"Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone."
After all this time I am still incredibly bad at dealing with stress. You might think by now I would have a handle on it, but I still easily reach a point at which I shut down. I stop responding. I just want it all to go away. I'm there... again. How many times that make this year alone? I don't even know. I just know that it's seemed like too much work to initiate activities, to stay in touch in people, or to keep things in order.
And this is nothing new. My complaints, my anger, my frustration, my sorrow... these are nothing new. Even the ever present pain in my arm has been going on for a year now, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of talking about it. I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of trying to deal with it. And that adds up to a whole lot of tired.
One result is that I fall out of communication with people. The question always come up, "So how are you?" Well I'm fucking awful at the moment. My arm is in constant pain. Medicare is still occasionally denying charges (although I was told by the social worker I was working with it was handled). I haven't found a new surgeon to replace the bumbling idiot who continually fucked up my arm over the last year, and I need to find one soon to take out the catheter in my leg.
Yes, more surgeries. Only now Ellen won't be here to help me recover afterward. She'll be back in Southern California, which is awesome in terms of money and opportunities, but it leaves me fending for myself again. That was fine 2 years ago. Even after the car accident I was still in good enough shape that I felt I could take care of myself (with a little help from my friends, of course). Now... now I don't know.
And that's the part that keeps bugging me - I don't know. I don't know what I'm capable of anymore. I don't know what my options are, or well I can manage them. The self-doubt is crushing me at the moment, and I haven't wanted to talk about it. It has a lot to do with that line above the cut. I know I'm on my own in this. I'm not entertaining right now. I'm not having a good time, and I know no one else wants to hear about it. So I don't say anything. I don't post, I don't call, I barely stay in touch. It's a failure in my personality that I haven't been able to overcome, and one that I have watched time and again ruin perfectly good friendships with people.
But I also know that if I have nothing fun to say, I shouldn't say anything at all. Either that or I'll have to lie people. Sure, I'm fine. Things are good. Yup, all's well. I get a little tired of lying too.
So I'm going to sleep. For like a week or so.
After all this time I am still incredibly bad at dealing with stress. You might think by now I would have a handle on it, but I still easily reach a point at which I shut down. I stop responding. I just want it all to go away. I'm there... again. How many times that make this year alone? I don't even know. I just know that it's seemed like too much work to initiate activities, to stay in touch in people, or to keep things in order.
And this is nothing new. My complaints, my anger, my frustration, my sorrow... these are nothing new. Even the ever present pain in my arm has been going on for a year now, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of talking about it. I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of trying to deal with it. And that adds up to a whole lot of tired.
One result is that I fall out of communication with people. The question always come up, "So how are you?" Well I'm fucking awful at the moment. My arm is in constant pain. Medicare is still occasionally denying charges (although I was told by the social worker I was working with it was handled). I haven't found a new surgeon to replace the bumbling idiot who continually fucked up my arm over the last year, and I need to find one soon to take out the catheter in my leg.
Yes, more surgeries. Only now Ellen won't be here to help me recover afterward. She'll be back in Southern California, which is awesome in terms of money and opportunities, but it leaves me fending for myself again. That was fine 2 years ago. Even after the car accident I was still in good enough shape that I felt I could take care of myself (with a little help from my friends, of course). Now... now I don't know.
And that's the part that keeps bugging me - I don't know. I don't know what I'm capable of anymore. I don't know what my options are, or well I can manage them. The self-doubt is crushing me at the moment, and I haven't wanted to talk about it. It has a lot to do with that line above the cut. I know I'm on my own in this. I'm not entertaining right now. I'm not having a good time, and I know no one else wants to hear about it. So I don't say anything. I don't post, I don't call, I barely stay in touch. It's a failure in my personality that I haven't been able to overcome, and one that I have watched time and again ruin perfectly good friendships with people.
But I also know that if I have nothing fun to say, I shouldn't say anything at all. Either that or I'll have to lie people. Sure, I'm fine. Things are good. Yup, all's well. I get a little tired of lying too.
So I'm going to sleep. For like a week or so.