#my dad and coworkers constantly testing my patience

[prorevenge]

Lie about giving me a raise? Say goodbye to your income.

Sorry that its so long! Please have patience. There is a reason why I wrote it all out like this. I wanted my thought process to be understood through the story. I doubt anything like this will happen again in my life and I wanted to share it with all of you :)

​

(TL;DR at the bottom)

Background:

I work as a sub-contractor for an actually licensed contractor for a reality company. Basically, the realty company buys houses, and the contractor tells us to go to the new address, and my coworkers and I flip the house and get it ready to be rented out. When I first started a job, it was a difficult transition considering I was a plumber previously but, eventually I became a valuable asset to Contractor’s company thus the realty company as well. The contractor was infamous for being a bit of an ass when it came to actual business and money. He was constantly yelling and screaming at the plumber, the painters, etc. about prices and how it took them too long and he wasn’t paying that much. Which I would understand if the yelling was actually warranted. When it became tax season, he gave everyone else a 1099 and then said he “lost” mine and got pissed off every time I asked about it. (If someone knows what I can do about that please let me know.)

This guy makes easily 2 million a year (so he says) so I don’t really think $100 off the price matters that much. Not enough to get into a screaming match and ruin relationships with the other sub-contractors. I have been working for him for about a year now at 16/hr. Not too bad for my area but, I make him a lot more a day than the $160 I make every 10-hour work day.

>

One day I asked him for a raise, which he laughs and shuts me down immediately. After that, I decide to work harder, get houses done faster, and show him that I deserve a raise. A few months later, I decide to ask for a raise again but not as directly. “How could I be more useful to the company? So, I can increase my productivity, and both of us can make more money?” He said, “Get a van and a trailer and then we can talk about more money,” in his normal gruff tone that says, “shut up and get back to work”. After that day, I worked side jobs here and there. Worked a lot later that I usually would, and even all throughout the weekend. Saving up as much money as possible. I sometimes wouldn’t eat some days just to save that little bit of money.

He loved how much I was getting done and I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes when I told him all that I got done every day. Finally, the day came where I saved up just enough money to buy my Dad’s old ford van. Then not long after, I bought a little piece of crap 5x10 trailer that I had to fix up. The following Monday I pull up with the bright white gas guzzler and the fixed-up trailer following behind. I walked up to him smiling ear to ear about my accomplishment, hoping he would be proud or at least happy about all that I have done. I tell him to look at my new toys and all he says is “cool,” and got in his truck and left. “Okay, maybe he’s just busy,” I thought as I processed his extremely underwhelming response.

At the end of the day, I finally have a moment with him to discuss my raise. “So! I have the van, and the trailer. I have saved up and done everything you said that I needed to do to make more money and be more of an asset to this company.” He narrows his eyes at me, “What are you talking about?” “You said that if I got a van and a trailer that you would pay me more,” I said confused. “I never said any of that shit. You have to actually work if you want anything else from me.”

I was devastated. I have been working my ass off while he sat on his ass and watched. I followed every instruction, completed in the very least two houses a week (which he makes about $5000~ per house or so he says) and he acts like I do nothing for the company. I swallowed my pride and let out a quick, “Yes sir,” and left his office.

I was finally tired of dealing with Contractor. Tired and defeated, I decided it was time to start looking for other jobs that actually had the possibility to move up. Then the company electrician gave me an idea. (I am going to call him Adam for privacy reasons) Adam is a good guy all around. If you needed advice or, just someone to talk to, he was always there for you. I told him about everything that has happened with Contractor and told him I was looking for other jobs.

He simply said,” You’re not supposed to be here to try and make it to the top. You’re here to learn. Learn everything you can and then one day, you’ll be the contractor. A better one than Contractor for sure. Why not look into getting your general contracting license? Its not hard, you just have to work for it. That’s what I did to an extent. I worked for Contractor for years dealing with his bullshit. Until one day I decided to get my electrician’s license. Now, he doesn’t decide what I’m paid. I do. That is, if he wants me to work for him. And if not, then I have other customers to make my living.”

I took his words to heart and came up with a plan.

Revenge:

I did some research on becoming a general contractor in my state (Requirements differ in other states).

Basically, I would need books to learn the material, references, a bank reference, and to pass the test.

The books were pretty expensive. With bills, taking care of my family and a monthly van payment, it seemed impossible for now. Until I found a group following in my area that needed a handyman to do a variety of things. Perfect. Extra money. Soon, my name started blowing up in my small town. I did everything from repairing fences, to installing toilets. I took everything I learned from plumbing and from working for Contractor and used it to build a reputation. References: check.

This is when I decided it was time to open my own business. Again, I did my research and learned all I had to do to open said business. I’ll spare you the details but, it was basically business license, how the get an LLC, Liability insurance, think of a name NOT already taken blah blah blah.

It took a while, but I sent in all that I had and prayed to whatever god is there for me to be invited to take the test. I waited and wait until about three weeks and FINALLY I got a letter inviting me to the next test... it was a three-hour drive and on a Tuesday. Great another speed bump. Have to miss work AND pay $300.

The day of the test came, and I panicked. It was open book but, I eventually ran out of time and didn’t get to finish. I was so disappointed in myself that I basically gave up. I just decided to keep working my job and a little side business. A week later I was holding my son. He is a beautiful blonde-haired blue-eyed reflection of myself. After I managed to get him to sleep, I stared at him and wondered if I would be able to give him a better life than I had. I remember growing up in shitty trailers, being hungry and made fun of at school because I wore clothes from Walmart. Not the best way to grow up but, I had a roof over my head. I always wanted video games that my friends had but never got it. I wanted to go to trampoline parks and water parks. I’ve only been once in my entire life.

That’s about when my resolve renews itself within me. I had to do this. Not only for me but, for him. I saved up all over again and came up with the $300 and requested for a re-take of the test. I took practice tests online, so I was ready. The day came and I BARELY manage to pass. BUT I still pass the test and receive my license! Now time for the fun part.

With all of the time passing, I became pretty close friends with the owner of the reality company. Going to BBQs, stopping to tell him some corny joke I saw on Facebook (he LOVED puns), and doing extra tasks not under Contractor. One day, I came into his office and saw some invoices from Contractor one his desk. I just said,” Wow, that’s how much you’re paying him? Dude, he should at least take it a little bit easy on you being that you have known each other for so long.” He just nodded and said,” You think so?” and he just looked at the papers more. Since then I would say little comments about how much Contractor was being paid and how many houses we could buy with that money. Just planting seeds in his mind that I slowly water until they turn into a beautiful garden of resentment.

