Shit’s been a little awry, off-kilter, whack and just generally fucked up for me over the past 18-20 months.
I mean, just mentally. Oh and my mother died suddenly last summer.
Things are kinda cool. I mean, I appreciate this life. It’s a good one. I’m blessed. My partner is the bomb dot com, and my friends are ride or die.
BUT I STILL GOT ME A MEAN CASE OF THE CRAZIES.
Not really crazy, but I am mentally ill. Mixing a not-just-yet-healed anxiety/depressed brain and the biggest bucket of grief this side of SIDS are apparently quite the foul brew.
Because of this, I have been acting weird. It’s hard for me to keep track of shit. It’s hard for me to remember things. From time to time I make really bad judgement calls because I have this over-stressed feeling that follows me everywhere.
And I have a wonderful job. This is my calling. Social justice, organizing people and creating events that expand the minds of all people are where I wanna be. This is a wonderful organization to do those things with. The problem is that, just like every other organization, my job is ruled by capital. Society dictates that we do things like pay rent, the salaries of employees and other such hooey.
And because we need to perform excellently 100% of the time, there is a lot of uncomfortably tight pressure surrounding me. Normally it’s something I’d be able to take on. I wouldn’t enjoy it! But I would be able to get through it and dust myself off.
Where I am right now? I can barely dust actual, literal crumbs off of my jeans. I’m a mess in my own head, everywhere I go. There’s nowhere that I can fully decompress other than my couch and amongst friends, and work makes it even more difficult for me to seek out those spaces.
Depression and anxiety are tricksy little motherfuckers who have you steeped in the past and anticipating the future at any given moment. Grief, and specifically the grief of losing a parent that you’re close to, has been for me very similar to having a bucket you need to fill… and as you attempt to fill it? You get punched. Directly in the forehead. Everyday, and then realizing not only is there nobody to hit back, but you have an empty bucket with no bottom on it.
And then you realize the person who you would cry to about getting punched, or that your bucket bottom is missing can’t put ice on your forehead or show you how to mend the bucket, because they’re gone forever.
So, I’m dealing with that everyday. No big deal.
And I work in a high-stress, high-paced, high-stakes environment. At a job I love. At a job that I AM GOOD AT.
But I’m not good at it at all right now.
So I have to take care of me. I’m gonna make crafts, and go to the gym and figure out the healthcare system.
And I’m not gonna work for a while and have some peace, and not feel scared and figure out how to mend my own bucket.
So long story short, I’m leaving NC3 for at least a little while. It was a very hard decision, but it is the one that made the most sense.