Well…

And here we are again, unemployed, with another failure under our belt. I think it’s safe to say that – IF I am going to be able to keep any sort of job, or move forward in any way, it is going to take a lot of work.

I don’t want to say that I’ve given up, because I don’t think I have, but… OK, let me tell you what happened first. I did get accepted into college for Graphic Design, like I had mentioned in the last two posts. However, it wasn’t long before I started finding it very overwhelming and difficult to keep up, to the point where apathy was slowly creeping in. I stopped caring, and wasn’t sure how I was going to muster the motivation to make it to the end of what was already a shortened program (roughly 6 months). In my defence, there was A LOT packed in to that 6 months – I believe by the end it would have been 12 courses all together.

Any way… There was a strike. If you live in Canada (or maybe just Ontario?), you know ALL about it. The strike went on for over a month! This happened right when I was beginning to lose faith, and interest. Long story short – the break sort of cemented my internal, quiet, semi-in-denial decision not to continue with the program. Any tiny bit of momentum I had left, I lost within the first two weeks of the strike, and I cannot tell you how relieved I was when they announced after the strike ended that students could apply to withdraw with a full refund of their tuition. Normally, at this point in the semester, I would not have been able to withdraw and get my money back. It’s almost as if whatever powers that be knew that this was just not happening for me, and decided to give me a bit of a break, and allow me to sort of undo a bit of the damage that would have been done should I have not made it through the program.

OK, so now that I’m 28 years old and have a diploma, but very little work experience of any value (in terms of duration at any one company), I have now had to really face what may just be a reality for me – I may not be able to work. At least, not in any traditional manner. I mean, everyone sort of knew this already, but I, especially, did not want to believe it. I wanted to just get my SHIT together, and go and be normal. Get a job, make friends, impress the boss, have benefits, and a steady paycheque. Now, the sort of life I have always wanted (to be my own boss, make my own hours), may be the only viable option for me – but my confidence is nearly non-existent, and I have NO idea anymore what I would want to do. Everything just seems impossible now. A pipe dream.

(You should totally watch this show)

I’ve flirted with the idea of starting a YouTube channel and seeing where that goes, but I’m sort of terrified of being on camera. Plus, what would it be about? It’s hard to have a successful YouTube channel if it doesn’t have a focus.

I’ve thought about selling my watercolour paintings. Practicing and getting better, until I can produce larger paintings, and maybe even sell the originals, plus prints.

I’ve thought about doing editing – proofreading, essentially. But I have no idea where to start, and again, that does require some level of reliability. I’m just not sure anymore that I can be at all reliable.

So, here we are… Thankfully, the stars seem to be aligning in some regard – because I have a good gynaecologist looking after me (I have some hormonal imbalance going on that is causing me not to ovulate and to over-produce the lining of my womb, and not shed it properly every month, which could eventually lead to cancer – hooray!), and the medical team that my family doctor is part of just had a certified psycho-therapist join the team once a week (and they are covered by OHIP!), so I should be able to see them to talk about… well, my very deep deep hatred for myself. I know, I know… hatred it a strong word, but don’t freak out! I’m not about to kill myself or anything, even if the idea of disappearing into an abyss is, at times, very inviting. But I believe the many many years with PMDD – the cycling from being normal for one or two weeks a month, to completely and utterly useless for two weeks of the month, has worn on my self-esteem in profound ways that may take a long time to untangle. I didn’t even know that I had PMDD until a couple of years ago – and while it helps to know, in a way, I haven’t had a tonne of success in treating it.

And so continues the “journey” to… what? Self-acceptance? Success? I have no idea anymore what to work towards, because I don’t know if my PMDD will continue to get worse as it has since I turned 25. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep a job, or keep anything going for any significant length of time. I don’t know if one day my PMDD will just become so bad that I turn to surgery in a desperate attempt to escape this horrible, vicious cycle – or if that will even help. Hello surgical menopause in your thirties! Woop! Woop!

Symptoms of PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder):

• Severe depression/feelings of hopelessness/apathy
• Inability to focus/persistent brain fog
• FATIGUE – this is a big one and cannot be stressed enough

Ok, I have to pause here to really illustrate this as best I can. I have lived a life without PMDD – it happened before I got my period, and even within the first years where it wasn’t as severe. So I know what it’s like to be “normal tired”. PMDD tired is BRUTAL. I literally lose days every cycle, both around ovulation and during the two weeks leading up to my period SLEEPING all day. Back when I was working full-time, and did not know yet that I had PMDD, I would have to miss a day or several days every month due to this. If I forced myself to go to work on one of the days where my body would be screaming for sleep and rest, I would spend the entire morning – until noon or later, just trying to wake up. I couldn’t stay on task, I could barely keep my head up off my desk. I would go through cups of coffee and still, nothing. By the end of the day, I would have accomplished very little. I would go home, feeling like I was crawling the entire way, desperate for bed, and I would GO TO BED. As soon as I got home. And because at this point I lived alone, this meant I didn’t eat anything that night. This would happen over and over again – EVERY MONTH. Eventually leading to burn-out, as is to be expected, I would imagine, when you’re barely eating because it takes every ounce of energy you have just to make it TO WORK, let alone be productive at work during those two weeks of PMDD hell. By the 6 month mark, when I would inevitably either lose my job or quit, it would be a WELCOME BREAK, because I would be beyond exhausted. I get that some people may think – that’s just life, but NO. I can barely function during this time. It would be like a normal person getting a horrible stomach flu every month for two weeks, with a fever and everything, plus crippling fatigue, and trying to keep up at work. Sure, if it happens once or twice a year, not as big a deal, but EVERY. FUCKING. MONTH. It adds up, and eventually your body literally gives out. 

