(no subject)
Go-go livejournal stress relief!
Yo all. I am here to try and have a cathartic experience. Let's all ride this Reading Rainbow to the very end, shall we?
For those of you that don't know me, I seem to be a very verbal, very out there socially. Yes, I am a complete dork, and most of you don't even want to hear what I am saying, but I say it anyway.
My personality is a bizarre mixture of truth and forced cheerfulness. Since I was tiny boy, my father always pushed the ideal of "if you fake a smile, eventually it becomes real". So, I did. And I still kind of do. It works somewhat. My problem is that in my younger years I was closer to being a completely introverted autistic child, than being who I am today.
Autistic, you say? Nooo! Carl couldn't be introverted. But yes, I was. And still somewhat am. When I was young, I read to avoid talking to people. Talking to people was (is) tough, eye contact was no fun, and hearing peoples voices felt like sand paper on the inside of my skull. Interacting with anything outside of books felt like somewhat was rubbing broken glass up and down all of my nerves and into the creases of my brain. Dealing with new people, or situations caused minor panic attacks. I just wanted to read my books, and not be noticed.
Over time, I have learned how to control this. When I am completely rested, and feeling my best, I actually feel decent with interactions with people. Being cheerful and verbose isn't tough, it's easy. I kind of grew out of the pain of it. But when I get tired, and worn down...it all comes crashing back.
Not a wonderful example, but here ya go. I have a client whose electricity has been disconnected, and without going into details, has been a completely stubborn jackass about it. He needs a payee. I know it. My boss knows it. Other people that monitor him know it. But he is all "I am older than all of you, I know my needs, etc, etc." He made a statement the other day that made me almost bust up, which would have been bad. "Carl, you saying stuff like that seems like you think I'm crazy or mentally ill, or something". Which he IS.
Anyway, we spent 3.5 exhausting hours calling all sorts of charities about reconnecting his electricity. Can't find anything, since all these places are pretty much tapped out due to the screwy winter weather still. Finally, we get it all figured out. I get him home. But, as I am taking him home, the effort of dealing with this stubborn ass left me with no reserves or backup plan. The action of driving, while stressful for me, became a huge effort. Light and colors became way to bright and discordant. I became hypersensitive to sight, sounds, and temperature. So, driving home was such a pleasure.
I am finally home, and recharging my battery just a tad. I need this weekend so I can organize all my files on my new computer, since the old one decided to be prickish and die. 2 months after the warrantee died, the fucker.
So, if you ever see me wincing at the sound of your voice, and running off to read somewhere, don't worry. It is most likely because I was just really stressed out, and need some recharge time to get back into the groove. Or, you really bug me, and I just need to get away from you.
So, have a good day, and go back to whatever you were doing.
Yo all. I am here to try and have a cathartic experience. Let's all ride this Reading Rainbow to the very end, shall we?
For those of you that don't know me, I seem to be a very verbal, very out there socially. Yes, I am a complete dork, and most of you don't even want to hear what I am saying, but I say it anyway.
My personality is a bizarre mixture of truth and forced cheerfulness. Since I was tiny boy, my father always pushed the ideal of "if you fake a smile, eventually it becomes real". So, I did. And I still kind of do. It works somewhat. My problem is that in my younger years I was closer to being a completely introverted autistic child, than being who I am today.
Autistic, you say? Nooo! Carl couldn't be introverted. But yes, I was. And still somewhat am. When I was young, I read to avoid talking to people. Talking to people was (is) tough, eye contact was no fun, and hearing peoples voices felt like sand paper on the inside of my skull. Interacting with anything outside of books felt like somewhat was rubbing broken glass up and down all of my nerves and into the creases of my brain. Dealing with new people, or situations caused minor panic attacks. I just wanted to read my books, and not be noticed.
Over time, I have learned how to control this. When I am completely rested, and feeling my best, I actually feel decent with interactions with people. Being cheerful and verbose isn't tough, it's easy. I kind of grew out of the pain of it. But when I get tired, and worn down...it all comes crashing back.
Not a wonderful example, but here ya go. I have a client whose electricity has been disconnected, and without going into details, has been a completely stubborn jackass about it. He needs a payee. I know it. My boss knows it. Other people that monitor him know it. But he is all "I am older than all of you, I know my needs, etc, etc." He made a statement the other day that made me almost bust up, which would have been bad. "Carl, you saying stuff like that seems like you think I'm crazy or mentally ill, or something". Which he IS.
Anyway, we spent 3.5 exhausting hours calling all sorts of charities about reconnecting his electricity. Can't find anything, since all these places are pretty much tapped out due to the screwy winter weather still. Finally, we get it all figured out. I get him home. But, as I am taking him home, the effort of dealing with this stubborn ass left me with no reserves or backup plan. The action of driving, while stressful for me, became a huge effort. Light and colors became way to bright and discordant. I became hypersensitive to sight, sounds, and temperature. So, driving home was such a pleasure.
I am finally home, and recharging my battery just a tad. I need this weekend so I can organize all my files on my new computer, since the old one decided to be prickish and die. 2 months after the warrantee died, the fucker.
So, if you ever see me wincing at the sound of your voice, and running off to read somewhere, don't worry. It is most likely because I was just really stressed out, and need some recharge time to get back into the groove. Or, you really bug me, and I just need to get away from you.
So, have a good day, and go back to whatever you were doing.