coffee spoons

Over the weekend, Mama Pants made the observation that along with another friend of hers (who has a couple years on me, but only a couple), I'm pretty settled in my life.  I'm coming to realise that I am.  I am settled because I have settled.  And I fucking hate it.  No offense meant to my mother--she's not inside my brain and couldn't possibly know the fuckery that goes on up there.  I'm also very good at putting on face.

Talking with PB last night, it's just becoming more and more obvious that I feel stuck where I am, that I'm spinning my wheels, and that I've dug myself into a giant hole of shit that I'm not sure how to escape.  I'm underemployed but don't really know how to remedy that problem.  Admin work will always be underemployment, but art doesn't bring in suitable paychecks.  My resume is pretty much all admin related.  Changing industry means starting over in paygrade, which is something I cannot afford to do. 

I'm taking steps to remedy my situations but it doesn't help the feelings that accompany everything.  I feel like I've fucked up everything.  And that because I've fucked up everything, I'm worthless and undeserving of anything.  Reasonable?  No.  Emotion isn't rational; I'm ruled by emotion and therefore not necessarily rational when it comes to feelings.  They're there, they suck, they're usurping every ounce of energy I have.

impending doom n' shit

I was going to write a bit tonight (in a book) and I kept putting it off because I knew it was going to be one of those types of passages.  I played the avoid game until ...well, I'm still playing it.  I know I need to get down what I was going to write, I just don't have the energy to go headlong into it tonight.  I want to sleep without nightmares and wake up without finding myself a cold, sweaty mess.  Doubtful that will happen tonight, as I think part of it is what I need to put down in that damn book, but a girl can hope.  

headaches

I got knocked down by a migraine on Saturday.  I know it was stress-related.  Last week was rather a bitch and my body tends to wait a day before flattening me out.  I slept most of the day, moving from my bed to my chair when my back started screaming at me.  At one point in the chair, Boris was laying across my neck; it was the first time that day that my head didn't hurt and I remember thinking he was a miracle.  I also remember being hot.  Having a stress migraine this early into busy season does not bode well for me.  I may have to talk to the doctor about getting some meds to have on hand.  I hope there's something other than Imitrex that doesn't interact with Effexor.  Imitrex just makes me puke.  Not a good topper on a migraine.

I may also need to talk to the doc about upping my Effexor.  I've been in a bit of a funk lately and it's not productive.  I feel stuck (because I am stuck) and it brings me down and sucks out the will to do just about anything.  Not so good.  I worry about upping the Effexor though--I'm at 150mg right now.  I suppose I could up to 225mg, but that means two different types of pills, which often means twice the copay.  If I up to 300mg, I'm at the max.  And if that doesn't work, what then?

no place in the world that could compare

I'm watching the footage; the horrifying, devastating, heart-breaking footage.  I don't know how to describe the feelings I get while watching, especially the amateur footage.  It makes me ache, one that has yet to dull over 9 years, and pull into myself.  I feel raw, but also sometimes like I'm watching through a hole in a wall in front of me, as if I'm locked within a suit of myself, peering out my own eyes from a distance.  Logically, I know what's going on; I know that it's called disassociating.  Physically, it feels nothing like disassociation.  It feels like I'm plugging directly into that energy, connecting with everything and everyone on my television screen, time passage of no consequence.

It all comes back to how I feel I need to be there.  That's my home.  If my heart is going to heal itself, this mystery wound than I cannot explain, it will be there.  Maybe the city and I can heal one another.  Maybe once I'm home, the hollow will dissipate or slowly fill in.  The disconnection is haunting.  I just want to go home and stay there.  I want to be where I belong.

I don't really know how to express everything in my mind clearly.  

I don't know that I really want to.  

if i were dressed in my best defenses...

(Sorry Faith-Sis)

Rough session with PB last night.  Expected that, really.  I'm taking today to get most of my weekend stuff done, as I'll be spending tomorrow and possibly Saturday with the nephs.  I imagine I'll be doing my traditional crazy-cleaning, wherein I disassociate from the world via throwing out just about everything I own.  Not the shoes, of course.  Never the shoes.

I'm hesitant to expound more right now because I know it will come out sounding melodramatic and more than a little bit batshit.  Plus, my mom kinda worries when she sees The Crazy exhibited.  She knows it's there, but I'm good at keeping it behind the curtain most of the time. 

I do have a list of etsy decor stuff to post, but I'm about to head home.  I've sent myself the list so hopefully I can get to it tonight.