I got a slight boost of positivity today after listening to some beautiful music, but the annoyance and dread are still making themselves front and center. I’ve had crappy sleep the past 3 nights because of obsessive needlepointing (couldn’t do much else, and I had a drive to finish the projects) and a list of worries that I have to figure out which needs tackling first in the morning.
August and I have not gotten along since I was a kid. I hate this month, but I thought maybe this year The August Dumps wouldn’t make an appearance. But I’m feeling more and more like Peter Gibbons from Office Space, when he told the hypnotherapist, “every time that you see me, it’s on the worst day of my life.”
Granted, the worst part of every week seems to lie between the hours of 1:30 and 3:30 on Sundays. In which case, it shouldn’t have surprised me that while I was outside, sweat dripping down my back while I yelled for one dog to get back home and stop chasing delivery vans, surrounded by quiet boredom and yarn… I concluded that right in that moment, I REALLY hated my life.
The only thing I can think I like right now is my house and my pets. If I try to think of anything else, I hear crickets.
I tried not to think it too much, but it was pretty obvious. Those August Dumps were hitting damned hard, and naturally my slow-ass Sunday afternoons were gonna make that thought reverberate in my skull for an hour. I eventually got fed up before the resignation set in and got the dogs back in the house.
But I actually felt it–I hated my life. I hated how things were going, even though I was making plans to do so much better for myself (health-wise, at least). The rest of things weren’t working out so well, and of course I had to let things stew a bit in my brain before I figured I should just write ’em down and deal with them tomorrow.
Got my freaking Covid test done 10 days ago and nobody called me to tell me if I had it or if I need to extend my quarantine or anything. I’m calling tomorrow because I’m gonna have to call my boss so she can either give me my shift on Tuesday or find someone else to cover it. And thanks to so many still getting sick around here, I’m just wishing like hell that I’d never answered the call to go get a job outside the house, even though I need every penny pretty badly. My stipend’s gonna dry up eventually and I’m gonna be in the shitter if I don’t build up an emergency fund again and pay some things off, or just have basic expenses covered without stressing.
But boy, I’m so annoyed at the situation I wish I hadn’t tried. Now I’ve got a very full schedule with a commute again (thankfully only two days a week right now, and I hope to stick to it because construction traffic’s only going to make my day longer and more annoying), and I was trying to avoid that. And now that so many are getting sick, I’m putting myself back out there? Where the hell was my brain? I was trying to AVOID all this!
But I think it was partly that bit of self-hatred. When did I answer that phone call? A Monday morning, just after another crappy Sunday where I was failing to get things done and let myself fall into the worry hole, jumping at the opportunity presented because I was suddenly afraid I wouldn’t get one again any time soon.
Well, that’s one call I gotta make tomorrow, and then another to tell my boss what’s up. I’m slightly congested, so I still want to call and make sure that’s not a deal breaker. A day full of hot tea tomorrow will probably clear it up. The intense heat and then the rains (and pollen) have probably made it the way it is, because I haven’t had a smidge of fever in over a week.
And then I gotta call the post office in the morning and see what happened to my mail. I had some bills I sent out in late July that I actually dropped off in the out of town/outgoing mail slot INSIDE the damned post office. Maybe there’s a catch bin there with the wheels on it that got moved, or they fell and floated behind something, or some truck went awry, I dunno. But I started getting a few “past due” notices in the mail for some important bills–the same bills that I dropped off in the post office on purpose to prevent them getting lost in the first place.
Yes, I’m a dinosaur and write checks still. And thought I know online paying is a thing, when they’re working on my internet and my signal’s been choppy if not outright cut off for a bit, I’m not waiting til the last minute to pay–I’ll write a check a week early and send that off instead. I’ve had that “try to pay a few hours before” thing happen and suddenly the power goes out or I lose communication. Never again.
So, I gotta check the checkbook and call all those companies to see if they got my check, or rather make a payment right away and see what they’ll do if the check comes in after I’ve done the payment. Had to transfer some money so I didn’t make myself overdraft (boy did that piss me off, digging into my emergency fund) just in case, but at least I’m covered. I’m mad because I hate being late, and the fact that between 2 and 5 bills are delinquent does NOT sit well with me.
I’m so tempted to say “screw it” and pull the covers over my head and not get up again til September, but that’s obviously not feasible. Instead the only thing that I managed to do most of the weekend in between lots of coffee to keep myself up in the day was a lot of needlepointing for dumb dumb reasons. Well, I got bored during the amended Covid schedule last year and made some tissue box covers with yarn and canvas. I’d made one for every staff table because the walls were so bland and boring I figured at least the work stations could use some color, and they could be like markers to help clients get where they needed to go). They managed to get 2 more tables and wanted to keep the theme going (and I could get some money out of it, not much, but something).
I guess I was so desperate for something to do that I jumped right on it. That was on Wednesday or Thursday when I was asked about ’em, and it would mean saying hi to some old co-workers that wanna see me.
I think that’s part of my dread. It’s weird because I know they wanted me to come back, and perhaps this is a good excuse (at least I’ll get a few bucks out of this), but I don’t think they know I’m working for the competition now–as little as I’m doing it–and probably shouldn’t even be in the building. So, that’ll be a quick meeting and delivery in a couple of weeks. I’m just dreading being around people I know these days, and I’m not sure why. I’m guessing it’s because I’m not very enthusiastic about social stuff and dunno how well I’ll be able to plaster a smile on for a little while and just get it over with.
It sucks because I like the folks, but we’re not friends. We were co-workers, and I had one I got along with greatly, but we didn’t hang anywhere (didn’t help that we live on complete opposite sides of the old job from each other, over an hour apart). It made work fun, but work was work, and we kept it that way. And also, there’s that oddness of going to a place where you’ve been replaced and knowing that even if you could go back, it wouldn’t just pick up where you left off, there would be changes. Honestly, that would be a good thing, but I know me and my bad habits of not looking after myself first, and sacrificing my time to make others’ lives easier.
I can’t do that. Not anymore. Because this past week I came to a painful realization that near brought me to tears: my jobs were fillers for my life, and somehow I let them BECOME my life. Without them, I had no idea what the hell to do with myself.
Even with all these months, and all this time… I was still stuck because I was so invested in the stupidest damned things. I was stressed and miserable because I couldn’t figure out what I really wanted after so many years of making it easier for other people. Even now, I’m having the hardest time. I have some ideas, but I have to try and work on them really hard. That’s what I was hoping to do this past week and weekend, and yet, these other little emergencies that cropped up and this little side-project took up all my energy and brain cells til I just numbed myself out with too much online gaming and YouTube.
But that’s what’s been weighing on me the most: I don’t feel productive. I have thoughts and they slip away before I can record them, or I psych myself out of watching a vid or reading an article that could make my life a bit easier, and then shut down the computer and forget all about them. I don’t feel particularly productive at my new job, either, but I’m at least gonna stick it out a few more months. Perhaps I’ll get a better routine and rhythm established that’ll change that feeling.
I’m still trying to find that thing that makes me excited to get going and actually stick with it instead of second and third and fourth guessing myself to death. Writing is that thing, as far as I can tell, the only thing I really want to do right now for a living or to open new possibilities (or both). But I actually have to get started and do it.
Well, I hope I can get ahold of everybody I need to tomorrow and get some answers, because this month has been crappy enough and I need some good news for once. And I need to know if I have to postpone another appointment this week or get back on the ball.
Maybe it’s a facet of getting older, but beyond a movie or a good book, I’m getting easily annoyed by protracted suspense. At least getting all this out of my system might just let me go to sleep and stay that way tonight.