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… 

 

On Being a Hard-ass (The Truest Friend of All)

I’m that friend – or rather, that person. I won’t go as far as saying I’m anyone’s friend, because from the little I’ve learned and heard of friendship thus far – I’ve never really been one, at least, not a good one. However, my theory is that the world could use a few more “true friends” in it. Perhaps then we’d stop enabling our ambition-less friends to continue becoming obese, useless fucks.

The “feel-good” FB post of the day that started my hate-infused rant.

Thaaaaat’s right, it’s going to be one of THOSE posts.

My theory on this true friend bullshit is that there are no “true friends”, there are only people, and people will have opinions and pass judgements whether they are well-meaning friends that love you, or not. And this is a good thing! Most people don’t want to hear the truth, and yes, I am aware that most people don’t even really hear it when it’s communicated to them any way – including myself, but at the very least it plants the seed. It also takes any ownness off of you when that friend finally, drunkenly stumbles up to you one day and says – why, why didn’t you tell me that I was marrying an asshole?! Or, why, why didn’t you tell me that being a fat-fuck makes me look fat?! Diabetus, why?! (typo, totally intentional)

I also theorize that this is a good place to start the revolution of “common sense” – these are the front lines, people! Stop letting your friends be dumb fucks. It really is the least you can do. How many people do you run into every day that could really use “that friend”, what I am now calling the truest of friends, to simply tell them to stop being an ignorant, rude cunt? These useless fucks stand together outside of shit-hole stores like Urban Planet, huddled together perpetuating the dumb, bumping in to passerby’s and laughing at their friend who is trying to barter with the cashier for a $5 scarf. If you can’t afford it, fuck off!

My thoughts exactly.

I like “stuff” just as much as the next person, but the world is not a daycare – let us stop allowing adults to act like children. Stop being an enabler! Tell your friends to fuck right off when they are being a dumb, useless asshole. The ripple effect will be ginormous. Think about it!

In fact, I encourage you all, right now, to go onto whatever social media platform you prefer (Facebook, Twitter, the Instagrams) and finally tell someone off that you know needs to be told off. Perhaps you know of a new mom whom, because she now feels she has a little one to protect, believes this gives her carte blanche to treat everyone she encounters like a prisoner that has only been let out of jail to help her get her stroller on to the already packed street-car. You know, that resentment you feel oozing off of her, despite her entitled attitude? It’s not even just pomp, it’s this mixture of animosity and entitlement. It’s as if you’re the maid that’s fucking her husband – but she is too lazy to learn how to cook, and likes holding on to his credit card too much to pull the plug on the fuck. Yeah.

Ohhh, I am on a tear today. None of this even made any sense – it was all just a means of ranting about the things that piss me off.

So, the moral of today’s story folks, or what I was really trying to say, is that you should all just be like me – and tell your friends when they are being idiots. Of course, this is pure and utter hypocrisy, because the truth of the matter is, I don’t tell ALL of my friends when they are being idiots. I have several guy friends that often complain about their single-status, but they are overweight, have bad breath, and have zero interesting talents/hobbies. However, it’s not necessarily that I don’t have the heart to tell them that, it’s that I know they won’t do anything about it any way.

Just to set the record straight, I AM a hard-ass on myself. The finger of truth is one I point at myself all the time, and yes, sometimes even I choose to continue doing whatever it is that I’m doing despite knowing what the consequences will be.  However, usually, if it’s a major thing, I do something about it.

So that was a bunch of talking in circles. I’m bored, man, I don’t know. I lose my train of thought so easily right now – being unemployed does that, I guess.

See ya later, cunts.