Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Descending Into Chaos
I can't keep it together anymore. Think I just had my first panic attack. Order of business number one is to find a therapist. Just sayin'.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Not Doing So Well
These days have been rough. I've been really, really depressed. Two weeks ago, my brother came to visit and I was having a lot of anxiety about it because he binge drinks and I was afraid something bad was going to happen to him.
So I dealt with it by drinking way more than I have in a long time and was very sick for 2 days afterwards. I have completely terrible hangovers, and I usually vomit repeatedly for about 6-8 hours before I can keep even water down. Then, my house was wrecked because he is very messy and I had no energy to clean it for about 4 days of recover afterwards. Having a messy house causes me a lot of anxiety, but I've never been able to keep my house or room clean...not in my whole life. My mom is the same way, and it was a daily argument. Obviously I have issues with cleaning and clutter.
Then, there was a rare opening in my office for an editorial position. For me. To be our editorial director. To be the editor of 3 magazines. It's a tough job, and while arguably tougher than my current job (if that's possible) it might be actually easier for me. It would be, sort of, a dream come true. Then, my bosses, the pathetic pigs that they are, knowing how badly I want the position, offered me 13,000 a year less than what the current girl was getting paid, which is about 5,000 less than I make now. I counter-offered. All I asked for were my sales commissions that I have been working for for the last 6 months. They said, sure, fine, we'll work out the details on Monday.
Which brings me to one week ago, when I traveled a few hours away for my friend's engagement party. Which was fun. I tried to be more careful with my drinking, but they were all med students and lots of single guys who thought it was fun that I didn't bring my boyfriend (he was out of town) and kept bringing me "sangria". Well, I thought that sangria is mostly wine, fruit, and usually a little spike of liquor. So I can probably have a few of those, right? Right. Unless the sangria is actually "Apple 99" with some lime in it...99 proof apple everclear basically. Which means that I spend another Sunday on the bathroom floor. I literally took one sip of water in the kitchen, and 10 seconds later had to run back to the bathroom to throw it up. The med students gave me some prescription anti-nausea pill, which I also promptly vomited up. I'm just now recovering from that.
Then my bosses screwed me. When I went back to work on Monday, they told me that they couldn't give me my hard-earned sales commissions, couldn't raise the base salary, it would be a pay cut, they didn't believe in the value of editorial, "too bad" they literally said. They basically told a few other people that they could take advantage of me because they knew I wanted the job so much. Well, I didn't take their bluff. I may be young, I may be a woman BUT I AM NOT STUPID. I told them no, I told them I'll keep my current job. They were shocked, and the magazine may shut down now if they can't find anyone else. Too bad. Those guys are disgusting, greedy pigs (one of them called me "greedy" for asking for a living wage).
So I gave up my dreams to make a stand, in a way. That night, that magazine's salesperson's son had to go have emergency brain surgery. Which was horrifying and sad. And also means that now, there are 1.5 salespeople who are supposed to sell 100,000+ worth of advertising in the next few weeks all by ourselves. I'm so stressed about it I can hardly stand it. So who cares? It's not my business, it's just a job, it's not a big problem. But the crux of the matter is this...
I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I need therapy or pills, but I also don't believe that any of those things will really work. My last therapist basically stopped responding to me with no explanation. I can't call any therapists to find a new one because their hours are all during business hours. How convenient it must be to have a mental illness that confines itself to business hours, and to also be unemployed. UM, HELLO? DON'T PEOPLE WITH JOBS NEED MENTAL HEALTH TREATMENT TOO? Why do all of these places only schedule appointments between 9-3? It's the biggest racket I've ever heard of anyways.
Yesterday, I came home from work after trying to relieve stress through exercise, which only made it worse, and got in bed about 5:30 and refused to move for 3 hours. I screamed a little, and cried a little, but refused to get up until my boyfriend gave me some weed, which makes me feel like shit, but at least made me stop wanting to die. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to my friend's stupid wedding shower, but I'm fat, my skin is broken out, I don't have anything ready, and quite frankly, could stay in bed all weekend crying and not even care.