Finally, Owner calls me and wants me to come to his house for a beer and to “talk business”. (We’ve done this a few times before. It’s usually about his wife or hit last time he played golf). I pull into his driveway, and he told me to meet him out back. After the usual how-are-yous he tells me that him and Contractor had a bit of an argument and they are “limiting” him from now on. Then, he turned to me, and said,” There is a meeting Friday. I want you there at 9 o’clock.” I hesitate. I wasn’t sure what it could have been. (You know how your parents would ask “Do you have something to tell me?” and as a kid you would go into a panic and think about all the bad shit you did at school? No? Just me? Okay.)

“Sure, I’ll be there.” I manage to say calmly through a scrambled mind. A few beers and stories about fishing trips, I headed home.

That was today. (4/30/19) I was so excited to write this, I started as soon as I got home. The meeting is on Friday. If you want me to, I’ll update after the meeting.

Sorry it was so long. I guess I was excited/scared of what is about to happen. The way I see it, it can go one of two ways.

I could be asked to take Contractors place and have Contractor work for me.

They fought about what I had said about prices, and they came to an agreement that they need to confront me and/or fire me.

I’ll let you know when I do. Thanks for reading!

Update: IT HAPPENED. OH MY FREAKING GOD.

So I went to the meeting this morning, and as I came in everyone shook my hand. Some i've seen before and said my "Hi how are you"s to, others I have never met in my life. THIS WAS AN INVESTOR MEETING. Some of these people are worth figures in the nine digits. I was internally freaking out after finding out, but if you've read, you'd know I know ho to keep my cool. After our greetings, we sat down and waited. It wasn't clear who we were waiting on until an hour later Contractor walks in with his usual stained T-shirt and cargo shorts, while I am in a nice dress shirt and tie. (Figured I would look nice for this.)

Everyone made a face and greeted Contractor while we got settled again. Contractor didn't seem to notice me until we all sat back down. I saw him do a double take and, give me a look that said, "What the fuck are you doing here?" I had requested off today so I could only imagine what he was thinking. After introducing the new investors to the old investors, Owner got started saying about how we were going to have an amazing 2019 and an amazing future for the company. (I suppose he was just hyping up the new guys so they would invest more.)

About two hours of production values and budget stuff blah blah, He turned to me and said, "I would just like to take the time to congratulate OP for passing the general contractor's exam and his newly acquired business!" I smiled, and thanked him, then he continued. "As we are growing, we have a demand for new and inspiring people within our company. After hearing about OP's success in both our company and his, I would like to personally ask him a question in front of the whole team." (My heart pounding in my throat as each word sounded slower than the last. I took a side glance at Contractor that is visibly sweating at this point.) "OP, how would you like to our new property manager? You may still have your business, and do your own work. But, we will pay you exclusively to be our personal contractor and help take care of all new and old properties." Everyone turns to me and I take a second to respond.

Just then Contractor stand up and says, "What the fuck? I'm your god damn contractor! I've been your contractor for over a decade! You can't just replace me for some dip shit that doesn't know what he is doing!" Owner smugly looks at Contractor and says," We're not replacing you. You will just answer to him now. All tasks, orders and billing will go through him now. If you would like to still work for us, granted you mind your mouth and tone, you will run anything you do by OP. Contractor looks enraged and he turns to me, "YOU"RE FIRED! You have no business here anymore now LEAVE."

Owner chuckles, and says," You don't have that power anymore. As long as OP agrees to my question." I turn to him and say," Are you sure you can afford me?" I laugh and shake his hand. "Yes. This is all I have ever wanted. All that I have worked for. Now we can get some real work done. (I have to admit something, I've been practicing that response since I was asked to come to this meeting lol.) Contractor stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and I didn't see him for the rest of the day.

After he left we continued to discuss the goals for this year and its out they bought 60 new houses for me to work on with the investor's money and he just looked at me and said," Can you handle that?" I happily said, "Yes, sir." trying to keep my eyes from watering. All I thought about was my family and how proud they would be of me.

In a little under a year, I received a great license, my own business, and pretty much non-stop work. If there is anything you guys reading can take from this, I hope it will be this: Don't settle in life. Be hungry to better yourself, and be the best person you can be. The only person stopping you is yourself.

Again, I'm sorry that it is so long. When I wrote the first part I have had a few drinks, and when I got home I continued drinking lol. I could condense it but, I'm not going to due to the fact that it was a pure reaction of it all. The puzzle coming together if you will. Thanks for reading!

(TL;DR) Boss lied about giving me a raise, I stole his work right from under him by befriending the owner of the company that pays him 90% of his income.

(source) story by (/u/TheAwesomeAustin)

#prorevenge #by /u/TheAwesomeAustin #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[scentedbygunpowder]

🔮🧙‍♂️🎉

@dap-brown

Send in a symbol to find out what my muse’s results were and whether I think it’s accurate or not.

Send in 🔮 to see my muse’s Meyer-Briggs Result

Logistician ISTJ-A 74% Introverted (How we interact with our environment) 62% Observant (Where we direct our mental energy) 54 % Thinking (How we make decisions and cope with emotions) 85% Judging (Our approach to work, planning, and decision-making 60% Assertive (How confident we are in our abilities and decisions)

The Logistician personality type is thought to be the most abundant, making up around 13% of the population. Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.

Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer.

When Logisticians say they are going to get something done, they do it, meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost, and they are baffled by people who don’t hold their own word in the same respect. Combining laziness and dishonesty is the quickest way to get on Logisticians’ bad side. Consequently, people with the Logistician personality type often prefer to work alone, or at least have their authority clearly established by hierarchy, where they can set and achieve their goals without debate or worry over other’s reliability.

Logisticians have sharp, fact-based minds, and prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something. Dependency on others is often seen by Logisticians as a weakness, and their passion for duty, dependability and impeccable personal integrity forbid falling into such a trap.

This sense of personal integrity is core to Logisticians, and goes beyond their own minds – Logistician personalities adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting their own mistakes and telling the truth even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. To Logisticians, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, and their blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that Logisticians are cold, or even robotic. People with this type may struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly, but the suggestion that they don’t feel, or worse have no personality at all, is deeply hurtful.

