Tag Archives: stress

Off My Mind: I Don’t Remember How to Relax

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I went to the dentist today for a slightly urgent issue. For the last couple of weeks, the joints of my jaw have been sore, and now the last couple of days I’ve had nasty headaches on and off and my bite when I chew is completely different. After feeling around my mouth and pushing down on the sore muscles inside of my mouth — I didn’t even know there were muscles back there! — he told me most likely I’ve been clenching my jaw from stress. All I have to do is alternate between hot and cold packs every day, five minutes each, for a week, and it should go back to normal. I never thought I would end up at the dentist for something stress-related. Hell, I didn’t even really think I was that stressed.

For the past year or so, I’ve been so stressed that now I’m just naturally always stressed, I guess. Last night, after finishing a few hours before the deadline for ABNA, I went to Mike’s mom’s to watch the Super Bowl. All I had to do was sit on the couch and watch the game. As I leaned back into her big plush couch, I realized that I don’t even remember how to relax. When I lay down to sleep at night, I mentally yell at myself to: “Relax. Relax. RELAX!” I knew that my shoulders and neck were pocked with knots from being so tense all the time, but never thought I’d end up with the same problem in my jaw, of all places.

I’m happy, though. Every week, I somehow make my barely part-time paycheck work. I’ve figured out how to work from home without wanting to strangle someone while being surrounded by its natural chaos. I’ve been writing consistently, and getting my stuff out there. I’m doing what I want to be doing — maybe not full-time, but I’m getting there. My life is finally starting to look like how I want it to look… and yet I can’t relax. I don’t know how I forgot, but I do know I need to figure it out soon, because it’s now officially interfering with my physical health in a big way: When I tried to eat pizza on Saturday, a cheeseburger last night, and some sushi today, I had a really hard time chewing. That is not cool.

In all seriousness, though, how do you relax? Leave me a comment with your tips and tricks!

How I became a security problem

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On Wednesday, May 11th, I was escorted out of the building of the company I worked at during the last three months. I wanted to share my story, because I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s been through this, but I’ve decided that I am not publicly going to name the company. They don’t deserve the SEO juice. ;) I want to put this shit behind me, because it’s not worth dwelling on. There are better things ahead.

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Enough is enough… but when does it end?

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Tonight is the first time in days that I don’t look like microwaved zombie. I actually have color in my face. I still feel bleh, but I feel much better than I did this morning.

Levsin and I… We didn’t work out. I thought that the dizziness and nausea would get better with every day I was on it, but instead, it got worse. I only made it two hours at work today before I started feeling like I was going to pass out and vomit at the same time. I left and rested all day. What’s interesting is that when I was out of the office, I felt better; I still felt like shit, but I felt better. This is how I know that this job is not working.

Every day, it’s something. Either my boss is trying to make me look like an asshole to his boss because he has some sort of control complex, or he’s completely high off his ass and has no clue what’s going on, or the girls I work with are playing like we’re in high school. I never know what to expect when I walk in at 8:30 every morning, but I always feel like I’m two seconds away from losing my mind.

My job is stressing me out, and that stress is making my health worse, which is making me more stressed, which is making my health worse… Do you see where I’m going with this?

I know that I need to find something else. I just don’t know what yet. I do know that I have to take control and change something, and this is the only thing I can change.

Balanced

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I haven’t written about my depression in quite a while. I mean, yeah, I’ve said in passing that it’s a pain in the ass, but that’s about it. I’m lucky that I can say it hasn’t been too bad in quite some time. I’ve had my moments, when I needed to lock the bathroom door, sit on the floor, and cry all over myself, but far less than I normally have. I’d love to think that I’m growing out of it, but depression is a disease, and you don’t ever completely leave it behind.

Usually, my depression is the result of my own chemically unbalanced mind. I like to call this the mindfuck; it’s the kind that tricks you into believing you’d be better off dead, that you’re worthless. Lately, it’s more of a situational depression: grief, stress, undiagnosed illness. This kind is a lot easier to deal with, but not any more pleasant; it’s easier to explain to people and comfort yourself than it is to explain to someone that your mind is trying to tear you apart.

I’m doing pretty well, though. It’s been five months since I lost my only grandfather. It’s no easier, and I don’t miss him any less, but it’s less crippling. There are still moments when I burst into tears, or wordlessly scream in agony, but I don’t feel frozen. I just miss him.

I’m still incredibly frustrated with the medical system, but the flareup seems to be over and I’ve gone (mostly) back to normal.

I have a lot of financial and career worries, but I’ve started to seriously think about my career path and I think I’ve made up my mind.

And, in the end, I have a beautiful family, loving friends, a sweet cat, and a man who completes my world and keeps telling me he can’t wait to marry me. It’s a pretty nice balance.

Mood sensitivity, manuscripts, and making changes

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I’ve noticed that I’m really sensitive to other people’s moods. Their energy tends to crash into me, especially if they’re anxious or angry.

People who are overly anxious or angry make me nervous. I can’t stomach being around them. I don’t know why, but their energy makes me feel like I’m under attack, and I always want to flee. I can’t seem to block it, either. It’s the weirdest thing… Does this happen to anyone else?

Anyway, I’ve finished the first draft of Sade On the Wall, at 52,022 words. For those of you who cheered me on, read every word, helped me think of words when I was blocked, encouraged me to keep going, and encouraged me to take a break when I needed it, there’s a note for you there. I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

It feels amazing to have finished this project. I mean, I need to go back and fix a couple of scenes before I can truly say that the first draft is really finished, but it feels absolutely amazing. This is only the second novel I have ever finished… and the first I actually like. That being said, I’m absolutely sick of it now. I can’t wait to fix those two scenes, but I need some time before I can stomach it. I love my characters, but I’m sick of them! Isn’t that weird?

I’m feeling a lot better now after what happened this morning. I’m still pissed about it, but it’s not giving me an ulcer anymore. I’ve been so stressed lately, between my health and work, that I just feel awful most of the time. Combine that with being sick from this flareup, and I am having one hell of a solo picnic. I don’t think some people in my life understand how all of this is affecting me. I mean, I don’t expect people to throw their sympathy at me, but I’d like a little more understanding from a couple of people.

I’m trying to make some changes in my life though, that I think will be better for me in the long run. I’ve been putting everyone else first, and Sandy is right: It’s time to do me. I can’t go on the way I’ve been. I’m twenty-two years old, and yet I feel like the stress from everything is going to kill me. I can’t change my illness*, but I can change some of the other stress factors in my life. I can only hope that, when the time comes, the people in my life will be understanding.

I know I’m being ambiguous here, but nothing is set in stone yet. I’ve just been doing some thinking and have taken the first step. The rest of it is going to depend on whatever happens.

I’ve discovered during this month, though, that I definitely want to spend the rest of my life writing; I want to write for a living. Writing is my escape, from everything. If it ever gets to be stressful, I’ll leave it behind, but I don’t think it will.

I think I’ve found my calling.

*Speaking of my illness, the dumb rash on my chin is getting bigger.