six registers were running.  The sixth probably would have been open, but, what people don't seem to understand, is that there probably wasn't a person to run that one. Many reasons can account for that; if everyone is pulled on to register, then no one is on the floor to help you (lady who would probably complain about not finding anyone on the floor); scheduling tools use the previous year's sales to determine the staffing for the current year, so if last year was dead and the current week hasn't been unusually busy, chances are the store wasn't planning on things being busy; and, maybe, just maybe, that register has experienced the blue screen of death.

Anyway, this whole thing just got me thinking, "What the fuck is wrong with waiting in line?" If you are so tightly scheduled, maybe running in for clothes isn't something to try to squeeze in...like those jeans... After all, Murphy makes the law and he gives no fucks. You're in a hurry to get that sweater? Well, according to statute 101c of the Law of Murphy, rushing to by a sweater is punishable by a full system crash and need for reboot. Decided to make a quick stop to grab a couple of your favorite tank tops? Not without paying the penalty of cranky-customer-holding-up-the-line-to-berate-16-year-old-cashier-who-obviously-makes-all-policies.  Like I said, Murphy has not one fuck to give.

So, here are some things you can do with your line time.

Quality Time
See that kid you brought with you? The one watching the world for cues on how to behave in a store? Interact with your kid. Teach him/her patience through your example. Have a conversation, even if you have a baby with you. Embrace the moment and connect with your tiny human.

Breathe
Pretty self explanatory, I believe.

Sort
Instead of getting to the register, having the cashier scan everything, and then deciding that you don't want something, do it in line. This doesn't mean that you dump the stuff you don't want some random place along the way through the line. Simply give the items you are opting out of to the cashier. Crazy, right? I mean, who would think of doing something like that? Yep, I'm a genius, a genius of manners and courteous behavior.

Prep
Here's something I learned from my parents. Use your line time to get things ready to be checked out easily. This can be something like taking clothes off of the hangers. Another is to get the tags out of whatever little places they got themselves tucked. I learned how to prep greeting cards for the cashier from watching my dad. Once he selected a card, he grabbed the envelope, slid the card upside under the flap so that the bar code was exposed for the cashier. I've even heard cashiers thank him. Such simple things.

Strike Up A Conversation
This makes me shudder, but some people don't mind striking up a conversation with strangers. I can't do it, I don't want it done to me, but others don't think that way. I'm just throwing this out there.

There's An App For That
Use your smartphone for good. Find an app that calms you. Not a Facebook or Twitter, but something to slow you down, to keep you from stressing out. There are coloring apps because of the new trend in adult coloring for calm and peace and zen and whatever. I find crossword puzzles to be a nice distraction.

If you do prefer to use a social media app, perhaps consider posting a selfie of yourself patiently waiting in line. #patienceisavirture #thisiswhatpatiencelookslike

So, just remember that lines happen and that's not a bad thing.

This is 40?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's been awhile. I've been all over the place in my head. The anxiety character has been center stage in a real leading role. Starting 2015 hit a bit hard and cast off my streak of positive spins on life.

Sometimes, it seems that a sense of humor used for coping can mean people don't really understand you when you are serious. My anxiety can manifest itself in some ridiculous ways. I can recognize the silliness of some of it from an outsider's point-of-view, but it doesn't mean I can stop it easily.

So, why the picture of socks? Well, I have always had a love for patterned socks. This love meant wearing non-patterned clothes, often including shirts with a simple graphic image or character. If I chose to wear the socks in the picture, the goldfish could be worn with a shirt that is plain white; plain orange; or, one of the plain blues. For the Stormtrooper socks, I would be okay with a solid black; solid white; solid red; or, maybe even a shirt (black, white, red, or perhaps gray) with an image from "Star Wars".

I decided to go out of my comfort zone and wear some patterned socks with shirts I never would have considered. This wasn't as daring as it could have been because I was wearing long pants. It wasn't like anyone was really going to see the socks. I did this a couple of times. But, I still had other restrictions I would place on wearing the socks. One day, I was going to wear the Stormtrooper socks and thought about wearing a black t-shirt with a white image of Spider-Man on it. I could not do it. There was no way I was going to be okay with mixing a Marvel character mixing with a "Star Wars" image. At this point, there is no way for my stress level to accommodate wearing mismatched socks. I get anxious when I see mismatched socks on someone, or intentionally sold that way.

