I'm hoping, again, to recultivate the habit of using this here bloggy thing to recount my exciting weekend adventures, in part to keep the few friends and family to read this in the loop about what's going on in my life and maybe in a weird sort of way to encourage me to get out of the house and have some adventures to write about for a change.
Part of the problem has been for a painfully long stretch of weekends the weekend report would have largely consisted of "came home on Friday, collapsed on couch, drowned in pool of self-loathing but somehow managed to get the laundry done and the house clean on Saturday, proceed as usual on Sunday." I came precariously close to quitting my job until I realized that would be throwing in the wrong towel. Instead the towel I chose to throw in was the I'm Not Taking Antidepressants Anymore towel.
Some people improve their lives by quitting drug habits. I hope to improve my life by resuming mine.
I stopped taking antidepressants back in 2007 (right around the time I was first getting involved with Mr. TBH, for those of you who have been reading along that far back) and at the time it did seem like the right decision. It may well have been. It was also around that time that I read The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron (aka The Unified Field Theory Of My Entire Life) and came to understand that my serotonin depravation might not be a permanent glitch but something I could actually do something about by arranging my circumstances so as to avoid overstimulation. I mastered the art of Doing Nothing without feeling guilty about it. I started taking fish oil and 5-HTP. I came to the conclusion that I could take care of this thing on my own without grappling with our broken healthcare system.
Then the economy collapsed and I was unemployed for three years. During that time, I finished a novel (that didn't sell), made art (that only a few people bought), put out an e-book (that's earned me less than ten bucks in royalties, last I checked) and started drawing flowers to give away to people. My experiments led me to the conclusion that I'm really not built for the bohemian life. Not that I'm not creative enough, but that I'm not very good at the self-marketing hustle and that I do kinda need the stability of a steady paycheck.
So when a temp job turned up at a Big Sprawling Law Firm, I figured it would be a good place to start so I could keep the lights on and still have time to finish my next book and send it out until someone buys it. And, all things said and done, it was. But checking back into therapy and using all my other little coping mechanisms wasn't quite enough. I invested in noise-canceling headphones and even managed to wrangle an office with a closing door, but my work still suffered and I was eventually canned.
This is my personal evidence that the economy is improving--instead of three years to find another job, it only took me three months.
I don't really want to talk too much about the job I have now, except to say that I'm willing to stay as long as they'll have me. And that this job (and the previous one) proved to me that I really need to be medicated if I want to function in an office environment. I've been back on the wee blue pills for about a week now. Those of you reading along can tell me if you detect a difference.
My birthday was on Friday. It was better than I expected. I wasn't able to get the day off (which I was a bit grumpy about) but I was self-aware enough to know that having to work a job on my birthday was not the worst thing ever, and that the Horrible Wave of Despair I felt would eventually pass, and did.
My brother docwhoopee
took me out to lunch and they even bought me a red velvet cake at work in addition to the traditional Office Birthday Card. I spent the evening at home, doing preliminary housecleaning for my birthday party on Saturday. (This is one of the reasons I missed most of the Internetted well-wishes on the day itself--I really didn't have time to go and look!)
Saturday morning was spent doing all the absolute last minute housecleaning, grocery shopping and preparation for my birthday party
. Maybe next year I'll be able to get things prepared in a more leisurely fashion instead of frantically vacuuming at a quarter to noon. But when noon hit, I put the sign on the door that said YES, started the first DVD of The Beatles Anthology and by noon thirty I was settled on the couch with everything ready for guests to arrive.
The first knock on the door was from one of my neighbors, who wanted to know why on earth the word YES was pasted to my door. I explained it to her to her satisfaction and she went on her way. I had a long stretch before the first 'proper' guests arrived but once they did it was a fairly steady stream of folks and there weren't even any conversational lulls for the Beatles to fill in. The final shift, if you will, was filled by dosferatu
but I was so worn out by then that I was less than ideal company and he was gracious enough to excuse himself so I could zonk out on the couch and wake up to the closing credits of A Hard Day's Night
Today I have awoken to a bit of a mess to clean up and a bit of a hangover to recover from (I really should be better about pacing myself, even if I'm not driving anywhere.) The hangover has receded by now so I guess it's time to finish cleaning.Today I took pleasure in
writing a proper blog post.Today I learned
that I don't have any sponsors yet for the Clarion West Write-a-thon
. I should maybe do something about that.