...is where you find it
I've noticed a new trend in my mental states, one consistent enough that I feel comfortable addressing it. I've began a strange variant on my psychological crashes, one made up of not classic depression but intense feelings of embarrassment and shame, and an overwhelming need to apologize and make amends. It happens like clockwork every Friday and Saturday night. For a while, I considered it situational but the varying factors leading up to it have become too varied and the regularity of the incidences are too perfect.
This leads me to conclude that it is likely (or at least in part) the result of a physiological factor; I suspect diet or sleep, though I'm not sure what. By midday Sunday, I've returned to my usual unapologetic self. It's a curious phenomena, to see the symptoms of one's personal afflictions evolve over time.
Next week, I will go on a vacation that I cannot reasonably afford. My book, and the money from said book, continue to be tied up in the maddening bureaucratic hell that is large corporations. I can expect to be paid any day between now and mid-September, which is admittedly better than early October as I had initially feared. But the uncertainty erodes at me and as time marches on, the destinations of much of the money move farther away. My student loans are a nightmare that are quite simply out of control and I am in no position to rein them in.
I've been getting more politically active of late...or as politically active as one can get from one's office. I've been regularly writing my elected officials, from the state government up to the President and pretty much everything in between. I initially got a few responses, almost all of which were automated, but I've recently gotten several responses from high-level officials. That actually surprised me. I have my doubts House Reps wrote me personally, but they were certainly written by somebody from within the office.
I went to a party mid-week last week and I...just didn't get it. The entire party seemed to be centered around beer. People were drinking beer, and talking about drinking other beers. Every conversation seemed to be about a previous time they were drunk. That or their kids. And it hit me, I wasn't surrounded by people but alcoholic child-care units. I was just stunned by the vapidity I saw around me. I try to appreciate not everybody wants to talk about deep stuff at a party, but lord, I don't care about trying to find suspenders for a 4yr old in the right color for the school play. Even efforts to talk about something like television shows were quickly swung back around to that one time somebody watched a show while plastered and what they were drinking while watching it.
I left after an hour. I would be told later that I really missed out on the craziness when somebody opened a bottle of...something alcoholic. The party didn't really change; just now they were drinking something not beer. The photos on Facebook are of people standing around, plastic cups in their hands.
Much like some people feel pressured for not having gotten married, or not having had a child, I feel pressured for not drinking. So many people I know revolve their lives around alcohol. When discussing a party, the principle discussion is 'what will be there to drink'. At the party, all they talk about are other times they were drunk. It's maddening. At times I feel like I'm the only sober person for miles. And I feel like I'm missing out because I refuse to imbibe and chemically induce a semi-functioning state.
This leads me to conclude that it is likely (or at least in part) the result of a physiological factor; I suspect diet or sleep, though I'm not sure what. By midday Sunday, I've returned to my usual unapologetic self. It's a curious phenomena, to see the symptoms of one's personal afflictions evolve over time.
Next week, I will go on a vacation that I cannot reasonably afford. My book, and the money from said book, continue to be tied up in the maddening bureaucratic hell that is large corporations. I can expect to be paid any day between now and mid-September, which is admittedly better than early October as I had initially feared. But the uncertainty erodes at me and as time marches on, the destinations of much of the money move farther away. My student loans are a nightmare that are quite simply out of control and I am in no position to rein them in.
I've been getting more politically active of late...or as politically active as one can get from one's office. I've been regularly writing my elected officials, from the state government up to the President and pretty much everything in between. I initially got a few responses, almost all of which were automated, but I've recently gotten several responses from high-level officials. That actually surprised me. I have my doubts House Reps wrote me personally, but they were certainly written by somebody from within the office.
I went to a party mid-week last week and I...just didn't get it. The entire party seemed to be centered around beer. People were drinking beer, and talking about drinking other beers. Every conversation seemed to be about a previous time they were drunk. That or their kids. And it hit me, I wasn't surrounded by people but alcoholic child-care units. I was just stunned by the vapidity I saw around me. I try to appreciate not everybody wants to talk about deep stuff at a party, but lord, I don't care about trying to find suspenders for a 4yr old in the right color for the school play. Even efforts to talk about something like television shows were quickly swung back around to that one time somebody watched a show while plastered and what they were drinking while watching it.
I left after an hour. I would be told later that I really missed out on the craziness when somebody opened a bottle of...something alcoholic. The party didn't really change; just now they were drinking something not beer. The photos on Facebook are of people standing around, plastic cups in their hands.
Much like some people feel pressured for not having gotten married, or not having had a child, I feel pressured for not drinking. So many people I know revolve their lives around alcohol. When discussing a party, the principle discussion is 'what will be there to drink'. At the party, all they talk about are other times they were drunk. It's maddening. At times I feel like I'm the only sober person for miles. And I feel like I'm missing out because I refuse to imbibe and chemically induce a semi-functioning state.