I've typed and deleted about six paragraphs in the past 25 minutes. I want to write fluidly and coherently about how vacant I feel, but it is all a jumble of silly words and teenage diary calibre histrionics. I'm going to dispense of any and all pretense of clarity and attempts at trying to write properly because I just give up.
I am so tired of my entire body existing in a state of constant tension because I hate my job and hate my godforsaken incompetent shrew of a "boss". I am frustrated that my own organisation doesn't think I'm good enough to succeed in a higher position, but most of all, this just makes me sad. Sad that I have drive, initiative, appropriate professional background, but that it seems to make no difference. I then worry that perhaps I'm not as good as I think I am after all, which is an admission that I'm not quite willing to make.
I hate that I don't ever have an hour's relief from anxiety weighing so heavily on me that I make myself sick. I hate that I can't get anything done, ever, and that any task I complete has been about 6 weeks in the making. I hate the fact that I have made an attempt to be physically fit for the first time in 10 years, yet my overpowering sense of defeat in all aspects of my life has worn me down too much to bother running on most days. I hate how I thought running would be the magic balm to my emotional ills like the doctor told me it would be.
I hate that I am here typing this post instead of spending time with my daughter. As I'm tapping away, she's sitting in her room listening to nursery rhymes and paging through books alone. I'm here because I know if I'm not, I'm probably losing my patience and praying for bedtime.
One of the most humiliating aspects of all of this is one which you'd hope I'd be smart enough to say under the veil of anonymity on Swallow the Key - I rely far too much on blogging to keep me happy. I worry about traffic, I worry about comments, I worry about popularity based on the previous factors, and it's just tragic. I spend so much of my real life masking how I feel, that to have this form of release is addicting. It says far too much about my lack of self-esteem, and I feel as if I should go beat myself with sticks for even making this imaginary world my real one. I have long said that I don't have many female friends because I can't tolerate all of The Drama, yet here I am wallowing in it.
I'm not entirely sure why I've even bothered with all of this. I don't know what anyone can say to make the situation any different. I've thought about stepping out for awhile, release myself from the need for validation through twittering and blogging, but we shall see how (un)successful I am at such an endeavour. I want to tell myself to shut the fuck up already, I can't imagine how you must feel. Ugh, the emotion! The wailing! The hand-wringing!
The drama endeth here.
22 comments:
Huh. I could have written this.
I keep typing shit and then deleting it - I guess all I can do is give you a hug and say "I get it. I really do get it."
Hang in there, Ms. Pru.
Hugs to you. I'm sorry you're feeling crappy and going through all this.
I also keep typing shit, and then deleting it. But here goes anyway.
I'm seeing a darkness too, honey. It's hovering right above your head, and I feel it is directly causing your sense of defeat. In short, you sound mightily depressed about stuff.
Being labelled depressive can be pretty irksome, so please forgive me the liberty. Just yesterday, I was gently told by one of my son's health professionals that I should really See My GP About My Anxiety And Stress, and it was all I could do not to drop kick the bloody woman's arse clean out of my front door. But after she had left, it occurred to me that my RAOWRRR! reaction was probably indicative of a woman under far too much pressure from herself.
Sound familiar?
So, no impulses here to tell you to shut the fuck up already; quite the reverse. I actually feel you're being very restrained with the wailing and the hand-wringing. I don't feel you're exceeding quota at all - a frustrating job where you don't feel free to be yourself, AND a difficult toddler? Both are mind-fuckers. Both. Add a dose of the Sads, and you're entitled to damn good wallow.
Exercise-endorphins are allegedly helpful (the Hubby is always telling me just how much BETTER I would feel if I exercised my bottom occasionally. AND had vigorous sex with him, naturally) but not a panacea. Well worth keeping on with it, you've done so very well already - but I would also suggest a return to GP.
I'm really sorry about all this, Pru. You can always step on over to HFF mansions if you want a break from it all. We specialise in difficult children and women with low self-esteem around here currently.
Ohhh, Pru, sweetheart. It sucks and it's vile and it's exhausting, being stuck in a job you don't like, and having a repellent Shrew of Incompetence as boss sucks even more.
Exercise gives you a flatter belly. Umm. That's about it. GPs who try to sell it as Better Than Prozac! (TM) can take a hearty dose of shut the fuck up already. Having a flatter belly can't possibly make University come to their senses and fire Shrew (into bay from cannon) and give you a really cool and interesting job already.
And then you have to come home and deal with a much-beloved but DEAR GOD SHE IS HARD WORK toddler, and I am wonder-struck that you aren't lying under the sofa with a gallon drum of Ben and Jerry's and refusing to go to work at all.