Okay, back to the list…

• Withdrawal (during PMDD, I barely want to be seen or heard, I want to hide, it’s akin to becoming temporarily agoraphobic)
• Anxiety/paranoia
• Changes in appetite low/high/cravings
• Disrupted sleep patterns

That’s it, for the most part. For some with PMDD, this list looks a little different, but this is how MY PMDD works. It’s a perfect recipe for FUCK YOU. Seriously, it is no wonder I have not had any success in getting any sort of ball rolling when every month I lose momentum in such a monumentally severe way. I literally become a different person. No longer outgoing, no interest in doing pretty much anything, lethargic all the time, low appetite OR intense cravings, crippling anxiety, and absolutely zero ability to focus on anything.

I guess we will just have to see what the future holds for me, because right now, I literally have no clue anymore. I can’t even make plans – I can’t even hope right now. It feels dangerous to plan, or even ponder. So here’s to going in to another new year with zero plans – other than maybe trying to fail again at another part-time job, and to start therapy. OH, and to hopefully not get cancer of the womb 🙂

My PMDD every month… 

 

2017

As we drag ourselves, wounded, exhausted, and confused into 2017, I can’t help but be reminded of a song that really struck a nerve with me when I heard it back in, oh, when would that have been? You know what, let’s not worry about the when. Here it is.

(seeing as I can’t add a video URL, just pretend there is a video playing here, or better yet, go to Youtube and look it up, it’s a beautiful song)

Puscifer – Momma Sed

Wake up, son of mine
Momma got something to tell you
Changes come
Life will have its way
With your pride, son
Take it like a man

Hang on, son of mine
A storm is blowing up your horizon

Changes come
Keep your dignity
Take the high road
Take it like a man

Listen up, son of mine
Momma got something to tell you
All about growing pains
Life will pound away
Where the light don’t shine, son
Take it like a man
Suck it up, son of mine
Thunder blowing up your horizon

Changes come (Changes come)
Keep your dignity (Keep your dignity)
Take the high road (Take the high road)
Take it like a man (Take it like a man)

Momma said like the rain (This, too, shall pass)
Like a kidney stone (This, too, shall pass)
It’s just a broken heart, son
This pain will pass away

I think it’s safe to say that 2016 surprised us all with its seemingly ravenous hunger, and penchant for chaos. Not only did it take the lives of many, some of which we can all agree were way too young, but many of us were also on the edge of our seats for the better half of 2016 just waiting for the US election to be over with.

I cried the morning after the election. This isn’t something I’ve talked too candidly about with anyone, but it hit me hard. I know I’m not an American, but I have friends who are, and they are good people. However, the reason I found the results of this years election so difficult, was the message it appeared to shout loud and clear across the entire globe; that we’ve still got a long way to go, and fear is still an extremely powerful weapon.

I don’t know about you, but I grew up with a general sense that the world was well equipped for progression. Things had gotten better since my Grandparents time, and appeared to continue in that direction. I never thought that we could go from tears of pure joy from the results of one election (Obama), to tears of despair and confusion the next.

It may seem very dramatic to some, but to me, the fact that so many people chose a clearly corrupt, self-centered, bigoted and sexist douche-bag of a business man over a woman who has worked so hard her whole life, who may indeed have her flaws but is none-the-less trying her best, is heartbreaking. Something about it just screamed “WE STILL HATE WOMEN”, and the worst part was that many of those voters were women… Maybe that should read “WE STILL HATE OURSELVES” – but that’s a topic for another time.

On a more personal note…

2016, for me, was also a very tough year in general. We lost my Grandmother, my Mother’s Mother, only a year after losing my Grandfather. This was our first Christmas without her there. In the past, there were very few Christmas’ in which she wasn’t there, her warmth settling over us all, her light making everything sparkle just a little bit more.

I have a confession to make: I still don’t get it. Death. All it does is churn up nothing but raw child-like despair and confusion in me. There have been many times this year that I have cried and silently asked, why? Where did he go. Where did my Grandmother go? How can that be IT? I don’t think I’ll ever feel any differently about it. Somehow, all of my life, and even still, death always seems to me like such a waste. A tragedy, no matter the circumstances. I will always miss them…

Well, that’s enough of that. Any more and I’ll be a trembling pile of human, with a tear-soaked cat in my lap, desperate for freedom.

 

 

On the home-front, we also conclude this year jobless (both myself and my partner). We anxiously await what we hope is good news about his job prospects, but I continue to float in a sort of purgatory of after-career suicide (or maybe it just died of complications during surgery?). The only thing I KNOW now, is that I have a long road ahead of me in order to rebuild my confidence, and to rediscover the part of me that used to dream up fantastical stories, and see the whimsy and the good in life, and in myself.

I know, I’m such a downer… It doesn’t paint the greatest picture of a wholesome “fresh start” heading in to the new year, and I think, folks, that I’m going to have to just accept that. I’m just not feeling overly optimistic, but I do have a plan. I think it may be a while before I can sustain the spirit and the energy that I used to seemingly have in spades, but that’s OK. I’m applying to my alma mater for Graphic Design – with the end goal being self-employment – possibly résumé writing, editing and design for private clients.

I am not over-the-moon excited, just because of all the heavy shit that has been going on, but I AM excited. I look forward to learning some new skills, and although I am gun-shy of getting my hopes up, I do hope the experience helps me to rebuild my confidence. I will certainly need it if I am to do my own thing afterwards. In the mean time, I’ll be trying to shake this conflicting, cold feeling of being alone at the edge of the world – you know, that strangely comforting mix of stillness with an unsettling undertow of it just being the calm before the storm? Something tells me, though, that I’m not alone in feeling like that this New Years.

To 2017. May it bring hope, and light.