The Good News And The Bad News

“Which do you want to hear first, the good news or the bad news?” I’ve always hated it when someone has asked me that question. The way I see it is that essentially the same thing is going to happen. You’re still going to hear both the good and the bad, so I don’t think there’s a “best” order in which to receive news. The question just seems pointless.

Life itself doesn’t ask us to choose. And that’s what happened just recently. Since completing the website of a restaurant, I’ve been waiting to hear back from the owner about possibly doing his other website. Also a restaurant, but a more popular and well-known one. A couple of weeks ago I sent him an email following up on his experience of the new website with a subtle “reminder” that when he’s ready to proceed with the next website, to let me know. When we first started working together, he had told me that if it goes well, he might ask me to design his other restaurants website. So it wasn’t a definite thing. He’s happy with the website I did for him, and told me that he’ll speak to the other owner about the other website. The other owner contacted me about a week later and we arranged a meeting. On Thursday evening, he let me know that he accepted my business proposal and will be making the deposit, so I can go ahead with the website. Good news!

Then last night I heard that my uncle, the one who lived with us for a while, has lung cancer. For the past week he’s been extremely sick, and would pop in at the office every now and then before going to the hospital for tests. He’s been struggling with his health for a while now, and every time I’d see him, he’d look worse and worse. Bad news!

I’m going to go visit him at home this afternoon, and I’m nervous. What do I say to him? How am I supposed to “act” around him now? I kind of don’t feel anything at the moment other than nervous, and I don’t actually want to go see him. I’m very awkward about things like this. My grandmother passed away from this very disease and I hated what it did to her. I never wanted to have to go through that again. But I know it’s not about me, it’s about him. But I’m still involved, and don’t quite know how to deal with it. I helped my grandmother when she was going through this, and it was torture. This makes me feel extremely guilty and ashamed, because I feel what right do I have to feel anything negative or to think about how it affects me, when they are the actual ones suffering?

It’s a long weekend, so no work on Monday, but I’ll be keeping busy with my own work on the website. I’m glad I got this job, and especially more so now. So I think this time, receiving the good news first actually made a bit of a difference. But again, life didn’t give me a choice.

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Caught Out In The Rainstorm

I’m done wishing and hoping…

For the friend I can rely on.
For the university qualification and job I’ve always wanted.
For the love that will stick around.
For the dog I long to be a home for.
For the freedom and security I strive for.
That this idea just might be the one to change my life.

Wishing and hoping don’t always give us what we want.
They say it’s action that can. And I’ve tried so much. So hard.
But I’m out of ideas.

I’m stuck.
I’m tired.

So I’m done…
Wishing.
Hoping.
Trying.

A Need For Solitude

The older I get, the more I seem to want my own space away from others. Socializing exhausts me. I spent time with two of my closest friends this weekend, staying over on Saturday evening. It was lovely, but I didn’t want to stay another night. They know me well, so I don’t have to wear a mask around them and I feel comfortable enough to tell them when I’ve had enough. They know it’s not personal. That I love them to bits, and enjoy spending time with them.

It’s not just being sociable that exhausts me. It also depends on the activities we engage in. For example, if we go on a hike or a walk on the beach, I can spend more time with people. But when it involves sensory rich environments such as carnivals/festivals (this is where we went on Saturday evening), concerts, movies, etc, I become overwhelmed and over-stimulated, and want to get back to my comfort zone (my room, my bed, my stuff) much sooner.

Every so often (very often actually) I long to just disappear for a while. Go somewhere quiet, surrounded by nature, with not a soul or building in sight for miles. Switch my phone off and disconnect from everything and everyone. But my financial situation won’t let me do that. I wouldn’t mind going camping, which is more affordable, but it’s too dangerous to go alone. So I feel stuck in an overwhelming world. My little corner of the world.

So when my friends asked me whether I would house-sit for them for about a week at the beginning of August, the decision was an easy one. Granted, I’m not someone who enjoys sleeping in unfamiliar environments and beds (even when on holiday), and I always have to prepare myself for it mentally. But I’m usually okay as long as I have my “comfort items”. My family and friends always tease me about the fact that even if I’m going or coming for one night I pack as if for a week-long trip. And it’s not clothes and other essentials that are taking up all the space. But I can’t help it, it makes me extremely anxious any other way.

