Friday, 01 February 2013

• My Inglorious Life

  According to Facebook, most of my friends are leading happy and fulfilling lives. But, come on. This is Facebook. Don't we all just post the happy and fulfilling moments of our lives and quietly not type the rest? I'm thinking about breaking social convention and putting the lowlights of my life, but I want to practice here.

  First of all...dang, there's a smudge on my glasses. That's irritating. Darn thing won't come off. Hang on. Okay, better now. 

  Start over. 

  First of all, I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago. I had a bunch of little bugaboos. Nothing big enough to warrant going, but I figured it was probably time for the annual check-up and enough bugaboos had accumulated. I went to the clinic and filled out the little survey forms, checking yes or no for all the symptoms. I was sitting on the exam table wearing nothing but paper, trying not to freak out, when my awesome PA came in. She was looking down at her chart when she opened the door, and when she looked up to greet me, she said, "You're really a mess, aren't you?" She started looking me over, said I didn't have to do the lady exam (HOT DAWG!) and we got to talking about all my little bugaboos. Suddenly, I burst into tears. Shit. Where'd that come from? I told her with tears streaming down my face, that I'd been bursting into tears a lot lately - like almost every other morning on my drive to work. 

  Hmmm. "Well," she said, "this is likely one of two things. Either you're having a thyroid problem - which we'll do some blood work to check hormone levels and do a blood count while we're at it, to make sure you're not anemic - OR you're depressed."

  Crap.

  I was crossing my fingers for a thyroid problem because I hate being depressed. Depression came and went (self-diagnosed) in college. Thyroid problems run in my family. I had almost convinced myself it was my thyroid when she called me a few days later with the results. My blood looks fine. Shoot. She started me on happy pills. 

  It's the weirdest thing, not crying every other day. I like it. It's been a while.

  So there's my Inglorious Confession #1.

  Inglorious Confession #2:

  My "position was eliminated" yesterday at 5:00. This job was just supposed to be a part-time job to get me through a summer, but it turned into a full time job that got me through a little over two years. I've been a receptionist/telephone operator/purchasing assistant/customer service assistant/accounting assistant. 

  ...CRAP! BRB!

  Okay, I'm back. I'll explain that one in IC#3. 

  Where was I? Oh, right. Laid off. The company has not been doing so well. Even I, with no business degree, can see some of the things they need to change (namely, their overall attitude about and toward their customers), but who's going to listen to me? They said they were letting me go as a business decision and not because of anything I did or did not do. They stressed that they liked me and were sad to do this. Blah blah blah. 

  A large part of my depression can be tied to my frustration at working a job that doesn't even require a High School degree when I have a Master's Degree. I have no regrets about taking some time off from school. I needed to experience life outside of a school. But that life showed me I'm built more for an academic career. I need mental stimulation, something I was not getting through basic order entry. I also need physical stimulation. Sitting on my ass all day has not been good. I've been gaining weight, dang it all! I was so excited this summer to get down to a size 6 (coming from a grad school size 12). I can still jam myself into the sixes, but I'm glad/irritated that I kept the 8s around in my closet. I gain weight when I'm depressed and I get depressed when I gain weight. Awesome, right?

  So getting laid off, while massively inconvenient (especially at this wretched wintry time of year), has also been a little bit of a guilty relief. A little weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Now I just need to figure out what to do next, collect unemployment (ick), and...yeah. Figure it all out.

  Inglorious Confession #3:

  I was all about sleeping in today, what with not having to go to work and all. But I woke up at a quarter to six feeling...odd. I tried turning over and felt a little more urgently odd. I sat up and heaved. OH SHIT! I started to swing my legs over my bed and heaved again. WHAT THE F**** IS THIS??? I asked myself. I haven't puked in about 15 years. This was unprecedented. Nothing had come up yet, but I was getting that influx of warm saliva that even over the past 15 years of not puking, I'd get while nauseated. I haven't heaved in 15 years. 

  I live with my roommate in a shotgun apartment. Her bedroom is off the middle of the apartment, mine is all the way to the window you'd shoot the bullet through. The bathroom is by the door. While it's a small apartment, I was thinking it kind of sucked right then to be the furthest away from the bathroom I could be.

  I started shuffling toward the bathroom. Heave. Shuffle faster. Heave. Scrabble at the bathroom door. 

  Over all my years of college, when I've had roommates who have gotten drunk or genuinely sick and started heaving over the toilet, I was NOT the friend who would hold their hair back. The sound of the heaving and retching sent me running. And the idea of sticking my face over the toilet bowl...DISGUSTING. No thank you.

  It's amazing how fast one gets over that.

  I threw the lids up and bent over the bowl, heaving violently and uncontrollably. 

  A whole lotta spit but nothing actually came up. 

  <break for round 3>

  I collapsed on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall. I felt really, really hot and sweaty. I was wearing a hoodie, but was too tired and too afraid to move to take it off. I sat a little longer and started feeling really, really cold and started shivering. Awesome.

  <break for a nap>

  And that's where I am, guys. Depressed, unemployed, and ill. I can go a few hours feeling tentatively okay, as long as i don't move too quickly. But then I'll start violently heaving with nothing to show for it. I just drank a few sips of water, and I still think that was scary. I've been afraid of putting anything in my tummy. No happy pill today. No food. Just the smallest bit of water, tentatively sipped.

  My inglorious life.

   

  (I hope I didn't make any of you sick from reading this!)

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