Self-Improvement, Again

Over the 4-day Christmas weekend, I had a determination to figure out what is wrong with me and fix it before work on Monday. I'm so tired of my own crap; I am ready to kick it out of me.

I'd never considered ADD before Wednesday, but the last day before the holiday break was difficult. Yet another day where my inadequacies haunted me and crying was not out of the question. My solution: get my psychiatrist to give me a prescription for Adderal. So, while I should have been working, I was googling 'how to get adderal'. One link led to another and I stumbled onto a book, by Sari Solden, Women with ADD: Embrace your Differences and Transform your Life. After reading the synopsis and reviews I HAD to have this book.

On the way home from work I drive to the local mall with the intent to visit the Border's Express and buy the book. Even with the Christmas madness, it was not that bad. I bee-line to the elevator, knowing if I traverse the mall to get to the stairs or the escalator I will get turned-around and frustrated. Since the bookstore is the predominant store I visit in the mall, I have memorized where it is. I get off the elevator, go around to the back, and discover the bookstore has closed. It has been changed to a sad-looking furniture store. I’m not surprised at this. I head back to the elevator, staring at the young couples with multiple young children, and wonder how on earth they cope.

I go home, and start raving to the husband that I MUST have this book before my 4 days off so I can read it. I have this feeling that if I don’t get this book and read it and digest it before Monday I will be surely be fired. We brainstorm about what bookstores are in our locale. He says, “Look it up online and make sure they have it. I am NOT going out Dec. 23rd and then they don’t even have the book.!” At this point I’m amazed that he is even willing to go with me, but I think he knows I’ve become completely obsessed, unstoppable and I’m leaving the next morning. So I scramble around on-line and Barnes and Nobles says they have it. I click the ‘Reserve this Book’ button and ignore the “Wait for a confirming email” warning. Off we go in the car.

We get there and the bookstore lady says, alas, Barnes and Nobles is ill-equipped. They don’t have it. But she takes me to the section it should be in. I flip through all the titles and leave with this: Making ADD Work: On-the-Job Strategies for Coping with Attention Deficit Disorder.

I like the book. It is non-judgmental and caring in tone. The work issues common to adults with ADD were familiar, such as constant fear of being fired, and an inability to complete seemingly simple tasks. It was also helpful and laid out good ideas for organizing a work day. Mostly though, it was inspiring to read about people out there who feel like I do day to day, or even worse, and manage to keep going.

So this is the problem du’jour, ADD. Even if I don’t have it the books may prove useful. I’m going to keep going with it.

Work Today

After getting to work REALLY late (as can be tracked by my blog post at 9:30am this morning) I listened to  a co-worker complain for a 1/2 hour about the security screeners at Raven's football games getting too close to grabbing his junk. He's standing at my desk talking loudly and saying, "I didn't fly those planes into those buildings, why are you grabbing my junk? They need to start profiling! This is the United States of America, I'm an American citizen, you can't grab my junk!" So that was very entertaining and I'm sure entertaining for everyone at least 4 cubicles in every direction.

I think I need Ritalin. I have no idea how to spell that, but that drug that makes you be able to focus and get things done. I need that. Cause I'm not getting shit done. And that bothers me. Geez I feel like such a loser. Nada, nothing done today. I try, but I like to talk to people and be entertained.

Maybe it is the consumer society that won't let me shake Christmas that has turned me into a complete moron that can only desire to be fed, comforted and entertained because I have had everything handed to me my entire life. Maybe. So I'll live in my cocoon doing nothing productive until it all catches up to me and I have to live in a tent on 8th Avenue and be fed by church groups. And during the day I'll walk up and down through town with my valuables in a back-pack. And sleep under a tarp in the homeless people city.

I see the church van parked there in the morning when I drive by on my way to work. And if I sit up tall as I'm passing I can see the tops of the tents through the brush. That's what we do with the people who can't keep up the game, we let them go live on a small patch of land that is apparently owned by no one. I guess the police do not bother them. I've never seen a police cruiser there,  only vans with church stuff written down the side.

