Focus on my Mental Health - pt. 21 - Routines

     My week typically goes something like this...

Sunday: Have breakfast, read the paper, catch up on television shows, spend some time outside either walking or gardening, watch more TV, scroll the internet, have a big dinner, and overall just waste a lot of time.

Monday:  Realize I haven't gotten anything new done for my websites and get a bunch of painting done in order to update my Facebook sites, shop site and blogs.

Tuesday:  Clean the house because we're going to have company over that evening to play D&D.  Now that we have a big ol' table (read the previous post if you'd like more details) and since almost everyone lives on this side of town and our FLGS (friendly local gaming store) decided to up and close on us, except for on rare occasions, games are held here.  So, floors swept, kitchen and bathrooms cleaned, etc etc.  Prepare for a game if I am running it that way (which, thankfully I am not currently.)

Wednesday:  Realize I did nothing but clean house all day and return to painting and try to get as much done as possible so that I can schedule posts and can forget about Facebook for the rest of the week.

Thursday: Get burned out and start feeling lethargic and annoyed that no one has bought anything from my shop, no one is responding to my posts anymore and scroll endlessly on Facebook and Reddit.  Maybe do some other household cleaning, make dinner, grocery shop, or anything else that keeps my mind off of feeling like a jobless loser.

Friday:  Most likely I have a D&D game this night or Saturday that I have to prepare for.  Put off planning on it until the day it's due and a few hours before.  Think about it a LOT.  Throw stuff together last minute and attempt to finish painting figures for it and then get overwhelmed and give up and start typing fiercely to get it done in time for dinner and the game.

Saturday: If the game was last night, I feel burned out and just want to relax all day.  If the game is tonight, I realize I wasted all day yesterday by not getting prepared and then have to clean the house again, and don't get the game prepped until a few hours before.  Realize that I've run out of time and should have spent more time on it as when the game actually occurs it's not as engaging as I hoped it would be and disappointed in myself.

REPEAT

     At least, for the last few months, that's how it's been going unless we're gone somewhere for the weekend or someone else is gone and we cancel or postpone games for another time.  I personally think I'm getting a bit burned out with playing so I'm looking forward to having a good week or two to refresh with all of my other plans here in August.  I LIKE playing and have guests over, don't get me wrong, but for YEARS (literally) I never had anyone over except for the occasional family member so now that it happens twice weekly (or heck, last week three times) I feel like my life is swallowed up by this routine that I've been keeping.  And I start to wonder if I'm prepared enough for this craft show that's coming up.
      On the plus side, I know I have well over 60 items - probably onwards of 100 now - and I'll have even more by the time two weeks is up.  But I've also sold a total of 5 things the entire time I've been working this website since April/May and that's sorta depressing.
   
     So...in other news I still haven't heard anything about the job.  My husband went in for an interview for a new job, received the offer, worried about it for three days, talked to everyone he knew and they were all split on whether he should take it or not, then he freaked himself out more by reading about jobs similar to it online, and I kept feeling like a terrible wife because I couldn't tell him that he should take it or not.  He's his own person is how I feel, and yes, he's taking care of me at present, but would less then a $100 a paycheck be worth the extra work that he was likely to take on?  I think once I finally broke down the math with him and told him straight out that if he was going to take the job that he shouldn't be having this mental anguish...he turned it down.
     It's not like he doesn't have a job like me.  I think at this point if I were offered any job I'd take it just to get my butt out of the house and learn something new.  Even if it didn't work out and I hated it, I'd have something new to talk about and possibly start looking all over again.  But, alas, no word after that interview and even though I tell myself it's probably a good thing I don't have the stress to worry about while I'm prepping for everything that's coming up in two weeks... I'm also going through the full anxiety string in my head every thing I paint and every time I stop and think about it.

Things I'm anxious about:

• I won't receive a call which means I wasn't good enough, or didn't ask the right questions or they thought I was too stupid or they don't want me because I didn't have references or anything along those lines.
• I WILL receive the call and they'll want me to start right away and I'll be so stressed out over having to deal with my craft show and my new job that it'll send me into hysterics.
• I'll get the job and everyone will hate me and I'll be as miserable as I was at my previous job.
• I'll go to the craft show and no one will come by and no one will buy anything and now I have hundreds of items that I've spent all this work on and they'll end up just becoming Christmas presents for people because I'll never sell any of it.
• My husband will lose his job and then beat himself up over not taking this other job he's been offered because his company starts having major layoffs or the CEO decides to retire which sends the whole thing into a tailspin.
• Another recession will kick in because of Trump and everything will just be terrible because we'll both be without jobs and struggling to make ends meet and we'll never be able to take the cats to the vet or pay off our cars or our house and....well, you take it from there.

     There's a whole lot more where that came from, but I'm sure you get the gist.  Sometimes I just write it down to get it out of my head.  Does it work?  When I'm in the process of doing it, yes.  A few days later when I start to panic that I've completely overwhelmed myself with all of these projects and won't sell a single one... yeah, so it'll come back and I'll freak out again and again.

Plans I have for the near future:

• Get through the two D&D games for the week and try not to be anxious that everyone hates me.  (my character in one game had an in-game argument with another and it actually started to terrify me even after I realized that I was NOT my character, and this was all role play...it was still kinda odd since I've never played into a game enough to have a discussion like this.)  Also, I keep having these worries that my friends only like me for the game and even though we hang out otherwise, I have crippling anxiety when someone cancels plans with me and I start to want to withdraw from everything.
• Work like a beast to get as much stock done as possible because if I can do that maybe I can sell quite a few things because I'll have enough variety for everyone.
• Try not to fret about not getting a call back after my interview because they're all ill-organized and I'm sure I'd hear from my friend if she thought something wasn't going well.
• Also just concentrate on getting into August and getting through the long weekend and out the other side - hopefully make or break this craft thing I've been trying to hard at.
• If I don't hear from a job by that point, start applying to all the places AGAIN, and see what happens.
• Maybe convince my husband we need to take a short vacation before I begin the job because I think I just need to get out of this house soon before my brain explodes.

     So...that about wraps up quite a bit of what's been going on in my head lately.  I just like to please people and by putting myself out there I want to get results and when I don't it really throws my anxiety into high gear.  I know I've always suffered from these issues, but only more recently have I really paid closer attention to what triggers it.  I know my friends cancelling the meetup yesterday wasn't because they didn't want to be with me (I didn't even invite them, so why did I take it personally?!) but then I felt attacked because I read everything very curtly from those who responded the next day.  And I'm sure I was reading into it that way because I felt sad.

     I need to get out of the routine of feeling bad about myself.  But sometimes you need a little pick me up, you know?  And who better to give you that then your friends?  And I feel bad because I feel like I'm not really close friends with any of them, and I shouldn't be bothered by that but I am and I guess I just really miss having a close friend that's not my husband... I know I've talked about this before but I come back to it often enough in my thoughts.  Maybe it's because of how it always happens slowly and I try to do my best to keep in touch but the next thing I know they've all but stopped talking to me until I just give up...  I don't want to give up this set of friends, it's taken years to get this far.  Oi vey.

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 20 - Cleavage & The Table

      Haven't written in here for a week and had really hoped to have had an update on the job situation by now.  I don't.  The only vague news that I received was that they were still doing interviews this week (over a week later) and that I might hear by Friday or by the beginning of next week.
     I keep having these anxiety moments though.  A moment of complete and utter panic when thinking about having to start a new job and all of the ins and outs of starting in a new place and what will the people think of me and what if I can't cut it and get fired?  But then I try to remind myself that I haven't even received a single email to say they're still thinking and the anxiety of dealing with that has gone down a wee bit but it's still there and poking at me from time to time.
      This past weekend we went out to a convention for a few days to do some gaming.  The first day was just fine, the second we found out how irresponsible the guy who was running our D&D games was with time management.  I was stuck in costume for over an hour past what I'd hoped and starving since I hadn't eaten dinner, and it was one of these moments that I made the decision to just get up and go to the hotel room.
     What I had already taken into account (and certainly made me uncomfortable even at the age of 40) was the fact my costume had a very vaa-vaa-voom boost to my bust and after being gawked at by a few middle-age men during the convention, I also got honked at while heading to the hotel and gawked at in the hotel waiting for the elevator and that sent me in full-on panic mode as not only was I waiting to enter an elevator with ONE guy, I had a box full of money and very little clothing on (well, sorta - I never dressed with cleavage at ALL until just recently - so I became really self-conscious of the fact all of a sudden) and with that I turned tail and climbed up to the SEVENTH floor in a leather corset of sorts.
     Believe me, I couldn't breathe and I was heaving and thought I'd die by the time I threw open the hotel room and started stripping it off as fast as I could.  All the while storming around with my hangry mood and upset that I was all alone and have never really dealt with being gawked at.  I just never dress like that and I thought now that I was older it might be okay.
     My husband mentioned last night that he knew things were different for my reactions to things because he was absolutely certain when he'd finally made it back to the room (an hour and a half later than we were supposed to be) that I'd be sitting there in my pjs refusing to go back.  I was this close to messaging him, but just hadn't quite gotten to that point and I was starting to feel a bit better after eating a slice of disgustingly cold pizza (the microwave was missing of course).  So I'd calmed down a bit.  But in the past I'm not even sure if pizza would have done it.  My mind cleared up a bit and once I had on a t-shirt and jeans we went back.
     Then the one guy we sat down next to had an anxiety attack and left with his friend - I could literally feel the young man tense up when we sat down (for whatever reason he wasn't sitting next to his friend) so the two headed out.  We never finished the game though because the guy running was of course, the same one who had no time management skills and oh well.

