Screwed Up Little Brain

I have a job that is going well. I don't hate my manager, I have great hours that allow me to have a regular schedule for both sleeping and eating. I can read on my down time (there's a lot of that), I can write, play a game... whatever. There is actual income again!

My sleep is regular and there haven't been as many nightmares. There are fewer "forced days". Yet, why do I still want to cut? Nothing is pissing me off, nothing seems to be out of sorts, with the rather noticeable exception of my mother, but there's no getting rid of that. Why do I feel the need to hurt myself when things are going well, or relatively well?

Feeling like I'm broken, damaged, useless.

Unemployed

This hasn't been the easiest week. I was forced to quit my job as a cashier, not a big loss, but I don't have any income at the moment. My mother watches too much late night "news" and is convinced that I am "handicapped" and can't "have other people working" with me. I told her that if I'm disabled I better be able to get money for this. My therapist tells me that she's never heard of such a thing. I think I'll trust the woman who has the degree in the mental department.

Since I'm unemployed, I canceled the appointment I had with Dr B and emailed her an explanation as to why. Basically I have to save whatever money I can and she's a commodity that I can scarce afford. She replied that she'd give me a session because she felt that I was having too much at once and needed some encouragement. THANK YOU, DR B!! I don't know if she realizes how much I needed to hear that I'm not useless, that I'm not "handicapped", that I can do this. I know my coping skills aren't great, but at least I'm coping. She doesn't berate me for injury, though she does agree that coping by cutting isn't healthy. She encouraged me to do things more creative, like my jewelry or knitting.

I'm hunting for work, probably end up in a restaurant or something. I'll lie to my parents of course. Plaster that damned smile on my face and make everything look all peaches and roses. No one notices, nobody sees... they never do. Not even when I'm looking them in the eye, they can't see the pain in my own. I can, I see it plane, every morning and every night when I look in the mirror.

Special Treat

I usually don't eat breakfast on my days off. I don't care, which is a problem. Anyway... I have therapy tomorrow and decided that if I left a little early I can go to a local cafe and finally try their breakfast. I plan on having "Fancy Toast"-- French toast with apple and cinnamon swirl with whipped cream cheese and fruit. Add a cup of coffee and I think that will do. I have grocery shopping to do as well.

I'm still job hunting, there's a place that I need to check tomorrow as well. A company that provides care takers for the elderly. Not nurses, just people to help with doctor's appointments and grocery shopping, that kind of thing. Seems that would be more fulfilling then what I'm doing now. I feel like a waste of energy just ringing through groceries all damned day.

We'll see what a nice breakfast, therapy of difficulty, a hope and a prayer can accomplish tomorrow.

Damn You, Murphy

That went well... If it could go wrong it did. The heater in my car doesn't work, but then neither does the passenger window, so I'm screwed no matter what time of year it is. I had to deal with monumental stupidity at work, every fool and her son had to have shown up! I scratched my hand on the register and asked for a bandage. Took twenty minutes to get one and I had to do it myself on my break. Until then, my finger was wrapped in packing tape. I was almost hit by carts in the store and then vehicles on the road. Everyone was a maniac!

With everything going wrong, I was so angry, all I wanted to do was to injure and reset myself, like flipping a switch. In the end, I chose to take a very hot shower. That helped. I apologized to Mom for shouting at her. First thing I did when I came home was to shout at her all my frustrations. I should get her some flowers as a thank you.

Part of the problem was my sleeping, or not sleeping to be more precise. I go to bed at eleven, shut off the lights and stare at the damned ceiling. I was awake at one then again at three before I gave up at five. Sometimes I can sleep without problems, sometimes I don't. If I take an otc sleep aide, I wake with a head ache. Not worth it. I'm buzzing, I don't know really what the issue is. I can't work retail anymore, all I want to do is scream at everyone.

Maybe that is why people "go postal" and start shootings and whatnot in stores. Little wonder... And for the record: I HATE GUNS AND WOULD NEVER USE ONE!! A life isn't mine to take, not even my own.

