Reality check

I go back to my real work tomorrow. I have to get up at 6am at the latest. I have to work for 8 straight hours. I have to wear my dreadful uniform.  After the end of my workday I’ll have to go to therapy, and so I’ll come back home at 8pm, I will have been out for at least 13 hours. I’ll have to go to bed at 10pm at the latest, because if I sleep any less than that, I simply can’t function, especially now that N has increased my anti-anxiety med after I showed at her office on Thursday completely mental.

About that, remember my post from Thursday where I said I was feeling a bit better? Well it didn’t last. After I left the Institute I went to a coffee shop to make some time since my appointment with N was at 8:45. I was still very anxious and stopped there in the hopes that a mint tea would help me relax. Sitting there with my smoky tea and reading blogs felt like a good idea…until a quake happened. Not a huge earthquake or anything, but a strong one. It was a magnitude 6.5 quake exactly. I’m not usually the kind of person to be scared about these things, they’re quite normal here in Mexico City. But in my jumpy state I guess I was triggered. I was sitting by myself when I started to feel the floor beneath me moving. I honestly was in such a state that I thought I was imagining things. Even when I looked at the lamps tilting I believed it might be the wind or something. But the sensation was growing stronger, and when I looked around at the rest of the people there, everyone was carrying on their activities as if nothing, that really freaked me out, I really thought I was loosing it. I don’t know how scared I looked on the outside, but a man came up to me and told me “it’s trembling”, which really helped me get a grip.

I waited until the last possible moment to get in the car and drive to N’s office, which almost caused me to be late. When I did get there I stayed for some moments inside the car, and when the car locked automatically with me inside, I had the shock of my life. My heart stopped, it was as if someone had shot point-blank at me. I got out, rang the bell, and then I had to wait outside for a couple of horrible minutes. Every car passing by was scaring me to death, there were even a couple of loud motorcycles that had me put my back against the wall. The previous patient eventually came out and I came in (N doesn’t have a secretary or a waiting room)…completely freaked out. I was crying, telling her all the things I had experienced just on that evening. I started to calm down and was able to talk to her about the past weeks, how anxiety had really taken a toll on me ever since my visit to my uncle’s house. She basically scolded me for not calling her and deciding on my own to take the anti-anxiety med…which is ironic considering in the end she told me not only to keep on taking it but to increase the dosage and to take it continuously for some time, even if I don’t feel the angst anymore.

As I said in an earlier post, I hate taking medication, I hate needing it. But the past few days had been so horrible that I truly didn’t mind anymore, I just wanted to feel better. And it has helped I have to say. I still feel bad, anxious, but the chest pains and the heart flips have stopped, so that’s good news. I’m coming back to Mr. Shrinky’s office tomorrow. I don’t know if N called him or if I’m gonna have to spread the lovely news of how I dealt with my holidays on my own. I have barely done half the things I needed to get done by tomorrow, and even so I’m here writing. I don’t feel scared of coming back to work anymore, but I’m finding it hard to even feel excited for the coming days, probably because even if it’s occupied by birthday-celebration-related events, I’m not keen on having too many social situations in one weekend (and by too many I mean even one).

Also, there are just a lot of commitments for me to deal all at once, at least that’s how I feel it. I have to prepare the open classes for 1st, 2nd and 3rd grades that are due on May but need to be handed in by April 19th. My tutor has emailed me about the Frankenthesis, she’s pressuring for me to be done with it, as she should, but I just haven’t found the time to deal with it. Is it really such a crime that I didn’t want to work on it over the holidays? I’m busy every weekday all day long, so when I got some days off, I actually wanted to clear my mind of things (which didn’t entirely work looking back on my anxiety crisis). But I’m not entitled to do this, there are just too many things to be done. All the time. Will it ever end? Will I ever get to do the things I like because I want to, and actually make a living out of them?