Logisticians’ dedication is an excellent quality, allowing them to accomplish much, but it is also a core weakness that less scrupulous individuals take advantage of. Logisticians seek stability and security, considering it their duty to maintain a smooth operation, and they may find that their coworkers and significant others shift their responsibilities onto them, knowing that they will always take up the slack. Logisticians tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking, but it can be a long time before observable evidence tells the whole story.

Logisticians need to remember to take care of themselves – their stubborn dedication to stability and efficiency can compromise those goals in the long term as others lean ever-harder on them, creating an emotional strain that can go unexpressed for years, only finally coming out after it’s too late to fix. If they can find coworkers and spouses who genuinely appreciate and complement their qualities, who enjoy the brightness, clarity and dependability that they offer, Logisticians will find that their stabilizing role is a tremendously satisfying one, knowing that they are part of a system that works.

There was more, but it was pages of information. I stopped at the introduction! I actually think that this fits her pretty well! Integrity, practical logic, and tireless dedication to duty are definitely traits that Riza has! She takes to tasks with accuracy and patience, and is definitely a no-nonsense kind of woman with her work. She can be seen as cold and unfeeling, although those that know her well know that she has a “gentle heart” and she does hold herself to high standards, becoming frustrated when others don’t meet them (like Mustang with paperwork). She has a tendency to forget to take care of herself, and she definitely needs reminding that she can take a break to take care of herself.

All in all I think this is a good fit for Riza. A lot of this makes a lot of sense for her!

Send in 🧙 to see my muse’s Hogwarts House Result

Gryffindor

Congratulations! You have been sorted into Gryffindor, the house of bravery and chivalry. You have nerve and courage. Not afraid to try anything! House colors: Red and Gold House ghost: Sir Nicholas House head: Professor McGonagall House founder: Godric Gryffindor House animal: Lion Your common room is located in Gryffindor Tower. Have a magical year at Hogwarts!

While I can see her being a Gryffindor, (although to be fair, you can probably make an argument for any house) I don’t think this is the house that she would have ended up in, especially an eleven year old girl. I honestly picture her more as a Hufflepuff. Riza is, by far, a very hard worker. She has a strong sense of justice. She is extremely loyal. She is definitely patient. Yes, she’s brave and has nerve and courage, but I don’t feel like those characteristics are cornerstones of her. But justice, loyalty and patience? I feel like those definitely are. I think that Hufflepuff fits Riza much better.

Send in 🎉to find out what role my muse plays in a friend group

You got: The Dad

You're the dad of your friend group. You're a lovable grump, constantly torn between the fact that you hate people but love your friends. Whenever anyone suggests a friend activity, you are always the one who suggests staying in with a beer or a nice scotch. You will show up to a party, but you won't be happy about it. Other dads: Ron Swanson, Daryl Dixon.

I don’t agree with this. Riza is social enough, she doesn’t typically seek out a party for a party. She does enjoy hanging out with those she feels close to, and she’s fine going out with the team to a bar, but she also is fine being at home. When she is out, she’s usually the one keeping an eye on everyone.

To me this test just wasn’t a good fit for Riza in general. I had trouble finding answers that fit Riza, (and, tbh, that would have fit me, personally) and it seemed to be aimed more at a more social and less professional crowd, which is probably why I had trouble finding answers that fit her. I also had no idea who the choices of people were on that one question. Like, not. a. clue.

In my opinion, this was not a test that was going to give a character like Riza an accurate read.

#dap-brown #about muse

[doomedandstoned]

Closer To The End (part III)

I contend that human beings are not suited for the world we've fashioned for ourselves. Cases of anxiety and depression are practically ubiquitous, and suicide in all age groups is once again on the rise. Some will suffer mental afflictions that last years -- perhaps even for a lifetime. This is the third and final part of my story.

~By Billy Goate~

Cover art by Ruso Tsig additional art by Karl Briullov

I'm so tired of hearing that I'm wrong Everyone laughs at me, why me? I'm so tired of being pushed around I feel like I've been betrayed

We take each other's love, forget to give back Isn't it a pity, how we break each other's hearts I know we're only human and not to blame But who the hell are you to cause so much pain Why...

MEDICATION

My parents have been anti-establishment for as long as I can remember. In the climate of the 1980s, the institutions of the day were being called seriously into question. One of them was the authoritarian nature of public education (there's a reason why Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" resonated so strongly with people). It's no surprise that my family got caught up in the first wave of the homeschooling movement. Other areas of modern life began to be called into question, as well, taking the family down a dark, windy road that led into conspiracy culture, extreme libertarianism, and religious dogmatism.

This distrust of the "experts" put us at odds with the medical establishment, too. "Doctors only know how to do two things," mom would often proclaim loudly in one of her famous rants, "cut you open or prescribe you pills." Natural medicine held the keys to recovery from all ills, be it cancer or the common cold. "All those chemicals aren’t good for your body," she insisted. "God put everything we need for healing in the ground." I’m not here to knock naturopathy (I was an ardent follower of this way of life for years) nor my mother for her convictions, but there are some things that can’t be cured by Saint John's Wort and herbal tea -- major depression being one of them.

At one point, my anxiety, melancholy, and a generalized feeling of social isolation reached such a heightened state I turned to hypnotism, enamored by an obscure radio program hosted by Roy Masters and his Foundation for Human Understanding. I was too young to understand the significance of most of the bullshit he was spewing, but it was the comprehensive approach to life that appealed to me. I wanted answers -- all of them. About the only thing I got out of it, though, was learning how to make my own arm go numb through self-hypnosis.

Later, I'd get caught up in a movement of Biblical counseling that rejected psychiatry altogether. "Christ has given us all things we need for life and godliness," says the holy writ, ergo we need none other than Jesus to cure our mental ills. Furthermore, the thesis said, since "God has not given us a spirit of fear" it must mean that the root of depression and anxiety is ultimately sin against God. The answer? Confess your sins and walk by faith, not by sight. In short, pray the sadness away. All of this had limited effectiveness in coping with the claustrophobic cloud of melancholy that was constantly with me.