I bet you, dear reader, are wondering what any of this has to do with the title of this post. Well, I think my anxiety being on the rise is partially related to a new year starting and my 40th birthday coming up next month. The socks wearing decisions give me a sense of control in what feels like a dreaded time.

Many have mentioned the awesomeness that 40 brings or how it is merely a number. The thing is, for some of those people, they had kids and/or a career. They had a sense of purpose, a meaning to life.

I'm having an epic stare down with my 40th birthday. No matter what the year, my birthday marks the approximate anniversary of a failed embryo implant. But, adding 40 into the mix adds some salt. I thought we would have kids at this point. Also, I thought I'd be able to tolerate any job as long as I had those kids. Now, I don't have the kids, I don't have the uterus, and I don't have any idea what to do with myself. What I do have is anxiety and depression because I should have my life together and I don't know how to get beyond my head to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

#itskindofajokebutiamthispathetic

While I was recovering from surgery this summer, I discovered a whole new world that exists after 9 p.m. Not having to get up at 4 a.m. allowed me to screw up my sleep schedule in all kinds of ways -- it was AWESOME! There were even times when Shawn and I actually went to bed at the same time (not for sexytime, surgery put the kibosh on that for a while).

With this awakening {BA DUM TSS}, I was able to watch "@midnight" on Comedy Central which actually comes on at 10 p.m. here; when you leave in Mountain Time, you learn that television is pretty East-ocentric. I was awed by the humor the internets could provide on a "game" show like this one. My favorite part of the whole thing was #hashtagwars. I swear, that segment taught me my life's purpose in the Twitter-verse, of which I never fully felt a part. It's an audience-plays-along-at-home thing. Oh, when the topic of the war was revealed, I would take to the keyboard.

Some night's I would get on an amazing roll of profound wit and punnery. I was gaining followers; my tweet counter was rapidly rising; I was being re-tweeted; and favorites of my tweets were reaching new levels. Oh, the high I felt was inspiring. People liked "me," they really liked "me!" One night, even the show re-tweeted me!!! I made it on to it's Top 10 list for that particular hashtag (#WorseCollegeMascots, about which I tweeted, UNLV Pawnbrokers). This meant that I could possibly have my tweet broadcast on the next episode of the show! My husband shared this accomplishment on his own social media pages. He was proud of me and wanted people to know it. Everything seemed so fulfilling!

Then...my six weeks of recovery were up. I was only going to be able to play if I didn't have to work the next morning and if I wasn't too tired. The realization of what I was missing out on by regularly having an early bedtime just made thoughts of my return to work that much more gut-wrenching.

It sucks to only be an occasional participant. The worst is when I see a hashtag from a night I couldn't play and I know I would have been able to create a million tweets about it. Then, on nights when I can stay awake, the topics are sometimes about something that I'm not too up on and clever. Without being able to saturate Twitter with my good and bad jokes, my stats numbers aren't reaching the levels they did before my return to work.

Now, as someone who measures her self-worth in qualitative things such as Facebook likes and shares; blog views and comments; Twitter followers, favorites, and re-tweets; and any other measurable social media activity, this is quite a blow. I have hit a low. Did I peak too soon? Am I the Halle Berry of #hashtagwars; getting my version of an Oscar and now being on a network T.V. series (which I'm not even sure if it has succeeded to stay on the air)? She actually won and wasn't just a nominee. Being on the Top 10 list is probably more like a nomination. I guess I may be more like the Haley Joel Osment, getting a nomination early on and not doing much since.

Sundry

It's been awhile since the last post. I've avoided writing because I was waiting for something on the lighter, brighter, more entertaining side of life about which to document here. This is going to just turn into a list of rants, so here it goes.

