I feel sick in Each Day

Like, not ill. Like something is eating away at me from the inside. Like a vague nausea. Like anxiety and depression and hopelessness and ungratefulness and rage and this desperate aching desire to feel fucking Normal.
Whatever that is.

I went for breakfast with Red and Mandy today. They complained about their husbands, and I quietly felt grateful that M is doing better these days. I told him not long ago that the him he is these days is the closest to the him I fell in love with. 18 years is a long time, so I would never expect us to be the same people... but to have the darkness lifted from him has been everything.

Why can't it be enough?

When I met Mandy at the door of the restaurant we greeted each other cheerily, and she asked me how I was, and without a beat I was like, "Oh, not good." She said, "Oh no! Would you like some compression?" And held her arms open. I should have taken the hug, but I was so preoccupied with how slick offering "compression" is instead of a hug that I didn't even realize I didn't answer her until later. I didn't elaborate on my not-good-ness until later in the meal when the topic turned to me (on the tail of weaponized incompetence). I said, "well my psychologist has made a note on my file that I'm dealing with suicidal ideation". I talked about some work bullshit, and feeling ungrateful for the life I have and they corrected my thinking in the ways we all know how depression and ideation lies to us.

When I was talking to Tina and tried to express how bad things were getting (ideation is daily, thoughts of cutting daily, no plan, no action, but it is crippling). She told me she was going to make a formal note in my file, a flag for my doctor to see, maybe she and I can come up with a new med plan, or something. She asked me a few questions and fucked if I can remember a single one, but I remember one answer, "Functionally no, emotionally yes". As in I don't want to deal with the process of trying to kill myself, but emotionally I cannot tolerate existing.

My frustration tolerance is at an all-time low. Weeks ago I put in leave for the week after our kitten comes home, because we want to be around to monitor the two of them and make sure everything is good. Also because I am entitled to leave and should be able to take it *almost* whenever the fuck I want. Ahem. I asked repeatedly why it hadn't gotten approved, and was told repeatedly that it would be.

Friday I had to go into the office to print notes for a presentation I was giving to another unit, and I ran into another one of my supervisors. He said, "I need to talk to you about your leave", and when we were in his office he told me that I was not allowed to take the whole week. I had to be at work on the Wednesday to escort a group of kids. I explained that my leave plan was submitted before I was asked to be the escort. That I had brought it up AS SOON AS I knew I was tasked. That I was told that I could find someone else to do it on the day, but to run with the planning. He told me the big boss *really* wants me on this one. For some fucking reason.

I did what I was told despite being furious because I had zero fight in me. But all weekend this has been eating at me. I literally just told them that shit is not good. Why the fuck are they leaning so fucking heavily on me? At first it felt like misguided support/mentoring, and now it feels like harassment.

I plan on talking to Old Boss tomorrow and explaining the toll this is having on me. I also plan on providing him with the date stamped emails showing when I put the leave plan in and when I was told I was the escort. I don't know how to express the severity of what is going on with me. How do people have these conversations without revealing the underlying issue? I don't want to go in there and say "this place makes me wish I was dead", but saying that when I am at work I'm paralyzed by the to-dos and when I am home I dread going back to work just isn't even remotely close to the seriousness of my mental state.

Anyway. I was really proud of myself last week, I went to the gym twice. I was hoping to make it on Thursday but I was already leaving for a conference call at lunch, so it seemed like the more responsible thing to do (despite the fact that fitness is literally supposed to be part of our work day).

I'll be off to the gym again tomorrow. It was nice to be back there. Despite the exercise induced headache.