Dragging

I’m so tired lately. The kind of tired that seeps into your bones and settles in. Part of it is the chronic insomnia I have, but a lot of it is that I ran out of my Adderall before I could get more and my body is telling me what a fool I was to let that happen.

Still, I have things to do. I’ve got to finish my Italian Renaissance dress, start on my husband’s garb, make Christmas presents, and a whole slew of other things. I’m so tired I can’t even think of what I need to do. 

Oh yeah, I remember one thing… I have to work today.

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Wallflower disease

I’m a wallflower. Not gonna lie. I enjoy my own company more than just about anyone else. So what’s so wrong with that?

Apparently it’s some kind of condition. Like, one where you need to check on the person constantly to make sure they’re ok.

Let me rewind a bit. Tonight there was a birthday party for a friend at a club. No big deal, right? Well, if you’re not a wallflower I’m sure it’s no big deal. Us petal people, however, sometimes have to make big adjustments to tolerate–or even survive–parties like the one tonight. My go-to coping mechanism is to find a semi-quiet corner and bury my nose in my phone.

I guess some people don’t like seeing that. There appears to be some kind of protective instinct that takes over and makes the non-flowers want to comfort the flowers, who are actually perfectly comfortable sitting alone. Not only did people come to me and ask if I was “okay,” they apparently asked my husband if I was okay as well.

I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with wanting people to have a good time. I’m just saying maybe those people with their noses buried in phones or books or laptops are having a better time than they would be inside the crowd. Maybe those people in the booth corners are having the time of their lives off on their own.

Wallflowerism isn’t contagious, but it’s also not a disease.

Kinda want something to do, kinda don’t want to be around people…or do I?

So here’s something about social anxiety that you might not realize: sometimes, we actually want to hang out. We just don’t know how to make ourselves approach people in order to hang out.

One prime example is me today. I had nothing to do, but I wanted to do…. something. I didn’t know what; all the things there were to do involved peopling. Go hang with my husband who was standing guard for the Queen? People. Going to an art class? People. Wandering through the vendor tents? You guessed it: people. So what’s a girl to do?

Well, this girl slept. I took a depression nap because I had nothing to do that didn’t involve being around people who were mostly strangers to me. Not exactly fun.

It’s hard to articulate. I mean, for people who don’t have social anxiety it might seem stupid. But it’s a thing. A real thing. And sometimes it pisses me off. I want to have something to do. I want to hang out. But I don’t. I don’t want to. Fucking frustrating.

It’s like wanting a cookie. But you’re allergic to the nuts in the cookie. Or rather, your brain tells you you’re allergic to the nuts in the cookie. Your brain tells you that if you eat that cookie you’ll fucking die. But hot damn, that cookie looks good.

Right now I’m among close friends, so I’m cool just sitting around. I can handle this. I’ve got to learn how to let myself relax around semi-strangers, though.

I can only take so many naps.

Survival mode…deactivated?

I made it through the week! It was touch-and-go there for a while (mentally speaking), but I made it. I even learned a new thing at work. My stress hasn’t completely evaporated–there’s still a slight chance that I might end up with some of the same stress piled back on me next week–but I’m not on Red Alert all the time now. It’s more like Yellow Alert…maybe a bit less.

There are still garments to make for Yule, a whole slew of events to schedule on social media, holiday presents to make for friends and family, and Gods only know what else I’m forgetting at the moment. So yeah, work-stress is lessened, life-stress keeps on trucking.

Overall, though, I think I’m feeling better. I don’t have the panic attack hangover I had yesterday, and I feel pretty calm. Is it a calm-before-the-storm kind of calm? I hope not. But I’ll take the calm feeling while I can.

Beatdown

I’m done. Done. Totally, completely, 1000% done.

Except I’m not. I have more to do, farther to go, deeper to dig. In other words, I’m shit out of luck.

Ok, let me back up a bit.

I’ve been covering for a co-worker who had surgery a week ago, and even though I learned how to do that position a little over a year ago, my training was quick and dirty. Basically, the only backup person for that position quit and I had to step up and dive in. Speed training.

Incomplete speed training.