God, I’m still young and I’m already tired of responsibilities and sick of the system. How does one break free? Is it just a wild dream? Is is just the personal crisis I’m going through what’s making feel so unfit to live my life? I obviously don’t have the answers to any of those questions, but hopefully in about two or three weeks I’ll be readjusted to this unsavory routine. That is, if my post-birthday-depression doesn’t kick in as it has for the last couple of years. That’s actually the main reason for doing a small reunion this year. I can’t expect things to be different if I keep doing the same every year right? So this year I wish having company on Friday and attending a concert on Saturday will turn things around…even if just a little.

 

 

Rambo skills

This is just not a good day. I hate how my mood can go up and down just like that with no apparent reason for it, not on the outside at least. It started since last night. Wild suicidal thoughts running through my mind. Hadn’t had those in months. And it just sucks. Not because I’m about to throw myself out the window, I’m not really suicidal at this point, but the thought crosses my mind and then I just start thinking of ways I could do it, lovely hobby isn’t it? It feels like a loss, like I was getting away from that and then in a day I can be thrown right back into it.

As much as I wanted to pretend everything was ok just because I had the gift of a couple of happy days, truth is I’m still broken, and it won’t go away because I got to play in a pool.

I know one thing that is for sure contributing to making me feel this way. I got two weeks off from teaching but only one off from Mount Olympus, so this week I was able to show up at the Institute earlier, without the pressure of running back and forth between the school and the campus, and I got to stay for as long as I wanted, there was a lot to be done anyways. But the point is this isn’t my real routine. On Monday I have to go back to teaching English, which was perfectly fine by me until I got this other job that constantly reminds me of what I really want to do with my life, or rather what I don’t want to do with it.

It’s not that I don’t like being a grade school teacher, I think I like it and I don’t suck at it. It’s that I didn’t choose this to be my life, but rather it chose me. It’s something that happened to me, not something that I made happen.

Writing for a living, being a historian, working in the editorial business, becoming a foreign affairs official, those are things that I want to happen to me, any of them, but I’m gonna have to make them happen, they’re not going to come on their own. But how can I work on obtaining any of those things while I’m so busy making a living out of teaching? I guess I do think I can do it, that’s what I’m fighting for everyday, but this week is just reminding me how easier it would be if I didn’t have to juggle so many things at the same time, especially things that I consider are keeping me away from my dreams.

I’m going to be 26 next week, I’m not a young girl anymore, I’m actually going to be closer to my 30’s than to my 20’s, and I still haven’t gotten there yet, I still feel like my dreams are millions of light years away from me. In fact, I feel like they are further away than what they where some good 4 years ago. I feel like I’m wasting my time, and while other people my age are steadily on their way to achieving their life goals, I’m still in line to get on life’s roller coaster (wow, that sounded a so corny lol)

It’s been a couple of hours since I started writing this post, and I feel a little better, it’s a good thing I let it rest here for some time before publishing it. Maybe it’s because  I’ve been so busy with documents and emails from one of the reviews I’m working for, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve resigned myself that I’m gonna have to keep going this way for longer than expected. Maybe it’s the weather, that has become cloudy and probably rainy and sure suits my mood better than the sunny spring day we had in the morning. Who knows… I guess we all have our moments. I’m still feeling down, but as we say in Mexico, I’m not cutting my veins with animal crackers anymore. Now I’m working on my Rambo skills: this is life, it’s not great, sometimes it sucks, deal with it.

 

Rambo cat disapproves of my weakness

How I got here, or “You couldn’t have it all” (part 1)

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Along the way, I realized that more specifically, I wanted to be a historian. The logical step was for me to study History, right? Somehow I decided that while I was very firm on the history thing, first I wanted to gain a little more perspective on the other stuff that interested me very much: mainly philosophy, literature, and Latin America.

So the best choice for me was enrolling in Latin American Studies: on the first couple of years of the program I’d gain further insight on philosophy and literature, while all through the four years of it I’d develop a sense of what Latin America is, and I’d still be able to focus most of my subjects in history. It really sounded like a win-win! And…well, it is, except for a couple of details that nobody mentions when you sign on for this particular major.