Cough & Windhand: Reflection of the Negative by Windhand

The stigma of psychiatry and modern medicine kept me from treating my depression for damn near a decade. Somewhere in my late twenties, after a prolonged and particularly dark depressive spell, I decided to talk to my medical doctor about antidepressants. He started me on the industry standard, the well-known and well-marketed Prozac, which became a household name in the '90s. I took the first dose at bedtime and when I woke up, I was seriously hating the daylight. Feeling extraordinarily fatigued, all I wanted to do was sleep. I called in a rare sick day from work. The next day I was feeling groggy, but well enough to return. Giving it the good ol' college try, I took Prozac for several weeks as directed, but the side-effects just weren't worth it for me. That’s when I was referred to my first psychiatrist.

It was a weird feeling sitting in the waiting room for my appointment. I felt like I’d joined the ranks of the fragile, broken, and confused, perhaps even the insane. It was hard for me to see myself sharing anything in common with the others that shared the tiny lobby. The psychiatrist who greeted me looked like a regular chucklehead -- you know, one of those sidekicks from a sitcom that's not coming to me now. (It just came to me: Glen from the Tom Green Show.) A paunchy man in his 30s with wavy dirty blonde hair parted to the side donning wire-rimmed glasses, the shrink pulled out a notebook and started asking me about my background, while he busily took notes. Turned out, the man was very methodical in his approach. Over the course of the year, we cycled through all kinds of drugs -- Paxil, Effexor, Wellbutrin, Lexapro, Zoloft, and a lot of other names I'm not remembering, before finally settling on Cymbalta.

Certainly, this was something I didn't want to share with my coworkers, much less mom and dad. The first time I told my brother I was taking antidepressants, he was outraged. “You don’t need that stuff in your body. You don’t need pills to feel good.” I don’t know what it is about antidepressant medication that offends people so badly, but some people feel it is their personal mission in life to get you off of them. Why all the evangelical fervor? Are they secretly afraid they are "nuts," too? It’s not like I’m trying to get everyone else to take my medication, but suddenly these people, well-meaning or not, are trying to get you off of your meds.

I’ve seen YouTube videos from a guy claiming that God has cured him of his bipolar disorder and he flushed all his pills down the toilet (bad idea, by the way). Then a month later, he comes back online crying uncontrollably, talking about how he feels like God is testing him and asking viewers to pray to stop Satan’s onslaught. Moral of the story: It's dangerous to let people's religious opinions and untested hunches drive the agenda for our mental health.

I'm very reluctant these days to talk to anyone about my depression, because of all the rush to judgement involved. Ironically, it's this breakdown of community that I believe is at the heart of much of our mental health issues as a society. Look at the comments on any confessional video addressing burnout, depression, or anxiety and you'll find everyone is suddenly an expert who knows so well the precise and perfect solution to your problems. Well-meaning or not, it's incredibly annoying and I'd rather not have trouble with it. Hell, it took me two years to finish this article.

Depressed people are often viewed with the same cynical dismissiveness ascribed to angsty hormonal teens. "It's just a phase, you'll get through it," you're told with the reassuring wave of a hand. Besides, they remind you, "Happiness is a choice!" Because they are feeling chipper today, they have little patience for you dampening their mood. Others call you edgy when you say the pressures of life are so great that you feel like just turning off the lights on all of it. Still others will view you as selfish for leaving the family reunion early (or not wanting to participate in holidays at all). When you spend the whole weekend in bed sleeping, they'll accuse you of being indulgent, not realizing sleep gives you a respite from the hurt, guilt, and regret of painful memories or the misery of an unstable home life. Or the well-meaning "It Gets Better!" It doesn't always get better as life moves on.

Then there are those who try to talk you off your meds, entirely (cue: the ridiculously overwrought Facebook posts). We've all been privy to those conversations that strike a conspiratorial tone about how it was really the pharmaceutical companies that led to Chris Cornell's death. "You should just get off the stuff," they argue -- be it from noble intentions or just pride from clinging to an opinion they've stubbornly invested in.

Then there are those who are convinced that since Jesus (or Buddha, Allah Oprah, Jordan Peterson or juicing) gave them an escape from their depression, certainly it is the universal cure for all that ails you. Understand that I was a committed Christian for decades. I know what it is like to feel spiritually serene and I value many of the things the church gave me as a young adult, namely the fellowship, tolerance, and love. I know the feeling of peace that comes from believing in someone who reigns over the chaos and cares about your every need -- an ultimate being who will make sense of the nonsense one day.

I don't wish to diminish anyone's faith or diminish your personal experiences. The fact is, however, that major depression is as much a physical illness as cancer is. Certainly, there are transitional feelings of unhappiness, emptiness, and despair that come from facing situations that seem out of one's control -- the nightmare roommate, being laid off from a job, losing a loved one. It's also true that in most cases, this sadness can be overcome by a new perspective, trying better strategies, or simply allowing the passage of time to do its healing work. Depression can be impacted by one's beliefs, but there is a kind of depression that exists independently of one's perspective on life.

SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

Apart from this series of articles (which took me a good two years to publish), I've stopped sharing my depression with other people. It's annoying, because most people don't know how to listen and empathize. They want to jump in with a solution that, if implemented by nightfall, just might make a difference by daybreak. It's just more hassle than it's worth. Over time, I've gone from being someone with an intense need to belong, to not caring what people think about me at all. I'll often go out of my way to avoid anything deeper than transactional relationships. Once a social butterfly, you'll find me quite the hermit these days. As a consequence, while I was once open to sharing my feelings of loneliness and despair, I rarely mention them any more on social media and practically never to my IRL friends. I would be the last person to call a suicide hotline, by the way. Judge me if you wish, but I'm just being honest. If you want to know what is going on in the head of a severely depressed person with suicidal ideation, here's a least one brain you can peer into.

There's a general consensus that suicide is a selfish decision, even a cowardly act. This was a casual opinion of my own for years, as well. Not until suicide touches someone in your life -- or when you enter its despondent realm yourself -- does the ridiculousness of that notion becomes apparent. Understand that for a person to commit suicide, they have to overcome the brain's own strong predilection for self-preservation. It's not so easy to take the step of ending your life. Something has gone terribly wrong with the brain's ability to convincingly cry, "STOP!" for that to happen.

In my worst bout of depression, following the demise of long-term relationship, I reached the point where every waking moment was sheer misery. Some call this anhedonia -- the inability to feel pleasure. Normally, when we are feeling blue, we seek out something to stimulate our pleasure receptors. That's why ice cream, chocolate, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are popular go-tos for the bummed out. For me, it's always been music and movies. On this particular week, though, I had somehow lost the capacity to find any joy whatsoever in the usual pastimes. Anything that attempted to pacify my mood met with my contempt. The only thing I could do to escape the agony of just being alive and conscious was to sleep...and sleep I did. At first 8 hours a night, up from my usual 7. Then it advanced to 9, 10, 11, 12 hours. When dawn came, a wave of misery washed over my mind again.