     So, skip forward to what... Thursday?  Yeah, so here we are, I've been making a bit of money by doing commission work for painting miniatures and attempting to look for more business that way.  But also working on my craft table stuff hoping in a couple weeks to be able to sell a good chunk of it and at least feel like I'm contributing to the family again.
      Last night my husband got an email from the job he'd applied for a few month's ago and hadn't heard anything from.  They'd contacted him again asking if he was still interested.  So now today he accepted the offer to come in and talk again so the interview is set some time tomorrow afternoon.
     I sit here beating myself up over not going into I.T. because I probably would have found a job by now.  Why was I so stupid to go into retail???  WHY?!  Because...again...I'm female and that's what was expected of me...get an easy job that I'd quit when I became pregnant and then have my husband take care of me....wut?

NO.

     And in the middle of this today a FedEx truck with music blaring backed into the driveway with our "TABLE OF ULTIMATE GAMING".

     You have to say it in all caps, you know.

     My husband had ordered this because of course we wanted a bigger table for our D&D games but honestly I had told him when he ordered it on a whim that it was going to be TOO big.  I showed him with the measuring tape.
     He wanted to put it together today, so we moved the kitchen table downstairs thinking we'd put it in the kitchen but he just didn't see how HUGE the flippin' thing was until it had all four legs (but thankfully not the topper yet) and I think at that moment he realized, yah, it fit, but you'd never be able to get around it.
     Take the legs back off, move it to the basement, move the kitchen table back... and since then he's been down there working on it.

     I was just stressing out trying not to cry.

     My mother told me once that she and my dad had bought this big living room furniture and when they finally got it into the living room she cried because it was just so big.  I didn't get it myself because it was comfortable and we had that furniture for quite a few years.  But it was a lot bigger than the stuff she had and the stuff she has now (although I think we all regret allowing her to get it replaced because that's money she'll never get back).
   
     But now we'll have to get more chairs for the basement and we'll have to clean up down there (which I've been wanting to do for awhile anyway since he keeps moving his stuff down there and it's a wreck most of the time).  But the table fits down there a whole lot better then in the kitchen and I'm waiting to see what it looks like completed.  I'm also looking forward to surprising the heck out of people who come over in the next few days with it.

     But I felt like utter garbage this afternoon because I kept saying it was too big and I was just so upset when he didn't see how big it was until it was eating up the entire dining room with no room for chairs or people.

     And I still feel kinda useless because I still don't have a job and I'm trying to be confident in myself but it's awfully hard.  I think if I could sell something - gain a following...something...

A brief moment today on a walk I felt happy.  I hadn't felt that way in quite awhile and it passed quickly...but maybe it will come back someday again soon?

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 19 - The Next Interview

     Actually all of this happened yesterday so I'm a bit behind on my keeping this updated.  But then again, things have been kind of a rollercoaster this week and it's not going to slow down for the next week or so I fear.  So, given that, I thought I'd sit down and ponder how my mental state is doing currently and what I'm hoping will happen during the rest of July.

     Firstly, I finally had another phone interview and I thought it went fairly well.  Because of the holiday (4th) happening the next week I was told not to expect any news right away and it was okay with me because I had a lot of things going.  I had some D&D campaigns to play in and run, had some 4th of July plans, although no company, which was a mixed blessing as it was nice and relaxing but also felt 'off' somehow since we were by ourselves for the first time in awhile with no parties, cook-outs or family visitors.
     Then the 4th came and went and very soon after I found out that they were going to be bringing me in for an in-person interview the following week, so I was pretty excited about it.  At least until anxiety brain kicked in off and on and I couldn't sleep that first day (it got better once it was scheduled and in place for nearly a week later).  Anxiety brain would pop up from time to time but I'd remind myself that there was no use worrying about it when I had so many other things that needed to be worked on.
     So a cookout the Saturday after the 4th, followed by a D&D game where my players literally did the thing I thought they would: abandoned the city to destruction by an unknown force that was most likely their own doing (or rather, by ignoring it, will ultimately cause it's destruction).  They simply said, "eh, not a dragon, not our problem, we're out!"  So, just as I had expected, I created their exit story and over a week later they're in a cool new city they're ready to explore next week.  I'm really looking forward to writing more of that story because I have some ideas for it - and also all of the things that will be happening elsewhere in the world as they're completely ignoring the things that are going on in the world to pursue their own selfish desires.  HA!
   
     Skip forward to the next day which began my trip to Michigan to visit my mother for a few days.  It got cut a bit short because of the interview on Wednesday scheduled.  Mostly because of my anxiety over interviews and traveling when there's something scheduled.  I keep thinking "what if my car breaks down on the way home?  If I leave too late I'll never get any sleep for the interview!"  And you know, all of the other things.  Plus, being home really stresses me out anyway because my Mom has no money for upkeep of the house so it's just slowly degrading year after year.  I do a few things like keep branches off the roof, leaves out of the gutters and try to drag some garbage from the basement...
     See, my mom won't admit to being a hoarder, but she's really super borderline.  And I understand she doesn't have a lot of money but being frugal and being a hoarder really are two separate things.  She's not frugal.  She buys things for decorations and then the old décor just gets thrown in a spare room, closet or basement and then stays there.  For example, I found an old bathroom curtain and rod - both had been completely replaced some two or three years ago - sitting in the basement.  The curtain was old and plastic and could never be used again, and yet, there it sat in a corner.
     Boxes were growing black mold from the multiple floods down there, and they remained untouched.  When I'd go to throw something out she'd ask, "Could that be sold?  What about donated?"  It's covered in mildew...so, no.  Four garbage bags this trip before my sinuses (I'm fairly certain the dust and mold will eventually give me asthma) couldn't take it and I gave up.  She'll take them out to the road but I have yet to actually see any changes in the basement between trips to her house.  Six months will go by, I'll ask her just to take ONE bag up...deal with ONE pile... and instead it just grows worse and worse.
     And she wonders why I don't want to visit.  The house itself upstairs would fool someone as she keeps it relatively clean.  But you can see the paint peeling on the ceilings, the carpets are starting to wear down, there are bowing portions and missing shingles on the roof that I try to repair but I know at least one spot is too far gone... and I have no idea how long that house is going to remain livable.
     So usually when I'm there I want to just leave the house and go places, and that's usually what we do.  But I'm without a job (hopefully not too much longer!  I'm getting to it!) and she's in so much debt now that her credit card bounced a few times while we were out... so then I feel doubly bad that I can't help my mom out with this money problem.  But she's done it to herself and when she gets really upset she lashes out and blames my brother and myself.  First off, I paid rent once I got out of college (which she made me finish, so okay, there's that, but I had to work my way through it) and my brother didn't work and then had a bunch of student debt so she didn't really ask him to pay for much - although I guess he paid for some things while he was still at home.
     But she really never stressed how bad off we were.  I tried to quit college to work more and I tried to get her to work, but she had one episode and quit her job and it was years before she went back to working.  And mostly I just tried my best to just find a way to get out.  It wasn't exactly for selfish reasons either, it was because I thought if I wasn't contributing to the problem, things would get better and maybe my brother would start contributing more (boy was I wrong).  But, I digress, this wasn't really about me getting away, but it is about why it's so uncomfortable being at my old home any more.
     A year or so before I completed college I'd actually had the basement cleaned up.  We'd started to hold gaming meetings in the basement of my mom's house because we had large tables built (initially for a huge train set my father had put together for us and we stripped apart for table-top gaming) so we had to have a clean space.  So, around 2001 or so we had it organized, cleaned up, and ready for company.  Even after that my brother helped her clean out the garage so she could hold garage sales.  (She has never had one to my knowledge)  So between those two things, when I'm at her house I just remember how clean everything was and how all she had to do was leave it clean...

     I came home on Tuesday.  She tried to keep me longer but I headed out around 10am and got home four or five hours later after making a couple stops for lunch and driving breaks.  It was really good to get back home to stop worrying about my old house and my mother and her debt, and start back to worrying about my interview.

     Having gone shopping while I was up at my old home (again, remember not spending a lot of time AT the house) I had my clothes picked out and then proceeded to worry and clean the house while I was worrying about everything.
     But Wednesday came and I got to the interview on time - early even - the interviewer was actually late getting back from lunch which made me start to doubt myself a bit (I've been completely forgotten about for interviews in the past as I blended in...?  I don't know) but eventually we got started and the next couple hours flew by pretty quickly and only as I was walking back to my car did I realize that I'd missed a bunch of opportunities and hoped no one would think less of me for not asking certain questions...
     Anxiety brain, remember?
     But I got a whole lot of stuff done yesterday after the interview - working on the garden, watering outside, doing some cleaning, washing the bed sheets...  When anxiety brain kicks in, I find a bunch of stuff to try to keep it occupied.
   
     Haven't heard anything today, rather hoped I would but knew that they were doing more interviews so I remain patient since it didn't feel like I'd done anything super wrong at the job.  I thought I had a pleasant voice during the phone portion and could follow their software without much issue, so that's always a plus.  I just hope that I wasn't too unprofessional because I just don't know what people are looking for nowadays.

