My partner went out of town this morning. I am by myself at home for the next three nights.
On one hand, I miss the noise and the ruckus that another person brings. We would probably spend all day outside today because my partner loves to go outside all day long (unless it’s too cold), and I would go out, because it’s a gorgeous day (for me) to go out. 73°F is my perfect temperature. It’s breezy and sunny. Yes, I might be depressed, but I still do things. There’s a part of me that’s normal, somewhere in there, and I would go to a park today or do a quick day trip (as long as my chores get done!)
On the other hand, I like all this time to myself. I like the quiet and the solitude. I like spending hours at my desk with no one else bothering me every half hour “What are you doing? Let’s go out! C’mon, I want to go to [insert park name].” I like to eat on my own schedule, and plan my time to what I want to do — go to the bookstore? Sure! Go shopping? Sure! (I’m saying yes to bookstore, no to shopping).
And I’m by myself to think of my own life. This past week I have set up a meeting with another disability person, but this person works in technology and has a disability. I don’t know what mine is, but at least this person won’t think, “Different and defected”. This is something I struggle with in labeling myself — thinking of myself as “Different, not less” rather than “Defected/failure”. So this is a new Thing.
I still have my job, but I’m in limbo, and the center where I work is undergoing lots of turnover and changes. We have lots of new staff, and some of us who’d been there are thinking of leaving. Well, I’m not, but I’m expected to leave anyway. (I’m still bitter than it feels like they’d rather be super short-handed than keep me. I want to be appreciated and valued, but I feel like I’m not.) It comes out in sarcastic remarks at work, mostly to the newish coworker who just started but I’ve become semi-close to. I try not to make remarks but sometimes my emotions surge and express themselves.
And speaking of which, I saw my primary care again, and I explained how disassociated I feel. At work I focus on work and put the other parts of me aside. Even when I come home, I focus on getting crap ready for the next day. I don’t know who my real self is because part of me is still a mystery, and most times I don’t know how I’m feeling. In order to live, I’ve got to put my emotions aside, or else I’ll never do anything. I started a Bullet Journal with a mood tracker, an intent to write — which I do — yet sometimes I have a hard time writing down what my mood was that day. My partner says I am the same person as when we met five years ago. I am, but now I’ve found something else in my brain that’s also me. Kind of like a second personality, someone I thought might have been there all this time but only now has made their presence known.
Sometimes I feel like I haven’t changed, but that everyone else has issues. This is what my mother said on the phone the other day. I had a nice 45 minute talk with her; we have a good relationship, but telling her what I’m going through was tough. She’s not like me at all; she knows her own mind very well and there are no hidden secrets in her mind — not from herself. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have a part of your mind go rogue. So that’s the dividing line between me and my mom.
My dad gets it, but then we’re both awkward loners who can’t think of the words for the stuff in our heads. We write beautifully, but we talk like jerky robots. Emailing has been a good thing.
I got a reply from the disability people that I applied to for disability help. They want proof of my disability, whatever it is. They sent me 3 packets of paper to fill out: one for me, one for my primary care, one for whoever my mental health counselor is. Since my therapist broke a limb two weeks ago, I can’t go to her. So I emailed the contact from the “disability services” to explain that it will take time for me to get all the paperwork done.
Everything takes so much time. I just want this all to be over already. I’d like to find out the cause, the root, the identity of that Mystery Me. From there, I can do something about it. I hate feeling helpless.