D'you have any idea what time it is?
It's very nearly three-bloody-thirty in the MORNING, and I'm still up. I'm exhausted and in all sorts of pain and things but I'm still up. D'you know why? Torchwood fanfic. Well, no, okay, that's a lie. I got into a rather long discussion about Doctor Who with a guy on Tapestries (Doctor Who on a sex MUCK? NEVAR!), which evolved into a transgender discussion (tis inevitable, with my character), which then distracted me from said Torchwood fanfic, meaning I had to read it later than I had intended to.
Amazingly, there's actually some decent fic out there already. Read one that captured Ianto and Jack perfectly, and one that had Owen down pat. Have yet to read anything involving Gwen or Tosh, mostly out of utter lack of interest on my part. They're few and far between to begin with, and... do I care? I don't care much about Owen yet. He's interesting, but a bit of a brat. Gwen's.. well, Gwen is a very classic Companion. She's evidently stumbled onto the wrong show. So whereas she's relatively interesting, and pretty damn smart for the Companion type, I kinda feel like I've got her figured out already. And Tosh... Frankly, don't care. She's not been at all interesting yet. She's the tin dog.
Feel a bit of a traitor, having just come back from a con seeing THE MOST IMPORTANT CLASSIC WHO GUEST I WILL EVER SEE, and going right back to Torchwood. Can't help it, can I? Just where my brain's at at the moment, but I still feel the traitor.
Andd..... watch speech patterns go as the brain goes...
I fessed up to two members of management today. Told them exactly WHY I've been taking meds and WHAT'S going on. They had dragged me in for a 'you need to either work or go on disability' talk again. It was the only way out, really. Now the store manager treats me like I'm either completely nuts or stupid, but that's to be expected. However, the ASM will keep her in line, because she has a friend who's bipolar (I'm still a bit iffy on the diagnosis, here, but you know, it makes more sense the more I think about it, so I suppose it's probably right), and she herself was depressed as a teenager, so after sharing that and keeping the SM in check within that VERY SHORT DISCUSSION (sheesh, she has NO tact... just... trust me), I think she won't be letting her get away with treating me like shit because of it.
On the upside, I've been offered a compromise, thanks to my fessing up that it's not only the physical, but mental stresses that are keeping me hobbled here. We all realise that they need a team of people working 'on all cylinders' (that was the phrase used) for the holidays. I'm just honestly not capable, with my brains all messed up as they are. I'm lucky if I can quite literally see straight for as much as four hours at a time, much less deal with all the wild emotional crap I'm dealing with (ooo, today was interesting in that respect. Woke up so depressed I was suicidal and had a stomachache. Spent most of the early day that way, swung back up to chatting with people and smiling for midday and then got cross and miserable by the end. See, its those upswings that always made me feel like a rather poor example of a depressive.).... so the suggestion is that I relinquish my lead position, just for the holidays. Reassess in January, and if I'm back up to speed, I may have it back. It would be a paycut of about 50-75 cents/hour, and I wouldn't be guaranteed 37.5 hours a week, but I imagine they'd try their best. So... for a cut to roughly where I was before my last raise, and the loss of a few hours here or there, I could still work the holiday season, thereby proving that I am WILLING to work, making it nigh impossible for them to boot me out for being 'sick', and I wouldn't have any of the pressure of being a lead during the season. I think I'm going to take it. It kills me to lose the money, but I just don't think I can handle the pressure this year. I gotta get my head sorted, first. Changing meds and whatnot... messes with me, to say the least.
At the moment, I'm mostly worried about what my parents will think. If I confess to them that I'm taking the cut, then I pretty much have to offer up the new possibility of bipolar, which they will not like. Not because it doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense when you think about it, but because the ones who arrived at it first were myself and my therapist, who my mother despises. So, I feel like I really have to wait to say anything to THEM until after I see my doctor, and get his 'blessing' on it.
I'm a bit afraid of how willing I am to embrace this diagnosis. Am I deluding myself because I've lost hope with the anti-depressants? I don't *think* so. I mean, like I said, I've never felt I was a particularly good depressive. I would have too many upswings of mood, too many days when I felt 'good', which thinking back... has not necessarily been good. There have been times when my mate tells me to just calm down, relax, I'm getting 'worked up', and I just get frustrated because dammit, I'm feeling good for once, can't he just let me be? I just have all these ideas, can't he see that I have so much to think, so much to process? Then there are the times when I get suddenly very upset, and he says "but you were doing so well earlier"... which makes me feel worse, cause hell if *I* know what happened. There are the periods of time where I feel incredibly good about how I look, and so I sort of convince myself I don't need to take care of myself. There are also the times I'm too damn miserable to take care of myself. There are the times when I'm stingy to the point of forgoing anything and everything I don't absolutely NEED, to save money, to be responsible... and then there are the times when I spend money like water, end up with 500 bucks on my credit card and look back and wonder "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" and feel incredibly guilty. I didn't MEAN to. I just felt like I couldn't get into trouble. All that, that's awfully bipolar.
I'm also a bit afraid of how relieved I am, thinking that I finally found what's wrong with me. You shouldn't be HAPPY to think you're bipolar. That shouldn't be a HAPPY thing. I suppose, though, that if you've had so much trouble... knowing what's wrong could feel good.
