Minnesota Bound

Mack and I have been planning a trip back to Minnesota for the end of August. I've been looking forward to it all summer- Mack finally meeting my brothers and my dad. Seeing where I grew up. It's important to me.

Unfortunately, the trip has been moved up to this weekend, and Mack isn't going. My aunt passed away and it took some financial scraping and some favors (thanks, again) to be able to afford the train ticket at all. If it would have happened two weeks from now, we would have been fine. But death doesn't work on anyone else's terms so here we are.

And before I even set foot in the state I grew up in, I'm already regretting it. I moved away in the summer of 2007 to chase a dude. It didn't turn out like I expected, and I've been back and forth a few times. Each time I'm back, I'm reminded of why I was so eager to pick up and leave in the first place. I'm the failure of the family. The one who's always broke, always needs something. Whatever.

My mom is the only person out of the whole bunch who has never given me shit for leaving repeatedly, or made any sort of an effort to come see me or be in any sort of regular contact with me. My dad came and saw me before my brain surgery out in Oregon. I got a few calls from my brothers. One from a cousin. As far as the rest of them? Not a word. I don't know if they knew about it or not, I don't think most of my family knows where I'm living now. Most of them didn't show up to my graduation party, the day before I moved to begin with.

I call someone, they're busy and don't call back. Send an email? No response. A snail mail letter? Nope. I send a birthday gift, "Oh, you mean it's the same thing you've already given everyone else?" Yep, sell it on ebay if you don't want it. It's signed. If I hadn't sent it, you'd be bitching about not getting one and everyone else did.

I'm sorry that you're all upset that I had to leave to find personal happiness. And that it had to be with a guy and that I'm not strong enough to do it on my own. I'm sorry that it personally offends you that he makes me feel the way he does. Who puts what he's doing on hold to cheer my depressed ass up. And hasn't gotten sick of it after two years. (Thank you, Mack.)

And I miss you guys. I miss Christmas Eve's with the Clark side. Bonfires at Pops' house. Thanksgiving with my mom. I really do miss that. And no matter what, I still love you.

But I have three pretty kick ass kids that I'm pretty damn attached to. And I finally found a man who isn't passive-aggressive or beat me or treat me like shit whenever he's in the mood to. Who's patient with me when I just want to break down. I'm happier than I was in Minnesota. If you truly cared about me, you'd see that and be happy for me.

And family shouldn't disappear because you moved away. Family shouldn't pretend like you don't exist because of choices you've made in the past. Done something you don't agree with. I moved away to try and find someone to make me happy. I didn't kill anyone, or rob a liquor store for drug money. I'm not some horrible person who should be shunned out of the picture because I don't live down the block. Family shouldn't continue to berate me for past decisions that turned out badly.

But my family does do those things. Why should I surround myself with that? Why would I want to show that to Mack, when he sees what it does to me? Why do I try to defend family members, when he can see the anger and the hurt every time I attempt some form of communication?

Why should I even bother, when it's obvious that I'm just an annoyance?

Funk-central

This shit can suck a big fat one. It started yesterday, and I foolishly thought I was ok. That because I felt it coming, and knew what it was that somehow it wasn't bothering me as much.

But I guess it takes a day to get ramped up. The paranoia, insecurity, all of it. Just crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. The knowing doesn't do jack shit, other than comfort me that sooner or later it will be over. I just want to crawl in to bed and cry. Or punch things. Preferably people. Screaming might be nice, too.

I keep focusing on all the things I hate. Not like "Oh I hate murderers." But things that apply to my life. It's not healthy. I want to take a whole bunch more of my medication than I actually need for my knee. I won't, but it's still there, in the back of my mind. My thoughts aren't coherent tonight, I can't focus on anything. And my fucking hormones are going nuts.

I'm just sad. That's what it boils down to. All the insecurity, all the hatred, everything. It just makes me so goddamn depressed. The writing helps a bit, but not much.

I'm going to go lay down.

Fuck this.

I think I've goto the whole funk thing figured out.

And it feels better knowing part of where it may be coming from. I've been way down the past few days, and it's almost become a pattern. And I don't know if I just don't remember how bad the last one was or what, but they might be getting worse. I think I might just be forgetting how bad the last one was.

Anywho. Last week it started with the chest-tightness that signifies and oncoming panic attack. Progressing into not being able to sleep, super ultra-clinginess to Mack, horrible self esteem and feeling like I'm failing at everything I do. Today it was so bad I had fleeting feelings of suicide. Don't worry, I'm ok now. It was a nagging thing in the back of my head, just over and over and I finally had to get up and start cleaning and be active. The whole time I was cleaning I just kept thinking that people love me for me as much as sometimes I don't see why. I'm in love with a wonderful man who has been my rock when I've needed it, as often as I do. His kids are amazing, even though they sometimes stress me the hell out, I still love them. My job is really good.

I have a good life. I have to keep reminding myself of this. It's helping me pull out of these funks. I've got to keep fighting them. It's not fair to the people I'm close to around me to constantly have to push me back up. I am not going to be that person who constantly relies on other people to get by day after day.

