I have been thinking about my productivity quite a bit. I feel like I should be doing more.
My students should be learning more.
I should be working harder in school.
My house should be cleaner.
My family could be happier.
At the same time, I know I’m doing all I can right now. I feel like I have two jobs on permanent rotation. One I get paid for and one I don’t. Working in special education drains you in a way that I believe no one could prepare you for. Although, when I need a break from my work kids, I can take it if I really need to.
Once I clock out in the afternoon, I have to get my mind ready for my second shift. My family needs me to have my senses about me. I can’t get a sick day from them. I can’t claim that I need a mental health day.
Even though I so desperately need it at times.
Being in college is still a trip. Deadlines are deadlines and things need to get done. I can’t half-ass anything either. You will get called out on it. It can be overwhelming, even if you don’t have other obligations to deal with.
It never feels like enough. I run myself ragged and it isn’t enough.
No wonder people flip out and go on shooting sprees. People are tired, weary in spirit, and have no real outlet.
Am I going to flip out and have a serious episode? Probably not. I have a son to get through college.
It can be fun to think about.
I was trying to work on some assignments this morning but it was more difficult than normal. I couldn’t focus. My thoughts wouldn’t solidify. I could barely form coherent sentences. Plus, I couldn’t stop shaking my left leg. I mean, rapid fire bouncing.
I know this is just an anxiety thing. I know I should just push through my feeling and take care of business, but things aren’t going well. I’ve been trying to stick with it, but I think I’m gonna give up and just submit what I’ve got done.
I don’t like feeling like this. The sensation of looming doom is terrible. I want to run away but the monster is in my head. I don’t know what to do.
Today, I got cornered by a woman who was way into Christmas. We were waiting to checkout at Walmart. She had a cart full of decorations and made sure to tell me how excited she was about the holidays and how her husband already had the lights up and how she did the tree Thanksgiving night. She obviously couldn’t tell how uncomfortable I was even though I kept dropping my bags of Reese’s Pieces.
At some point, she managed to ask if I had my tree up already and I politely explained that I don’t really care for Christmas. The poor thing look appalled and asked if I was “one of those Jewish types” and said that “that other thing they do with the candles looks fun.”
I was past politeness at this point. I told her that I’m not Jewish, although Hanukkah does seem lovely and that my crippling depression makes most days, including holidays, suck balls.
I was kinda funny how flustered she got. I switched lines and paid for my candy in peace.
The nerve of some people.
Thanksgiving is a week away. It’s officially the holiday season. The end of semester crunch is in full swing and I haven’t had more than four consecutive hours of sleep in about a week.
I have a hard time with the holidays anyway. I don’t exactly have fond memories of family gatherings. I see my family all the time anyway so there’s no real sentimentality there. Plus, there is almost always a major family argument at every holiday gathering.
There’s a lot of prep work involved. Cleaning, cooking, and hosting are three things that I typically want nothing to do with but am saddled with. Everyone wants a plate, but no one wants to cook and suddenly disappears when it’s time to clean the kitchen.
If I could just have small celebrations with my little family, that would be enough for me. My husband knows I don’t holidays and would stand by me if I decided to opt out. My son is old enough to have his own social anxieties and prefers avoiding the crowd that would be gathered at my parent’s house anyway.
Sadly, I am the responsible, first-born and I can’t get out of this. I would have to be in the hospital or in prison to avoid it. Hell, I’m sure my mother could find some work for me to do from the hospital. Facebook invites need to be sent, you know.
I’ve been having disturbing dreams again.
It’s totally a stress thing, I’m sure. Nevertheless, its bothersome.
The bad part is that some of the dreams aren’t really unpleasant. They would be lovely under the correct circumstances, but I’m not a normal girl.
The rest are my typical serial killer type of nightmares. I have those all the time.
I honestly feel like the Universe punishes me for having a good time.
It never seems to fail. Every time that I can honestly say that I’m feeling good or having a good time, The Universe quickly bursts my bubble.
My current example:
My husband and I actually got to spend a couple of days together. He and my best friend have birthdays within days of each other so they had a split celebration last night. It was wonderful and much needed. He got a promotion recently and our schedules don’t really sync anymore. Taking into account our current living situation, we can go days without seeing each other. It’s hard, but we’ve been managing.
Today, however, ruined our peaceful weekend. Someone saw fit to ruin my love’s peace of mind with baseless allegations. He’s crushed and really hurt about the whole situation and the person that is causing the turmoil won’t stop. She insists on being hurtful and it’s killing him.
I can’t tolerate anyone hurting the people I love most in the world. It takes everything in me to let him deal with this alone. All I can do is love him and support him and let him know that.
It pisses me off that I’m so helpless here. My head’s all messed up. I can only hope things will be better tomorrow.
In unpleasant situations it can be helpful to pretend that one is someplace else. It’s a skill I’ve gotten to practice lot over the past three months. Probably will get more, I’m sure.
People say that when you feel bad, you should dress up. They say it helps your mood. Even if you have nowhere to go, just get cute and hang around your place.
I haven’t really tried it, but I might today. I got my hair done and I’m having trouble staying in a good mood. It can’t really hurt anything to try. I’ll let you guys know how it goes.
It’s been really difficult to do any creative writing done. Either my feelings or my workload get in the way and I can’t manage to get anything down on paper.
My inability to write has, in turn, made me feel worse…
Stupid cyclical mental illness.
I’m starting The Spoken Black Girl Journal to Healing Challenge soon. Hopefully, the daily prompts will lead me to some piece of mind. Lord knows I need it and I’m sure I am not the only one. I included a link in case anyone else would like to participate.
Here’s hoping your day is amazing!
I took this day to get through some of my heavy academic workload.
One of my classes is suggesting that to get an A in this class, I am required to do between 18 and 25 hours of work per week. Just for that class. Not counting the other two classes I’m dealing with for the next six weeks.
18-25 hours. That’s a part-time job.
In addition to the stressful full-time job I already have,
and the two other classes that I need to eventually escape this institution’s clutches,
and my Autist son who gets weird when he doesn’t get enough attention from me,
and my husband that I barely have energy for on the rare occasions when we see each other.
I’m going to complain. I have every right to complain about this self-imposed Hell I’m mired in.
Sorry, not sorry, if that bothers you.