Once, I woke up feeling so despondent that I knew with absolute clarity that I could end my life. Today, I could actually do it. Immediately upon this realization, I wept bitterly. I've not cried like that before or since. If anything, I've become more stoic about the idea of suicide. Don't get me wrong, my internal sense of self-preservation is still quite strong. The problem is that in moments of severe depression, that instinct is dampened. You'll do just about anything just to get rid of the feeling of misery making it unbearable to be awake.

DOOM AWAKENING

One of the most important developments in treating my depression, besides medication and therapy, was the discovery of doom. There's an old expression that misery loves company. I don't know about you, but when I listen to music it's not generally to cheer me up. No, I want my tunes to have a certain level of commiseration with what I'm feeling and going through at the time. When I discovered (quite by accident) Saint Vitus, I knew I'd found my soul food. I can't fully explain that eureka moment when Dave Chandler belted out that first downtuned note on the guitars on "Born Too Late" or when Wino joined with plaintive lyrics for "I Bleed Black." This resonated with me powerfully. It brought chills. This was medicine for my weary head, a kind of mental morphine to dull the pain. I'd come to the Roseland Theater for Down and left with Saint Vitus.

As a funny aside, my roommate (who accompanied me to the show) and I rehashed the bands of the night, giving our two cents on this or that. One thing he said still makes me smile a little inside. "What did you think of Saint Vitus?" I asked. "I don't think they're the kind of band that will withstand the test of time," he remarked. "Well," I rejoined, "they have been playing now for over 30 years and were the co-headliners on a national tour, so their sound must be resonating with a good number of people." Sure, it wasn't for everyone, but on that night my doom had come.

Every song on 'Born Too Late' (1986) so perfectly captures the malaise of the deeply wounded soul, not just in lyrics but in the whole vibe. There's a thick, smoky haze permeating the record and it reminds me a lot of what it feels like after you've poured out your heart until you've got no more tears left to cry. Come on, don't pretend you're so macho that normal human emotions elude you. It's hard to put doom into words, but I'll try: on the one hand you feel emotionally exhausted because you've emptied out all those pent up feelings of loss, fear, regret, and frustration, on the other hand there's a feeling of "reset" and it often makes things much clearer to sort through. For me, when I've exhausted all my emotional resources, I'm left with a feeling of blithe acceptance. A sense of being dealt a set of cards by the impartial hand of fate. That's the kind of vibe that Saint Vitus captures perfectly for me on this record.

I spent entire weekends on those long, wonderful rabbit trails of discovery. "Dying Inside" led me to Trouble's "The Tempter" with its oh-so-tragic central riff. Lyrically, the songs I was running across could not have been more apropos.

Pentagram, The Skull, and Candlemass were not lingering far behind. Then came the more recent monoliths of doom: Electric Wizard, Windhand, High on Fire, Burning Witch, Khanate, Pilgrim, Serpentine Path, Usnea, Demon Lung, Ancient VVisdom, Dopelord, and the NOLA sludge scene, along with lesser known but equally as powerful acts like Undersmile, Shepherd's Crook, Reptile Master, Purple Hill Witch, Witchthroat Serpent, March Funèbre, Beldam, Hooded Priest, Regress, and 71TONMAN (listen to the Spotify playlist).

Doom metal spoke to me with a sharp realism that I connected with immediately. When you have no strength left to get angry at the world, you switch your listening habits from Car Bomb to Cough. You can say, I suppose, that doom was my salvation. It kept me hanging on a little while longer. The salve of those slow, low riffs gave me a strange feeling of consolation. "We know life sucks, too. Welcome to reality." It's like being awakened to the Matrix, but feeling there's not a damned thing you can do to change any of it. Your fate is sealed. It's an honesty that is both refreshing and freeing, I suppose, though one does wish to reclaim the notion of hope.

Believe it or not, even after writing all of this, optimism is my default mode. When I'm feeling well, and even when my depression is at low levels, the needle always leans towards inspiration, creativity, even a mischievous sense of humor and an aw, shucks smile that people tend to notice. I don't want to be depressed. The problem is that severe depression can make you feel, illusion or not, like you're paralyzed from doing anything about it.

As I've experienced more and more cuts and scrapes of life, I've become increasingly numb to it all, like the massive build-up of scar tissue. Things that upset me easily in the past might still hurt, but I've come to expect them, so they have the impact of a dull table knife. Perhaps I'm becoming a nihilist, despite my optimistic tendencies. It's hard not to be. Don't worry about me, though. If anything, I want to stick around to see what's going to happen next. It's the inborn curiosity we all have inside of us -- the same thing that I imagine kept Stephen Hawking going for decades after being wrecked by a disease that cruelly mangled his body into its famously misshapen form, stealing away his most basic expressive freedoms -- save for the power of his eyes and the thoughts behind them.

I've also made a deliberate attempt to pursue treatment (both psychiatric and psychological care) for my depression, which I urge you to do if you are likewise laboring under its crushing weight. The perspective of time, coupled with a remedy for mind and body can have a significant impact on your perspective, if not your life circumstances.

THE WINDY ROAD AHEAD

Learn from your mistakes, don't dwell on them. Repeated affirmations like this one may seem trite, but they are ultimately true. You can be free from the chains of guilt and move forward, as one performer puts it, "from strength to strength."

Don't kill yourself (literally or metaphorically) for someone else or for someone else's decisions. It may bum you out that a roomie decided to take your money and run or that you were rebuffed by a long-time crush or made jobless through corporate-wide cuts. You don't own that, they do.

Walks

Get off the couch, move that bod. Something as simple as a walk down the block or a drive out of town can do wonders for your perspective. As a homeschool teen living under the strict rule of a radical fundamentalist household in rural East Texas, my one salvation were those long walks in the open field -- especially when my parents started having loud, intense fights related to my mom's own mental health. I sorted through so many of life's problems (most of which seemed much larger then than they do now) through those solitary, hour-long strolls.