As soon as I get my health insurance through work, I'm finding a steady doctor and I'm going to get some options to help me with this. And I do need help. It's ridiculous how often this is happening to me. I need it to stop so I can live like a normal person and stop being sucked into this negative pit of doom. I don't care if I have to see a shrink every week or go through fine-tuning medication, or meditate or make drastic changes. I need help. And I owe it to myself and the people around me to get it.

New Jobs and Surgery

Again.

It's to fix my knee, and hopefully I won't be down long, as I start my new job next Monday.

That's right. New job. I went in to get my paycheck at the hotel on Friday and they had it all messed up. And they were telling everyone that we had to cash them at WalMart because they didn't have the money in their payroll account yet and WalMart doesn't process checks for a few days, I guess.

I flipped out because it's not the first time it's happened, WalMart won't cash checks for me (No clue why) and I couldn't afford three dollars being taken out of my check. So I called my manager and she told me that they'd give me cash out of their bank drop. And as soon as I had the cash in my hand, I quit.

And it felt awesome. I knew I had the new job, but I wasn't sure when I started, so that was a point of stress until my new manager called me on Monday, saying I started in a week. Oh, And I wasn't training in Decatur (an hour and a half, one way) I will be training right here in Effingham. I'm excited because hey, new job and more money (after training) and benefits. But I'm nervous because hey, new job.

And surgery in like an hour. That is really making me nervous. I'm not supposed to smoke for 24 hours beforehand, but I've been so stressed over other things that I haven't been able to help it. I really cut down though, so I hope that's something.

It's a knee scope with possible debriement which means they will cut into my knee and shove a camera in my knee cap and if there's stuff in there that shouldn't be, they will take it out. Not super serious, but I'm still getting flashbacks to my brain surgery and that was super serious. There's still a possibility I could die and all that, because there is with any surgery.

But it will go well and I will be healed and everything will be fine. Because mind over matter. Wish me luck!

Same shit, different day...

Have you ever thought you were kind of good at something, worked at it until you were really proud of what you were doing, only to be told that you were not that good at it?

That happened to me. And it was the worst timing.

They past few months have been a series of ups and downs, but mostly downs. My birthday got completely fucked for the second year in a row, my job is just horrible, and everything I do to try and get out of this funk I'm in makes it worse. I'd been applying for jobs like crazy, just trying to get out of that soul sucking hell hole. I finally had a callback/interview. It went really well. I took the drug test, got offered the job. Just waiting on the drug test results, background check and references to get back to the manager. It's been hell waiting for it. It's like someone is dangling a better life just out out reach. I can see it but I can't quite touch it yet.

I worked on a graphic for something stupid at Cracked.com. Just something to pass the time. Photoshopped for hours, didn't like it, started over 3 times. And when I finally finished and was really fucking proud of how it turned out, they didn't like it. Not only did they not like it, they wouldn't even tell me what to fix or what other direction to go so I could try again. They just don't want me on it at all. I've been photoshopping crap for a few years now, finally felt like it was something I was good at and could possibly make it into a career, and I guess I was wrong.

I know it's dumb to just go right to "you suck, just give up now" because a few people didn't like it, but the past few months have been so shitty that's the place that I'm going to with everything. I can describe my life since June as "Just trying to get through the day without crying". And most days I can't do it. At all. The littlest thing just digs and digs and digs and I don't know how much longer I can live this way. I'm not suicidal, but before when I got this way I at least knew that it would stop. After awhile, I would be able to stop pretending to be happy, and actually be happy. Now I see the appeal. If I had to live day after day, year after year like this, I wouldn't put up with it anymore.

And I'm trying to get myself out of it. I really, really am. I've tried painting, writing, photoshopping stupid shit, walking around, talking about it... Nothing it working.

And now I feel like I've done something wrong. Like I'm not allowed to be in a shitty mood, or be upset or irritable. Like I have to be this perfectly happy person 100% of the time. I know the way that I break down is not easy to deal with. I've had so many people walk away from me before because they didn't get it, or they just got sick of it. If it ruins what I have now, I don't know what I would do. I don't think there's any fixing the part of me that would break after that.

I don't think I'm worth it. I don't think I can fix what's wrong with me by myself, and I don't think that there's other people that give enough of a shit to try.

This is really not helping anything at all.

One of those funks is coming

I am trying soooo hard to pull myself out of it. I just want some alone time. Just a day or two to not have to wake up at a certain time or go outside. I want it to rain all day but be warm enough to open all the windows. I want to sit down and make a list of goals for the year and talk to Mack about how we can do them.

I really want to cry.

I'm really sick of people right now. Not people I know, but customers. They could be the nicest person in the world and I just want to tell them "Fuck off, I'm not dealing with you today."

The past week has been crazy busy. At work we're gearing up for Corvette Fest, which is the stupidest thing ever. I should say that my former manager (who doesn't work for the company at all anymore) and I have been gearing up for it. My managers now haven't done shit. We should have been booked full months ago, but we're not so I have been calling every hotel in town, begging them to refer people to us when they get full. Also, I've been calling all the guests who stayed at our two hotels last year, asking if they're coming down this year.