     So, now I wait.  And I anxiety it out and I cleaned the house (again) and I did more painting and I got all of my facebook page posts scheduled for the weekend and I'm just about to start getting ready for my weekend plans and I'm trying to just relax.  If it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen... and I've got so much stuff going in July and the beginning of August I'll almost be relieved to not hear anything for a little bit...so we'll see I guess!

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 18 - The Best Friend Equation

     Even after some forty years and a few days on this earth, I realize that there are some things that never change about me.  Maybe the way I handle them changes, but the basic, deep down issues that affected me thirty years ago, bothered me twenty, ten, and even now.  I think we all have problems that we must handle at some times in our lives over and over again, and sometimes we don't know even know they're popping up again until you can do that 20/20 look back thing and realize, "oh crap, it was THAT again".

     Today on my long ride home from the dentist (thank goodness my husband could put me on some of his insurance even though neither of us wanted him to put me on his normal healthcare, I will survive) I started thinking about the people that I talk to and the friends that I've had over the years.  

     I might be wrong, but I'm fairly certain that most humans have a need for close human relationships, and even if we get very overwhelmed by some of them (like those of us who are introverts and need to refill our emotional bank accounts from time to time) we still need that human interaction.  In order to get that interaction we look for people who are typically like us enough that they don't drain us mentally (or physically) and we can stand to be around for more than a few minutes at a time.

    

     Children, when they are introverted like I was, tend to be seen as "shy" around other children.  Over the years I've realized that I was never shy, I actually craved to be around people.  But I wanted to be around different people.  These friends this day, this friend this day, this group the next, and I could handle it and I fed off of that need.  But just like an extrovert, if I had too many days by myself I would spiral into depression and self-pity and misery.  The only reason I knew that I was more introverted though (as my mom would tell everyone "she never used to be this shy") I was just as likely to sit and read a book by myself in school and I could deal with being completely alone and not reaching out to anyone.  I never got bored of activities by myself, so long as I got over the hump of depression that came from having plans cancelled on me.

     So, as children, we start looking for those people who we can depend on being around on a regular basis.  We find a neighbor we can knock on a door, or see out in their backyards.  We find school friends who will always be in the class the next day and maybe they'll come to your birthday party.  We start looking for the "best friend" because those are the people you can come to depend on being there when you most need them to get over that introverted streak, and they're also those people who will sit there reading in the quiet when you need that as well.  (Unless you're outgoing and you have a different set of criteria, but you're still looking for someone who fills your check boxes.)

     When we get older, obviously our lives get in the way, but we all look for that one person (or people) who is there for you all the time, you can call your "best friend" and in the teenage years it's most likely a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, whatever you want out of your life, they're there to fill it.  Sometimes you marry, sometimes you live together, sometimes you only talk to them online, whatever it might be, you need that emotional connection to a single person (or perhaps a few if you're really lucky) to just feel whole.

     Here's where things get tricky, and this is where the title comes in "the best friend equation" is that even after we find a lot of friends, we still think about one over everyone else.  And that person we call our "best friend" and it's usually the person you're married to, living with, etc etc.  But I think once you've been comfortable in that relationship for a long time your brain might still want another connection with someone else.  Someone you can talk to about all of the things you do with that person in your life.  After all, your husband/wife/partner/etc knows everything about you already.  They're always there experiencing the same things you do, so you don't need to tell them about what you did earlier that day while driving home.

     There's a weirdness to it, and this is why I'm bringing up the fact that even though I am happily married and I feel like my husband is indeed my best friend, I also sorta want a best friend who is a female in my life.  Someone I can talk to about girly things that might make my husband a bit uncomfortable.  Or maybe we don't need to talk about those things but sometimes I just want to share little quirks about my husband without sounding like I'm nagging about him, and for that I'd like someone (besides my mom, because that's even kind of embarrassing for me at times) to be that "best friend" as well.

     I've been this way for over thirty years, maybe longer (I'm not sure when I picked my first best friend, maybe when I was five?) and I doubt it will ever completely fade because I recognize this need and urge to have someone important in my life.

     The friends I have in my life though, even though they are all terrific and I love them all dearly, all have "best friends" of their own.  But I do feel like sometimes even they want me to be their best friend only, even as they call someone else their best friend.  I don't mind, and that's something I've had to realize about myself is that you can be friends with someone without being their only friend, and accept that they aren't telling you about their deepest, darkest secrets because someone else is getting to hear all of that - and it's OKAY.

     It's OKAY to not be someone's best friend.

     It's NOT OKAY for you to expect to be someone's best friend when you yourself consider someone else your best friend.  But it's a damn well hard thing to accomplish because you become super possessive of these friends because you love them and you want what's best for them.  And maybe you believe that YOU are what's best for them, and it's really hard to just let it go.

     And that's where the best friend equation fits in.  You most certainly can be a best friend to someone else but also not be their best friend.  You can be a really great friend to a bunch of people but when they go home at night they're not thinking about you.  You might be thinking about them non-stop (like most of us anxious types are... I still think about almost every person who called me a best friend, it's like a non-stop wheel of - what did I do wrong, why aren't we friends anymore???) but they don't have to be thinking about you.  Maybe they do, maybe they send you a message or text, maybe they send you a meme online, but the rest of the time they're busy thinking about other people.

     I thought about these things on the way home today because I have a couple of friends who were both trying to get me to work with them, and I'd love to work with either (I loved it even more when I got to work with both of them!  But we can't have everything all the time.)  And I thought about how I felt like I was betraying one by applying to one job, and then betraying the other when I didn't get that job and applied at the other one.  They both have their own sets of best friends so I've never gotten super duper close to either, but the thought crept into my head - would they feel betrayed, or sad because I worked with one and not the other?  Would they feel like I was less of a friend to them then to the other?  

     I don't know.  And then it occurred to me that this is the weirdest thing to be thinking about at forty years old.  By this age we all should be secure in our friendships enough to handle it, so why was I bothered by something that a ten year old would be obsessed over?

     Because we don't change.  We always want close relationships.

     And that's what I'm dealing with today as I cross my fingers I can get a job somewhere with someone before my birth control pills run out and I need health insurance again.

     I think I still have a long way to grow still.

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 17 - Small Steps

     Shortly after I posted my last entry I received an email about a phone interview.  I wasn't quite sure what to make of it as it was the very first place I sent my resume to back in April, but it's also the last place that appears to still be hiring as the majority of the jobs I applied to have since been taken down.  I scheduled the appointment for this afternoon, the first opening I could get.
     Maybe it's my anxiety (I'm sure a large part of it) but I immediately felt they were pitying me, or perhaps humoring my friend who had told her boss about me multiple times until he finally said he'd look at my resume.  A week later I finally got the phone interview.  I was nervous the entire night after getting it scheduled, slept better the next day but was exhausted this morning.
     I hate having to schedule a meeting for the afternoon because it made the morning completely worthless to me (well, not completely, I did get some painting done which of course is now my side job) and when the time came for it, I had my notes in front of me, both phones (because I couldn't remember which number I'd given them) and finally had the first interview with the third place I'd actually heard back from.
     And after the half hour was over, I can't honestly tell you how it went.  Unlike my first place, I didn't hear back from them this evening for a face-to-face, but it is getting onto the 4th of July holiday, and he did mention I probably wouldn't hear right away... but it was how he reacted to every single answer I gave.  The canned response, over and over, "I love that answer... that's a great response..."  It felt (and it's possible he's not good at interviewing and it's also possible he wasn't actually listening, but I hope the typing on the other end was making notes and not responding to something completely different) sort of like I wasn't getting anywhere.

     Is it anxiety or depression that makes me feel this way? Am I just projecting these imaginations on these interviews?  Or am I right on the money?  I can harken back to the first interview back in April and how hopeful I was in almost getting that job, but I'd barely been looking for a few weeks, surely there would be a better option soon enough?  But then nothing for so long now until the second interview and I thought that had gone well enough too...but then that job didn't turn out either.  Now I'm on interview three and I just don't know.

     So, I'm taking little steps.  At least there's one last little light of hope, but depending on the next few weeks I'll probably have to start the process all over again.

    To address another thing in my life that I'm dealing with anxiety about is my painting crafting table.  It's a website too and I was hoping that by sharing it online on a regular basis I might get someone interested in something and buy something or anything actually... It's like when I was going to get married and everyone was so excited and promised they'd come celebrate with me and then we set up this huge party for all of these people...and no one showed.  So, it's like I'm setting up this big old party and I'm the only one celebrating.

     It's hard not to feel rejected isn't it?

     I keep trying to remind myself that a lot of my stock is related to Christmas and people just don't buy stuff until it gets closer...so, crossing my fingers?  I also had a failure this week with getting things up on Google (which mildly sucks after it seemed like things were going to work only to have them dragged down all of a sudden) but I'll keep trudging on.  I don't have the fan base that I used to have with some of my artwork.  Now I'm starting nearly from scratch.

     Then a bit of a blow to my feminism today.  So, obviously we're closely approaching the end of month three without a job, and I've been doing okay paying my own bills and helping with groceries and things with my savings.  That's why my savings exist - why I've pushed so hard over the years to have so much of it built up - forgoing vacations and fancy clothes or expensive trinkets (I have a lot of trinkets but they're usually less than $40 and I spend very little on things for myself) - so except when we go out to eat dinner, I don't expect my husband to buy anything for me.
     But then tonight at the craft store he whipped out his credit card and paid for my purchase.  I just didn't know what to do because I don't expect that of him, and I'm sure he didn't mean anything of it, but it was my purchase, for things I'm going to use... so it just felt like a bit of a punch in the gut.