I really miss that where I live now, in a more congested neighborhood, so I have to find other ways of getting away from it all (getting up and out a half-hour before the other walkers, for instance, helps). Even if I don't want to rustle myself awake and move around to do as simple a task as taking out the trash, sometimes the feeling...let me revise that...quite often the feeling follows after the decision has been made and the body is in motion.

Projects

Another piece of advice I have for coping with depression is to channel your frustrations in projects. When I'm depressed, I throw myself into my work. Hell, Doomed & Stoned started because I needed a project to pour myself into. My counselor asked me once, "If you woke up tomorrow without depression, what would be different about your world?"

She encouraged me to start with the things that were in my immediate vicinity. "Well, there wouldn't be mail strewn all over the floor. My dirty clothes would be in the hamper, my clean clothes folded and put away. I'd take the time to cook myself a meal, instead of running out the door eating a quick bite out of some package."

Good, let's make a list and start there. Do at least one of the things on your list between now and the time we meet again next week.

Talks

Despite my isolationist ways, I begrudgingly admit that talking often helps, too. Though I'm an introvert and am horrified at the idea of sharing my feelings with others, I've reached points in my depression where I was compelled to tell others about it. It's as natural to do that as to cry out when your body is experiencing jolting pain. I'm one of those verbal processors that tends to sort through my problems by talking to someone else. Often, pride or shame or lack of trust gets in the way of sharing with our family and friends, so at the very least the much talked about Suicide Prevention Hotline could actually help you gain perspective on your situation.

Journals

If you don't talk, at least journal. Again, I'm not a journaler and this is the first time in almost three decades that I've written about anything related to my depression. Role play with me. You're a scientist studying the human psyche. How would you describe those feelings you call depression? When I was first asked to describe it to a counselor, I found myself at a loss for words. She helped me with prompts:

Can you tell me what it feels like?

"I walk around feeling like a dark, thick raincloud is hovering all around me all the time."

Do you feel it in a part of your body?

"Well, yeah, I guess. The head. And the chest. It feels like there's pressure building from all around me, like my head is going to explode. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest."

What's happening around you when these feelings arise?

I'd then go on to detail some recent happenings. She'd press me further to describe the kinds of thoughts racing through my head in these situations. All of this was really helpful in getting me to define this nebulous, gray malaise that was following me everywhere I went.

I don't keep a journal, per se. Something about it feels needlessly egotistical, a vain attempt to reinforce the illusion in our YouTube fame crazy world that my life is worth discovering and remembering at some point in the distant future. And yet, writing down one's thoughts can be another effective way of untangling that anxious ball of feelings that keeps me from thinking rationally about the depression I'm feeling.

Today is my birthday, but I couldn't care less. It's not about getting old. I stopped caring about that 10 years ago. It's something about celebration, specifically when the attention is on me. I can't adequately describe how contemptuous I find it. My last birthday was spent alone in an empty house and a bottle of Scotch, catching up with past seasons of Game of Thrones. I was so glad it was over and the happy birthday wishes stopped. There's nothing special about this day for me.

At some point, my family stopped celebrating birthdays and holidays. I'm not sure when it happened or why. Certainly not for religious reasons, more probably for financial ones. I grew up in a family that barely scraped by, so birthdays seemed a luxury we couldn't afford. Now, it just feels indulgent. More than that, it feels sad. It reminds me of all the disappointments, hurts, and failures of the past year. It's not as though it's all bad, of course. If nothing else my birthday gives the illusion that a chapter has turned, with new possibilities for the future. I also have to come to terms with how many people out there actually seem to care about me, maybe even love me.

And later that day, I forced myself to go to a show I was quite enthused about, but didn't factor in depression being the party pooper.

I can't account for what it is that comes over me. There are people here that genuinely like me, who probably even want to get to know me better, but I push them away. Not so much directly, but indirectly, by excusing myself to use the restroom and then changing my mind midway and just leaving the venue -- without even the courtesy of a "goodbye" to friends or a "great show" to the bands. I feel awful about it afterwards, but in that moment it's like a flood of emotional pain washes over me and it feels like I'm carrying an anchor chained around my neck. I feel the great urge to find my way to unlit corners. To look busy and preoccupied. Would it hurt me to say hello? To smile? Perhaps not, but right now my psyche is tingling like some kind of Spidey Sense telling me, "Get out of here! Just get your shit and leave...NOW."

As dour and hopeless as that may feel, just the act of writing it down afforded me a release, which incidentally I did not feel until the writing was all said and done.

Hope, a new beginning Time, time to start living Just like just before we died

Hurt, falling through fingers Trust, trust in the feeling There's something left inside There's no going back to the place we started from.

ONE MORE THING

For those of you who are wondering what you can do for a friend, family member, coworker or just someone you know casually from shows you both frequent, I couldn't say it better than one of my longtime fellow travelers in doom, who offered up this advice:

"While it's all very well and fucking dandy that there are so many people telling those who are struggling to reach out to them, I don't think people are quite understanding just how mental illness works sometimes. People quite often don't reach out, because those that are suffering from mental illness, at times, feel like they are a burden by unloading their shit onto someone else, despite the invitation to do so. It's generally the same concept that leads on to suicide.

I obviously can't speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself when I say the last thing I want to do is reach out to anyone because I feel like I am a burden and everyone would be better off without me -- and that is ultimately why I don't reach out. The point that I'm trying to get at is if you see someone struggling YOU reach the fuck out. If you don't see someone who used to be around, YOU reach the fuck out. Think about it. It's not that hard."

Well said and completely on the mark. At the same time, if you're feeling alone and uncared for, you may look at people’s lack of inquiry as more confirmation that you are worthless trash. You may interpret a busy person's slight as utter rejection. Don't worry about what others may or may not think of you. You need to take care of you, for you. The future is fickle. Your fortunes can change on a dime, so why base your self-worth and your decision about whether to live or die by how you feel right now? Ride it out, seek out help, get a game plan in play.

I say this as someone who knows how hard it can be to get mental health. I was double insured -- through my employer and the Veterans Administration -- and I couldn't get a god damned psychiatric appointment to reevaluate and adjust my meds. I called all over town trying to get in with someone. "Sorry, we're not accepting new patients" was the universal refrain. The VA would just be too many month's wait, I told myself, based upon how long it has taken me in the past to get a conventional medical appointment. In desperation, I called up my primary care doctor who asked if I was suicidal. For the first time in my life, I knew with full certainty the answer was yes. The more miserable I felt, the more I contemplated dying. If I did it, it would be something quick and sudden, I would daydream in my most despondent moment. "You need to check yourself into the hospital now," she told me adamantly. I did exactly that. I walked into the ER and told them I was suicidal. They led me to a room, had me take off all my clothes, and put on a hospital gown. I stayed in a padded room waiting for a social worker to see me. It was a desperate move, but it did pay off in getting me fast-tracked to see a psychiatrist.

