landsick

[prismaticbleed]

 

Perhaps this is me jumping the gun-- a likely scenario-- but I figured I'd best record something of what I've been dealing with in recent days for the sake of psychological posterity. I apologize if this is scattered as a result; I'm feeling rather off, to say the least.

I start my new job on Monday morning, after two years of unemployment.
The problem is I can't quite forget my old job, and why I quit: psychological incompatibility. I don't know if it's an Aspie thing or what, but on some level (I can't quite remember), it's very difficult for me to deal with people on that sort of social, personal basis. I have big problems with empathy and personal identity, and the thought alone of routine for eight hours wears me out. Of course I'm probably not giving them enough credit. This is still a grocery cashier environment, yes, but it's far more kind and community-oriented so it might not be so bad. On the other hand I'm still aware that I have had trouble with this line of work in the past.
The biggest problems are therefore these: I'm terrified that I won't be able to hold this job, but I HAVE to because I need the money to buy food and pay the rent, but if I force myself to work through difficulty then I'm going to crash and burn like I did in 2009.
Also... this sounds ridiculous but honestly, the main reason I moved was not to get a job. Stupid, I know, to not think about where the rent/food money would come from, but it's the raw truth. I packed my bags and hopped a plane because I was moving into a loving and supportive environment, something I haven't had here before, and that was ALL I wanted. All I wanted from this move was to feel that care and compassion, to contribute to it, to practically sunbathe in it. But... I suppose life doesn't work that way, not yet. Q and Mel both work, and Mel has classes. Right now, I see them both for about 2-3 hours in the morning, then again later at night. It's difficult because we're all getting ready or catching up on work and contact doesn't feel substantial. All I want is to... to be with them, I guess. I miss that the most about 2010, really. I miss sharing a bed with Mel. I miss the feelings jams on beanbag pillows. I miss the freaking meltdowns because at least then, we could all try to work through them, even if it was excruciatingly painful because hey, we're together and interacting significantly! Now? I feel oddly empty. My biological family was dysfunctional, yeah, but in a sick way I kind of loved that because it required me to take care of everyone, it required me to put everything on hold to talk my mom or brother or grandmother through a depressive meltdown. Someone was always around for me to help, and there was always something to do in the house, be it dishes or laundry or dusting or vacuuming or whatever. I felt needed, even if I wasn't thanked-- that didn't matter; all I wanted was to be of direct, quiet use to people. It's why I loved my old university job of cleaning the photography labs. Three hours a day, shut up in a darkroom, scrubbing fixer stains out of the sinks, total sensory quietude. I adored it. Which is why I'm silently freaking out over holding a cashier job again: direct work like that just... shakes me up? I don't know. I feel that I can either work or communicate, sometimes, and it's draining to do both? I can't remember, it's been so long. But that's not the core problem, and I'm off topic. The core problem is that, with my new work schedule, I might only get to see Q and Mel for an hour before I go to bed at night, if we're not busy. Weekends are good but if I go all workaholic like I typically do, I'd likely be too tired to do much with them. And that is what I'm terrified of... sacrificing the first outright-loving home situation I've ever had for a paycheck. I go all out or I go nowhere, and if I need to focus so strongly on this job then I know I'm going to shut them out entirely to remove the pain of having to juggle priorities. It's already started to happen. That scares me.
It keeps coming down to love or money and I need the love but I need the money to live and so I keep feeling obligated to pick the money but that can't buy anything of value in the long run... I'm just shutting down inside thinking about this, haha, that isn't a good feeling at all.
Of course I'm still trying to reconnect with my ectobiological family. That's a whole other topic in itself, and it ties into that spiritual hunger I've had since the year began... but it's the biggest underlying worry here, now that I think about it. That starving feeling won't go away. Sure, I can alleviate it by going to church or having huge Scripture discussions or talking to Chaos for an hour when I should be sleeping, but that's sadly a temporary bliss. I keep thinking of this quote from Emissaries of Light... "Seek not peace here, but find it everywhere"... and I want to do that, I NEED to or I'm going to starve to death... but the problem is that I'm so fervent I need it in huge concentrated amounts, and sending love to all my theoretical customers can only help 'outsource' the gnawing feeling a little. For it to actually be mitigated, I need direct injection. And I don't know how to get it at the rate I need. I go to church twice on the weekends and end up in tears during both, several times, week after week, wishing I could stay on my knees for hours after everyone else leaves, just spiritually bleeding into the stained-glass silence because that's the only time I feel alive. Problem is that's only four hours out of a week. Problem is it's deeply addictive. It's a supermango, as Huxley so accurately put it. But beauty united with horror, that's what makes the full spectrum... maybe that's the lesson I need to learn here.