     I'm making steps.  They're very small, but I'm trudging on.  I don't know what I'm doing since I have so much time booked up with other things - which I guess is good to keep me busy, but it's weird to feel so busy and not actually have a job that's keeping me busy.

    I just need to keep keeping on.

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 16 - Finding More Purposes

    Skip forward a bit over a week from the last time I wrote here about my mental health, and I'm still having dreams about my old job.  I dream that I go in and am asked to help, to put something right again, and I do so very willingly as I'm needed, and it's about halfway through the dream that I realize, or rather, remember, that I no longer have that job and I just put it down and walk away.  Or sometimes I give the task to someone else (rather in a managerial way) and even in my dream I have to remind myself that I no longer have this job.  My purpose for so many years has gone, and I feel like I have no purpose.
     But, I shove on, and I put out those applications and I waited my turn for another purpose to come, because, maybe everyone has more than one purpose on this world.  God can't just give us a single purpose, He is too great for that, right?  I can't imagine making us in His image means that He gives us only a single purpose.  Some it's to work, be a wife/husband, mother/father, sister/brother, daughter/son, etc, and maybe for others it's to become famous or be a role-model or politician, or lawyer or judge or priest or some other thing.  And maybe you fulfil your purpose and maybe you screw it over royally but never know until you're standing at one of the gates (pearly or firey) and realize that you did good or fucked up.  But, you really don't know until that time, and if the people who don't believe in those things don't go anywhere, then I guess you'll never know because there's no heaven or hell waiting for you on the other side.  But it is what it is.
     So, me thinking about the depths of how many purposes I actually might have, leads me to think that Insurance is probably not one of them.  I applied to the first place and it just didn't fit with me, and then I applied with another (who, I'm told, I may still be under consideration with, even two months later, although it's rather hard to believe at this point), and then yet another (the one I told you about with the phone interview) I got a rather blunt letter saying that they had filled the position with someone else and that I didn't have what they were looking for.  'Nuff said, end of story, don't bother to apply for a different position.
     Trust me, it hurt.  But then I realized that just like I said last time, I didn't really want to work there and I guess Insurance really isn't my thang.

     But, what then, is my purpose?  I can go back to the very beginning, back to when I first could write, and I felt my purpose was to share the magic of unicorns and awesome stories and drawings with people.  My third grade self felt her purpose was to write books about unicorns and dragons and even though she had completely ripped off a story she had read to make this book her own (well, she did change a few things to make it unique, so it was her story now, right?) and Miss Williams was still the best 3rd Grade teacher a girl could ever have, encouraging her to write and then perhaps bring back stories to her younger students years later (and she did) to teach others about drawing and writing.

     That writing purpose was still strong when the 13 year old me learned how to type (slowly) on a typewriter she borrowed from her aunt in order to start her very first novel.  She wouldn't finish it until she became 17 year old me, but she plugged along at it for a very long time.  And not only that, wrote a bunch of other stories as well, and learned how to draw and paint, and painting was a really awesome thing.  And she painted on walls and she painted on doors and inside her closet and she painted on wood things and later on canvases, but she liked to paint, and her mom bought her ceramic things to paint and she got to paint at school and so painting and writing became her purpose.

     College me felt her hoped for purpose to write would actually mean being an author, but that didn't work out so well.  But college me also met a bunch of friends who taught her how to play games and paint miniatures and that was pretty cool for college me, so I worked really hard to paint up an army to use at my very first Origins and my friends and I never did play in a tournament, but we did play games together until they all moved away or stopped going to college together.

     After-College me learned to really like artwork and learned how to work retail and it was pretty cool, even if it was boring so she thought that maybe retail merchandising was my purpose.  Especially in art type situations and she still wrote and tried to re-write that book that she had finished at 17, but only got in a few chapters.  But she liked the retail world and really wanted to get into the framing world too because she liked being around art so much that she eventually got a job doing just that.

     Twenty-two year old me's purpose was to custom frame, but also draw manga, and paint.  Lots of painting was in order as she did a mural at the store and still painted at home and gave away paintings to her friends, and it was a lot of fun.  My purpose at that time was to make other's happy with her drawings and paintings and manga, and also, to a lesser extent, writing, because she had discovered fanfiction and had been writing that since her college years and it really made her friends happy when she wrote for them.
     But that was also around the time that she realized that might be the only reason her friends liked her and each time she would stop writing for her friends, those friends would go away.  And those friends would eventually disappear, every single time she stopped writing for them, and that made her sad on multiple occasions because it just kept happening... first with Highlander, and then with Trigun.

     Twenty-something me realized maybe her purpose might be as a wife, so when she married and settled down, she tried to be the best home-maker she could and budget-savvy and saved and scrimped at the retail job which wasn't as fun, but she still liked the framing purpose because that certainly seemed to make people happy.  And she wished she had never attempted to find a management purpose because that did not make her happy, and as she got older she wondered if maybe her purpose wasn't that at all but people kept telling her that maybe it was her purpose.

     Thirty-something me felt that everyone who told her that her purpose would be to run a store was full of bullshit and was miserable for literally years.  She couldn't make friends as a manager, couldn't write as a manager (she'll admit, she still felt her writing purpose was there since her manager used to leave her alone in the frame shop and she wrote things regularly when they had forgotten her) and couldn't really do much of anything except work and sleep and be a wife (and cat mom) and that was slowly taking the life out of her.  So...maybe the manager thing wasn't a good purpose?  But she knew that she did serve a purpose because people liked her and she knew the job and she was a good manager even if the woman above her made her purpose seem drab and worthless.

     But then thirty-eight something me discovered stories again.  She discovered painting again.  She discovered, of all things, Dungeons & Dragons, and then allowed her to be creative again.  It brought her friends again (to hell with that saying "managers shouldn't make friends with their staff") and she started writing and creating and painting those miniatures she'd felt her purpose had been as a college-her and she was still a wife, and she felt like all of those things were coming together nicely.

     She still....rather, I still, worry about my purpose as a dungeon master and whether or not I'll still be friends with these people if I ever stop my story, but it makes them happy and it makes me happy, and I'm a very big fan of being happy.  I know my few purposes at the moment are:

• Painter
• Writer
• Dungeon Master
• Friend
• Wife
• Cat-Mom
• Daughter
• Sister, Cousin, Niece
• ????

     The problem that I have now, as I try to fulfill all of these purposes in my life, is to see if there's actually another one out there.  I used to think so before I was fired.  I used to think I'd be in retail my entire life and that would have been fine with me, but I don't think management was my purpose, and I think that's the reason I've always had such a tough time of it.  (Come to think of it, my first boss took months to promote me to assistant, dithering over a couple of us, and my last one did the exact same damn thing...which basically sums up my entire life with those two jobs, honestly.)  And this Insurance thing I keep trying to get into (come on, who doesn't want a 9-5 job with weekends off?) just doesn't seem to be working either.

     So am I just trying too hard to find the missing purpose?  Am I searching for something that just isn't there?  I really wish I lived in another country where healthcare actually helped people rather than hurting them, because I think all of those purposes above would be a lot less worrisome, not having to think about the fact that my birth control runs out in three months and if I don't get back on it I have no idea what might happen.  I'm 40-something me now and I really don't want to add "Mom" to the purpose list because it's hard enough being a cat-mom.

     I have a lot of thinking to do, a lot of painting, a lot of writing, and a lot of praying and working to do to find this last purpose.  And maybe it's not my very last purpose, I'm sure there will always be more.  But, as you can tell, the writing and the painting thing seem to be at least two purposes that are probably always going to stick.  So besides making people happy with them (and myself) on a rather small scale, is there a way to make these on a large scale where I can make life work for me?  I don't know.... but until another purpose rears its head, I guess that's all I've got.

     And maybe being one or two less purposes for awhile isn't such a bad thing.

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 15 - Missing Purpose

     I changed the title of this series to "Focus on My Mental Health" as it doesn't really touch on mental health in general, but my own personal journey as I have gone from being a miserable human being in a job that was destroying my mental health - to a human being that is miserable from the inability to find a job that can bring me back to a healthy mental state once again.  I've been still doing the job of working on my stock for my craft booth, and now too my website, but the fact that I haven't actually sold anything means it's not an actual job yet.  If I had a following before this point, if someone had seen my paintings all of these years ago and said "you should sell these" and then started throwing money at me, maybe I could have already sold stuff by now.  So, it feels rather hollow, even though I had promised myself that I was merely starting on stocking the table first.

     My mental state is fairly low today, just as it has been since this last week.  I started off in this place of "I don't really want to get a job here, but I'll do it so I can have a job and maybe I'll like it eventually" a week ago today.  I'd just had a telephone interview that sounded really positive, except for a couple little hints that were dropped that sounded to me at the time like maybe I wouldn't hear right away because someone was out of the office.  But I was assured I'd hear by the end of the week.

     But I didn't hear by the end of the week.  And if I were in a better place, I think I would have called or emailed and said, "hey, what's the verdict?"  But when I start to open up that email to do so, I start to get anxious and remember that I really didn't want to work there.  I balance back and forth between feeling depressed that yet another job doesn't want me, but also feeling like it gives me a chance to find the right job.

     I know it's only been two months, but it feels like it's been so much longer.