One thing I learned about medication from my new psychiatrist (because he was very caring, very careful, and hence very effective at his job) is that everyone’s brain chemistry is uniquely different. There can be other issues impacting mood, too, such as thyroid, environmental stressors, sleep problems, vitamin deficiencies, and so on. Again, it’s often hard to see whether the cart is leading the horse or the horse is leading the cart, in terms of the mind-body connection. Long story short, this doctor adjusted my meds to near perfection to get me through the rare summer-long depression I was experiencing.

Just a few months later, he got hired away to work for the County and I was left back in the same boat once again. I got a great referral, but didn't realize until bills came in I couldn't pay that the doctor was out of my insurance network. Believe me, many people prefer to go without care entirely than to go into debt and I was one of them (truthfully, I still am). I went another year until I couldn't take it anymore and this time in my desperation reached back out to the VA. Surprisingly, they saw me within a week and prioritized my suicidal depression. I'm now in a good spot as a result, but it was a long, windy, uncertain road getting here. I know it's hard to find help. Sometimes you don't know what's available to you until you knock a little louder and get people's attention.

The older I get, it seems the more stubborn I am, particularly when it comes to reaching out and asking for help. Perhaps I've always been that way and am only now realizing it's become a liability. After taking off three weeks during the holidays to catch up with the many projects that were piling up around me, I realized that my depression was sometimes stronger than my will to power through and do my best work. I would find myself sitting at the computer for hours trying to get started with a story, trying to edit audio for a podcast, trying to prepare a team member's submission for publication, and every time I would find myself coming up against something painful, perhaps similar to the long recognized creative crimp known as writer's block. I describe it as an inhibitor chip in my brain that sends pain signals to my psyche whenever I contemplate moving forward.

Of course, rationally, I know it's all just a matter of the will, right? That's what those who aren't experiencing depression will tell you, at least. They don't want to go to the gym, but they make the choice to do it anyway, so why can't you just "man up" and do what needs to be done? Well, those aren't so much the messages other people give me, as they are my own conscience. The guilt itself from a day coming and going without results adds its own layer of complication to my mood. Thankfully, I have a wonderful counselor who understands and is helping me to tackle this with cognitive strategies. This, coupled with sensible medical treatment, has at least helped me to find "even flow" again.

Finally, you're going to have some bad days where you may even want to be productive, but your body feels like it's in revolt. As a creative person who loves to pour myself into as many projects as I can when I'm feeling good, it can be extraordinarily frustrating to not even feel the will to check email, open a letter, or listen to a stitch of music. Most days, I'm trying to work in concert with my body's natural rhythms. I'm more of a morning person and get my best work done between 8AM and 11AM. Anything after that is going to be hit or miss with diminishing returns. With that in mind, I have to hold back from starting new projects before the ones already on my plate are finished, because when I'm feeling good, I think I can take on the world.

This is all a part of me rediscovering what it's like to feel balanced, bright, and in love with life. It can be frustrating to have that feeling back, only to watch it wither away as the week progresses. Since I have very high expectations of myself, it's natural for me to heap guilt upon guilt for all the missed opportunities, but beating myself up only compounds the problem (it took me a long time to really get this about myself, too). Every day is a struggle, but I've decided I'm staying in the fight for the long haul.

In short: Be patient with yourself. Be fair with yourself. Be good to yourself. Remember, this too shall pass.

"Someday you're going to die, just like some day I'm going to die. But until then, you fight like hell to stay alive, you get that?!"

-- William Holden, The Earthling (1980)

#Closer To The End #Depression #Suicide #Doom #Metal #Saint Vitus #Trouble #Alice in Chains #Windhand #Doomed & Stoned

[jane-friend]

Life has been absolutely horrible lately. My mom and my nona keep having medical issues that range from problematic to life-threatening, and it feels like the second things seem better, something else arises. I understand that for them this situation is arguably far worse for nthem since they’re the ones actually having the health issues, but feeling like you’re soon going to lose two of the people you love and look up to is still not a great feeling to have at all times.

Additionally, work has been absolute hell. The amount of production we’ve been given is borderline unreasonable. I’m averaging 50 hour work weeks for a very physically-intensive graveyard shift job, which all those three factors combined make for a truly miserable experience. The stress has eroded away at my coworkers causing them to constantly fuck up and making every day a test of patience. And because the managers refuse to take the action needed, I have to struggle every day just to keep up with what’s needed of me that day. I come home every day absolutely burnt out, and I just spend the rest of the day sleeping because I can’t muster up the strength to do anything else.

My little fuzzy kitty buddy BJ passed away a while back, too. He was the one comfort I could rely on and he had been with me for 16 years. But he’s gone now. Every day feels like a battle I have to fight alone and recover from alone. Every day before I sleep I hold his little collar close to my heart and just cry. I can’t do anything else. I made a poor attempt to get a new little kitty buddy just so that I could have a companion to comfort me, but the heartlessness of my step-mom and dad shot that effort down. I fell apart that day.

The rest of my family seems to be having fun while I’m stuck with a shitty job and shitty heartache. My sisters just took trips to Santa Cruz, and my dad and step-mom are going to London for a month. Meanwhile I cant go anywhere or do anything because I essentially used all my PTO visiting my mom while she was battling cancer, which is not to say it wasn’t time well spent, but it wasn’t an emotional reprieve either.

The only person I’m close enough with that can help ease my pain is my partner, but I only get to see them once a week, if even that. And because of the stress of work, I’ve been spending most of the time with them sleeping. Plus, I know that their support is a gift and it’s not fair to them if I incessantly ask for support and keep throwing myself at them when I’m at my worst. It’s not their job to put up with me. Last Sunday when I completely fell apart, I did things that triggered traumatic memories for them, and I still haven’t forgiven myself for that.

