ldenise

Really, it's not. Neither is excercising, journaling, step work, meeting attendance, calling my sponsor, making friends, trusting people, feeling good about myself, and on and on... I could say I'm tired of the crashes or sinking black moods. But there are so many other so called normal things that scare me more. Like being hurt. How is it that the older I get, the faster the work world can't wait to tell me what a loser I am? Correction, a slow loser. Now I'm actually thinking of making a job change that would be helping people like me . People like me can be a-holes. Whiney, needy, cry baby, resentful a-holes. But then all the people I've worked for so far seem to be a-holes too. So what's the difference? I don't know if it's depression that kicks my ass anymore or if it's real life. I always thought that people on the outside couldn't possibly hurt me, torture me anymore than what I was capable of doing to myself. I was wrong, very, very wrong. People out there can reduce, descimate. Then there's this disability system that tries, the operative word being 'tries', to educate, rehabilitate, train, prepare, whatever it is they think they do, so I can re-enter the workplace all employable. Then, wait for it, me who just dives right in trying so hard to find a place to fit in. A place to feel needed, like you can give something back. I'm not sure where the hope is in this, except that I keep trying. I don't think my self esteem is any thicker yet; it's still paper thin. Like my resume, I guess.

That's all I can think about lately is 'just move', maybe with an explantion point at the end of it. So, if I use medication, which works relatively well, have God in my life, am clean and serene, have a husband, have 2 cats and 2 dogs, have a family, have a home, have a very part time job, am in therapy more often then not, ....seriously, what is my problem? Other than I need to move. Move forward...do something. This past week, I did some house chores and I signed up at an animal shelter to volunteer. My heels still hurt from kick-boxing, which I enjoyed very much because of all the punching and kicking. Hope I can do that some more. Moving...not one of my strong suits. When I stop, I end up on the couch. Found out this week that a friend from high school killed herself. She had a lot of problems, both psychologically and wreckage-wise and she did it. The idea of getting sober seemed so unsurmountable to her that killing herself seemed like a better idea. A lot of the time I don't give myself a lot of credit for staying clean (and sober) and I see a lot of my friends' and familiy members going through some pretty painful stuff. I knew her and if I could today tell her she could do it I would. I would get in her business and tell her she could do it. Nobody deserves to die over this. I am grateful that I am still clean and slightly crazy. You don't and I don't. So maybe I've moved a little, a little more than I thought.

This is my third time attempting to write down all my personal stuff apparently for anybody who wants to read it. If anyone knows me, they would know that I am terrible with computers-to the point that following directions on how to post a blog confuses me. And I write using a lot of mixed up run on sentences with some improper grammar. Also, what a lot of people don't know is that when I sound dorky, I know I sound dorky. I end up amusing myself I guess. I actually liked what I wrote a few days ago, it made me feel good. I wrote about how I had tried almost everything in the past 10-15 years to make up, what I call, my puzzle. My puzzle is what I do that helps: medication, therapy, spirituality, family, recovery and what ever else helps. One thing that I've never really took too seriously, well 2 things, is journaling and excerise. Over the years I've written in my step work, but I've never taken the journaling suggestion. That's why I thought I would try this. And excercise, I've done it before but we've never been close. About 2 months ago I started kickboxing class. I loved it even though after a month I husrt my achilles tendon somehow and I'm a little disappointed at my body's recuperative powers after all this time; I want to go back. I liked it that I was moving. Moving is not a big thing with me. I start things and don't finish them or think about starting them and don't start at all. Procrastination is one of the few things I seem to be good at. I got my hours cut at work and my goal is to try and move and not succumb to the powers of the couch. Today I slept a lot, but I did finally take a shower and do the dishes. I need purpose. I need to move. Oh, I also went on a rant about 'multi-tasking' and what is the work place's fascination with a concept that doesn't even exist and why should I feel bad about myself because I can't do it? I'm tired of being persecuted for being movement challenged. I very rarely whine about stuff, but I can't seem to get past this. This cool buzz word has made my life miserable and I've asked and been told that it is not uncommon for depressed people to move a little slower than the rest of the world. I've actually tried looking up 'multi-tasking' online and the whole first page was about how it doesn't work. Research is showing that people end up making more mistakes and it cost companies more money. So why is it that I've been put up to a standard that isn't real? The pain it's causing is very real. Yeah, I liked what I wrote a few days ago better. Now, I'm just grumpy.