Saturday Ramble

Warning: this is not a happy post. It contains subjects that some might find triggering or upsetting. This is just a kind of stream of consciousness kind of ramble so there's no real structure to it. Feel free to ignore.

Apparently, my sense of self-worth is really damn fragile. I mean, I kind of already knew this. Five minutes around my dad and I'm doing my impression of that emo kid on livejournal listening to Evanescence all the time talking about how dark and awful the world is. But today it only took one brief interaction to make me hate myself all over again.

I had already been in a pretty rotten mood thanks to work. Recently, one team (that I'm not on) has been overloaded with work so I've been made to help out however I can. Now, I'm happy to do so, but I'd like to be able to get *my* work done too. And before this week, I was allowed to. But this week, I had a new mandate dropped on me. At a certain time of day, I have to put aside all my work and help the other team out. The work itself isn't difficult, just tedious. And sometimes, I can get enough of it done early enough that I can get back to my work relatively quickly. And sometimes, by that point of the day, there isn't anything else of mine that actually needs doing. That's kind of rare. Almost always there's something more that comes up that I try to get off my plate so it's not sitting there waiting for me the next morning (since I learned my lesson the hard way that mornings can come with a buttload of stuff that I can't accomplish in the allotted time).

Here's the deal though:

By helping this other team get their work done, that means they get to leave on time, or close to it. That's good! Then I look at the work I have to do that I *would* have done if I didn't need to help the other team and I realize I'm not going to leave on time. I'm going to spend a minimum of half an hour past closing just getting *some* of my work finished. Two or three times in the last two weeks, I've had to stay at least an hour after to cover the other team and myself. If I didn't need to jump over to help the other team, I'd have all my work finished and I could leave at a reasonable time. So, I'm being made to stay late so that the other team doesn't have to. It's a literal trade off. Because it's cheaper for one person to accrue overtime for a solid hour rather than a whole team staying ten to fifteen minutes past.

Fun stuff.

Now I'm assured that the managers are working to hire and train people for this other team so this doesn't become the new normal, but all my years in office environments have taught me to be skeptical of such promises. I will believe it when I see it. For now, I don't get the work-life balance I've been promised. And that pisses me off.

Combine that with the fact that the managers continue to not assign anyone to sit next to my desk, and they take away anyone who does sit there even briefly... and it kind of feels like I'm being punished for some reason. I already have issues with constant paranoia: thoughts that I've screwed something up and I'm going to get fired, or I'm slowly annoying everyone to the point where they can't stand me anymore, or I'm just not learning the material fast or thorough enough to be worth keeping around. Most days I have a knot in my stomach over the idea that at any moment, the managers or the boss is going to pull me aside, tell me to pack up my things, and not come back. And then I'll be up shit creek.

I hate this feeling. It sucks so much ass. Because I don't know how to short-circuit these thoughts other than to just constantly distract myself, which isn't that useful or constructive because it also keeps me from accomplishing basic chores or getting to writing. The fear of insecurity keeps me paralyzed. The only thing that overcomes it is knowing if I don't get my work done I *will* be fired.

So yeah... I've been in a pretty pissy mood since last night. I packed up all my shit and came back to the house rather than staying at the apartment because I needed to do my laundry and I haven't brought my washer and dryer down yet... 'cause mommy and daddy still use it when they come over to check on the shiny new house they're building. God, that whole thing is a whole other rant I'd be able to write about, but it wouldn't be conducive to forward motion, and probably... this isn't either. But I have to get this out. I'll just ruminate on it and it will fester and I won't get anything done.

I decided last night after publishing a story to just disconnect and kind of stay offline. I went back and checked twitter occasionally looking for funny memes or kinky art, because I'm a pervert, but I didn't really interact with anyone. I got my laundry done. I did a little proofreading. I finished my 'watch later' playlist on Youtube (which is a really handy feature, I'm glad it's there, and I mourn it's inevitable loss because Youtube will probably take it away for some insane reason), did my evening grooming, and went to bed.

For those who are looking at the phrase "evening grooming" and wondering what the hell I'm talking about, I mean I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, and basically just normal hygiene shit. But if you wanna picture a dragon polishing his scales and fluffing his mane or whatever, be my guest. I ain't your daddy. 'Cause you playin'.

Anyway, I woke up the next morning earlier than I needed to. I had set an alarm to catch the latest space-related thing that was scheduled to happen. I saw that it had been scrubbed due to weather so I turned off my alarm and went back to sleep for a couple of hours. Then, when I finally woke up properly, I got busy doing the rest of my laundry, had a little breakfast, then started looking around online. Everything seemed to be okay. I was still sore about last night, but the crankiness wasn't so fresh or so close. And it was sunny out for the first time in a few days which didn't hurt at all.