Last weekend, Dan O'Brien and Jason Pargin (Wong) came into town to meet up with Mack and Michael Swaim while Swaim is in town filming a movie. It was really weird having them all in the same place. Jason, Mack and I went out to eat, then went up to watch them set up the set and hung out for a few hours. It was crazy fun, but I had worked an early morning shift so I was completely exhausted. As soon and we got home, Mack and Jason were going to play video games for a while, so I started a pot of coffee, made a batch of cookies and as soon as those were done I passed the hell out.

The next day, my mom and aunt came into town. I worked that morning as well, so I was even more tired that day. We went out to eat and back to their hotel room for a few hours and then I begged off to go home and sleep, because they wanted to leave for St. Louis for the day at 7am.

St Louis was great. We went up to the top of the arch, ate at a great restauraunt, went to the science mueseum. Got pulled over twice. Saw the indian mounds in Il. It was fun, and it was really nice seeing my mom again, but my aunt kept throwing in all these passive-aggressive comments towards me. It was almost like she was trying to start a fight. Mack said the same thing. It was like she would say something really bitchy, but then laugh like it was a joke. It was weird. It was still nice to her though.

I started writing this at work, and I am home now, but I still can't shake this feeling. It's actually starting to get worse. I want to cut. That was what I was trying to avoid is getting to this point in the funk. God, I hate this feeling. My chest gets tight and it's hard to breathe. For the past twenty minutes, I've been clenching my hands in to fists. I looked down and saw marks on my palms so I thought I'd give writing another go.

The worst possible part in all of this is that the kids are here. I love them to death, but I feel absolutely like I should not be around anyone. I'm trying to be cheery and normal, but it's so hard and it feels so fake. If we had the money, I'd honestly go stay at the hotel tonight. Fucking Christ, I hate this feeling.

It seems like it takes longer and longer to pull myself out of this shit. I really need to find some sort of relief that works. I keep thinking "It's ok, it will only last a few days" but that few days just stretches and it feels like the minutes are hours. I look at the clock expecting it to be midnight and it's not even 11:30.

I keep thinking that I can't do this anymore, but what choice do I have. I don't know what sets it off, I can't get out of it. I can't prevent it. I can't stop it once it hits. I feel so Goddamn helpless. It's almost frightening because I can't control it.

I should probably go to sleep, but I would be tossing and turning and replaying every single shitty thing that's ever happened to me. I'd never get to sleep. Or I would end up crying until I fell asleep. If I were alone, I wouldn't mind that but the last time it happened, something happened that made it 100 times worse and I'm not doing that again.

I can't fucking write anymore. This isn't helping at all.

Music

"We can get some music when we start making more money." She said, as the thought of living completely without music hits you for the first time. "Just don't go bringing home any random music you find out on the streets. My ex used to do that and it pisses me off." She continued.

So you find some work and later you bring up the subject of getting some music. "We'll talk about it later." She responds, never bringing up the subject again.

You've lived with music all your life. Music doesn't judge you. It's always there to bring you out of a shitty mood. Living without music is starting to suck. She doesn't like music that much, so she's pretty indifferent to the whole thing.

You bring up music randomly, hoping that maybe she'll get the hint. You don't want to seem like you're nagging about it; you're just trying to make her understand how important music is to you.

She brings home a different kind of music one day without telling you. You're happy and while it's not the same music you're used to having, it's music all the same. The music starts to piss you off a bit after awhile, but it's still music. It still knows when you're upset and loves you unconditionally. The music is starting to get on your nerves more and more, but it still makes you laugh when you're having a shitty day.

Then the music that you weren't really used to, but once you got used to it, wasn't all that bad has to leave. You're left without music again.

She says, "Ok, we can get you some of your music. But it has to be this one specific kind, and that's that."

MUSIC! YOU CAN FINALLY GET SOME MUSIC!

You start looking for free music. You find a few sites that have music, and talk to some people who want to give away some of their music. But none are the exact kind of music you're allowed to get. "I'll find you some music soon." She says, "But I'm not getting music that isn't the exact kind of music we already talked about."

More time goes by. You're still trying to find music, but you don't want to bring it up anymore. There's things in your life that are bringing you down. You're stressed. You're tired. You're depressed. And all of these things are getting worse as time passes. You try to talk to her about it and she either ignores you, gets upset at you for it or tells you to stop. You keep thinking about how music, any kind of music would make you feel better. You can't explain why and you can't even begin to make her understand. "It's just music." She'd probably say.

You get a phone call telling you that the music you once owned, but no longer is with you is fading out. The music isn't that old. It shouldn't be fading this fast. The calls keep coming, the music is fading faster. There's not much that can be done. It's adding to your stress. You loved this music. You helped this music grow. The music was always there for you when you were sad, no matter how many times you'd stopped listening to it for months at a time. You cry, trying to hold the tears back. Everything is piling on at once and something that might seem small has the power to break you. All you want is someone to hold. The tears keep coming as you think about all the things you did while this music was playing. You can't help it. You can't sleep because of it. But you don't say a word because hey, it's just music, right?