May 15, 2000
Back to Life
Two bits of good news to report first off. First, I get my car back tomorrow. My filthy, scuffed, dented, needs-brakes car. This makes me happy. This also makes me completely broke until payday and in debt to my mom again, but I'll survive. Also, I wrote a story this weekend. It actually started out as a background for a character for Tribe 8, but got revised in something more story-ish. I'm also looking to possibly rework it again into something Dream Pod 9 might actually want to publish.Aside from that, I'm back at work today. I wish I wasn't. I mean, I'm glad I managed to drag myself here, but now that I'm here, I want to go home. I've been so high-strung that I'm really afraid of what I'd be like if I hadn't taken the Klonopin this morning. Constant feelings of impending doom. Every time I've gotten internal email or any sort of internal instant message, I've been certain it was to either yell at me or to fire me. I feel like my coworkers all hate me and think I'm a big slacker. I'm so self-conscious, I feel like everyone's staring at me. If someone around me says something snappish, I'm certain that it's me they're really upset at. I feel overwhelmed and buried in projects that I'll never catch up on. I'm frustrated and I can't focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time, jumping from distraction to distraction.
In short, I'm experiencing lots of the usual symptoms of anxiety and depression. Almost none of the above beliefs are true. Logically, I know that. That doesn't, however, keep me from thinking them, and it doesn't stop the physical reactions: increased pulse rate and breathing, tension, shaking. I've been near tears several times today already. It's hell, frankly. The most frustrating thing about it all is that I know that none of the things I feel have any basis in reality, that it's all based in physiology, and I can't control it. You'd figure that'd be a relief, huh? A sort of 'it's not my fault', but it isn't.
I'm so proud of myself for managing to make it here though. This morning was a struggle, and I made it. But I'll be so much happier if it were just 8 pm already so I could go home. I don't want this journal to turn into a constant bitch about depression. But I'd much rather be as honest as I can about what's going on, because I spend far too much time hiding. So bear with me. Hopefully I'll be able to chronicle my return to stable mental health.
Posted by Lisa at May 15, 2000 02:07 PM
