I’m feeling like such a fraud lately. I have all my little notebooks everywhere, jotting down beginnings and ideas when they come to me. I’ve got my OpenOffice files full of blog post ideas, story ideas, notes for a few projects, and a fresh section for a major research project I’ve been putting off for years. I even went out and got a Writers’ Market magazine to go through, hoping the ‘contests’ section would motivate me to do something, anything.
And I can’t fucking write anything lately.
I woke up early today and laid in bed for what seemed like forever, even though it was maybe just an hour. I had this bizarre dream last night that I got a job writing and editing scripts for David Lynch, and the currently-napping Bowser Kitten and I moved out to LA. I just laid there after I woke up, trying to remember a few parts of the dream that I could use in my writing……. and it all just went *poof*. Every original thought I had in my head just vanished all of a sudden, and I was left laying there staring at the wall yet again.
I pulled myself out of bed, made a pot of coffee, and sat down at the computer determined to get a bit of writing done. I had a bunch of kitten cuddles from the extremely sleepy Bowser Kitten, watched a few old Tom Harlock videos, checked all my social media, SnapChatted my sister at work, looked up Jenna and Julien’s soup recipe…… basically, I did anything but write. It’s been more than three hours, and I have next to nothing done.
The truth is that I am stuck in another one of those “this is totally not how I thought my life would be at this age” ruts that is wreaking havoc on my anxiety. Just as I was really starting to enjoy running most days at home, I had to stop middle of last week because of my anxiety. I would try to put food into my body, but it would just come right back out one way or another. I got so bad that I was throwing up at work (when being at work is usually my happy place when it comes to anxiety) and was forced to sit down during my shift because I was dizzy. My anxiety has only ever been that bad once, my last year of university right around Christmas.
I didn’t have a job over the Christmas break that year, and it was a few years before the ever-loving Bowser Kitten came into my life. Since my family is really big on celebrating the holidays, I was expected to stay with my parents for two whole weeks between my last exam and the beginning of the winter semester. I had been sick all semester after being quarantined at the end of the summer with a suspected case of West Nile, and the entire semester had just drained me both physically and mentally. I was struggling to keep up on my school work and had to make the toughest academic decision I ever considered: I dropped out of the Psychology Thesis track and focused solely on my Criminology degree just so I could graduate. I had no energy, no ability to focus, and had already dropped pretty much every single volunteer and extracurricular activity I was in at that point, and still couldn’t keep up with the thesis work on top of my other classes. Everything I had been working towards for years was coming crashing down around me, right as I was about to be forced into a “vacation” at my parents’ place.
Now, I love my folks, don’t get me wrong. But my whole world was falling apart right around then. I was trying to figure out where to go from there, what to do with my degree, what I would do for money in 6 months when I was done school. I didn’t know if I would apply for grad school, apply for a career outside of this city, apply for just about any job here in the city, or try to finish the Psychology portion of my degree. I had what felt like a billion options to carefully consider, and it was starting to get to be a bit too much to handle. What finally set me off, though, was that damn “vacation” and the weeks leading up to it.
Again, I love my folks, and they only wanted to look out for my best interest at that time. But they somehow figured that in order to do that, they had to bombard me with constant questions about my future, my goals, my past goals, and my then-boyfriend. I was alreaddy at a point where I wasn’t sleeping because there was just oo much to do, but I was too tired physically to get much done. I spent so much time reading, studying, writing, and researching in my room that I didn’t go out unless it was absolutely necessary. I was isolating myself from the world in my basement-bedroom-kingdom, slowly gaining weight and not coming any closer to figuring out my life. The absolute final straw came when my mother and grandma started bugging me about my weight, on top of everything else.
My already through-the-roof anxiety hit an all-time new high then. I stopped being able to eat pretty much anything a few days before I was supposed to go to my parents’ place. Even plain broth would upset my stomach enough that I’d throw up. Pretty much all I could have was pudding and jello. I warned my parents about this (telling them it was a combination of getting over a stomach bug and stress from school since at that time they didn’t believe in anxiety) and offered to bring my own pudding. I know that your body needs so many calories a day to function, so I was trying to eat as close to that as I could as not to mess up my system any more than it already was. My mother seemed understanding, offering to grab what little I could eat and a big box of saltines for when I wanted to get something solid in me. When I made the trek out to see them, I was greated at the door with sugar-free diet jello and pudding.
“This is the perfect way to jump-start your new diet”, my mother reasoned.
I royally fucked up the next few months of my life after that, unable to fully function, and it had some serious consequences on my life now. My then-boyfriend and I rushed our relationship way too fast, with me moving in with him. That directly led to the 94-days-of-hives incident. I let one asshole professor talk me out of applying for grad school, even though I had the backing of half a dozen others because he didn’t think I was smart enough. I let people talk me out of taking a job in another province, out of a job they saw as “below me” here in the city, and out of focusing on my writing while working part-time. I had no focus, no drive, and just didn’t feel strong enough to do anything.
And honestly, I can feel that all coming back to me once again.
Last week I couldn’t keep anything in me. I have that constant jittery feeling inside me like my heart is full of butterflies and I’m one more forkful away from hurling everywhere. My brain is all over the place, jumping from thought to thought before just dumping everything as soon as I want to focus on it and just going completely blank. I stay up too late and still wake up early in the morning, even though all I want to do all day is hide under a blanket and cry until the world just goes away. I don’t wish I were dead, but I wish I could just go *poof* and stop existing.