I'm sorry for such a horrible and long post, but I guess I just needed to get it out there anyways. If you actually stuck with me, I commend you. I don't really expect anyone to read this, that's OK. I guess it's just for me.
So I dealt with it by drinking way more than I have in a long time and was very sick for 2 days afterwards. I have completely terrible hangovers, and I usually vomit repeatedly for about 6-8 hours before I can keep even water down. Then, my house was wrecked because he is very messy and I had no energy to clean it for about 4 days of recover afterwards. Having a messy house causes me a lot of anxiety, but I've never been able to keep my house or room clean...not in my whole life. My mom is the same way, and it was a daily argument. Obviously I have issues with cleaning and clutter.
Then, there was a rare opening in my office for an editorial position. For me. To be our editorial director. To be the editor of 3 magazines. It's a tough job, and while arguably tougher than my current job (if that's possible) it might be actually easier for me. It would be, sort of, a dream come true. Then, my bosses, the pathetic pigs that they are, knowing how badly I want the position, offered me 13,000 a year less than what the current girl was getting paid, which is about 5,000 less than I make now. I counter-offered. All I asked for were my sales commissions that I have been working for for the last 6 months. They said, sure, fine, we'll work out the details on Monday.
Which brings me to one week ago, when I traveled a few hours away for my friend's engagement party. Which was fun. I tried to be more careful with my drinking, but they were all med students and lots of single guys who thought it was fun that I didn't bring my boyfriend (he was out of town) and kept bringing me "sangria". Well, I thought that sangria is mostly wine, fruit, and usually a little spike of liquor. So I can probably have a few of those, right? Right. Unless the sangria is actually "Apple 99" with some lime in it...99 proof apple everclear basically. Which means that I spend another Sunday on the bathroom floor. I literally took one sip of water in the kitchen, and 10 seconds later had to run back to the bathroom to throw it up. The med students gave me some prescription anti-nausea pill, which I also promptly vomited up. I'm just now recovering from that.
Then my bosses screwed me. When I went back to work on Monday, they told me that they couldn't give me my hard-earned sales commissions, couldn't raise the base salary, it would be a pay cut, they didn't believe in the value of editorial, "too bad" they literally said. They basically told a few other people that they could take advantage of me because they knew I wanted the job so much. Well, I didn't take their bluff. I may be young, I may be a woman BUT I AM NOT STUPID. I told them no, I told them I'll keep my current job. They were shocked, and the magazine may shut down now if they can't find anyone else. Too bad. Those guys are disgusting, greedy pigs (one of them called me "greedy" for asking for a living wage).
So I gave up my dreams to make a stand, in a way. That night, that magazine's salesperson's son had to go have emergency brain surgery. Which was horrifying and sad. And also means that now, there are 1.5 salespeople who are supposed to sell 100,000+ worth of advertising in the next few weeks all by ourselves. I'm so stressed about it I can hardly stand it. So who cares? It's not my business, it's just a job, it's not a big problem. But the crux of the matter is this...
I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I need therapy or pills, but I also don't believe that any of those things will really work. My last therapist basically stopped responding to me with no explanation. I can't call any therapists to find a new one because their hours are all during business hours. How convenient it must be to have a mental illness that confines itself to business hours, and to also be unemployed. UM, HELLO? DON'T PEOPLE WITH JOBS NEED MENTAL HEALTH TREATMENT TOO? Why do all of these places only schedule appointments between 9-3? It's the biggest racket I've ever heard of anyways.
Yesterday, I came home from work after trying to relieve stress through exercise, which only made it worse, and got in bed about 5:30 and refused to move for 3 hours. I screamed a little, and cried a little, but refused to get up until my boyfriend gave me some weed, which makes me feel like shit, but at least made me stop wanting to die. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to my friend's stupid wedding shower, but I'm fat, my skin is broken out, I don't have anything ready, and quite frankly, could stay in bed all weekend crying and not even care.
I'm sorry for such a horrible and long post, but I guess I just needed to get it out there anyways. If you actually stuck with me, I commend you. I don't really expect anyone to read this, that's OK. I guess it's just for me.
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