Really? in BookThree: Flight Log 2016

Never a good sign when your morning sucks from the beginning.
Woke up to my alarm at 6. Good, no worries. Grabbed breakfast and started scheduling the day… yeah, I think part of my problem is the lack of AC. Because after about an hour of that? I couldn’t stay awake. Fell asleep (because… hot) and had an unpleasant dream.
DREAM:
Wife and I were getting a divorce because she had grown tired of waiting for our situation to improve. I was desperately looking for a job back home so that I could at least be around friends and family during the stressful time. But the job I had applied for that I was “certain to get” went to my brother instead. And he wasn’t even going to do it full time… he was going to do the job remotely from his other business location in Ames. So… alone, frustrated, and morose.... my mom tells me that I can’t move in with them until I figure something out because they’d rather keep their empty rooms available for paying customers. Then I woke up.

So… yeah. Not a great way to start my day. Woke up again feeling grumbly. Grabbed clothes to take with me to the shower, but Wife woke up and saw me grabbing clothes and said, “Yuck! When was the last time you showered! Get to it.” ::eye roll:: I was going to shower. Take a quick shower, throw my clothes on, drive to work. Cecilia is taking the day off (good on her, she should) so it is me and my mountain of shit that I’m not certain about. Hooray. Oh, and about the air conditioner? Wife did call Landlord yesterday. He did his usual “Oh, huh, yeah, well, I guess our HVAC guy is still not quite feeling well after his surgery. He should be there this weekend, I figure, maybe.” Yeah. We all know he won’t be here this weekend. And guess what… I want my house done! Seriously, I’m going to draw a big ol’ circle around July 11th on my calendar. If I don’t have Air Conditioning… if I don’t have Curtains… if I am expected to continue to live in such an unacceptable environment? I am going to make Landlord’s life very difficult. Seriously. I’m surprised I’m still as “together” as I am. All of this started April 4. Starting April 4, I’ve been trying to figure out how to do my job.... living in shitty environments… working on getting things done amicably. But… they’ve been working on that house for 3 years. On July 4, they will have known that people were/are living in that house for 3 months. I can’t magically miracle the job better… I can’t will the county to have more acceptable people… but I can certainly rain down fury and vengeance about the house. Because without that being finished… we can’t finish moving in. And if we can’t finish moving in; I can’t try to bring friends and family up to visit. Thus increasing the loneliness, isolation, and frustration. And as for bringing friends up before we’re done moving… I’m okay with that. I’m cool with that idea. But I’m not going to ask people to visit if I don’t have AC or Curtains. Because I’m not going to make them go through that hot nor sacrifice their reasonable expectation of privacy.

I just… bah. Stupid… day. My back hurts, my neck hurts, my arm hurts. I’m way past emotionally done with dealing with this situation. I get that moves are difficult and I understand that new jobs are hard. I am fairly capable of understanding that. But I am still questioning: Should that shit be THIS hard? Is this because my situation is so abnormally fucked or is it because my fibro makes it seem worse than it is? And that is why I typically don’t react quickly or strongly anymore. Because before medication, I’d react. I’d get shit done. I’d scream or cry or freak out. But now? I’m just medicated enough to wonder. If I wasn’t in pain… if I wasn’t having issues sleeping… would I be in a better place to deal with this situation? In other words… I suppose… I’m asking… were I “normal” how would I handle this? Because I want to pass as normal. I want to stay part of the world and earn a good living and contribute. But what the fuck? Did I really struggle to find work for two years to wind up in this situation? Was two years of searching “rewarded” with this utter bullshit?

And here’s a fucked up thought… if I had cancer or something, I think I wouldn’t be so frustrated. Because growing up… I was called a whiner, a complainer, I was told to “toughen up” and “deal with my shit.” Typical “Men don’t cry” bullshit. But never from my dad. My dad was usually okay with most stuff. From my brother, from my teachers and friends… from every male figure except my father. Because… that’s the way it’s “supposed to be.” Bullshit you’re in pain; you’re just weak. (Heard that a lot). Why do you always act like you’re the victim? Life sucks, you move on. (Still hear this a lot). And it has become an internal reaction as well. Thus… the fucked up thought. Because if I had cancer or some gushing head wound… I wouldn’t feel such a knee-jerk defensive and frustrated reaction. I wouldn’t have to defend my emotions, my understanding of my situation, or my invisible pain with no cause “thus it must not be real.” I could say… my head is gushing blood, so yeah… I’m having a medical issue and it is making it harder to deal with the infinite fucked up nature of my current situation.

Growl. And now the weird thing? I’m here in my office. I’m sitting, door closed (which I never have closed) looking at my desk and thinking “Okay, time to clean it up, get organized, and see if you can’t get caught back up.” But yet I sit here. And it feels like my heart and my head are fighting like Stalin and Trotsky, but I can’t figure out what either side wants. Seriously. I feel conflicted and frustrated and emotional but in such vague, unspecific, almost ethereal ways that I can’t even begin to address it to fix it. When I try to put a label on it, the one I can think of just doesn’t feel right. I keep coming back around to the fact that I haven’t seen my brother/parents since Pappy’s Funeral… and that isn’t exactly the happy awesome quality time visit. And I haven’t seen any of my friends since before that. BUT that doesn’t feel like it is enough as that happened in May. So either… I’m as emotionally needy as my wife tells me I am… or I am desperately missing a sense of Home. Or both, I suppose.