I am at my absolute worst right now. This rage I am feeling is so much more dangerous than my deep depression. I hope I can somehow manage it. I feel like taking one of the emergency anti anxiety pills but I know I have to do everything I can not to get into that habit.
I think this is Borderline at its worst. I feel so angry at everyone, including myself. I wasn’t all that eager to swim, but went there and shared a lane with a woman for about ten minutes. Then she got out and a man immediately took her place. He was an old man, a slow swimmer, and I use the term “swimmer” loosely since he mainly floated on his back and kicked his frog legs out to the side, arms wide. And every single time I swam by him I feared getting frog kicked and so finally I asked the man in the next lane if I could share his, and he said, yes, but that the woman who was there left her stuff and hadn’t come back. I said, okay, and got out and waited for a lane to open. She never came back, by the way. She was probably in a water aerobics class.
As I sat there watching this selfish man so leisurely floating up and down what was MY lane and I just felt like screaming. I waited about ten minutes and then shared the lane next to him but every time I swam by him I wanted to cuss him out under the water. I realized I was not going to get a handle on this rage and that I might as well get out or risk having a heart attack.
I don’t know why the pool was so crowded. I wish swimmers would have some consideration for who they pick to share a lane with. And now I fear, being an all or nothing person, that I will never go back or that my pool time will now diminish until it’s nonexistent. I’m so resentful yet this is almost entirely manufactured by ME. It’s all because of MY attitude, not the old man or anybody else.
I’m not sure why I feel so raw. Perhaps just that my comfortable routine is all over the place right now. I fear being told that my background check has embarrassing and humiliating things in it. I have mixed emotions about my husband. My weight loss has come to a crawl. Fuck. Sorry. But, Fuck. I am sorry for the language, I am just at a loss.
I guess I feel grateful that I have an appointment with my psychiatric nurse practitioner today.
I spent the entire day yesterday in training for a volunteer position at a place affiliated with the DA’s office where children that are victims of abuse can get their needs taken care of in one place.
We heard from another police detective, a woman from the Department of Human Services, a probation officer from the juvenile justice center (for under age abusers), and met some of the experienced victim advocates, which is what I will (hopefully) become at the end of training.
We heard another real 911 call that made me tear up, and we heard a telephone conversation between a 14 year old girl and her father who sexually abused her from age eleven. She worked with the detective and knew what to say to get her father to admit to the abuse on the phone. Her bravery was incredible. And it was almost satisfying to hear the utter panic in his voice when he realized it was all over for him. In spite of his extreme anxiety he was still asking her to lie for him.
It was nice to hear from the experienced volunteer advocates. They talked about the highs and lows of the job. More than one person said that you know the job is getting to you when you leave for the day and all you can think of is having a drink. They were kidding, but at the same time serious. I’m struck by the camaraderie in spite of the different goals of the various agencies. They use a lot of humor to offset such a serious situation.
I haven’t heard whether I passed the background check yet but will certainly know by Friday which is the last day of formal training. After that we’ll shadow more experienced people until we feel comfortable taking a case ourselves. In case you’re new to the blog, I was concerned that several years of suicide attempts would somehow show up on my background check.
Being able to volunteer is part of me getting my life back on track. I’ve lived abroad for the past several years and my references and work experience are old. I need to gain experience and references in order to start my life over. I also need to find out if I am capable of working again. It’s been about ten years since I held a job. I’m a bit sad that I’ve discovered this amazing world and wish that I were 26 and not 56 so that I could be someone who really makes a difference to a hurting child.
My husband (estranged) is helping me with a website I want to bring back, one that I ran before, but it’s such a pain in the ass with him giving it very little attention and it looks really bad while it’s under construction that I’m losing hope over it. This is the one thing that I might be able to turn into a way to make money, but he can’t get it together to bring the site up. He keeps saying he’ll do it and then he doesn’t.
I’m so wound up. I fear overeating. I fear doing something rash. I hate feeling this way. It’s so pathetic because last night I watched most of a PBS documentary about Mister Rogers and I was so overwhelmed with how genuinely kind this man was and I wanted only to emulate him, and look at me, screaming (in my head) at old men who just want to use the pool like me. And that’s where my rage takes me, back to despising myself. I want off this roller coaster. It’s no way to live.
Close your eyes.
Think about an image, a place, a time, the future, anything hopeful. It’s hard. I can’t choose, I am too scattered.
Just breathe then.
Something will come to you.
You can’t be having a fit if you’re breathing long, slow, deep breaths. You can’t.
Compassion. Have compassion for your mom as you help her with Facebook. Have compassion for your dad as you show him walkers to buy on Craigslist. All of our time here is fleeting. Love the people who have given you so much. Pet the dog. Breathe.
You can do this.
And think, “What would Lady Grantham do?”