Job Hunting

Here we go again... I hate hunting for work, especially when I need something rather specific. I need a job that pays at least eleven and hour if I am to pay rent with out my parents help. You see, my parents want me to move out just to settle their minds that I can handle living on my own. Whatever, I don't care. They can think that I am pathetic and unable to survive all they want, but I have been surviving all this time without their help, emotionally. I know I can do it without their help financially.

I have applications all over town, for everything I can think of that is not retail. I cannot handle retail anymore. All that makes me want to do is destroy everything I see. I have no patience for all the stupid I have to deal with. The only thing I can do is smile and nod.What I really want to do is throw soup cans at them. I'd get fired and sued, but that might be worth it. "Yo!" *smacks fool in the head with a can* "Stupid should hurt, bonehead!"

Oh well, if my therapist could read this, do you think it would worry her or make her laugh?

Bad Week

Sometimes I wonder if everything I do is even worth anything. I have the hardest time just keep up my blogs, let alone a true life. I make mistakes and mine tend to be monumental fuck ups with horrid ramifications. For instance, I was scammed this week and basically gave away $2000 worth of the company's money. I don't want to go into details on the how because I don't want some mook to go about and scam some one else. Needless to say, I was rather surprised to still be employed. I was, however, written up and demoted. I can feel that I am on a very small tether and its being slowly cut from under me.

To add to it, my parents have expressed that they feel I should move out because they don't want to worry about me being able to live on my own. I know I can, that I could make a success of it. The issue is money. I haven't got any to spare. If I get state aide then its possible, but there are so many people who are waiting. I'd also need food stamps. My head starts to ache just thinking about it.

On one hand I would love to live on my own. I wouldn't have to worry about walking in my own house wearing a tank top, there would be no one to see my scars. No one would make comments such as "Did you play chicken with a cigarette, again?" Yes, my father has asked that, I usually ignore him. There was talk of my moving into the camper. That's fine with me, its big enough for one and my books. Dad worries about my living it though, emptying the tanks and such. I'd rather an apartment simply because it doesn't move with every damned step and its definitely big enough for all these books. But then we come back to how the bloody hell am I going to pay for it?

I'm getting edgy now, I feel like I need to injure. I'm stressing out about moving, strike that... I'm stressing about paying for it. I'm stressing about work. I feel like they are going to fire me. I just can't deal with that right now... I can't. 

Please, Somebody Turn Off That Radio!

I don't usually care what people listen to on their iPods or radios, but please will "The Man" stop subjecting me to the torture of repetitive holiday music? Today is 24 December, 2011 and I have been forced to endure a whole month of this! So glad it is over. Hopefully, they will change Muzak before I get to work on Monday. I swear those carols have a way of boring into ones ear and get stuck in the brain, churning around until it seems the brain matter will become mush.

Speaking of work, guess who was kept on as permanent? Go on, guess! Kill joys... I was kept on and will be moving to Hardware and Housewares. If all goes well, I can transfer to the new store that will be opening near my house in a few months. It would be nice to work so close. I can walk to work! Save on gas money.

We'll see how things go.

Retail Hell

I have orientation at Walmart next week and thus starts the holiday retail hell. Its temporary but I may get hired on as a regular associate. I'll keep the call centre job because it pays more and offers a level of security. So it looks like I may be having trouble trying to maintain the therapy sessions. Its good she can see patients on three days a week, but what if I work all those days? I'll cross that bridge as I get to it.

All I want to do today is watch Mythbusters and write pathetic poetry. A sample of such will follow this post. I'm feeling unmotivated. All I want to do is curl up and watch tv. I am forcing myself to not go back to bed and just curl in a ball. Not really sure what is wrong with me. Maybe the dread of yet another holiday season in retail hell. If you have never worked retail during the Christmas season, then you truly have no idea what its like.

And now for your cultural delight, I give you Puppet Master.

Marionett

puppet controlled 

by other hands

pulling strings

and making me dance

to a music 

I don't understand. 

