The doctor's taken me off work for eight weeks.
I guess you must have an idea how this blog post's going to go, eh? That eight weeks off isn't due to any kind of physical injury, though some of that went on. But this year's been a shit-show for me up to this point. Things are happening that I dreaded for a long time might happen.
Don't get me wrong, there are things I appreciate in my life despite the crap that's orbiting it these days. My wife has been my rock, first off. She's my voice when I can't find my own. She's my backstop when I feel like I'm losing my balance. Our cat Marbles is always at home to greet me when I come through the door. I like to immerse myself in cable news to try to make sense out of the bigger pictures.
But one thing I did this year was shut down social media for Lent season. That did help, and it made me realize how toxic places like facebook have become. I refrain now for the most part on commenting on political issues, because it's just preaching to the choir. Those who don't want to join the choir never will no matter how much you coax or plead them or enlighten them. What you see as light is dark to too many others, and I'm just not energetic enough to change anyone's mind anymore. There are opinions and there are facts, and the line is increasingly blurred between the two in this world today.
That being said, it makes for a far more stressful world, and it certainly doesn't help people with a condition like mine. When you're in the water walking towards the ocean and the water's getting higher and you can't swim, there are less and less people around you to help. Some of them will shove your head right under. And I can't swim anyway, so....
It's been three months since I've had a new manager where I work, a job I've had for 10 1/2 years. I won't put blame on any one person, but my job has turned upside down. The corporation that owns the place is quite cold and greedy, slicing jobs away every year in the name of shareholder profits. This leaves those who are left to work extra hard. And look... I already work extra hard. Always have. Add more work to this equation and you'll get a reliable formula for stress. This year I've had the finger pointed at me for things I didn't do, or am responsible for.
I don't want to draw this out too long, so I'll just say that one day, April 22 (unfortunately in this case, my dear daughter's 25th birthday), after a highly stressful day at work, following a highly stressful beginning of the year, I drove home praying to God to give me strength to withstand what I was feeling. When I got home, I went to give Marbles his treats when I stumbled for a moment, flew into a rage and dropped my body cold and flat on my back on the hard floor. I thought I broke my ribs in my back. I was barely able to crawl to the couch and message 'help' to Janice several times. She rushed home and found me hunched over on the couch, struggling to breathe. I felt horrible, but I didn't know specifically what was wrong, other than I suffered an overwhelming anxiety attack. My back hurt, my chest hurt, and I couldn't talk. I managed to get to bed and lay flat to try to calm down, with Janice's help and coaching. As it turns out, I was sent for x-rays which turned out negative. Still, I can't sleep on my left side or do much with my left arm because of pain. After Janice talked to our doctor, he took me off work for two months so I could try to center myself. This I found out today.
The year started off innocently enough, with me taking two weeks off for throat surgery, only to find out I have to go back and get it done again. But when I went back to work, a lot had changed. I was warned that it would. That didn't make it easier to deal with.
Now I'm left wondering... this has happened a lot. Ultimately, I don't think it's just work. It's ME. There's a lot wrong with ME. And as time goes on, it seems to be getting more difficult to handle. I doubled up my meds, which helped, but I feel like I'm chasing my tail. Like there's no end to this vortex I'm stuck in. And I don't have anyone professional to talk to outside of my physician.
It leaves me wondering: is permanent disability in my near future? I really, really, really don't want that. I want to be a productive member of society and earn my keep. But why is it so hard to find work that I don't hate? I'm admittedly devoid of skills. I'm not a professional at anything and don't think I ever will be, but I won't count it completely out either. I just don't know what to do at this stage in my life. It's a bit of a crossroads, because I don't know how smart it is to go back to the job that seems to be triggering all this darkness in me.
Now I have a couple of months to figure out what to do next. In this current job market, I don't have a hell of a lot of options. Perhaps I'll take up writing more, sending out op-eds to national news outlets and seeing if anyone notices. It couldn't hurt. The worst I could do is not try at all. Maybe I could finish writing the story I started that's half done.
One thing is for sure, I'm infinitely grateful for the patience Janice has shown me through this. Not everyone has that kind of constitution. I have a lot of friends who couldn't be bothered with some whiny nincompoop who can't seem to outrun the storm clouds over his head. I don't blame them. But I appreciate those who actually show they care at all. And I still love all the others. I guess it's me that I don't really love.
But I don't for the life of me understand the whole "self love" thing. I don't know how that works. I don't know how to administer love to myself or pat myself on the back or anything. I guess that's what professionals are good at, helping you love yourself. But I can't find any. Psychologists cost money, and psychiatrists do too, unless you want to be put on a waiting list and be seen by one seven years later, like I did. And even then, there are only two... "2".... psychiatrists in this city. One of them dropped me. And the other isn't taking any more patients. That means pay to play, or go home. So, home it is. The self-help thing is a non starter for me. It's too cold and lonely and unsupportive for someone as deeply damaged as I appear to be.
Anyway, I now have an abundance of time to figure out how to navigate work life and personal life before I try to dive back in. It's pretty scary. I'm not a young pup anymore, and uncertainly like that at my age is quite frightening. I'll have to watch the wheels go round and round and see where they'll roll.
Thanks for reading as always. And God bless.