While I’m looking forward to getting away from this place for a few days (and from work), I’m also a little scared as I’ll be staying alone. They have two cats (I’m not really a cat person) and two little dogs, so that’s a comfort at least. The neighborhood they live in is quiet, so I’m looking forward to the peace, and plan to enjoy my time there as much as possible. Maybe I can see it as practice for one day when I eventually have my own place.

I’m supposed to be seeing my friend/business partner on Friday, but I just don’t want to, so I’ve decided to postpone it until next week. I’m going to group tomorrow anyway, so really don’t want to have to socialize more than that this week.

 

Adulting is Hard

Another project done and dusted. I made it through a tough job with the most difficult client I’ve had (so far). I thought I’d be over the moon. I usually feel good afterward. But this time? I felt nothing for the first couple of days, and didn’t know what to do with myself. And now I feel like a fraud. Like I don’t deserve to feel proud of myself for a job well done, because… well, I suck. And I’m not actually that good.

I suck at relationships, work, socially, etc. Basically anything that involves being alive. Why do I bother trying? All I want to do is hide away in a dark, quiet, small space, with tons of blankets (like I used to do, but have since adulted) and my Cuddly. Being a kid was hard, but being an adult is even harder, and I just don’t want to do it anymore. Having to pretend to be normal every day is exhausting.

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Cuddly – He’s super soft. I want a real one too, but have now finally given up on that dream.

The Anger and Pain Again

It’s agony wanting so badly to kill myself, but being unable to because I don’t want to hurt a few key people in my life. I hate that I care. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could just do it and get it over with. And why the fuck do I care how it might impact upon my current therapist and the OT’s at the clinic? What even makes me sure they might be negatively impacted for even a minute? I don’t think they really care anyway. They see so many people, they can’t care about them all. Especially not those annoying, over-bearing types like me. That’s reserved for the good clients. The only person I feel cares is A. Well, she did anyway. I’m trying to hold onto the thought that she still does. Don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow, but I already know I will end up there anyway, because I’m so damn predictable. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to see anyone.

I’m angry with the world. I want to burn it all down. I hate humanity. I’m not good with people anyway. I thought I had become better with them through the past few years, but apparently not. When I can’t even understand what a person is saying and end up saying stupid things that don’t even make sense. When I misread the simplest of things and can’t even concentrate on something someone is saying because I’m trying to maintain eye contact (which comes hand in hand with anxiety) to show that I’m present and attentive. Multitasking? It’s a myth. People rope you in, then once they’ve got you, rip you apart.

I’m angry with the god I don’t think I believe in anymore. He didn’t even help a child that needed him because her parents couldn’t be there for her the way she needed. So why would he help an adult who’s supposed to be more capable? I was brought up in a Christian family, so I knew how to pray. But according to some Christians, I obviously didn’t pray the right way, or didn’t have enough faith. The smallest little thing I prayed for, for him to send someone into my room one night to just hold me. I just wanted to be held and feel loved, but apparently that was too much to ask for. So the next person who thinks about sending me an email telling me to just give everything over to God and my life will be better, please, don’t bother. I’ve been down that road and it just caused even more confusion, guilt, shame, and pain.

Most of all, I’m angry with myself. For being the way I am. For feeling the way I am. For being a brat. Life’s not fair. No shit. It doesn’t owe me anything. And on that note, I don’t owe it anything either.

To Exist

This song touched me deeply. The music is beautiful, and when the words start coming it’s made even more powerful. It’s such an incredible message. Even though I’m feeling depressed, I can still appreciate this piece of art (which is exactly what it feels like to me).

For some reason I felt my grandmother’s presence with me while listening to this. As if this message is from her. I’m not sure I believe in an afterlife, but I know I also can’t be sure that it doesn’t exist. And maybe, just maybe, if it does… she’s with me.

“Saturn”

You taught me the courage of stars before you left.
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

I couldn’t help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

I couldn’t help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.