Sleepy Jitters

There are two reasons why I'm not on my office floor wallowing in an odd combination of sleeping and crying:

1. I'm already having a bad hair day.
2. I don't know the last time my office floor was vacuumed.

Sometimes you don't need a good reason. Just a reason good enough for you.

(I think I'm prolonging the collapse because I'm so excited for how amazing my couch is going to feel as soon as I can get my butt home after work.)

Rome was built on ruins.

That's all I got...I don't have words for it, and I'm out of advice. I just know I'm still standing, and today, that's all that matters. I don't feel like I'm moving forward, but I don't feel like I'm moving backward. I think I just have to get comfortable standing before any movement can happen.

Rant mode.

Everything all at once. I've felt lonely and basically shitty all damn week. On top of that, I'm dealing with a hellacious amount of stress at work with the general overtone of "we business men don't know a thing about therapy, but here are the rules we've developed for you to strictly enforce upon your patients." THEN, my rate of billable services this week has been in the toilet. Clients not showing up or calling me 10 minutes in to their scheduled afternoon appointment time saying, "uhhhhh dude I just woke up." Or how about the calls from frantic significant others saying, "HE'S GONE OFF HIS ROCKER AND IS DRINKING BOTTLES AT A TIME!!" Those have been fun too. On top of that, I have my group this afternoon and have nothing prepared for the 5-8 blank faces staring at me waiting for me to lecture for 2 hours. On top of that, I just feel pulled in every direction in general. I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything, and I feel like its my fault. I'm not sure if it really is or not. Then, no one can fix any of this but me. This isn't something I can delegate to reduce stress. To be brutally honest, I feel about as stable as I did at the funeral. In fact, I was more stable at that point because I had the ability to delegate, and I had control over most things that were happening. Right now, I have none. No control. That makes me a basket case. I've even taken a Xanax this afternoon, and I'm still ranting. I have this illogical assumption that the world expects me to be better by now. It derives from my own frustration that I'm not yet healed, and I'm very aware of that. I'm sick of things just not getting noticeably better in quite some time. I find myself yet again doing all of the right things and making right choices, but I see no improvement in my life despite my efforts to make myself happy and make myself feel good. This is all so routine now, and I don't want it to be that way. I WANT TO BE BETTER...NOW. Not later. Not 'when the time is right'. Not 'when God feels you're ready'. Not 'when you've learned the lessons you're supposed to learn'. I firmly believe that God does not give us more than we can handle, but this didn't come from God. This horrible tragedy is not an act of God. God does not 'bless us' with tragedy that pushes us near the breaking point. He does not present us with struggles so deep and hurtful that every day feels like a dead end. That is not the work of God as I know him. This is a result of human error. None of this is right, and none of this makes any sense. I'm tired of waiting.

I want an angel with arms, not with wings.

A little hank jr to cap off the evening.

Seriously?

I feel boring. I feel like nothing is happening...good or bad. That makes me frustrated, because I feel entitled to a good 'happening'. I'm certainly long overdue. I want to have a reason to say "Things are really looking up!", but I don't. I guess I should be thankful that things aren't going to hell in a hand basket, but how long do I have to wait? I don't want to feel sad, I don't want to feel lonely, I don't want to feel lost, I don't want to feel empty, and I'm certainly tired of feeling 'blah'. 'Blah' is nonproductive, and its getting me no where in a hurry. All of those tips and tricks to boost my mood are getting old and rather routine to be honest. I find myself reflecting on the notion of 'rebuilding out of the ashes'. Now that all of the ashes have settled, I find my same self standing in the middle of them unchanged. By that, I mean that nothing spectacular has been rebuilt. Its just me. Going home to my dog every night. Doing my laundry. Keeping my house. Going to work. Its just me...I don't understand. 5 months ago, this is exactly where I expected myself to be. That's frustrating to me. 5 months ago, inside the depression, shock, and grief, I had these minimal expectations to simply return to a halfway normal life. That's all that's happened. It makes me sick. Throw me a bone, life.