So see, I need Ritalin so I don't have to live in a tent off 8th ave. That would suck. It's cold and the ground is not very soft. And where do you take a crap?

Disconnected Christmas thoughts

Why can't one opt out of Christmas?

I throw away Christmas cards as soon as I get them.

I haven't sent Christmas cards in at least 5 years.

Years ago I realized I am not a Christian. The family seems fine with that, but you can't opt out of Christmas. No, can't do that. Still gotta buy gifts and eat and bring with you some holiday cheer. Otherwise you might as well opt out of the family altogether.

Why can't people who really love Christmas keep it to themselves? Why does there have to be music and commercials all over the damn place?

When a friend gives me a gift, and I know she's in debt and is underwater in her mortgage, is that really a gift? If she didn't give me a gift, I wouldn't give her a gift, but she keeps doing it each year, so I keep responding.

My husband and I never exchange gifts, ever. Not for Christmas or birthdays or anniversaries. And we are both fine, no not fine, thrilled with that. But it really freaks other people out. They think we could not possibly love each other without buying each other gifts. That freaks me out.

The in-laws do a consumer Christmas. Straight-up consumer Christmas, no church, no games, no traditions, the food is not especially good, but they love it. I don't. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Is it gift giving/receiving if you have to make sure not to buy yourself anything for 6 weeks prior to the holiday to ensure you don't buy yourself what somebody has already wrapped you for a gift?

We are not wealthy by any standards, the in-laws especially are below average income I'm sure. But they nor we are not lacking in anything. There is not one thing they do without.  And none of them have even graduated from high school. Yet they complain they do not have enough. It makes my head spin.

You know the reason there are third world nations? Because they do not have a holiday where everyone in the country buys everyone they know a gift. That's the secret to capitalism, Christmas.

I want out, I've given up the religion, I never send cards, I don't decorate. I've wittled it down to very few people I buy gifts for, yet I cannot completely extract myself with at the same time extracting myself from society. It appears the only way to completely rid yourself of the day is to be born of non-Christian parents.

Yet Another Morning

I don't want to let myself slide down into the darkness, and need the Zoloft again. However, if needed, I would not think twice about taking it.

During the day I can manage well. It's the nights that might sink me. With a roll that should be simply changing positions, my mind fires up and reminds me of things I don't want to be reminded of. Things I don't even want to write down this morning. Things that are not necessary to speak of. Worrying type things, that I do not have any control over. Things that may be acknowledged, but then move on.

My mind grabs me, in the middle of the night, and tries to drag me down. Rumination is what it craves. But I'm trying to stop it at that moment it starts, to just shut it down. Immediately. In all my life I have never ever solved anything in the middle of the night.

When I was on Zoloft I went through a thought process like this:

"Oh, it wasn't depression, it's anxiety."

"Oh, it's not anxiety, it's constant rumination."

"It's not a ruminating habit, it's my inability to heal from one ruminating attack before the next one started."

"I can isolate these attacks and be myself inbetween."

And I can do that.

New Dog

New dog landed in our life. Chihuahua mix. Oh the adventure.

Work and Zoloft

Sometimes I wish I could work everyday.

Now Sunday I was to decorate the Christmas tree and all I have done is destroyed two strands of lights by trying to remove all the bulbs from one and put them into the other. Now neither strand lights. The house is a mess, the breakfast plates still sit on the table. (The husband made the breakfast.)

There's no chance in hell I'm going to get anything done today. It is 5:30pm and dark.

Let's face it, this is pretty good for me. I have been getting along ok at work. It is an easier job than what I had had before. And while I feel it is less prestigious, prestige does not make me feel good. Unless it is for the two seconds when I would tell someone what I did and they seemed impressed. So now, when I get the feeling I should be doing more to live up to my potential, I try to remember how miserable I was when I was doing that. And even then I wasn't sure I was living up to my potential anyways. You know.

