Wild Ride Inside

It’s been a wild ride this week.  I’d been consistently and stably depressed for several weeks now, but on Monday I woke up early with my husband and we went for a walk.  I felt pretty good that day.  Tuesday was not a great day until I went to see the transit.  Then I got excited and hardly slept that night. I felt just a little bit manic, but I don’t think it was that.  However, I had leftover energy when I saw my pdoc on Wed, so we decided not to change my meds, except to add Strattera.  (More on that later.)  Yesterday was a down day because I hurt all over.  I little bit of a fever in the morning, with a sore throat and earache.  I was better by late afternoon and back to my normal level of depression.  Then there was today.

I don’t know what is going on with me emotionally today.  I am all over the place – on the wrong side of town.  I didn’t want to get up this morning.  I was dreaming about shooting bad guys (like in Halo) with Batman.  I couldn’t find ammunition for the guns.  I had 3 guns and no ammo.  Batman, myself, and another superhero who I can’t remember, were in this house plotting how to take down the bad guys.  We needed weapons and ammo.  A group of kids came by the house selling firecrackers, bullets, and laser weapons.  Batman bought a laser weapon that shot yellow “pellets” (bursts) of light.  He was very enamored of it.  He bought me some ammo but when we went out to get the bad guys, it turned out to be light ammo – both laser like and far less powerful than real bullets.  So here I am, stuck in a war zone between good and evil, with 3 different guns (rifle, shotgun and pistol) and four bullets that don’t fit any of these guns.  Halo was far easier than this.  I woke up at some point.  I might have been shot or captured by the bad guys – I don’t know.  It was a really whacked out dream.  I’m sure it means something.  Maybe I’m struggling to fight my demons but running out of energy.  That still doesn’t explain Batman.

Despite this exciting dream, I woke up lethargic and depressed.  I almost forgot my hair appt.  I called my hairdresser to ask her what time it was and she called me back when I had 20min to get ready.  I hadn’t even had a shower yet.  But I had to take one because my last shower was Monday (I think).  I don’t go out so unless my husband thinks I smell, what’s the point?  (Depression talking, I know.)  So I went to my appt (late) feeling completely numb.  I didn’t talk much – I let her do most of the talking.  (When she gets going, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise anyway.)  So I just let her ramble on about how great her life is and everything.  Inside my head, I’m screaming: I don’t care! I just wanted my hair to be done and to get out of there.  I didn’t want to hear how wonderful someone else’s life is.  I had her flatiron my hair.  Appropriate.  My emotions were as flat as my hair.

Fast forward to this afternoon.  I’ve been procrastinating on making this phone call about a reduced conference registration for the unemployed.  I know the lady and she is very nice, but apparently hard to get a hold of.  I went through the operator, who made me explain why I wanted to talk to this specific person, and I swear my cheeks were burning as I stumbled over my words.  Finally, I got put through to her voicemail and left a message.  It’s Friday, she didn’t call me back, no surprise.

But then I went to the conference website and looked at the program for the conference.  And then I saw it.  The work that I started with Dr. B (history of this story in 15 minutes of fury) was being presented at this conference.  Just him and the new girl.  My contributions gone.  I don’t think I ever wrote about this part before, but I informed my supervisor of my involvement in the project. I found out later that management claimed to have investigated my work and determined that I had no involvement.  So not only was my work STOLEN, my integrity was QUESTIONED.  I was furious when I found that out.  I had research journals as proof and they basically called me liar.  Backstabbing, hypocritical, lying, cheating, narcissistic bastard (literally).  And there it is – to be presented to the public at this conference as their work alone.  Just as it was presented to the company as their work alone.  Dr. Bastard always gets what he wants no matter what he has to do to get it.  Entitled, selfish, retirement-aged, spoiled brat.

When I saw that, I was angry.  Who wouldn’t be in my situation?  But it’s nothing new, so I set it aside.  Then I decided to go make myself a second cup of decaf coffee to help relax.  While setting it up, I dropped the filter and the holder (I have a Keurig) on the floor.  I snapped.  Like a dry twig. The filter and holder were on the floor and coffee was everywhere.  I stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the mirror on the dresser.  The cat scattered as my feet heralded fury and pain pounding across the floor.  I fell face-first on the bed.  And couldn’t cry.  The emotions were there but I couldn’t access them.  It’s like they were trapped in a type of glue of indifference.  A few tears came eventually, but not a hard rain, like the kind that dries you out.  No, the pain is just reabsorbed and dulled into nothing.  I am trapped in my own mind.  Sucked into a hole of non-existence.

Another part of me feels like there is a mini-me running around inside my head, pounding on my skull (maybe that’s where the headaches are coming from), bored, tired, counting the days until nothing.  Wanting out, an escape, anything.  Maybe I should be afraid of that mini-me.

My life as of late is not just full of pretty pictures.  I put that out there for you to see without becoming tired of my inner monologue.  My life is boring but depressing, and full of frustration.  I feel like I am desperately trying to climb a hill on a stationary bike.

And if you have made it this far, then thank you for reading.  I really had to get this off my chest.
 

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