Even Pinocchio got to choose.

But not me, 

always being tugged,

manipulated

into doing things,

saying things that

are unnatural

as a puppet 

on a string.

Breaking Point

I hate this job. I have to get the hell out of here before it kills me! Sitting in that damned chair being constantly told how many fucking mistakes I make is just too much! I injure almost daily, usually by picking or scratching at my wrists or backs of my hands. I'm becoming a wreck.

Every one has a breaking point and I am almost at mine. This place is beyond my breaking point. So instead of breaking I bend as far as I can using a blade to do it. All I want to do tonight is cut, to calm my brain. I fake the smile for my parents so they don't see how bad I'm doing. Of course they don't know I'm a cutter anyway so I guess it doesn't matter.

Therapy on Tuesday and I don't know how to say the things I think I need to. Is it all a waste or is the road just really slow?

Blarg...

I know its been a while and I have no excuse or reason other then I have been lazy. I work in a call centre answering phones and taking messages, so I am loathe to be on the computer when I get home. I hate my job, by the way. Every time I have to work with Fat Sow I end up hurting myself. The woman is a bitch and an abusive one at that. She has this superiority complex that she imposes upon people like me, rookies. She's unnecessarily rude and harsh. If you don't see the answer on the computer, she practically yells in your ear. Every time she tells me I made a mistake, its a hiss in my ear and a I end up clawing my hand so I can take some of the edge off.

I have not gone more then three days without injury since I started this pissy job and I can't afford my therapist at the moment so its one hell of a situation. It sucks! I can't seem to keep calm around her. Fat Sow smells like nicotine and rotted milk! She's filthy, uneducated and disgusting. I hate working with her!! I feel like I'm falling with nothing to hang onto.

Shoulda Woulda Coulda And A Bite In The Ass

A few months ago, I noticed an ad for a manager at a local book shop. I wanted to try for the position, even wrote a cover letter displaying my interest and sent it off. But I was the damned fool that mentioned it to my mother. The shop showed interest in me but I never replied because Mummy didn't think it was a good idea. I was working at Home Depot after all. I had a good job with benefits. But it was the job that she wanted me to take, one I always hated. I took the Home Depot Hell because she wanted me to and it made bother her and dad pleased that I was following in my father's steps.

Now I wish I would have gone ahead and talked to the folks at that book shop. It was what I wanted! And I supposed I'm damned if its something that I want... I'm working at a call centre as a receptionist for a ton of clients. It is not exactly stimulating work. I don't particularly care for the job, but at least its a paycheck.I'm going to keep looking for something else.

Do you want to know what's really funny? Dad is thinking of leaving Home Depot! A job he's had for almost twenty years. Horribly funny... a job I hated from the start and he's finally getting fed up with it.

Job Hunting

I am getting desperate to find a job. I'm going out of town soon and am hoping to have a job ready when I get back. I'll be out of a work almost a month by that time. Today, I spent all my time on the computer filling out applications. From 1100 till 1700 I was typing, filling in the blanks, and uploading my resume. I swear, I should be getting paid for this!

I have an interview set for teller at a bank. Not bad for a day's labour. I'll probably do it all again tomorrow. Also need to work on that cross stitch for Mom. I've been working on it off and on (mostly off) for the last eight years. Such a slacker I am!

We'll see how things go. I've been doing my part, plus a lot of prayer. All I can do...

Bad Start

This is turning out to be a bad day so far. Its only 0642 in the morning and I've woken with a headache. The coffee doesn't taste too great, the butter was rock solid so toast was out... and I'd made the toast assuming that the butter was not in the fridge. I have to work today and would rather stay home.

I want to read a book, or knit, or cross stitch. Anything but go to work. Hell, I'd rather pull weeds in 90F heat then go to fucking work. I hate my job. They don't pay me near enough for all the bollocks I have to put up with. I have to move out some time next year, but am unsure where I shall be acquiring the funds to do so. I'll have to get a room mate, but who? Maybe Ella. If she agrees...

