Oh, I am in a MOOD! Which is interesting because I never seem to be able to reflect my moods through my online self. I can be weeping uncontrollably, but still manage to post something light-hearted on Facebook. Hell, I can’t even seem to BLOG in any way other than happy. Today, I plan to change that.
Because I’m not happy right now. I should be positively jubilant because I got an amazing volunteeer job as the social media coordinator for a local non-profit. If I can help someone with 140 characters or fewer, it pays off in dividends that surpass any amount of money. Technically, I am jubilant about this new opportunity. But my glee is at war with my PMS and PMS is winning.
I woke up feeling the highest of highs. I was getting ready for the interview with Vision Literacy – which, by the way, you need to “like” on Facebook and follow on Twitter (@visionliteracy) – and feeling so confident that I’d charm the pants off of them that any sense of stress, worry or insecurity flew straight out the window. Then I came home with a new job and ideas brimming and was still happy. Then … I just stopped being happy. Then everything suddenly seemed rotten.
I consider myself a “tortured artist.” Really, what talented professional is really good at what they do without being really messed up in one way or another? I fall into the “totally mental” category. Full disclosure? I’m hypo-manic-depressive. It sounds bad, but it’s actually bi-polar lite. And I’ve learned to live with the diagnosis, but I’m still learning to live with the effects it has on my daily life. Like how I can go from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in a matter of hours. Sometimes even minutes.
Today’s issue: I’m uncomfortable. Yeah – first world pain. I know. Poor me. But what sounds petty and minor somehow becomes overwhelming and major in my head. And when I’m in this state, it’s really hard to get out of my head. Rationalizing doesn’t work until the mood goes away. I can’t find any perspective. Right now, the fact that people are dying of AIDS by the thousands in Africa doesn’t even hold a candle to the fact that I’m uncomfortable. How sad is that?? I am “forced” to telecommute for my jobs and therefore work primarily from the relative “comfort” of my living room couch. And right now, I HATE THAT! Sitting around all day is just awful.
Here was my thought process earlier tonight:
I can’t get comfortable.
My butt hurts.
My back hurts.
I need to get out of the house.
I can’t wait to get home.
I’m wide awake.
I want to go to bed.
I don’t want to stay in bed.
I want to smoke.
But why did I just light this cigarette?
I want to have a drink.
But this drink doesn’t taste good to me right now.
I could go on forever.
I hope I’m not alone. I feel like I am. I know millions of people suffer depression and anxiety like I do, but I feel like I’m the only one who suffers from it in my own particular way. Which is a scary thought.
And now you know way more about me than you ever wanted to know. I hope you still respect me in the morning. Because add my insomnia to all this and I’ll be seeing the morning soon enough and your respect is important to me.