But still I do like to work, so I wish I could find a job where I was good at it. All the jobs I have held in my life, I am pretty much barely mediocre. That is not a good feeling for me. I did have moments of doing really well in school, so I had thought that I would replicate that in my adult years, somehow, but it has not happened. Who knew getting an A in calculus was the high-point of my life, as far as achievements go. I try to talk to the husband about this, but he just immediately explodes. Maybe it is because I have asked him 1,000 times what he thinks.

I'm certain part of my disappointment with myself and my working career boils down to two things. My lack of social skills and just going in the wrong direction in college. I majored in engineering. My lack of social skills has always been an albatross, but in some strange way I feel a glimmer of hope regarding this. I believe I can work my way through this, in time. It's going to take a while though. I've never focused on fixing just that, sure I have forced myself to do social activities here and there, but I have never launched an depth self-analysis and come up with some cures for myself. I think I can do it. Years of therapy helped me get over my child-hood and begin to see how to get over depression, but for this next part, I don't need a therapist. I'm just going to write about it, and I know I will see a solution in my writing.

Figuring out what else I could do, besides engineering type jobs, is more difficult. When I suggested this to my therapist she really seemed shocked. Like why would someone want to throw away an engineering degree? And if I had made it through engineering school to begin with, surely I must have some aptitude. You don't just make it through engineering school without any talent, right? Well I'm here to say, yes, I think anybody can make it through engineering school, ok well maybe not anybody, but most people of college-bound intelligence. If you put in the time. Which I did, every evening at the library. Nobody ever believes me when I say that, but it is true. It was not easy for me, and I had little social life.

So I think back, how did I get on this dumb engineering idea? It all started when I was 15 and we moved from a suburb of Washington DC to Pennsylvania. To live with my Grandmother. It was hell. Trust me. For some reason I went from a girl who loved to read and imagined myself being a writer or a historian, to not thinking about any of those things. And for some weird reason, I started aceing every math test I took. My math teacher suggested I double-up on math courses the next year so I could take calculus my senior year. I did that and continued aceing tests. Then I took physics my senior year and did the same, aced every test. It was so strange, as I had never shown any aptitude for math and science before moving to Pennsylvania. I personally think it has something to do with going to a rotten school system and everybody in Pennsylvania was just dumb. I believe that. I received so much praise through this time, and I was a girl to boot! A girl being good at math?! Teachers got hard-ons; I got mis-directed. (Girls supposedly being good at certain things and boys at others is so last century, I wish the whole world would just get over it. My eye doctor always exclaims, "Oh it's the woman engineer!, and I just want to punch him in the nuts.)

I have considered going back to school, but for what? I have a list of about 10 things. But is it worth the time and money? What if I do all that and then I don't like it? So on this I'm thinking about it, but have not gone beyond that. One thing that getting through engineering school did for me, is I do believe I can figure out anything, eventually!

So my job now is technically still 'engineering' but more administrative than what I had been doing. While I'm bummed at not being more prestigious, I am glad I don't feel the stress as much now. Two months ago I stopped taking Zoloft. I had taken it for like 7 years, I think? I can't remember. Over those years I tried numerous times to stop. I remember at the beginning I thought I would take it for a year, and I did. And then I went off of it for a year. And that year got very bad. So I went back on it. I would try now and then to go off of it and would last a week or two. Only to scramble back onto it in a panic. So the past 2-4 months now, I have not taken it. And I did not plan it. I just stopped. Like unconciously or something. That's why it is hard for me to figure out how long it has been since I took a pill. It's like I knew I didn't need it and just stopped. I still have a full bottle in the cabinet.

I'm sure this is connected to having the less prestigious, less stressful job. I need to take advantage of this time. I can't just throw it away worrying about my prestige. I need to use my clear head and think. What can I do now? My head is clearer sans Zoloft. I know it is. My feelings are sharper. Hopefully the dark feelings will not grow like a weed and choke out everything else. I know the dark feelings are there, yeah, I know you're there. You are part of me, but not all of me. It's time to let the rest of me come out, and develop, and maybe pop out a bloom here or there.

"Cheers" signers suck

Here's a tip for anyone out there who feels the least bit humble:

If you encounter anyone who signs their correspondence with the salutation Cheers!, then beware. The signer is an ass.

