A pathetic self-centered rant. If you’re smart, you’ll stay the hell away.
“We’ll get through it, Hetty, we’ll get through it.” Julie hangs her head to the desk and shakes it in the most unconvincing way you’ve ever seen in your life. Well, guess what, Julie, it’s been about nine or ten months and there’s still no sign of “getting through it.” That’s why, despite your four decades of experience, you cry when no one is looking.
Powering through is an okay way to get through temporary difficulties. But this is not the way to get through life in general. When it’s temporary, you can focus on getting through each hour, each day.
But the longer you let time pass and it becomes a way of life, the more you lose. In a short-term tribulation, you can practice serenity and fortitude, build your character. But in the long term, things fall away. Resentment and despair take over while you sacrifice everything you love on the altar of time.
Because there is no definite end to this, I’m running out of coping mechanisms. I try and dispel negative thoughts through positive statements and finding things to do outside of work, but the toxicity and stress of my surroundings overwhelm me. The only thing that will cure this is a permanent change of environment.
Thinking of happy memories does not help either; I have no recourse to pleasant nostalgia. The memories make me sad, because they are gone, never to be lived again.
Just “getting through it” cannot be your plan A, B, and C. There is no future better time. Okay, just get through this hour, this day, this week, this month. Then the next. But there’s never an arrival. How long until you realize how much of your own life you’ve thrown away simply “getting through it”?
Life cannot be one long period of “getting through it”—until what? Death? Killing time until death? Is that a good life plan?
I’m “getting through it” until I crack or die, whichever comes first.
Fate dealt me a good hand and I managed to get four days off this weekend through a combination of the holiday, calling out Black Friday (a grave mortal sin in retail), and my supervisor’s idiocy in scheduling me off on Saturday and Sunday. I don’t usually call out but the times they are a-changin’.
I’ve already had two public meltdowns in the last couple of weeks. When it comes, the third will be spectacular. These days, it doesn’t take much to be sent over the edge. My tantrums accomplished little, as you might expect. My boss was nice for about an hour. Anytime a meltdown occurs (this happens regularly in my store), she’s frightened you’ll walk out the door (also happens regularly). But she’s an idiot so she forgets quickly.
I was happy these past few days. However, last night, when I turned out the lights, I was suddenly seized by terror, the kind that drove me to call out on Friday. All of the weight of what I need to do, what I’m behind on, the shit I will have to take, flattened me. A certain thought, which I haven’t had in a long time, flashed through my mind: a way to make this, and everything, no longer an issue.
I flopped back and forth on my stomach, this way and that way. I wrapped my rosary around my hand and held the crucifix, tried to recite something rote to distract myself. Flopped back and forth some more, heart pounding, until somehow I finally fell asleep. Woke up at three or four completely drenched in sweat.
I look like absolute hell every day. Face broken out, blue eye sockets like I got punched in the face all night. I subsist on candy, ice cream, quarter pounders, and Doritos, yet I’ve lost a couple of pounds.
Tomorrow morning, I will probably swallow three mouthfuls of breakfast before having to go to the bathroom two or three times, something that only happens before work and not anytime else. I’ll either cry while brushing my hair or when I get to work.
I have no choice but to get through the day, so I can get through the week, get through Christmas, get through January, get through… get through…
Right now, I’m sitting on three stories I would like to work on, but I can’t, because I’m too busy “getting through it” until the time comes when I can. You know, the time that never arrives.
Bella, if you’re reading this, I try my best, I really do. It would be way worse without you and your blog.