Yeah. There are huge chunks of aspects of the position that are missing from my knowledge/experience base. Some of the things never came up during that speed training, and despite me pointing this out multiple times it has never been rectified. I literally am the only other person “trained” in this position, and as the past week has demonstrated I am not truly prepared.

I didn’t realize how much stress I was under this past week until this morning. My worsening insomnia, which I had been attributing to just me being me, has most likely been due to this sudden change in work duties. This afternoon, the buildup of stress and strain and pressure came to a head in the form of a massive anxiety attack. During the work day. Full-blown crying-my-eyes-out find-a-place-to-hide-from-reality anxiety attack.

It has been a long, long time since I’ve had an attack that bad while at work. I have to admit, I’m more than a bit ashamed of it. I thought I was past this kind of thing.

Guess not.

Now, work life isn’t my only stressor right now. I have other things going on that are probably not helping matters. Could I cut back on one or more of the non-work activities? Sure. I could. Will I? Probably not too much. Some of my private life things demand a certain degree of responsibility, and some of them involve dear friends who I do not want to disappoint or let down. So I’m going to plow through my off hours just like I’m plowing through the work stress. Will that mean more breakdowns? Probably… but hopefully I can keep any impending meltdowns to times when I can get away and hide my shame.
I’m not sure what I’ll do to destress aside from the date night that my wonderful husband has planned for tomorrow. Work will calm down eventually. I’ll get my personal life sorted to the point where I can function.

I just wish I could fast forward to this stress leveling off.

Soon, though, right? Please?

Mixed blessings

So, like, is it a good sign or a bad sign when your insomnia leaves you conveniently awake at the right time to clean up the cat puke while it’s still fresh? I mean, on the one hand I was able to wipe it up right away and, since I heard him hacking, I was able to avoid stepping in it (because stepping in cat puke–fresh or not–is gross). On the other hand, I got maybe an hour of sleep before my brain woke the fuck up and refused to go back to sleep. This makes three out of the past four nights where my body wakes up after less than three hours, and nothing I do seems to fix it.

I’d say I’m sick and tired of it, but I’m not tired. At all. (As for the sick part, I might still be a bit queasy after cleaning up the cat puke.)

Today–or I guess I should say “last night” since it was before midnight that I woke back up–I was able to identify at least part of the problem: My damn train of thought. See, I went to bed a little … disappointed, I guess? Or maybe a bit hurt. It’s one of those things that happens to normal people and it’s not even a thing, but because I’m me it became a thing. Enough of a thing that my brain decided to blow it out of proportion and make it a huge thing that probably really isn’t even a microscopic thing. My feelings get hurt so damn easy, and often for no good fucking reason. I’m starting to annoy the snot out of myself with it. This thing-that-isn’t-a-thing shouldn’t have me up late at night crying and stewing and moping and pouting. I should be sleeping like a baby. But no, not me. I apparently decided I was going to get upset and worked up over this not-thing. So yeah. That’s why I’m here, writing this ramble of a blog post. I’m kinda hoping I bore myself back to sleep with it. (So far it’s not working.)

I guess I’ll lie here in the dark and try to not think or something. I don’t even know what else to do at this point. Definitely no thinking though. Thinking leads to things-that-aren’t-things. Things-that-aren’t-things lead to butthurt. Butthurt leads to insomnia.

Shuffleboard

Life is definitely a strange game lately. As if things weren’t hectic enough, I am having to cover for a co-worker who had surgery last week. It’s only for a few more days, but it has been enough of a kick in the ass that I had to finally admit defeat and give up a job that I once really enjoyed. As of this morning, I no longer am working for Talk Nerdy With Us, either as a contributor or as an editor. It was a hard decision, but I just don’t have the time anymore.

There’s the paying work. There’s the volunteer work for the SCA. There’s the writing. There’s the sewing for the SCA. There’s the holiday season coming up. I could go on, but I’m sure you get the drift. I’m exhausted, and right now I can’t afford the kind of effort it takes for what, in the end, is a nonpaying job. I’ve got enough of those, thank you very much, and the ones I’m “keeping” are more satisfying at this point in time.

Now I have a few moments of break left before I’m back into the fray. I’m hoping to get a sewing project done by tomorrow morning and then I can start knocking out this mile high list of things to do.