Then I made the mistake of trying to HUMAN by interacting with people. I jumped into a chatroom I tend to lurk in over on Telegram, posted a kinky idea, got a positive response from the room's mod, then got clapped back at by someone else. Now, I should mention that I don't know most of the people in this room. I'm kind of ancillary to the place. I could vanish and no one would really notice/care. I'm not important. I'm not exactly well known. I'm just a wall flower. Most of the time, when I try to interact with people in there, it just goes unnoticed. Story of my life. I'm invisible everywhere I go, especially when I go to pick up a pizza.

Anyway, the person probably didn't really mean to do any harm by their cranky response. They woke up with a migraine and were dealing with that. Which god damn do I know how shitty migraines can be. I've had to deal with them all my life, and mine fuck with my vision and make me throw up *on top of* making my head feel like it's stuck in a vice. So I can see how that might make someone quick to snap at others for otherwise minor transgressions.

But... what did I do? Did my kinky idea offend them? Are they not into that sort of thing? Does that sort of thing actually bother them and they tend to avoid it? If so, then why the hell are they in *that* chatroom? I don't know what caused them to just suddenly go all crank-monster at *me* specifically but it happened none the less. Another person chimed in explaining the migraine issue, which had not been known until that moment, adding context. There was no apology though. Which made me feel even worse.

I'm not worth apologizing to because I *actually did* screw up somehow. I don't know how, but I did. I'm a cis white guy so yeah... I screw up all the fucking time. I did something that pissed this person off and they didn't see the need to apologize for snapping because of their migraine.

And thus began the thought spiral.

Have you seen the movie "Inkheart"? It's about a guy played by Brendan Fraser who could make things just *POOF* into existence by reading them aloud. He ends up reading this book "Inkheart" and brings the titular villain--yes yes ha ha tit funny funny--into the real world. Stuff happens, his wife goes missing (which we don't figure out exactly what happened until later in the film), his daughter grows up and shows the same gift, and she decides to go on a little quest to figure out how to fix all of this. It leads her to finding the author of the book "Inkheart" and implore him to help somehow. I forget exactly. I think he was the only one who still had copies of the book or something. Anyway, the author is a bit of a hermit. He lives by himself, has no romantic prospects, no friends, no connections to anyone, and he's just kind of cranky in general.

I've a feeling that's how I'm going to end up.

Honestly, the 'tortured artist' thing is a bit played out for my taste, but god damn if I'm going to end up looking just like one. If I live long enough to be as old as the character was. And at least he got to go dive into the world he created to live out the rest of his days since that's what he ever wanted. No way in hell I'll get that.

Anyway, I had that brief but nasty interaction and it sent me running back to isolating myself because it just doesn't seem to do any good. My first real attempt to reach out and interact with other people and I get snubbed. I fail at doing the whole HUMAN thing. But then I've known I had issues with that particular skill for years.

It just sucks that I ended up spiraling out of control into thoughts of self-loathing and wanting to not ever deal with other people ever again. Mainly because in that same breath I also suddenly have an intense desire to be around someone, specifically someone who makes me feel better, someone who just by being around them helps drive away all the hateful thoughts. That's not anyone in particular. There are a few folks in my life who could make that happen. Unfortunately all the darkness comes creeping back as soon as I'm alone again and that intense duality of thought re-emerges. I do (not) want to be alone.

Yay for Evangelion references.

I don't want my friends to be just resources for me to tap when I'm feeling down. That feels too much like I'm using them just to improve my mood. Like a drug. That just feels wrong to me. But... it kind of doesn't matter anyway. Everyone else has their own lives to live and the things they're doing or dealing with are of far greater importance than some little pissant who is sad because someone on the internet was mean to him and he hates his job.

I hate these moments. I feel so weak and useless. I'd love to just spend time with someone to not feel this way. But then that puts the ownness on the other person to make me feel better and that's not fair to them.

I need therapy. That's for damn sure. Unfortunately, I can't afford it right now. I'm still paying off all the work I had done on the car last year, the cost of moving (which I'm still in the middle of by the way), and just generally trying to figure out what my money situation is going to be once everything is settled and done. And that's if I don't get my ass fired.

I should be working on writing since I've got the time but I had to get this out because if I don't, like I said, it's just going to fester and I'll end up dwelling on it like I always do.

Shit's fucked up, yo.