This has been a week of frustration and tears. Stress and panic. Work work work and obsess obsess obsess. I’ve cried the past 2 evenings. I want to disappear. I want it to be done with. I feel like I’m losing control and losing grip. I’m trying to do the best that I can, but it’s a lot to do, and things are slipping through the cracks.
I’m going to the doctor on Monday. I took the day off, since it’s the day after the Epic Karaoke Contest of Doom! I’m going to get a semi-suspicious looking…mole? pimple?…thing on my chest. I’m also going to discuss my blood pressure. With the way I stress out, is it any wonder my BP is astronomically high? I’m assuming that 180/120 is high. That’s what it was the last time I went to the doctor. And the time before that. Maybe the doctor makes me stressed. Maybe I’m just going to implode at any second. I’m convinced I’m a cancerous ticking timebomb.
A fat, ugly, cancerous ticking timebomb, that’s a complete fuckup.
Work has got me so stressed. Supporting 2 offices, and trying to do my thing, is turning out to be an epic fail. Not for lack of trying. A girl can only handle so much on her plate.
I wish I could be honest. I wish that when someone asks me, “How are you doing?” – I could say “Shitty.” I wish that when someone asks me, “Are you okay?” – I could say “No, I’m not oh-fucking-kay.” But I can’t. Because people don’t want to hear that. They want you to be all smiles and they want you to be your cheerleader and your support system.
No one’s asking, so I’m not telling. Except to you, dear blog o’ mine.
I’m fucking depressed and on the verge of a breakdown. I’m angry. I’m stressed.