---------------

    Took a quick break from writing and switched over to some more crafting instead.  To be completely honest with myself, and with whomever is actually reading this (the one or two people I notice have "viewed" this site from time to time) - I was really excited about my "business" when I started it a few weeks ago.  I've started pouring my time and effort into creating a profile, a website, an email address, a facebook page, and a store.  I started getting people interested in it, started getting likes and follows.  I started to get interest in things and that was pretty exciting for me.

     Then I got a "review" which was basically to say "copied but cute things" (to paraphrase) and even though someone was nice enough to recommend my page to someone else, the way they did it was kind of discouraging.  I pressed forward, told myself, that yes they are a bit "copied" but only in that when it starts getting harder to find things like it from China for this cheap (what with the tariffs) people will start buying things from me... right?  And maybe the kitschy retro stuff will be popular?

     But the review has stuck with me, and I guess in a way that's started to push me to start doing other unique things or at least learning new painting techniques.  But in the back of my mind I keep thinking "why would anyone want to buy something from me?  What makes these things unique?"

My answer is - they aren't.  There isn't a reason.  That's why they haven't bought anything yet.

     So, that's the reason why I'm depressed about this business endeavor.  But it's all I've got.  I keep telling myself that I need to work on my job applications, update my resume, do something to get a new job.  But then I pull up those job listings and tears spring to my eyes and this crushing anxiety just hits me.  I stare at the screen, I scroll the listings for a minute, then I close the browser because I can't look at it anymore.

     And I get these emails from the state because I had applied for unemployment, but I haven't gotten a dime and have absolutely no idea if I'm even going to get anything, so it feels rather worthless to be filling out the paperwork for no reason.

     If I had any leads at all, then maybe I'd feel better.  But instead, I sit here with no purpose, wondering why I'm here.  I'm miserable as the stupid neighbors bounce balls non-stop, drive stupid mini-bikes up and down the block for HOURS and I can't work in my garden because I can't have any fucking peace and quiet here.

      And I can't leave because I have no jobs to get away from it.

I just want to cry.

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 14 - An Hour to Forty

     I have just a little over an hour before the day of my fortieth birthday.  Officially it was around 7:35pm, so I guess I have over twelve hours before I would be "officially" forty years old, but it doesn't really matter.  What matters is that in an hour and a few minutes, it will be June 8.  I will be a whole year older, and I'm just that bit further away from where I thought I'd be at this age.
     Not only have I reached this milestone, I also feel more worthless than ever this evening. I woke up feeling fairly good, got going and made some awesome blueberry pancakes, coffee, and then watched my email inbox.
     I had a phone interview on Monday morning.  She said, "you will definitely hear from us by the end of the week to set up an in-person interview...after I review it with the right people."  My friend who also interviewed for this company had heard back from them to set up an in-person interview within a day, and a week later she had the interview and a day later, a job.  I have heard absolutely nothing.  Four days, not a thing.
     What is wrong with me?  I thought I did a good job, sure, I didn't ask a ton of questions because I really thought that maybe they'd be honest with me and say, 'oh you aren't what we're looking for in this particular job but if you want to apply for another one....'  But not even that.  I feel worthless.  I feel like everything that I've done up until this point has lead up to this fortieth year and I have absolutely nothing to show for it.
     I don't have the ambition to go for another management job and even if I were to get one I think it would slowly kill my soul.  And apparently I can't find a job in another field, even a stinkin' part time one - and now I'm blaming myself for not doing my second round of interviews at the first place because I feel like that bridge is gone and why did I do that?  Why didn't I just take the damn job in the first place?  Why did I think I was better than $12/hr and having to deal with paying for parking forever??
     And no, I haven't been able to get unemployment and no one has bothered to notify me why - or even just a "nope, you can't get it, sorry."  NOPE.  Not a word.  Not a word from anyone.

     My mom is here this weekend and I slogged through the zoo thinking that maybe that would be enjoyable but because we had like three and a half hours we couldn't do it slowly and we didn't get to see everything and I really couldn't afford it, but we went anyway.

      And for a few minutes here and there I was happy.  I love the flying foxes...  Don't you just want to boop that snoot?  These things, without me realizing it, were what inspired the whatchers of my childhood.  Back when I was thirteen and having a hard time in my life, I had a lot of friends but I was also miserable when they were away - I think I realize now that while they were with me I felt good because I wasn't inside my own head, but when they left I was back there with a vengeance and life now is sort of the same in that regard - I came up with this invisible friend "Blacky" and he was basically a flying black fox except my critters had slightly exaggerated ears and a long fluffy fox tail too.  But, anyway, for those bits of time at the zoo yesterday when I took these photos, I realized that I was at piece, and I probably could have spent all of my time there just watching them.
     But then I was also miserable because I realized I hadn't received any messages and I'm just getting my business going and haven't sold anything (but I feel I need to get a lot more made and need to do more and that wasn't happening while I was wandering the zoo, so of course that made me feel worse).  And also no one was asking me a damn thing about the interview - had I heard anything?  What was I feeling about all of this?  No one had asked how I was holding up.  Now, a different friend had asked but honestly, I got no response at all back, so it was like...I guess, why ask at all if you don't feel like responding?  Some times all you want is a kind reply, some kind of recognition that you're going through a real hard time in your life and yes, we understand, it sucks.
   
     We got back from the zoo and I was miserable listening to the rotten children next door bouncing basketballs all night long.  I just wanted to go strangle them, but before 11:30 they were finally done.  But then I thought I'd make an online purchase to cheer me up but that only made me feel more miserable too because I have no money coming in and suddenly my entire life it dependent upon someone else and slowly my savings is starting to dwindle because of some damn woman wanting to 'set an example' with me or some stupid thing and I'm just sad all the time now because I don't know whether I should be putting all of my focus on this new project I'm doing or whether it's completely a fool's errand and I'm just going to drown myself in it.

     So, here I am, less then 45 minutes away from my birthday and realizing that all of the other years I've had these big plans for my birthday, but I'm also kind of stuck with only doing things that my mom can manage because the zoo nearly dropped her a few times and we were only walking for a few hours!  So my idea of going down to Hocking Hills is off, it was bad the last time we took her but it would be worse now if she was huffing after only a half hour at the zoo...and resting every fifteen minutes after that.  I really feel like I can't afford to do anything else and feel guilty even asking...  In the past we've done all sorts of things and every year I want to go somewhere I've never been before and see something I've never seen to make my birthday a remarkable one, one that I would remember.
     But this year it feels fake and sad.  And I was really waiting to get that email saying "here, schedule your in-person interview next week" but didn't get that so after waiting with anticipation and knowing I won't get anything the next two days, and oh yeah, my other plans for the weekend have already fallen through...I just feel lost.

     I tried to make up for some of it tonight by a really awesome D&D game and a pizza party and DQ ice cream cake too...but that somehow just felt off too, but probably because most of the day was a lot of hurry up and wait and I had that shadow of an interview that just won't be over me.  And no one asked...  So it feels like I'm suffering by myself.
     Then my husband found out my cat has been peeing on things in the basement again and it was probably a combination of him and I moving things so may have destroyed hundreds of dollars of items and I'm staying up to wait for the washer to finish in hopes that we can save the bags they came in... which will hopefully salvage it all... But he's miserable and found it in the middle of the game and I couldn't drop everything I was doing because there were a bunch of people over.  So he was distracted and I was distracted and trying to help because I feel miserable like it was my fault but also just wish I could get rid of this cat that every time we leave alone for awhile we start to feel bad for him but then he makes us get angry again too.

     I don't know what to do.  I think the kids have finally stopped dribbling the basketballs.  The washer sounds like it may be on its last spin or so.  I have a half hour left.  I wish I had an answer to all of this.  I wish I could say that I could just put on a happy face and move on.  I also wish I knew if I really had to apply for jobs twice a week for unemployment because it certainly doesn't feel like I'm doing any of it for anything...  THEY screwed ME over.  I didn't do anything on purpose - I worked there for 16 years!!  And now in almost two full months now I can't find a job, can't get on unemployment, and I just don't know what to do.  And here I am... 40 (or rather almost) and I feel like a lost teenager leaving High School back in 1997 with no plans for the future, no job, no colleges lined up because I have no goals in life...and I just want to make things better again.  I want them all to go back to the way they were when everything was RIGHT.  And nothing's right.

Why isn't anything right?

Why?

I really need to sleep...

