sole pain, soul pain
March 15, 2006, 5:53 P.M.
What the frack did I do to my right foot?! I'm having the worst pain, right at the point where instep meets heel. I can barely walk, let alone exercise. Gargh! I am so fed up with this sub-par body. It's always friggin' something.
The more I learn about my new job responsibilities, the more I hate it. And the worst part is, I've really set myself up for this. I have a long history of well-written, thorough, well-researched documentation, so who better to do it for a living, right?The problem, though, is this: For every document I've ever written, I've sweated blood. Oceans of it. In school, out of school, for work or for personal reasons, it is always an arduous battle for me to complete these projects. I find it draining. Absolutely soul-killing. And while doing this occasionally may be bracing and character building and good exercise...
I can NOT sweat blood for a living.
I am so fucked.
I got a "pep talk" from an ostensibly well-meaning friend recently. I say ostensibly, because there is the possibility that she was just trying to keep my problems from upstaging hers. And because she may have meant well, but she didn't achieve it.It was one of those "look on the bright side talks", and really--how did I end up with this person as a friend? Optimistic extroverts are SO not my type.
But the thrust of her little speech was to count my blessings. And to my credit, I let her prattle on for quite a while. I put up with the blathering on about how much worse others have it, and stayed silent when she yammered about how I needed to spend less time alone. But when she got to the part about how I really was lucky that it was "only depression", and not "a real disease"--I punched her in the mouth.
Not really. But in the space of an instant, I had such a vivid and well-realized fantasy of doing that very thing, that I had momentary trouble with reality. Once I came to myself, I had to make my excuses and leave.
I think the one thing that can get me charged up when I'm depressed is that damned dissmissive attitude. I turn into a righteous, depression-avenging angel of death.
But then I start to cry, and that ruins everything.
This? Bites the bone.Our local forecast:
Winter Storm Watch in effect from Thursday morning through Thursday evening.
Snow, projected accumulation 6-8 inches. Highs in the lower 30s. East winds 10 to 20 mph. Chance of snow 100 percent.
Yes, that's right--Chance of snow one hundred percent. Not a lot of wiggle room in that forecast, huh?
The two bits of good news I got today were these--
Our unemployed pilot friend has three airline interviews lined up, as well as a mechanical engineering job interview. Yay, FlyGuy!My "Peter Proud" DVD finally got mailed out! I'm hoping I get it by Saturday. (Squee!)
Doggerel Du Jour:Now I lay me down to sleep
Repose is what I savor
If I should die before I wake,
...I'd really appreciate the favor.
Reading: "Amanda/Miranda", by Richard Peck. Except I'm not too into it, so it's going slowly.
Listening: XM, "Lucy". Cowboy Junkies, Sonic Youth, Iggy Pop. I was just in the mood for what they were playing today, but when it took a turn for the eighties* with Talking Heads sucking the soul out of "Take Me To The River"? I switched to CD and listened to The Commitments doing it the right way. (*yeah, I know it came out in 1990)
Beading: One down, one to go on the pink tassle phone charms. But my heart isn't much in it.
One Year Ago, I was fed up.
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