Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Prayers (Please!)

Everything pretty much the same here.

Had a few good days after seeing the doctor and getting on new meds, but today, I'm back to where I was. 

Supposed to follow up with her tomorrow, and probably will, given that I'm barely holding back the tears at work.

Either that, or I'm sarcastic and sniping at my coworkers.

So much easier to be angry instead of sad, but that just hurts everyone around me.

It's enough that I hurt, that I'm miserable; don't need to make everyone feel the same way.

(Damn, that's mature!)

Also, much easier to write than to carry out in my actions.


I just want this to stop.

I want to stop feeling like crap. Is that too much to ask?

I honestly have not felt this blue since going through menopause and we all know where that got me (although, it did also get me into recovery for my alcoholism).

I don't want to go back to self-medicating, although it's really tempting.  Not with drinking, but with pills.  Somehow, I'm able to convince myself at times that if I start abusing pills, it's not the same as relapsing by picking up a drink, and I know the truth is that it IS the same, that I'd have to white-chip all over again.

Gollygeewhiz, I could use a Xanax or an Ambien or a Valium right now.

Poor me... poor me... pour me a...


So not a good idea!

So, I will put my big-girl panties on tomorrow.

I will shower, put on make-up and a fake smile and phony cheerful attitude and to to work on time and grit my teeth until the end of the day when I can go to the doctor and find out what the heck is going on and hopefully get things straightened out.

Prayers, please.

Seriously, I really need them right now.

I need all the help I can get right now; this is certainly bigger than I am.

But not bigger than my Higher Power, not bigger than my God.  So...

I can't.

He can.

I think I'll let Him.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014


Still wide awake and so sad.

It's 12:52 AM and I have to get up at 5:30AM.

For work.

To get ready to go to a job that I'm beginning to hate.

A job that saps my self-esteem and confidence.

A job that makes me doubt myself, and makes me feel that I am worthless.

I'm seriously thinking of calling in sick.

After all, I'm sick at heart, sick in the bottom of my soul.

So, it wouldn't really be a lie.

But, that would just exacerbate my boss's frustrations and doubts with me.

But, how can I go in, knowing that he thinks I'm an incompetent idiot who will never learn anything, or change what I'm doing wrong?

Worse still, the one person I thought was my friend has gone behind my back and given him a list of complaints about me and my "performance."

Like she's perfect.

Like she doesn't make the exact same mistakes.

My eyes won't stop tearing, and I can't see to write more.

I hope things look better in the morning.

Kill Me Now. Please.

This is the first day in a long while that I've seriously wanted a drink.

Needed a drink.

Needed to just numb out and not feel.

I didn't drink... but I wanted to.

I'm glad I didn't drink, but I'm scared.

I'm almost 7 years sober now, and I've heard that the 7 year mark seems to be a danger point for some obscure reason.

All I know is I had one of the worst days at work that I've had in at least a year.  It ended with my sobbing so hard in the parking lot at the end of the day that at first, I could not even get into my car.

Huge, racking sobs.

The kind that terminate in hiccups and shuddering breaths, hours after the initial episode.

The kind that suddenly and inexplicably begin again while watching Real Housewives. Or some sappy, obviously manipulative tear-jerking commercial on TV.

I'm doubting my intelligence, my abilities, my personality traits, my maturity level, and even my reason for being on this planet.

Do I seriously not have the capability to perform a job that anyone with a high school diploma or GED (not judging) can do?

I'll obviously never get promoted.

Demoted or fired is more like it.

Another year on a "final warning." Fun times.

I don't know how to fix this.

How to fix ME.

I do know that a drink won't fix it. Or me.

But, sometimes I sure do wish I could have one.