Glenhaven's Son Enirich - Part 2 (a short story)

      The summer heat bore down on the caravan as it traveled up the Great road to Glenhaven.  The bugs and the humidity were hardly kept at bay by the taught canvas covers over the wagons.  The speed that the horses took the heavily rutted roads barely created enough breeze to cool the sweat from their faces.  Miserable and nervous, the drivers and guards kept a close eye upon the densely packed trees of the Black Oak Forest, looking for bandits.  The woods had been full of them in the summer, but for some reason, it was oddly quiet.
     Menirel, the leader of the caravan, looked at the miserable group.  The wagons were packed full of items ordered for the small town to the north.  There were six wagons this time around, and additional guards were ordered, besides the AWOL solider that sat in the second wagon, looking very beaten up after his journey back to Waterfordshire.  The young man had asked Menirel to join the caravan, and even though the two stars on his uniform said he was in the middle of training, he had no discharge papers and seemed distraught.  Feeling for the young man who seemed vaguely familiar, but was so beaten and bedraggled that Menirel couldn't place his name, he allowed the young man to ride along.
     Enirich had managed to get back to town after his failed attempt to bring the murderers to justice, searched up the caravan, and hadn't said a word since he found a place on the second wagon.  His thoughts were scrambled and miserable.  His first thoughts once the rage and need for revenge had waned, was that he should go home, see that his parents were properly buried, and that he needed to figure out where to go next.  It would be difficult as he knew that Glenhaven believed he had been killed along with his parents, according to the report that had returned from the city.
      The spring rains had ceased and the roads needed repair, and Menirel was surprised that there didn't appear to be any work done on them yet.  The wagons bounced around and they eventually made their way back to the bridge which had washed out on the way in.  The bridge was in the middle of repairs, and a couple of men were at the side of the road having lunch, wiping their brows with dirty rags.  "Ho there, is the bridge in order yet?"
     Standing up, one of the men wave to Menirel, "Is it that time already?  Just take it easy, one wagon at a time.  The railing on the right is still loose so you may want to walk them over."  He moves over to the side of the bridge as the drivers each get down, taking the reins of the horses on each wagon and slowly the six wagons make it across.  The men working on the bridge don't see the miserable solider in the second wagon as he sits in the back with his head bowed.
     Things looked different when they arrived in the city.  The statue of Chauntea had been uncovered once again, and things looked fairly peaceful, but the normally friendly citizens of the city looked uneasy as the caravan made its way through the city to the park where they would make camp for the week.  As they pulled in to the small round about at the north side of the city, Menirel noticed there were quite a few new graves in the graveyard by the church.  The fresh plots were just starting to grow the first few blades of grass, but otherwise still looked new.  The church was wide open this day, and the Father was working at pruning the bushes near the front.
     "Welcome to Glenhaven, folks!  If you're a guard, please come and receive your payment, otherwise we'll start setup closer to sundown.  We'll be here for six days, so let me know if you're planning on taking the trip back!"  Menirel stepped down and after pulling his gold from under the wagon seat, he started handing out payments.  The young solider did not come to collect, but rather stumbled off back down the street.  He shrugged, and returned to the business as hand.
     Enirich gazed around him at the familiar, yet unfamiliar streets.  Things looked like they always had, but he had fully planned never to return here.  He didn't want to be a disappointment to his father.  He had been a weak child and even though he had left to get stronger, he had found a place in Waterfordshire.  They probably wouldn't take him back there either, he mused, now that he had caused so much stir and had gotten some good men killed.  Could he even find a place to be now?
     The Stablemaster Gantz glanced his way briefly as he lead a horse out of the stable down toward the parked caravan, but he didn't say anything if he recognized Enirich.  So the young man moved on, saw the young Maribel and stablehand Matthew walking hand in hand down the street, turning into the General store.  No one seemed to pay him any mind.  Maybe he was a ghost.  Maybe he was already dead.
     His home of many years was boarded up.  Enirich stared at it with blank eyes, the home of his parents was closed off and no longer welcoming as it had been for his entire childhood.  He walked around it, trying the back door, then pulling out the key from a hidden spot under the back porch, he let himself in.
     Things had been disturbed.  Someone had been in here, had searched the place, but it didn't seem like things were missing, just messy.  But there were no signs of his parents, no signs of anything left behind.  He wandered upstairs to his old bedroom.  The room was almost like an oven since it had not been opened up for the summer.  There was evidence that someone had been living there since he had left.  Enirich scratched his scraggly beard and looked around.  There was a journal sitting on the desk, and as he flipped through it realized that it looked strikingly similar to his own handwriting, but he had not been here and had never seen this journal before.
     Opening up the window above the desk, a slight breeze came through, and the light from the setting sun shown down upon the bed.  Enirich sat down with the journal in his lap and started to flip through this journal "he" had written, but had never seen before.  As he flipped, the sun moved across the bed.  Details were surprisingly thorough, and it talked about "his" life in the village over the past year.  Someone who apparently looked like him had impersonated him and had convinced his parents to do horrible things and join a cult!  How could they?  Hadn't they always worshipped Chauntea, the goddess of the harvest?  How could they have suddenly turned their back upon her?
     Enirich continued to read, learning about how he had tried to woo the young Maribel, his own cousin, to try to marry her until she had seen his true form...true form?  And then he had tried to kill Maribel, but when that didn't work, he was forced to convince the town that she needed to be sacrificed to the gods of the darkness.... the Under Dark.
     Shifting, Enirich realized that the sun was already setting by now, and he hurried to light a candle on the night stand to continue reading.  The journal detailed the attempted poisoning of Maribel, of the new adventurers who had appeared and had helped Caspian heal her.  Of the plot to sacrifice her, of the raising of the cockatrice and the basilisk.  His parents helped in raising these beasts that "he" had brought with him?  How?  Why?  He shook his head and continued reading.
     The adventurers had left town, and "he" was excited that his plans were working.  Once Maribel was out of the way, "he" would kill his uncle and take over the city and with the help of Gantz, take over the mine.  The mine?  Why would he want a defunct mine?
     "Oh..."  Suddenly a conversation he had in Waterfordshire had come to mind.  The first night in a new city, he had just joined the school to become a solider and was celebrating.  A man had bought him a few drinks after he had started to talk about the riches in the mine.  His father had always told him that it was a direct entrance to the Under Dark and had been the hiding place for vast riches.  When he got drunk, he had told this stranger all of this, and even though he didn't really believe in it, he knew that his father had wanted the secrets to the mine and had tried to get him to marry Maribel himself in order to get the secrets.  Enirich had told the man that he wasn't going back there and waved the letter that he was going to send the next day telling his parents he wasn't coming back.  He didn't want to see the disappointment in their eyes ever again.
     The stranger said he was headed that way and had offered to take the letter...  And because he was drunk, Enirich had agreed and had forgotten it in his hangover the next day.  But now, as he read this, he realized that this man was the man who had impersonated him.  He had somehow convinced his parents to follow him, and as Enirich flipped through the book, the letter he himself had written, fell out.  Unopened.
     For a long time, he watched the flame of the candle flicker along the walls of his old bedroom.  His parents were dead.  They had been convinced by a stranger to do terrible things.  The city had turned in on itself.  And everyone had thought it had been HIM.
     A noise downstairs startled him, and Enirich hurried to blow out the candle, heart pounding.  Something was shuffling around on the first floor.  He went down to the floor and slowly crawled over to the top of the stairs and peered down.  A small figure was going through the house, turning things over, looking for something.  Enirich pulled his dagger and slowly crept down the stairs.
     The figure didn't see him as he crept to the bottom stair.  It was preoccupied with something on the far side of the room, and Enirich, crouching, started to stalk toward the figure as he had been trained.  He had almost made it up to the four foot figure, when suddenly a candle flared to life and it turned, face to face.
     "Ahh!"  A shriek came out of the figure, and it scrambled back and the candle flickered out.  "Don't hurt me, I'm sorry!  I wasn't doing anything, honest!"
     Enirich dropped his dagger and backed up.  "Who are you, why are you in here?"
     "I...well, I was told that..."  The voice was feminine and wispy, "I was told to clean this place up since the boy was coming back..."
     "The...boy?"  Enirich put his dagger back in his sheath, feeling around for the candle that had been dropped.  After a moment or two of fumbling, he managed to light it, and looked in the eyes of the small figure.  "Bee?"
     A female gnome looked up at him, blinked, "Enirich?  Is that really you?"
     Enirich took a breath and let it out, slumping to the floor.  "...Caspian knew I was coming back, did he?"
     "Yeah, although I guess his timing was a bit off."  Ellabee got to her feet and her head was just a bit above his sitting.  She brushed herself off and pulled over a pillow that had been thrown to the floor at some point and sat down on it.  "I could hardly believe that you were still alive, we all thought you were dead.  But then an hour ago the old man says, 'he's on his way, go get his house cleaned up.'  I hate how he knows these things but that's a wizard for you."
     "Did he say who or what that thing was that pretended to be me?"  Enirich saw a surprised expression come over her face and he scrambled to explain, "I found a journal upstairs.  It was written in my handwriting but I didn't write it... said something about his 'true form'.  I'm so confused, my parents are dead and I thought I knew who was to blame but now I just don't know..."
     Ellabee nodded, "It was a doppleganger.  Not many people know that though.  My theory was that he had used some kind of magic to convince them, but there wasn't any magic on them when they died, so whatever they did at the end, they did of their own accord."  She reached out a small hand and set it on Enirich's knee.  "I'm sorry that they're gone, but they were bad people when they died.  They tried to kill those adventurers and so they were killed."
     "So, I have no one.  No where to go..."
     The gnome sighed, pulling back her hand and reaching into a small bag at herself.  "Here, Caspian told me to give you this."  Handing him a scroll, Ellabee closed her bag once again.  "It's important that you know there's a war coming.  I'm sure you had an idea from your training in Waterfordshire, but this little town is going to be the first line of defense and we don't have a Chief anymore.  Your father had known about it.  The Orcs to the north have joined forces with the Underground folk.  It's only a matter of time now."
     Enirich pulled open the scroll.

