Yeah, I’ve been MIA for a while. Not just from this blog but from social media as well. In some ways it’s been a good thing, in other ways, not such a good thing.
I think that the last two blog entries I posted were on the same day or in some other way relatively close to each other and on one of those entries, one of the people I used to be close to left a comment. It occurred to me at that point that, while it’s clear that they hate me, don’t want me in their lives, and don’t want me attempting any contact with them, I was giving them unfettered access to me and my life and my thoughts. Every time I posted a blog entry, they could, if they chose, watch me self-destruct. I felt like I was creating “disaster porn” for them or something. I was not okay with that. I stopped posting on the blog and I stopped logging on to Facebook entirely. As long as I wasn’t posting anything and was still on leave from work, they had exactly the same access to me as I had to them. But then the doctor decided that I was ready to go back to work on October 3rd and I suddenly had to deal with the reality that I was going to have to be around one of them for the majority of my day. I had thought that the doctor would extend the leave of absence past the end of September but that didn’t happen. I had to go back to work and learn how to deal with this new reality.
I figured that if I completely changed my routine, down to where I parked my car in the morning, and constantly had at least one earbud in while listening to music – and then put the other one in if that person came into the room – I would be relatively okay. I was taking these steps not only to protect myself but also so that I didn’t inflict my presence on anyone that might not want me around. Putting it simply, that didn’t work. Sure, there were people who seemed genuinely pleased to see me and were glad I was back, but it absolutely felt like I was walking into a viper pit. I have no idea what people might have heard. But it sure felt like some people were giving me the evil eye in the hope that’d I drop dead.
I used to LOVE being there, in that room, with those people. Now? I was just kind of waiting for the executioner to show up or something. I went home on Wednesday and fell apart; physically, emotionally, and mentally. Suicide was looking like a pretty good solution again. I was tempted to get out my Xacto knife again. I didn’t, but I was seriously thinking about it. I still am. And I’d somehow managed to make myself physically sick over having been there in addition to all of the all-too-familiar stuff like shaking, jumping at small noises, crying at the drop of a hat, tight chest, and wanting to fold myself into a corner while screaming. You know, normal stuff associated with anxiety. I called out on Thursday and Friday. The entire company had today off (because SOMEHOW, celebrating a guy that kicked off genocide and the slave trade on this continent in the name of maintaining an American origin story fairy tale is still a thing) but I had already scheduled an appointment with my doctor just after my last visit. Seriously, today is a national holiday but the local junior college still had classes, my doctor’s office was open, and my employer was closed. I double and triple checked last week and I knew I really did have an appointment today. (That’s not really relevant to me and my situation, but it sure was confusing.)
Long story short, the doctor took me off of work again. Now I need to figure out what I can do to keep from falling apart again when I go back. I had actually convinced myself that I could definitely handle it and I was kind of shocked by how quickly I deteriorated. I think a contributing factor was that I’d stopped posting here and withdrawn from online interaction as well as texting, phone calls, and face-to-face interaction.
So, yeah, I’m still bothered that by posting here I’m giving people that obviously hate me a look in but I need to have an outlet. I’m not planning on going back to Facebook, though. That site is seriously bad for me for myriad reasons. Not all of those reasons have to do with this personal stuff. I thought political stuff on Facebook was awful BEFORE I stopped posting there directly. I don’t even want to know what it’s come to since the last time I was on there! I can’t remember any other political debate being advertised as though it were a pro-wrestling match and every commercial I caught for this most recent debate was definitely like that. I was expecting John Cena to show up or something. I have enough shit I’m dealing with in my own head, I sure don’t need to add political arguments on Facebook to the mix. Not to mention, I couldn’t help but keep an eye out for these people liking or commenting on mutual friends’ posts just to see if they’d blocked me or something. That’s stupid. And it was making everything worse.
I have no idea where to begin building myself back up into some semblance of a functioning person. None. I do know that I will not try to initiate contact with ANYONE. People I have communicated with have contacted me first and that’s how I think I need to be for a long time. I don’t want to risk getting hurt and I don’t want to risk hurting others. Period. I know that writing this blog helped a bit so I’m going back to that even if it is “disaster porn.” Screw it. No one is forcing anyone to read what I write here. It’s my fucking blog, my fucking life, and my fucking decision to use this as an outlet. If watching me self-destruct is entertainment for some people, might I recommend following this presidential election instead? It’s much more fucked up than the inside of my head. I have work to do to learn how to get on with my life and I need to remember that that is more important than worrying about who is or isn’t reading my blog and what their reasons for reading it might be. I doubt I’ll post every day but I’m not going to actively avoid it any longer.