1. You CANNOT drink and still be considered an addict in recovery. Quitting one drug doesn't mean you can just go on to something else.
2. If you are a raging, nasty, fight-picking asshole when you are drunk, it's because you are an asshole.
3. If none of your friends and loved ones want to be around your significant other; if they don't want that person in their homes; if your boss even has said things indicating they know the person is no good; then you should probably get out, completely out, of that relationship.
4. If you are announcing on FB, Twitter, etc, where alcohol checkpoints are going to be on a given night, I consider you to be part of the drunk driving problem. Why are you sharing that info? It would be kind of ironic if you gave your friend a heads up about an area they should avoid when they are driving under the influence (and "just buzzed" counts) so that they don't get pulled over and arrested only for them to then kill you or someone you love.
   In my ever so not-humble opinion on the matter, I see this kind of "knowledge sharing" on the same level of giving someone a detailed layout of a building for another to go in to commit a crime.
5. Freedom of Speech has to do with the government not restraining or limiting you. A private sector company firing you or suspending you for something you said on air is not a violation of your free speech. You were free to say it and they were free to not like it and not support it.
6. Freedom of Religion is kind of similar. The idea here is that government entities cannot force a religious practice or doctrine on anyone. So, a public school cannot organize and mandate prayer. If some kids feel the need to pray, have at it. I would not be okay with them getting up and disrupting class the same way I wouldn't find it appropriate for someone to disrupt class with any other behavior. 
7. My anxiety is at a new high and I actually use my "as needed" Ativan daily, sometimes even maxing out my prescribed daily allowance.
8. I have considered blogging an anxiety attack to try to give people a sense of it. The thing is, when I'm in the midst of one, sitting at my laptop is not top on the list of places to be. The other thing is that if I'm trying to describe it, I almost risk going in to one and they happen enough on their own.
9. My sleep is beyond fucked up and that is an added bonus of anxiety and depression.
10. I'm working with a therapist and I see a psychiatrist, so, yeah, not looking for nor asking for anyone's advice on shit.  I'm merely just throwing this shit out here in the hopes that it will leave my head alone, at least for a little while.
11. Please don't tell me that pot is the answer to all my life's problems. Frankly, it isn't and I'm just not that into it. I don't get major satisfaction from it, so, yeah, not the cure for what ails me.
12. I've discovered I admire a lot of people and a lot of them are a lot younger than me.

Well, that's enough random shit for now. I have to get up early for work.

Spinning my wheels

My husband and I just returned home after a visit to see my family in C-Town. This trip opened my eyes about some things and the return drive gave me more than enough time to think. A lot of time on the road turns into a lot of time in my head...A LOT OF TIME.

Here is a list:

• It is hard for me to accept that my need to visit isn't always as important to those I would like to see. My youngest nieces still get excited about my visits. It's so awesome to pull in the driveway and have three little girls waiting up to see you. Some of the other kids are older and have really active lives so excitement about me coming has waned with time. I went out to eat with some of the family and one of the older kids didn't even say two words to me or Shawn. This was heartbreaking for me. 
• The ache and longing for a child doesn't get easier. 
• It was great to be able to see a different side of talent in one of my older nieces. We were able to see her perform with her a cappella group. My usually experience of her non-academic life is to see her play hockey and soccer.
• I need to suck-it-up and schedule my hysterectomy. The discomfort from the endometrioma is becoming more frequent.
• The full break-up with retail work needs to happen. 
• I'm getting closer to 40 years old everyday and something's got to give. 
• I love my family and friends and good food and laughter.

So, that's that and now back to my regularly scheduled schedule.

Pipe dreams

Where does the term "pipe dream" come from? I think it's been around longer than the popularity of crack pipes. I just mean, I don't think it is talking about the dreams you might have in a drug induced state.

Anyway, already off topic and this post has only just begun.

I've been thinking about all different kinds of professions or things I dream would be professions.

I could:

• Be a doctor. I would have to conquer my hyper-sensitive gag reflex when it comes to blood, guts, and odors, which is simple, right? Oh, and not pass-out.
• Be a teacher. Now, I was on this path before and I'm not sure I could revisit it. See, to me, it resembles the stuff I hated about being a manager---discipline and performance reviews.
• Write a book...that people would actually read. This means I'd have to fill more than a couple of pages. I think the longest thing I ever wrote was under 30 pages. It also included A LOT from source materials; was double spaced on 8 1/2" X 11" paper with 1 inch margins all around; and, was boring as hell (ok, hell probably isn't all that boring if it's filled with all the people who have been told to go there, but you get what I mean).
• Open a business naming business. I've come up with some names that I think would be pretty clever names for businesses. However, are there enough businesses being created to make creating a business naming business worthwhile? 
• Travel with my BFF Linda. We would go to quirky places, festivals, events that were specific to the area. I would write and she would take photos and it would be amazing. It would be our very own take on the British series, Two Fat Ladies. It would not be a cooking show, just an amazingly, snarky, and fun adventure with us in whatever our trademark vehicle turns out to be. This is probably the one I most wish would happen. This is the pipe dream; the one I would love to do if money were no object.

Well, in the meantime, I'll just blog along and try to get some work that IS NOT retail and/or management.