You mustn't lose sight of how much you are achieving just because your boss is a dumb turd and you haven't yet found a better job and P is difficult. She is also clearly immensely bright and looks beautiful and healthy. You are running regularly. You may loathe your job but you keep turning up and actually doing it. You are brave, you are strong, we all love you.
Here endeth the lesson. Must go apply it to own life with trowel. Do as I say, not as I do, etc.
I'm not sure how the healthcare system works over yonder, but have you considered talking to your GP about some medicinal help? I got trapped in a downward spiral and the drug my GP prescribed was a life-saver.
If you're not a fan of the drugs, what about talk therapy? It seems that this episode you're dealing with is pretty severe, dear Pru.
Next time you are in the states, we need to get together and have a drink. Or twenty.
I hear you on all of that — sometimes you can just get overwhelmed by the not-right-ness of everything stacking up. Hope you find your way out of the morass by whatever means necessary.
Didn't your GP recommend a "helpful" book to address these very issues? Perhaps you shouldn't read it so much as you should maybe thwack said GP upside the head with it. Gratiutious violence is a great stress reliever.
You're clearly overwhelmed by life right now and you need help in the form of counseling and/or medicines. Maybe I am too bold too suggest that right out of the blue, but I have been there and I know when a depression hits and you can't handle life anymore everything goes to hell in a hand basket fast.
I hate when I get in a funk like that. I have no good ass-vice, but I hope the darkness lifts soon.
Yeah. What they said.
xoxo Feel better.
Well, hell. Pass the sticks. I could use a couple good thwacks myself, unfortunately. I do hope you can get a handle on some of the things that are troubling you (the job, the boss, etc).
Ugh. I'm so sorry you're so down. You might want to try a hiatus of some sort. I found that my 24 hours without computer/TV for Yom Kippur were somewhat restorative. I don't want to give up blogging, but it did help me think about time use and how I want to balance things. I hope you can find a balance for your life that makes you happier. And I'm sure a new job would help!
pru...that sounds hidious and I'm sorry. I wish we didn't judge ourselves based on our bosses' perceptions or the number of comments on our blogs or the size of our butts but we all do it and that's on top of the hard time we give ourselves anyway. Thinking of you and sending smooches. xxx
Wow. It's only 9:45 am and I want to punch one of your commenters. Pru is "clearly overwhelmed by life right now" and she "need[s] help in the form of counseling and/or medicine"? Really? Are you a pschiatrist? Are you HER psychiatrist? No? Then maybe you should re-think your comment, particularly to someone who's already feeling fragile.
Pru's been the doctor, who won't hand out happy pills with the gay randomness mine does. Pru may be depressed. Pru may also be having a Bad Fucking Day/Week/Month/Season. I think Pru simply needs comments filled with support and love. First, we feed the ego! Then, we feed the id!
Sorry if I splattered all over your comments, Pru. I just feel ya', and sympathize with most of your post, and wish I could help you find a new job but, um, I'm not 100% sure what you do.
Pru - I so know how you feel. I know that weight of anxiety, and I also know the obsessive stat-checking etc. for validation.
I don't know, though. These days I don't think comments really validate anything. Anyone can get a ton of comments by spending an unhealthy amount of time commenting on others. And then there's blogs that aren't really that great that just got traffic for some other reason. There's some pretty bad blogs out there with a lot of readers.
As for good writing. That's not easy to come by. And yours is. So there.
(Do write other stuff? If not, maybe you should?)
I feel like everyone has already said the really smart stuff. So I will just put out the drivel: you are awesome. But your work situation blows chunks. I hate that you are in a funk but lawd knows I get it. Why can't we all live on the same block so that we can send out bat symbols of distress to each other?
I need to find you a good font to make you smile.
xo
Getting rid of my stat counters all together was one of the healthiest things I've done for my blog-esteem. I'd never go back.
The rest of it? I'm sorry it sucks. Most of the time I think we're all Sisyphus, pushing the eternal rock. Here's to a lighter boulder for you.
I have to admit that not having a great stat counter since moving to Wordpress has been a bit of a blessing. Sure it's easy to count comments, but now I don't literally have to see the numbers of visits dwindle.
I can't count how many times I didn't get more sleep, or rush to the crying baby or play with my son b/c I selfishly blogged instead. However, not having someone to hear my woes can be just as detrimental to my well-being.
I'll always love you, and whether or not you want to tick that up as a good thing is up to you.
Everyone else said it better than me so I'm going to just shut my fat yap and give you a hug. I think you rock, FWIW, and you're one of my favorite bloggers.
I have a dual excuse of not being able to put anything into words today AND blogger has eaten two comments. Therefore, you simply get a hug.
Sorry I am coming late to this post. Blogging is very hard to keep in perspective. I think we all struggle with this a lot. Sometimes, stepping back is just what you need.
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