Depression is like a bad story. It hurts and scares me but I have had enough experience to cope and outlast. There is cohesion to the narrative. The narrative just sucks.
Panic is ducking scary. There is no narrative. It is an explosion. All my thoughts are puzzle pieces. Floating in dark space. Electric static like lightening. I can’t find a through line.
Suicide. Physical death. That was the worst option. I am physically healthy. Not likely to harm myself. The worst option now is mental breakdown. That could even popsicles lead to death. Seriously. My brain shirt circuits. I am not sure what would happen.
There are so many negative thoughts around work. I don’t know if I can mentally keep a job. The regional vp I would report to sent me an email. She asked for a bio to share. I sent her a response. She didn’t acknowledge she got it. I am so scarred from nine jobs. This has sent me into a panic. Is there something wrong with my background check? References? The bio I wrote? Did she not get the response? What if she thinks I am unreliable now?
Tomorrow I go to Phoenix. Now it becomes real. This wasn’t a choice. I should have moved a year ago. I couldn’t afford this house. My pride put me deep in debt. I wanted to stay stable for my daughter. I was confident I could make it up. I failed.
I left nothing on the table. I am really low. Perhaps broken beyond salvation. But between utah, the WIL and Southern California I lived the life I wanted.
My teammate and classmate had lung cancer in his twenties. Died at 40. He wasn’t promised anything. Neither am I. Sometimes life is fun, sometimes you find salvation. in the end every story is a tragedy.
mikemeyer949 