     Young Enirich,
I know this has been a difficult time for you, but you will need to forget your revenge for now and work on getting an army ready.  Our city has very little time to prepare before it is slaughtered by the oncoming armies.  Your training will help in this matter, and I shall help you take back your place in this town.  Please come to see me when you are ready to undertake this great task.
     Caspian

     "War?  How can I prepare for war?  This is a tiny town!  I have only been training for a few years!"  Enirich let the scroll drop to the floor.  "I'm worthless!  I couldn't even protect my family, how can I be depended upon to save an entire village?"
     Ellabee shook her head, "I don't know, but Caspian believes in you.  I know he's always been rather mysterious, but he knows the future and the past, and if he says it's coming, it's coming."  She stook up from her pillow and straightened her tunic.  "Your uncle the mayor has been keeping the village guard trained for the past few months, but he's struggling with the balance of that and trying to get the defenses rebuilt.  Maribel shows no interest in following in his footsteps.  She has gotten pregnant with Matthew's child and they plan to be married in the fall, so he's been pulled in multiple directions.  Talk to Caspian, he will help you smooth things out with your uncle."
     With that, she set up a fallen chair and headed toward the back door.  "I'll leave you to get some rest, Enirich.  Come see us tomorrow.  We have much work to do."  And then Ellabee left without another word to the young man as he sat looking at the scroll he had dropped.

     The next day after a restless night, Enirich set out before sunrise to Caspian's shop.  The wizard was standing in the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee which he handed to the young man.  "Come in, I was waiting for you, we have much work to do."
   

Focus on My Mental Health - pt. 13 - Moving Forward Again

     This is probably going to be a fairly brief post, mainly because I feel like putting "pen to paper" so to speak in order to help work through my anxiety that I'm dealing with currently.  If you haven't been a fan of my rambling posts, you probably don't need to bother reading this.  But it's out there, I'm going to post it, and I can push it out of my mind for awhile.

     I waited through the Memorial Day weekend to see if I would get any phone calls from any of the applications I put out there.  Memorial day came and went, then Tuesday, and now Wednesday, and it feels really weird because I've submitted about eight or so total, had one interview, one call that I failed to get, and that was all within the first two weeks of losing my job.  I was energized, excited, I was starting a new career!!  The world is my oyster!  I will grab it with both hands!  Let's go get something exciting going!
     Then I turned down the first job thinking that it wasn't worth the pay and the worry.  The second call I was so anxious all day long that I literally could not pick up the phone to call until it was too late in the day.  They'd already filled the position.
     I turned to filling out unemployment forms and haven't gotten anything but a headache from the emails saying I need to fill this out, apply here, do this form...and still don't know if I'm going to receive a penny from all of the work I spent worrying over it.  The amount of temp offices that start sending out emails and calling is rather insane to the point that I'm just about to start blocking everything.  But I have to stay on these lists in order to get unemployment, but since I don't even know if I'm going to get anything, it's really aggravating.
     Then my friends started getting some interviews and I spiraled into depression and I was frozen and didn't want to apply anywhere.  But at the same time I just haven't found anything that I want to do.  There's no jobs out there right now that appeal to me and there are so many out there that I just don't fit in with...

     Skip to today and I just feel like I'm trying all of these different things and my anxiety hit me in the middle of the night and I realized I had so much I've put on my plate lately.  I have all of these D&D figures to paint and then I had all of these wooden ornaments to paint and then I bought more because I just needed something to keep my mind off of all of it, and suddenly I was petrified that I'm running out of time and just freaking out about all of it.
     Then on the news today they were talking about how the DOW Jones had dropped some 300 points and they're all talking about how we're hitting a recession later this year or early the next and I'm suddenly panicking because I don't have a job and that's just really freaking me out... I can't go into a recession without a job!!  Especially not another one that lasts like 6 years!!!

      So I applied for a part time job and then realized how dumb it was that I was avoiding the job my friend suggested just because it's a half hour drive or more, and that bums me out to think I'll be spending an hour of my day every day just driving again, but then again, I decided that maybe I'll apply for it anyway.  I nearly had a panic attack before hitting the send button.  My heart started pounding and I got dizzy, but I did it, eventually.  It took three different times and also forcing myself to type out a cover letter for a job I really don't even care about getting.  But, if it gives me $15/hr at least it'll be a bit better than the $12/hr one that I had hit upon.

      And my anxiety is going down a wee bit for awhile.  I keep reminding myself that it's 9:30 at night and I won't hear from anyone for at least 12 hours or longer.  I really hate the idea of working in a corporate environment, but maybe if I can work near some friends it won't be nearly as miserable...  So, we'll see.

Wish me luck... I'm pressing forward.

The Mid-Life Crisis (A Story)

     I'm taking a break from my mental health series for a short story.  It's mostly just a story about me, but since I think I've burned myself out a bit, maybe taking another approach will be a good coping mechanism.  Perhaps.  If you've been reading any of the previous posts, most likely you will have 'heard' all of this before and can just skip it.  Then again, if you haven't read any of it (or very little) maybe a different format will be of interest to you.  It's up to you.  Enjoy.

     There once was a woman who had decided upon her fortieth birthday that she was not going to have a mid-life crisis.  After all, even though a lot of people considered the big 4-0 "over the hill", she fully planned to live until she was one hundred years old, so at the very least, she had ten more years to plan for the mid-way point.
     Her life was a fairly peaceful one.  She approached it with a mild curiosity, seeing all of her friends get married in their late teens and early twenties, having a few children early on, and then eventually getting divorced, or just deciding they wanted changes by the time they were in their late twenties to early thirties.  She, after all, didn't do any of these things.  She lived at home with her mom until her late twenties, found someone to marry after much consideration, knowing that he would not be like those her friends married who cheated on them or fell out of love early, she had, after all, waited until later in her life.
     The woman had graduated college, debt-free (which was almost unheard of in her generation and the one that followed) and had gotten a full-time job that she had begrudgingly accepted to be her career.  She hadn't actually decided on one, and she's sure there were plenty of people who thought that working the way up the retail ladder was for them, she'd just sorta fallen into it.  People would leave, they'd need someone who knew the job, and she'd be there and had stepped up to the task.
     But not long after moving in with her boyfriend, changing cities, and eventually buying a house, she finally moved up into management.  This seemed nice.  The pay was okay, she knew what she was doing, and things seemed pretty stable.  After all, she worked in a place where people came to get things to create other things, so while stores were closing all over the place, the store she worked was thriving.  People needed things to "make" things for themselves and it was a good racket.
     She didn't notice, since up until this point everyone had been very positive about her moving up, that a spiteful woman who was just a bit ahead of her had started to despise her.  She should have noticed.  The signs were all there just as in her previous stint in retail in her early twenties, the woman started blaming her for all of her problems.  Some of the same things were starting to happen to her with this new manager, but because everything was going so smoothly, and the fact that her manager kept blaming her boss for any issues, she just kept with her upward trend and never looked back.
     Spring, a few year's ago, she started to have an inkling something was wrong.  She came back from vacation to find that she had been demoted.  But not quite enough to get a severance package.  She probably should have quit then, but the idea of finding a new job seemed so impossible.  She'd been in that place for some 10 years or so, how could she just leave and start again?
     So she stuck with it, took the demotion, and kept working, making less than before she became a manager, but it was money, it was still full time, she was still working with people she liked, and even though she did attempt to job hunt for awhile, things were okay at home and things were paid for and she just shrugged and kept plowing along.
     And it actually paid off.  Surprisingly, the woman who took her job left to another store, and the manager acted upset but when the woman didn't come back immediately, she had to replace her with someone else and the mid-thirties woman got to have her spot back again.  Things went okay during that year because the store was working well and they got a new district manager around that time and this new guy seemed much nicer than the older one.
     It was around that time, however, that she really realized that it had nothing to do with that previous district manager.  It was rather, all this spiteful woman she'd inadvertently angered at some point.  She thought it was the district who had made the call to demote her, but it wasn't.  She'd been kidding herself thinking that, because only about a year later, her manager was trying to do it again.  And it was that same lady again.  But she wouldn't give up what she had worked so hard to get back, so the lady didn't re-join them until almost a year later when the manager basically got rid of yet someone else.
     Things began to fall apart soon after that.  The manager just kept getting rid of anyone she didn't like.  The problem with that is a lot of those people were actually really good workers.  They just didn't listen to her because she was a terrible manager and they knew it.  So they listened to our heroine and things rolled along okay, but soon they were all gone, only leaving a handful of good workers, a bunch of good part-time people, and then this manager and her useless friend and of course, our lady.
     Until the manager found a way to get rid of her.
     Honestly, our heroine didn't even know if the manager was intelligent enough to hatch this plan on her own, but she later realized she probably didn't have to, there were two or three other people working against her to.  But she thought she was safe.  She thought by following orders and trying to keep her head down, that things would get better again as spring passed, but she was wrong.  The manager set her up.  Told her to keep an eye on shoplifters all the while knowing that by doing so she could turn her in to get into trouble.
     See, the manager had found out, most likely the week before she left on vacation, that they were going to make a rule that no one could follow shoplifters because an employee had gotten maced somewhere.  And after her vacation she was very careful who to tell this fact to.  Then she continued doing things as always until making everyone sign a very vague email about 'the new protocol' which had nothing to do with being fired and only stated that no one was to follow shoplifters out of the store or put themselves into harm's way.  Then she waited.
     Our lady, who by this point was only a few months away from her fortieth birthday, had known something was up the day that she was tracking her first shoplifter.  Oddly enough the manager sat in the office the entire time and never said a word.  She was careful not to leave the store and never accused the lady, merely tried to dissuade her by being nearby.
     The next day she received an email, a text message and a phone call from corporate wanting her story.  What in the world??  What was this about?  Why was she being asked about this?  She didn't even do more than say a few words and then stand in the doorway at the store and call out the license plate in case her manager wanted to call it in.  That's what they had been doing for years, so why a phone call about it all of a sudden?
     Scared to death, she didn't follow anyone or if she did, didn't say anything in the store about it.  She was told to follow people still, so she did as she was told, and a week or so past and nothing came of the first incident, so she figured all was well.
     It wasn't.
     Another incident, and this time there was only one other witness, but she was in a good mood as she got the merchandise back peacefully and the manager wasn't there to see it happen, and she decided it wasn't worth reporting it.  But she did mention the fellows to the closing manager and told her what happened.
     It was the wrong person to tell.  Apparently she was one of the people who were also against her, just waiting for any chance she got to rat on her.
     The next day they had a phone conference which said, in no uncertain terms, if someone did something that was dangerous they were to turn them in.  She thought about the previous night's incident and was glad she had not reported it.  She'd even looked into the emails to see if the closing manager had and didn't see any sent emails.  And when the call was done, she looked at her manager, wondering if the previous incident was going to lose her the job, but then the manager said, "I don't know about that one, but I have to report last night's, and I don't know about that one."
     Life crashed.  That mid-life crisis she had been trying so hard to avoid all of this time was suddenly knocking at her door and she tried her best to hold it together, but fell apart in the breakroom shortly after.  Her manager really was out for her.  She really did hate her.  The spite that she had in her expression that day cut through to the very bone and she realized just how long this woman had been planning for her downfall.
     The day would pass by uneventfully for another seven hours as the manager ran in, ran out, took a long lunch, came back and avoided everyone and took phone calls.  And when all was said and done, an hour before her shift was to end; once she had covered all of the breaks and lunches necessary, the terrible, hateful manager fired her.