My research subjects have included employees from two differing companies and numerous family members. The data collection period spanned 8 years.

You can allow some leeway to someone who is organizing a drinking get together, like a party or happy hour. Or anyone actually giving a toast.

However, a person who signs any electronic communication with Cheers! is most certainly an arrogant, male, who struggles to keep their condescending attitudes toward EVERYONE to a slow, quiet grumble. So they're not found out. But I have discovered a tell-tale sign.

Ironically, they use the Cheers! sign-off as a way to emphasize that they are indeed fun guys. Since the Cheers! user generally finds themselves to be superior to everyone around them, they sometimes can feel lonely. Their sign-off let's you know that you may be worthy to receive a tilted glass clink from them. Maybe. Fortunately the Cheers! sign-off is trivial enough that they have not offered their reader any true respect. It would be just a drink after all, and even blathering morons can manage to down a pint. But that drives home the point, the Cheers! user wants you to think he is fun. Beyond that he is quite certain of his unquestionable intellectual superiority. His power over you has been justly anointed on him because of this imbalance in intelligence between himself and everyone around him. Including you.

Start noticing, check out my hypothesis. I would love to hear if anyone in the world has come to the same conclusion. To back up my research.

(Alrighty, I already have feedback, from the husband. I asked him if I was using the word "hypothesis" correctly. Apparently the British use Cheers! all the time. I have heard of this. So I am clarifying that anyone in these United States of America who uses Cheers! is an ass. And come to think of it, they probably picked it up while on a business trip to the UK. Where they did nothing cultural other than notice that many people use Cheers!)

Facebook Anxiety Update

Like many other ubiquitous ideas floating around out there in society that I have learned to largely ignore, I will learn to deal with Facebook.

For example, women's magazines. In my teens and early twenties I did purchase these from time to time, drawn in by their promises. But I quickly learned that reading them did not help me in any way and only made me feel like crap. So I haven't read one of those, nor had the desire in....years.

I've learned to minimize the influence of morning talk shows on my life. At the beginning of my working life I would watch these as I got ready in the morning and I realized they always left me feeling unsettled, un-fitting in, not up with the crowd, and I always felt like the newscasters themselves were actors. So I don't watch them too often and when I do I always have this thought in the back of my mind, "What idiots.". By the way these idiots have also ruined the Thanksgiving Macy's Day Parade.

So the same way I have learned to live in a world with telemarketers calling my house every day, credit card and mortgage offers coming to my home every day, and every time I purchase something the cashier asking me for all my personal information and/or insisting I buy into their bonus/credit/savings plan, all these things that are bad for you, and everybody knows it, but we still let it occur, I will learn to deal with Facebook.

Death, not all it's hyped up to be

This morning I feel better. I lay in bed trying to figure out my entire life and where things went wrong and how they can be fixed. Then I got up, took some Mucinex, took a shower, got dressed and came downstairs to eat and look at my blog.

Suicide is an option, kind of. I used to hold it as the ultimate weapon against everything. I could pull it out at any time and end it all. When things were bad I would just sit and think about pulling a trigger next to my head over, and over and over and over. It does take the edge off. But I don't even own a gun (thank goodness).

I had an insight a couple of years ago. It ruined my death will solve everything theory. The insight has made death seem less like a humongous event that will end it all. A sharp, clear image came to me, of myself, waking up after I died. After a brief second of clarity, all the same emotions and issues and memories I could not get away from in life came flooding back. A wall of a flood, a natural force that was attracted to my mind like a magnet. The powerful force of death had simply pulled us apart for a second.

And then I cried and screamed and smashed the ground with my fists, because I realized I was not going to get anywhere, in any dimension, until I figured these issues out. My years on earth I had wasted, waiting for death, when I should have been using them to sort through the cess-pool of jealousy, guilt and hatred that is with me now, will be with me in the future, and has been with me from all eternity.

Facebook Anxiety

So I google Facebook Anxiety Disorder and there is not as much out there as I thought. However I did find a site, www.socialanxietysupport.com that had a thread about Facebook. After reading some of those I was laughing, then thoughtful, then realized I am making mountains out of mole-hills.

