image �1999, darrel anderson - www.braid.com

Please Disregard
2003-11-24 � 1:24 p.m.

All of the email I have sent out to people this morning has gone (basically) unreplied to. Our database is running only off of the backup server due to some rackspace movement that took place over the weeekend, so performing complicated queries is super slow...and all my queries are complicated (or so I must assume, since all the things I try to do take FOREVER). Plus I don't wanna do work anyway.

So that leaves me with the options of surfing the web (not really possible, since I couldn't get away with it — I sit at the very front of the office, and everyone can see my monitor) or writing a diary entry.

Guess which won?

I haven't been very motivated lately. To post here or do much of anything else, really. Work is travesty due to my inability to deal with the ruin of my own brain, and I am currently bouncing back and forth between medical professionals in an attempt to both find some sort of functionality and preserve my employment.

Have I not mentioned this? Yeah, I know I haven't. I am quite ashamed of my own behavior, and since my coping mechanism for things that I find unpleasant is to ignore/avoid/mentally distance myself from them, things like that don't get much airplay on Radio Temek.

Yes, I almost lost my job. Not because I don't do my job well (I am told that I do, though I find this hard to believe, because I don't believe things like that about myself), but because I didn't show up. For like a week.

More than once.

Yes, yes, yes — this is unsupportable behavior! I know this, and even as I am engaging in it I know it. And I feel guilty and ashamed and disgusted and angry with myself, but that does a whole lot of no good.

See, I'm used to being depressed. Really, I am. That doesn't mean that it doesn't suck, because let's face it, that's pretty much the definition of the disease: everything sucks. But I've been depressed basically my whole life, so at least I'm used to it.

This new thing, though...this has me baffled. I have never experienced this kind of behavior before, and I don't really know what to do about it. My standard method of dealing with things is ultra-broken anyway, and avoiding this doesn't make it go away, it only seems to make it worse (probably because this is like some sort of extreme manifestation of the very same behavior).

It started about nine or ten months ago, I guess. Maybe a year, but no more than that. I just go into this state where I cannot deal. The thought of having to speak to anyone, or leave my room and drive my car and eat food and talk on the phone and comb my hair and do all those things you need to do everyday to just to live — all those things are just too much, and I shut down.

I don't feel depressed during this time (I don't think so anyway; my ability to accurately gauge my emotions is pretty poor at the best of times), I just disconnect. I will do ANYTHING to avoid thinking about what I am NOT doing: read (this last time I read over five hundred pages a day, devouring books like I needed them to live), watch television and/or movies, play video games, sleep, etc. This goes on for a few days, and then I start to kind of "emerge." Then what I have come to call the "second stage" kicks in where I am so sick with regret and worry and guilt over how I have been behaving that I can't deal with THAT either.

Argh. I can't believe I am writing this down. It's so pathetic.

So yeah -- these "episodes" or "fits" or *whatever*, they happen about once every two or three months for the last nine to twelve months. I have not been able to identify any sort of triggering event, which makes it hard to avoid. I guess I just have to chalk it up to my lovely brain chemistry throwing me another curve ball — like I wasn't already dealing with enough, what with being a depressive with extremely maladaptive social behaviors. Now I also get to lapse into near catatonia! Sweet! This does tons for my self-image too, as I am sure you can imagine, and lord knows that poor wrinkled little husk can't take much more abuse.

And of course all of this results in piles and piles of stuff that I hate: having to go to the doctor, having to explain to people what is going on, getting asked by coworkers where I have been, if I am alright, etc. Ugh. I hate that, I hate it!

When people care about me it hurts me. It's like this burden, a weight on my chest. I can't stand it. Knowing people are worrying about me, wondering what's wrong with me, that makes me want to run away from them. I would prefer harsh words and recriminations. Surely that is no more than I deserve, but this kind of mushy "we need you, we understand, but you need to do better" crap just turns my stomach and threatens to overwhelm me with...with...I don't even know what it is, just that it makes me uncomfortable in the extreme.

All of these behaviors taken together make me physically ill. I literally want to vomit. Why must I behave this way? The fact that it is completely involuntary makes me feel trapped, like I am a prisoner in some sort of horrible place where the jailers perform grotesque experiments on your brain.

"Ah, next we will rewire subject 2947's brain so that he can only react to human kindness with fear and suspician."

"Brilliant! Let us also increase his social anxiety to the point where having direct conversations with other subjects invokes the fight or flight response."

"Superb! You have a truly diabolical mind, Dr. Spanglestein."

"Thank you, thank you. Surely it is only a pale shadow of the evil you are capable of conjuring forth, Dr. Spectt!"

(Much evil laughter.)

Plus my back hurts. Don't ever mess with your backs, kids. It is a fragile and misunderstood thing that can haunt you for your entire life. Being freakishly thin with bad posture does not help to ease the pains from previous injury.

I better do some sort of work now. Maybe I'll look for another job? I don't know. Anyway, it's almost time for lunch.

-t

Currently Aurally Inducing:
Selection of the Lyrical Vocabulary:

[ last ] [ next ]

Int4rw3b Personals
Gene Wolfe
Image Fix
Again, I Return. (Gonna have to knock this off...)
A Return of Sorts

newest
older
diaryland
contact
guestbook
HL
BVDI