Knock knock!  Mid-Life Crisis here!

     She couldn't even argue.  She wasn't even sure what to say, what to do, just handed over her keys and left.  Then messaged all of her friends that worked there a warning in case the hateful woman came for her too.  Then she drove home in silence, trying not to cry, but then broke down the moment she saw her husband.  It was over.  Over sixteen years of being in retail, of being good at her job, of tolerating her job and trying to live through the stress that this woman had caused in her life... over.

     Changes during this period of life are difficult.  One doesn't feel young enough to start over completely, but not old enough to retire and start over that way either.  She felt like she should continue on in the same line of work, at least for a little while, get back on her feet, at least have a job.  She wrote out a resume, applied for some jobs, waited.  After no responses, she switched tactics, moved to new lines of work and tried applying there.  She was very close to getting a job, but again, if she had been younger then maybe this job would have been better for her.  It didn't offer enough, so she turned it down and went on her way, but nothing else came.
     Her husband said it was fine.  He knew she could take some time off and recover from the stress of this previous job.  She was already acting happier, wasn't she?  So, take some time to figure out what you wanted to do.  So she started plotting some things she had been putting off for a long time - getting into a craft, maybe starting a business of her own.  But it was slow going and she kept getting distracted by other things going on in life.  Plans that they had made when she thought she'd still be working.  She had all of this time open now and yet she didn't think she was getting much accomplished.  She tried doing housework and even tried making her 'home business' a job and yet she kept getting sick, one cold after another, and instead of doing her work she sat on the couch, listless.
     The depression became worse.  She wasn't accomplishing anything and after ten different applications sent out she'd had one 'almost' job offer (she was certain she would have gotten it and fretted now it was her only chance but had turned it down because of low pay and location).  About the same time she had also received a phone call for an interview but missed the call and by the time she was able to return the call it was too late.  She'd screwed up and it crushed her.
     So, swallowing her pride, she applied for unemployment, hoping that perhaps she could at least help her family that way, get some money to live on for a little while.  But she got flagged immediately about breaking the rules and even though things seemed to go on normally (getting sent emails to submit job applications, etc) she got no confirmations about if she was going to receive the money or not.
     This made her doubt herself.  What if other people saw that she had been fired for something that she didn't really do but that was accused of and since she didn't fight it the black mark would always be on her record, forever?  What if no one wanted to hire her because she was a 'bad person'?  What would she do?  She couldn't live off her husband forever, this wasn't the 1980's when men made enough to support a family of four.  Hell, she didn't even have children, no was she planning on them, but she still didn't feel comfortable enough letting him take care of her!  She'd vowed never to be completely dependent upon another human unless she physically couldn't anymore.
     So she updated her resume again, put more details in, peppered it with anything she could think of, and then started sending it out again.

     But then her friends, who were also trying to get out, started to get interviews.  From some of the same places she herself had applied at!  What happened?  Was that black mark really a thing?  Why was this happening to her?  She found out they were getting out, but she hadn't received a single phone call since those first couple weeks.
     Her tenth anniversary past and she was miserable.  This was supposed to have been a fun time.  She was supposed to have taken paid time off to go on a vacation.  She was supposed to have money to be able to take a trip, maybe even finally do their honeymoon, at long last!  But they hadn't planned anything early, and now she had no money coming in and she felt worthless.  She felt like she was a complete and utter let down.  She had wanted to plan all of these special things to do with her husband, and they'd really have a good time together, maybe on a beach somewhere or maybe they'd go somewhere they'd never been before.  But it was too late.  Her anniversary was over, and nothing had come of it except for going to eat at a neat restaurant but she couldn't even enjoy it because she kept thinking about the fact that she wasn't getting interviews or even call backs and no one wanted her.
     She tried telling her husband how miserable she was, but he didn't say anything in reply.  He would say that he was fine, and he'd get upset when she'd tell him that no one was calling, and he'd make noises of concern, but for the most part he just kept to himself.  He didn't want to hear it, she was sure it made him uncomfortable, but he also stepped up and managed to get a raise at work, so at least it was something.  But she knew he was looking for another job too because his job had been rather uncertain since the recession.  Somehow he had kept on only by taking the money they offered and not asking for more until he really needed it.

     And now she had exactly two weeks until she was to turn forty.  She had originally thought she'd hold herself a big party and invite everyone.  Her mom would come down and she'd have her friends over and they'd do a big shindig thing in the backyard and it would be fun.  But...now she didn't feel like she deserved it.  She didn't feel like getting to forty was anything special.  Especially since she was a worthless loser with no job and no direction.
     Maybe this was mid-life.  Maybe this was the crisis.  Maybe there was no way out of this.  Maybe she was going to be stuck with this black mark on her life.  Was it because she chose to wait so long to get married?  Was it because she chose not to have children?  Was she being punished for not popping out a bunch of squiggling babies?  Was it because she hadn't made a life decision of what she wanted to be when she grew up?  She still hadn't completely grown up, had she?  Was there a point?
     Memorial Day weekend came and she realized she wasn't going to hear anything from anyone during the weekend, so she should instead try to buckle down maybe and do things to make herself happier.  So she bought some flowers and did some planting.  She knew she shouldn't have spent much money on it, but things like that made her happy.  She did some trimming around the yard and got some chores done.  She did some cleaning.

     Then she sat down on her front porch with her laptop one day and decided to type out a short story about how miserable she was.  Maybe she would feel better if the words were out on paper.  But she'd been typing these same words over and over; telling the same story over and over again, and she still wasn't feeling any better.  The words weren't getting her a new job.  The words were simply words.
      Her friends were getting out, or at least attempting to get away from that terrible lady, and maybe she was helping make that go by faster.  Was this her actual reason?  Maybe her not getting these jobs that they also applied for meant that they were getting out finally?  Maybe their happiness would eventually lead to hers as well.
     But in the back of her head she worried this was all the beginning of an end of something that had just started.  She'd had some friends, but only recently had made more through that job, and now that she no longer worked there, would she still remain friends with them all?  Would they still be friends if those people also left to find new places?  Would they be able to get together still?  Would they start thinking she was a complete loser if they all got jobs and she didn't?
     These miserable thoughts were always with her now.  When she tried to be confident, those thoughts would start to creep up again.  If she started to think about her friends she would start thinking about that job she was forced to leave, and she'd miss it.  By God, she missed being with those people and being at that job even though it made her absolutely miserable by the end.  She tried to tell herself it wasn't healthy, that she needed to move on, go somewhere else, find a new purpose in life, and she wanted to but she had all of this baggage no  Husw, and she just couldn't shake it.
     It was like she was at an airport with far too much baggage and she kept dropping it to the side and trying to give it to other people and they just kept bringing it right back to her.  And the misery of feeling like she had abandoned everyone - even though she had honestly been forced out and it wasn't her choice - she felt like that baggage just kept coming back.  The mental load all of all of those years was so unbearable that only once in awhile did she feel like maybe the wait had been lifted.  But it would come crashing down again and she kept shrugging it off - trying desperately to get rid of it.
     Writing it down was her way of getting rid of it.  Of trying to work through it.  But it felt miserable and repetitive.  Like this baggage was hers and hers alone to suffer with.  Telling people wasn't working.  They'd bring it back up but also inadvertently make her feel miserable as they'd go on to other things.  One got multiple calls and interviews.  Another started more art and started creating things (something she had wanted to do at one time but felt she had failed at because her other job took too much of her time) and the others were content or at least had jobs where they weren't completely drowning.  Her husband had gotten a raise.
   
     So she wrapped up her blog and saved it.  Closed the computer and decided she was going to avoid thinking about it for awhile.  Gave herself permission to not think about it for awhile, whatever good that would do.  It was a beautiful spring day.  The sun was shining and flowers blooming and maybe thunderstorms in the evening, and it was a day she used to hope to have off from work to enjoy.  So...why couldn't she enjoy it anymore?

Because it was a crisis.... her crisis... one she hoped she could overcome before it destroyed her.