I don’t know what to do. Everything is just absolutely awful. Each day is a miserable cycle of nothing but awful work and sleep. I feel like I have nothing I can be excited for at the end of each day, nor do I have something that can mitigate the sorrow of each day. And the worst part is that I know that this can and will end eventually. I’ll have saved up enough money to move out with my partner, to which at that point I’ll be able to deal with work a little better, and things will be a little easier. But that’s months, maybe years away, and I know that I can’t last that long with things currently being what they are. I thought I was a strong person, but all of this is too much for me.

#no I’m not thinking about... ending my life. I very much intend to live #for like the two whole years I have left #but I can’t keep going like this #I’m miserable and exhausted

[porterblt]

10.5 weeks

We’re here! Almost 11 weeks! Then 12 weeks! AHHH!

I can’t believe how quickly time is going and how fast he’s growing. It’s been sad but really great, too. I seems like the first 7 weeks were basically stagnant and then all of a sudden he’s doing all of these amazing things in quick succession.

First he started smiling. Then, he started smiling a lot. And he started really looking around the room and seeing things. Then, he started kicking and looking like he enjoyed himself, and started smiling at us specifically. He started cooing a little more, which was really cute. Then, over last weekend, he started “talking” and focusing on things! While we were in Annapolis, he was getting lots and lots of attention from the family, and then he just started chattering away. We had ordered a play gym for him, and when we got home it had arrived so we set it up. He LOVES IT. It has little black and white cards that he focuses on, it’s got little hanging things for him to grab and kick, and it has plenty of room for him to spread out. 

We went to Annapolis last weekend to see Chris’s parents, and it was SO wonderful. I was apprehensive because it would be our first trip with him, and wasn’t sure how easily our routine would translate over to a different environment. It did, though, and it was a dream. Well, for the most part. Debbie, Katie, and Amy always wanted to hold Everett so we got such a nice break to just relax and not have to constantly hold/entertain the baby. And even though he didn’t react much, I’m sure he appreciated all of the attention and stimulation. We went to a blueberry patch and he met some of the cousins and aunts/uncles that were there. We, of course, all had masks and stayed some feet apart from each other. Chris’s cousin Tommy and his wife Amanda have been staying with her mom in MD, but they usually live fulltime in NYC. Since it was obviously hit the hardest, they decided to leave after several of her friends caught it and she was worried about being exposed.

Coming home from Annapolis was tough. It actually made me very bitter to know how wonderful it is to be around family, and to realize what we had been missing out on for the first two months of Everett’s little life. It was rejuvenating - being able to carry things over and do them in MD made it feel much easier and it felt less daunting to do at home. Plus, he had made all of these neat developmental leaps in the meantime. I’ll upload some pictures when I can from the trip. I’m still trying to figure out how to best store them - god forbid I lose my phone or it dies, and then I lose all of those pictures and videos :( still trying to sort it out.

Covid is still going strong, though (KNOCK ON WOOD) not so much in VA. Our trends have pretty much been going down, but in AZ, TX, and FL it’s been insane. I’m not sure why there’s such a surge there, but they’re starting to go through what was happening in NY. Their ICUs are full, with thousands of positive tests every day. It’s crazy. It’s become more and more political to wear a mask or practice any kind of social distancing, which I find completely ridiculous. Trump is the most narcissistic, irresponsible, cowardly person we could EVER have as an elected official, let alone president, and he has turned this into a political war. 100%. He refuses to wear a mask and is constantly making statements and tweets about how it’s a leftist hoax. I just can’t even fathom it. I’m sure in the future, they will write about it in text books and people will just shake their heads in disbelief that Americans are so stupid. Some of the european countries are re-opening and allowing travelers to come back into their countries, but not to US. And I don’t blame them one bit! Mexico actually closed its borders so US citizens can’t cross over. Canada has been closed. It’s just insane. We just finished 4th of July weekend and I don’t even know if I want to see the numbers in two weeks. Chris has a couple of cousins that are prancing around on the beach like nothing is happening. It just feels like an insult that Chris and I have made such sacrifices (to the detriment of my mental health) to stay safe, and people are able to go out and live their lives like nothing is happening.

And now, if I have time (Everett woke up), I want to touch on the civil rights movement that’s been happening for about a month. It’s crazy. There were a number of killings of black citizens by police officers, and it was like the top blew off of a volcano. Riots erupted in almost every city, with countless protests. First, they were just a violent response to the devastation of the losses. But then they turned into protests against police brutality, marches for BLM, and a call to take down monuments all over the south that memorialized confederate war generals. It’s been amazing to witness. There have been protests pretty much every day since then and it’s been amazing to watch. Chris and I didn’t go to any because of the baby (and come on, there’s still a pandemic happening) but it was like half of the country went through a racial awakening. A switch went off in my head and, after reading/hearing so many stories of black citizens who have suffered or been discriminated against, I finally realized that there was a huge problem that needs to be remedied. I guess I’ve just been happily oblivious and assumed that things weren’t as bad as people said they were. But I was being lazy. There have been a lot of difficult and uncomfortable conversations with my family - particularly mom. Of course, Trump has spun this into an “us versus them” situation where all of the protestors are leftist extremists and they want to ruin the fabric of society and yada yada. It’s been extremely frustrating. Mom has been listening to it and believing it. She’s not an inherently racist person, but she is of the camp that BLM and these protests are dangerous and unnecessary, and that systemic racism really just doesn’t exist. I’ve been trying to have conversations here and there about what’s going on in a way that appeals to her. If I immediately shoot down everything she says about her “side,” I know she won’t take anything I have to say seriously. So I’m doing my best to keep my mouth shut and listen, but introduce new ideas and gently redirect some of her thoughts on what’s happening. So far it’s actually been working-ish. But she keeps listening to these toxic news channels that catastrophize everything that’s happening and I know it’s shaping her opinions. I just have to be patient. I know it’s been difficult for my dad, who is largely in the same camp as the rest of us, politically. Time and patience, I suppose.

I have to go back to work in two weeks and am completely dreading it. I’m starting to remember the things I didn’t like about my job, and remembering what it’s like to work a 12 hour shift, and realizing that I’m going to be in a hospital during a pandemic. I just don’t want to do it!! But a small part of me is also thinking that it might not be the worst thing to have some sort of schedule again. As I learned back in March, I do not do well when there’s no structure. I just get lazy and sad. I’ll also be able to socialize with my coworkers, which will be kind of nice I think. From what I can tell, they’re cleaning the office obsessively and wearing masks all the time. So I’m hoping it’ll be ok. I just hope my anxiety will be able to handle it :-/