Oh look, it's almost FOUR o'clock in the morning, and I'm almost asleep as it is... I need to get to bed. As soon as my brain stops running in circles.
Amazingly, there's actually some decent fic out there already. Read one that captured Ianto and Jack perfectly, and one that had Owen down pat. Have yet to read anything involving Gwen or Tosh, mostly out of utter lack of interest on my part. They're few and far between to begin with, and... do I care? I don't care much about Owen yet. He's interesting, but a bit of a brat. Gwen's.. well, Gwen is a very classic Companion. She's evidently stumbled onto the wrong show. So whereas she's relatively interesting, and pretty damn smart for the Companion type, I kinda feel like I've got her figured out already. And Tosh... Frankly, don't care. She's not been at all interesting yet. She's the tin dog.
Feel a bit of a traitor, having just come back from a con seeing THE MOST IMPORTANT CLASSIC WHO GUEST I WILL EVER SEE, and going right back to Torchwood. Can't help it, can I? Just where my brain's at at the moment, but I still feel the traitor.
Andd..... watch speech patterns go as the brain goes...
I fessed up to two members of management today. Told them exactly WHY I've been taking meds and WHAT'S going on. They had dragged me in for a 'you need to either work or go on disability' talk again. It was the only way out, really. Now the store manager treats me like I'm either completely nuts or stupid, but that's to be expected. However, the ASM will keep her in line, because she has a friend who's bipolar (I'm still a bit iffy on the diagnosis, here, but you know, it makes more sense the more I think about it, so I suppose it's probably right), and she herself was depressed as a teenager, so after sharing that and keeping the SM in check within that VERY SHORT DISCUSSION (sheesh, she has NO tact... just... trust me), I think she won't be letting her get away with treating me like shit because of it.
On the upside, I've been offered a compromise, thanks to my fessing up that it's not only the physical, but mental stresses that are keeping me hobbled here. We all realise that they need a team of people working 'on all cylinders' (that was the phrase used) for the holidays. I'm just honestly not capable, with my brains all messed up as they are. I'm lucky if I can quite literally see straight for as much as four hours at a time, much less deal with all the wild emotional crap I'm dealing with (ooo, today was interesting in that respect. Woke up so depressed I was suicidal and had a stomachache. Spent most of the early day that way, swung back up to chatting with people and smiling for midday and then got cross and miserable by the end. See, its those upswings that always made me feel like a rather poor example of a depressive.).... so the suggestion is that I relinquish my lead position, just for the holidays. Reassess in January, and if I'm back up to speed, I may have it back. It would be a paycut of about 50-75 cents/hour, and I wouldn't be guaranteed 37.5 hours a week, but I imagine they'd try their best. So... for a cut to roughly where I was before my last raise, and the loss of a few hours here or there, I could still work the holiday season, thereby proving that I am WILLING to work, making it nigh impossible for them to boot me out for being 'sick', and I wouldn't have any of the pressure of being a lead during the season. I think I'm going to take it. It kills me to lose the money, but I just don't think I can handle the pressure this year. I gotta get my head sorted, first. Changing meds and whatnot... messes with me, to say the least.
At the moment, I'm mostly worried about what my parents will think. If I confess to them that I'm taking the cut, then I pretty much have to offer up the new possibility of bipolar, which they will not like. Not because it doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense when you think about it, but because the ones who arrived at it first were myself and my therapist, who my mother despises. So, I feel like I really have to wait to say anything to THEM until after I see my doctor, and get his 'blessing' on it.
I'm a bit afraid of how willing I am to embrace this diagnosis. Am I deluding myself because I've lost hope with the anti-depressants? I don't *think* so. I mean, like I said, I've never felt I was a particularly good depressive. I would have too many upswings of mood, too many days when I felt 'good', which thinking back... has not necessarily been good. There have been times when my mate tells me to just calm down, relax, I'm getting 'worked up', and I just get frustrated because dammit, I'm feeling good for once, can't he just let me be? I just have all these ideas, can't he see that I have so much to think, so much to process? Then there are the times when I get suddenly very upset, and he says "but you were doing so well earlier"... which makes me feel worse, cause hell if *I* know what happened. There are the periods of time where I feel incredibly good about how I look, and so I sort of convince myself I don't need to take care of myself. There are also the times I'm too damn miserable to take care of myself. There are the times when I'm stingy to the point of forgoing anything and everything I don't absolutely NEED, to save money, to be responsible... and then there are the times when I spend money like water, end up with 500 bucks on my credit card and look back and wonder "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" and feel incredibly guilty. I didn't MEAN to. I just felt like I couldn't get into trouble. All that, that's awfully bipolar.
I'm also a bit afraid of how relieved I am, thinking that I finally found what's wrong with me. You shouldn't be HAPPY to think you're bipolar. That shouldn't be a HAPPY thing. I suppose, though, that if you've had so much trouble... knowing what's wrong could feel good.
Oh look, it's almost FOUR o'clock in the morning, and I'm almost asleep as it is... I need to get to bed. As soon as my brain stops running in circles.