There are many strange isolated people out there. Sometimes it is hard for me to remember that, when in my day to day existence I appear to be the most dysfunctional person I know. But really that is very egotistical. I forget about other people in the world who may not have the good people in their lives like I have; my husband, my co-workers, my mother-in-law, my mom, my sister, my brother, my friend and then my other friend, my nieces and nephews, and some awesome aunts and uncles.

It's really not that bad dear, it's really not that bad.

Facebook Bubbles Surfacing

There are some people I am related to,
that I know I'm related to,
but I don't feel related to.
And I could never quite figure out why.

Looking at Facebook today I realized, the ones I don't feel related to ain't crazy. They -  ain't -  crazy. There aren't no crazy in 'em. And I can't understand that, it's completely foreign. How can I be related to someone who ain't at least a little bit about to go off?
                                                                                                          
I don't have many "friends", my little brother has over 1,000 friends. I briefly had the wild idea of asking all of his friends to be my friends, even though I am 20 years older and none of his friends would have any idea who I am. But it would be interesting to see how they responded. And the more friends I have the less I would have to focus or avoid or try to say "HI" to the few friends I have and that would be less awkward for me. With over 1,000 friends I could sink into oblivion, but it would be a respectable Facebook oblivion.
                                                                                          
I have atrocious social skills, a-tro-cious. I can hang on to a pair of socks longer than a friend. My husband doesn't count, he is held captive and has no escape.
                                                                                           
A good number of the people I look up, good friends from long ago, are not on Facebook. I have a theory that anybody I considered a good friend is probably freaked out by Facebook too!

Shot at and Missed; Shit at and Hit

Today has been one of those days. I barely got anything done that I am paid to do. I did stand around and talk to people and drink coffee all morning. Late in the morning after returning to my desk my cubicle-mate said she had thought I was in a meeting. I clarified for her, "No, I was wandering around the office talking to Ted, then Brandon, then Sean." After fumbling at my desk for half an hour I left for "lunch" and did errands around town and visited my mother-in-law.

~Sigh, sorry, this is taxing to recall.

The cubicle-mate reminds me that our self-reviews are due by Friday. Now reviews are truly awful torture implements devised by corporations to force workers to document how successful they have been at their jobs the past year and if they have completed a small list of extra-curricular activities to prove they are worthy of being promoted into middle management. And as if this is not nauseating enough, all these activities must align with the CEO's goals for the company, so before you can even begin to write your self-review you must complete a couple hours of research to see what you are aligning with.

God I do have to complete the damn thing by Friday...

Since I wasn't working anyway I emailed a friend I had not been in contact with for over a year, "Hey! Wondering how you're doing?!"

Her response a couple hours later, "Good. Busy with work. How are you?"

I contemplate a response, and think and type and backspace, "Good. Adjusting to it getting dark so early."

End of conversation. So an afternoon with spurts of work comes to a close with me reading some white papers on the internet, a last gasp attempt at self-improvement before packing up and heading home.

I check my personal email. There is an email from Facebook. A college friend whom I had left a "Happy Birthday! You're kids are cute!" message on his wall responded with, "They are fun, when can they see their Aunt?!" Now I haven't seen this person in years and I'm wondering if this is the kind of correspondence that should be taking place on his Facebook wall. What do I say? Yeah, let's get together? Is that correct? Does everyone on Facebook need to know? What if I respond inappropriately and then everybody sees what I wrote?

Oh I don't know and I'll never figure it out.

To round out the day, the husband delivers the message that he would feel less stressed out if I could get my own friends and then do things with them.

Blah, blah, blah.

So, at the half-way point of my life, I'm not in high school, I'm not starting a career, I'm not raising any kids, nothing....but I've still got a boat-load of shit I'm trying to figure out.

Thank goodness the sweet husband recorded a bunch of episodes of Being Human, it's a good frickin' show. It's deep, multi-layered. I'm lying on the couch watching it by myself, re-grouping so I can tackle tomorrow.