My head is too full of things. I'm still on edge, probably will be all day. I need, or feel like I need, to injure to make the anxiety go away. Can't I just go back to bed? Please, pretty please with a cherry on top?

Work Days

First off, to Scottie, I wish to express a few words. I do not mind your advice or counsel. Its not wise for one to rely solely upon their own understanding, counsel. Only seeing one side of the issue means you are not able to fully see, thus providing a skewed path.

Now to the blog thingy...

Yesterday, I had the great joy (note sarcasm) of having to be placed in front of a tribunal and told that I get overly frustrated at work. They wanted to know what was bothering me, why I felt as I did and to actually write a statement to the effect of such. I felt over powered and out numbered. Three supervisors against one associate? There was an assistant manager, my direct supervisor (both male) and one female supervisor. Three against one is not fair odds and when all three are supervisors, I felt out gunned, so to speak. I had to sit down, placing myself in a lower position. All in all, I felt overwhelmed. I stopped talking and made an attempt to calm down which amounted to an incredible failure and a minor panic attack.

I don't think I would have panicked had I been allowed to stand. If you are going to hand me disgrace, at least give me the dignity of accepting such on my own two feet. They wanted me to write a statement and I flatly refused, saying that I was not going to write under duress and while upset. They would have to wait for an official report.

The only one that even remotely seemed to give rat's fuzzy little ass was my supervisor. He kept trying to see if I was all right, finally telling me to take an long break if I felt the need. I took five minutes, tried to calm down and finally burned in the restroom. I had to set my head straight. The panic attack is what did me in. I understand that it "wasn't worth injuring for". Always seems to be the line I'm given. Half the time I feel as though my emotions need validation or explanation to others. "I feel like this because of that". The explanations can be tedious, and annoying. I seem to not be allowed certain emotions. Well, not allowed without certain criteria being met.

Oh my, I forgot a few things for Scottie. To answer one of your pointed questions: No, I can never recall being happy or completely healthy minded, if indeed there is such a thing. Much of work is influenced by my emotions. So, I guess the only way of knowing what will happen is to follow through, wait and see.

Butterfly Project

I tried the "Butterfly Project" idea. You draw a butterfly on your arm, or where ever you injure. Your goal is to not injure until the butterfly fades away, otherwise you'll kill the butterfly. I have drawn one on my left wrist where I will see it all the time.

Today royally sucked! Every time I turned round, there was something pushing me into this oblivion. All I wanted to do today was either slap somebody or cut my arm. This is just a bad damned day. I'm doing all the damned work of the bloody supervisor and not getting the bloody pay! I wouldn't mind it so much if I was being paid better.

I'm trying, I really am.I just want to curl up some days and sleep this crap away! That isn't possible though. Not by a long shot

Capitalism In America

I don't really know what to say today. I want to go on and on about things, but I just don't have the energy. I want to curl up in bed and stay there all day. Unfortunately, I have to work today, which means dressing in a hundred layers and being outside in the wind, rain, and snow for customers to buy Christmas trees. If only they knew what they were doing. All these so called Christians buying trees. Its a derivative of a pagan ritual in which evergreen branches were laid out as an offering to the various sun gods to remind him of the people so he would shine again and bring the warmth of spring and with it new growth. If only all these so called Christians knew they were worshiping any amount of varieties of a sun god... and not the saviour of humanity. Oh well, like all Americans, I'm in this gig for the money. These people want to inadvertantly worship a dead god or just buy a dead tree then fine, I'll sell it to them.

This is America after all. The land of complete waste. If people want to buy something already dead and put its carcass in their home, only to take it down again in a few weeks and have it sent to the wood chipper then that is fine with me. At twenty-five dollars a pop they are more then welcome to do whatever they wish, thank you and come again!I'm not judging, just saying. I don't have one of things in my house. In my room, I do have a lovely cactus though.

So much for not feeling up to writing today. Coffee must have kicked in.