In any case I'm feeling very sick. I'm under a lot of stress that I won't externalize until something snaps or cracks or breaks, because I feel I need to be strong here, and not 'mess up.' But it's boiling on the inside. I've been exercising obsessively to desperately allay the burning in my temples and stomach, to do something with this rising panic. I haven't been eating well and have to fight down violent gag reflexes after eating non-vegetable foods. I've been having nightmares almost every night and I'm waking up for the fourth time that morning tired with bloodshot eyes. On Friday I locked myself in the bathroom of a friend's house and cried for almost 30 minutes straight. Sobbing to the point where I couldn't breathe and my body ached. Leaning against the wall by the shower because I was heaving with sorrow and could barely stand. I don't cry unless I'm completely alone so apparently I've been bottling up more than I realized while my subconscious waited for a situation to just unravel. What worries me is that the feeling didn't go away, nor did that crying session do much for it. I've spent the past five days or so teetering on the precipice of an emotional meltdown, having mini-explosions and self-abusive episodes, wishing I could sleep forever or just join a monastery.
But I can't. I have to get this job and hold it whether or not it's draining and not get distracted by petty personal wants and emotional needs. That's what I keep telling myself. Stop complaining. Be strong. Man up and pull your weight around here. Stop making psychological excuses and get to work.
I just wish there was another way to do it, I guess.
Still, it's absolutely ridiculous to be talking about this before orientation is even finished. I'll get back to you on Thursday, then we'll see whether or not I've collapsed into a heap or not.
I feel like I'm going to explode and/or die, but I keep ignoring that and burying it under a smile and sparkling childhood joy. And that's perfectly valid too, and just as real and powerful, but using it to completely drown out the other can't be a good thing. Problem is I feel that, with such a dichotomy, the darker feelings aren't valid, aren't legitimate. So back under the rug they go, until the next tiny trigger pops the cork and I suddenly find my insides savagely spattered over the walls.
Part of me wants to go home but it's like I'm carrying a photo of it in my pocket. No matter where I am, I can go home, as it's in my heart... but God, it hurts so much to be in two places at once.
...The things my heart desperately wants sound ridiculous to talk about. I'm sorry. Little things, is all. Little tiny snapshot things are all I want. It tears me apart.


On a somewhat related note. I've realized, upon stepping back and reviewing my actions, that I'm semi-unconsciously trying to turn my room into a sanctuary. I've never had my own room downstairs, and although I can't go all-out (it's an apartment; no painting the walls boy) I do have freedom to modify the decoration temporarily. More importantly, though, this room is a tiny 'safe spot' where I can sleep at night, and gather my thoughts if need be, in peace and quiet. It's this one little space dedicated to the well-being of myself and those closest to me. So, I'm actually treating it almost reverently, out of gratitude and acknowledgement of what I can make it. I keep it as clean as possible. I have artwork of my central headgang on the wall above my computer desk, I have inkblots above my bed and a painting on the opposite wall, I have bells hanging from wherever I can find a space. I want windchimes and lights and crystals and incense and anything else to make this room feel safe, in a spiritual sense. I want it to really be a place where I can recharge my batteries. I just... is it wrong to spend money on that? On making a space something respectfully beautiful? I hope not... I'd really love to have something glowing and warm here.
But it's like swallowing pain pills to get rid of heartache. It's understandable on some level, but it doesn't accomplish a thing. Why the heck else would I be trying to make my room a sanctuary?
Why the hell do I even care about feeling safe in a worldly sense? If I had the things I NEED, I could live on the street and be the happiest man on the planet, dead serious... but... I guess that's desperation too. I do that a lot. Deny your real needs and try to fill the hole with something paltry and insubstantial. It never works, it never did and it never will, but what other choice do I have, when the world I live in does so damn much to prevent me from actually living?
Why in the world am I projecting that onto this job, it's why I applied for this store in the first place for heavens sakes, this place feels the same, things could be different, but it's not the principles it's the performance and I am thinking about this too much.
I am so tired of 3D drama. So tired. What do I do? What can I do? I feel like a kid lost in a shopping mall, it's laughably awful, I'm begging for guidance from anyone who walks by and I just want to go home.

I miss my daughter and partner and superego and I feel like crying but I'm so empty there's nothing. Right now part of me is dead, I can feel it.
Yes, I spent two hours last night exercising and listening to Serph in a state of almost giddy contentment, but looking back I notice that for the entire time I was either frantically stimming or working out so hard my arms were screaming. I was high on oxygen-mask endorphins and didn't realize that if I slipped I'd asphyxiate. I was elated because for those two hours I didn't care about food or money or bills or jobs or anything; there was just music and muscles and midnight timelessness and it was perfect.
Then I collapsed from lack of sleep around 2AM and woke up five hours later wanting to dissolve into nonexistence.

I really am a mess right now, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be thinking about this. It's almost October, there's only a few more months left, I know something is going to happen soon, life can't be this sort of deranged merry-go-round forever. My situation isn't even so bad in and of itself, but the big picture haunts me like an albatross and I regularly feel like shrieking in agony from what I see when I turn on the television or browse the internet or freaking go outside. It hurts, it all hurts so much on some level I've taught myself how to ignore, but not entirely because if so I wouldn't be weeping behind closed doors whenever I have the slightest chance.

I don't know where I'm going with this entry anymore. I have a long week ahead of me. I need to just... I need to just face it.