The truth is, things around here with the Amazingly Awesome Boyfriend are far from amazingly awesome. He drinks, more than he should. That’s actually how we met since he was one of my regular customers at work. He’s toned it down quite a bit since back then, but he still lets himself go way too far too often. One minute he’s asking me to keep on him about moderating his drinking (full abstinence from drinking has never worked for him, so we focus on moderation and control). The next, he’s flipping out and yelling at me for being so “uppity” with him about his drinking. We have the same fights over and over about his drinking, his finances, how much money he’s wasting on stupid stuff like cabs and booze, and his constant lying and hiding things (like more drinking) from me. Then he’ll try to flip the tables on me, complain about my debt (which I’ve been working on paying off like crazy), how much he spends on groceries (which I rarely ask him to do, he just does it), and me applying for jobs around here that he sees as “beneath” me or that he thinks I’m too old to get.
The worst has to be this constant fight we have about my savings. We keep completely separate finances. The only thing we share is rent, which comes out of my account. We each rent a room in this house, with his being a bit cheaper than mine. Every week he gives me $100, which is his portion of our rent. I take that money and put it away to save, and then pay his portion of the rent out my paycheques. No matter if I put his money in my account, pay the rent with it, and then transfer money to my savings, or if I do it this way, I’m going to be putting money away to save. Doing it this way is just a lot easier for me to handle most of the time, and has given me a bit of money saved up to afford a new place and some furnishings so that we won’t have to live in this house with random roommates forever.
For some reason, though, AAB seems to think that he is entitled to this money I have saved. He sees it as his savings too and keeps trying to make demands of me for it. Instead of getting out of this house, he wants to get a car. The issue I take with that is his aforementioned problems with sobriety. I have offered to split on a car with him, but he can’t manage to save money because of how much he spends on cabs and booze. Instead, he thinks that I should just give him money from my savings because I got it from him. Now, in my mind, once he gives me that money that is (and always has been) a rent payment, it’s mine. As long as the rent gets paid, it doesn’t matter if I physically hand his money to our landlord, pay the bills out of money in my account, or hide the money in a jar buried in the backyard. It’s my money. I save most of it, use some of it towards bills and groceries, and use it when it’s really needed to make ends meet (like when my hours get cut drastically for a few weeks). Saving that money, to me, means that I’m ensuring our bills are always getting paid and I don’t have to rely on him for additional money. But to him, me saving that money means that I’m stealing money from him. If I wasn’t going to pass that money directly to the landlord, then I shouldn’t be taking it from him at all. If I’m not passing that money right into our landlord’s hands, then I should just be paying his rent for him out of my account I guess and let him live here for free.
And he’s been bringing this up more and more lately. He picks fights over everything, doesn’t seem to want to leave this house no matter how many strange and creepy roommates we have, and just wants us to do things exactly how he wants them done right now (no matter what other plans we have made together for our future). Anything from a broken glass to me switching shifts at work can set him off. On top of this, my life is falling apart around me yet again. I love my job at the store, love my coworkers, and have been working on my certifications to become a shift leader. I’ve gotten my forklift certification and am getting my First Aid and CPR pretty soon. But if my hours don’t increase drastically very soon, then I can’t afford to keep this job. In fact, if I want to get ahead in life financially and want to keep this job, I’ll have to get a second job just to make enough money to save a tiny bit on my own. My job search is going nowhere, and the number of “Thanks for your application, but we’re experiencing unprecedented numbers of applicants, so no thanks” emails and phone calls I’ve gotten in the last few months is mindblowing. The roommate life if getting old fast, especially with the creepy roommate we have right now. I just want to be able to get our own place, get a fuzzy brother or sister (or both) for very-lonely Bowser Kitten, and live life like a real grown-up. But nothing I do is working.
Last week I made a few discoveries about AAB’s drinking and finances that he had been hiding from me. We fought a lot and spent the whole week sleeping in separate bedrooms. I realized that I have to plan for a future with him and one without him at the same time because I have no clue how long this will last with us. I couldn’t eat at all for most of last week unless I was at work, and this week is only a bit better. I was able to eat most of an omelet today, but have felt like throwing up for the last two hours since I ate it. It’s a struggle to keep the food down. My heart is fluttering like a hundred butterflies are trapped in my chest. I can’t focus on any one task at a time and am jumping between writing this, cleaning, reading, jumping around the room to try and distract myself from myself, and watching YouTube videos. I am tired and wired and just trying not to burst out in tears every few minutes. The only thing keeping me going is the Bowser Kitten sitting in my lap right now. He has no real cat instincts, so he needs me around to take care of him and point out bugs for him to chase. He’s the only reason I keep going every day right now. I feel like everything else is just falling down around me, waiting to crush me completely.
I need to get myself ready for work, calm myself down enough to make the walk out there in this snow storm. It’s time for more I’m Sorry Dad, fix my now-cried-off eyeliner, smother myself in moisturizer before I head out into the storm, and find my uniform. Work gets me away from everything here and gives me time to clear my head a little. Working surrounded by alcohol and alcoholics really does a number on my conscious lately (what, with AAB’s problems), but being with my work family centers me. And my shift tonight is partly with my WorkBFF, so I’ll have someone there in my corner.
So, welcome to my total and complete breakdown Sunshine! I’m going to lose it completely any day now!