Last Day

Today’s the last day at my job. So far no one has spoken to me today. That’s okay. I prefer it this way.

I wish I could say my mood is good, instead all I focus on are my personal failings. My failure to correct the tailspin this current contract I am working caused. My failure to connect or relate to anyone here. It’s all right. It’s okay.

All I seem to be able to think about is failure, and hiding failure. Running away from failure. I am good at hiding, running away. It is not good that now I feel there is no one who I don’t have to hide from. When I go home, I have to maintain the mask of normality for my husband. It’s part of why I married him- he is steady, constant, and doesn’t have to pretend. But this also means he doesn’t understand the need to pretend.

Just keep it up. Just a little while longer. Soon the day will be over, and I can go home and nap. And given my mood swings, maybe by the time I leave I’ll be in a better mood. I tend to turn to this blog when I am at my lowest.

During the time off, I need to focus on doing. On acting. Not sitting in a distant state of introspective rumination. Chasing those thoughts that lead me further down and down the spiral. That’s why I couldn’t succeed at this horrible contract; my lack of successes lead to a slippery slope of perceiving I couldn’t succeed. Sitting at my desk and needing to work, to do something, but feeling paralyzed. My unemployment needs to be a time of recovery; feeling like I can accomplish something. To regain a love of programming, my career choice. To make my body stronger and leaner. To learn how to not give any f*cks. Without the pressure of being in a professional environment, expected to perform, maybe I can do so. That’s what’s left of my optimism, part of me is deathly afraid my mental health might continue to deteriorate if left to my own devices. I can’t allow it to.

Something I haven’t mentioned is that I’m growing my hair back out. Mainly because the last time I got it cut, the stylist asked if I was growing it out. That might seem like an innocent comment to a normal person, but to me it was an implication that short hair was bad. And so I haven’t been able to go back to get it cut, even though it looks worse growing out, shaggy and strange looking. I haven’t been back because I don’t know who will cut my hair, and what other types of comments I might get. I look back at every interaction I have with others and judge myself and the interaction extremely, extremely harshly.

I had a random thought today- if I was speaking to the woman I considered a good, close friend, like a blood sister, and who I ended up completely ghosting, I would say: “I always felt like I could be myself around you. And that was the problem, wasn’t it?” Being myself is the problem. All because I can’t play the part I was handed at birth.

Yet I don’t want to hide anymore. Not hiding means I can be hurt by others. Oh, and I will be. But hiding also means I hurt myself. If I am going to be hurt either way, what do I do?
My skin used to be thicker. No, it wasn’t. I was just blinded by my own social inadequacies that also made me a disastrously open person to others. I can’t return to that. I am currently in a state of change, and they say it gets worse before it gets better. I have to believe it.

I’ve razed much of my opinions of myself to the ground. I feel like the foundations for someone better have been laid.. All the time complaining on this blog has helped me work through some things, to some degree. I simply need to start building.

Huh. I feel better. Funny how that works.