First off, you have to deal with constant input from all kinds of different subjects that are always very fascinating. You’ll not only have philosophy, literature and history, you’ll also have economics and geography and composition and even a sprinkle of psychology, not to mention ethnology, anthropology, and aesthetic appreciation. This is all very good, what humanist in their right mind wouldn’t enjoy this kind of education? The problem is that you can’t possibly become a specialist in all of these areas. Usually if you want to succeed in your profession, you have to stand out in some area. In my experience, most teachers try to resolve this issue among anxiety-stricken students by throwing-in the word interdisciplinarity out in the open like it was nothing, as if it came as a natural consequence of taking a bit from here and a tad from there. Instead, I see it as some kind of philosopher’s stone: it’s practically unachievable and it means something different to every latinoamericanist, yet it is the quest for it that matters.

Going back to all the different options you have when you enter this particular major in this particular school:  imagine going to the best restaurant in town, and the waitress brings you everything that looks good on the menu. You can’t possibly eat 8 or 9 dishes but they bring them anyways. From then on, your dinner can go in many different ways: you can devour your first dish ’cause it’s so delicious, only to find out you can’t take more than a tablespoon of the rest. You could decide to stick with 3 or 4 plates and moderately enjoy them, each one has a specific seasoning and yet they all seem to work together. You could try out all of them but save your stomach for dessert or whatever dish you think is best. Or, you can be naive and try to eat them all out, you’ll probably not only end up with indigestion but you won’t remember each plate individually, their particular tone and spark will probably be lost.

The biggest problem is that at UNAM, where I went to school, you don’t have a counselor. At all. There is no one to warn, help or guide you about the different paths you might take. And so, you start dinner with nothing but hunger, only to discover midway through it that you need a plan if you don’t want to end up passed out, drinking Pepto-Bismol out of the bottle, or acknowledging you simply didn’t enjoy it as much as you could have done.

Some of us are lucky enough to know what we want to do with our time at the faculty, and this helps us whenever we get so overwhelmed we don’t know what to do. However, the profile of a lad who enters this major is that of a confused person who doesn’t really know what to do with their life, or more exactly, can’t decide what plate to order, so s/he thinks is a good option to go where they serve you everything at once.

This, my friends, is a recipe for disaster. As far as I know, there are 14 majors in my faculty. Wanna take a wild guess at which has the lowest graduation percentages? Not surprisingly, that would be Latin American Studies. Half the people drop out, another part changes majors, and the ones who remain simply don’t graduate…ever.

Now, even when the graduation thing is a related topic, I think it deserves an explanation of its own since it’s a whole other level of crazy (which in my case ended up with the creation of the Frankenthesis). So, I’ll leave that for another post, stay tuned!

Becoming me

Can’t believe it’s been a week since my last post, I’ve been so busy with the Frankenthesis that I just haven’t had the energy to write anything else. Went to see my tutor on Thursday, and though she was incredibly nice and made me feel like I can do this, she did give me a shitload of work I needed to get done…by Monday morning! I did all the minor changes that same day, which took me a couple of hours, and then I had to wait until Saturday afternoon to be able to sit down and get to work with the heavier stuff. BF helped me that evening, I was so stressed I literally got sick to my stomach, I cried, I wanted to cut, and I think it was thanks to him that I didn’t lose it entirely.

I got up on Sunday at 6 am and got back to working. I didn’t stop ’til 10:30 at night except to pee and take a 20 min nap. No Facebook, no phone, no kitties, no getting up to get food, no nothing really, and yet I was still not done by then! Anyways, I finished and sent it by 1pm on Monday. Not morning but not really that late either huh? The thing is, I didn’t feel relieved after sending it, I was both physically and mentally exhausted, but that usually doesn’t prevent me from feeling happy after I’ve finished something I’ve been working on. Yesterday it just wasn’t the case. I think it’s got to do with the fact that when I have to focus so hard on something, I know I’m losing track of what’s going on with the other stuff I have to be aware of, like my 2 jobs!

Having lots of work helps with the not eating stuff though. I’ve lost 10 pounds in 3 weeks, and I intend to keep going for at least a couple more months. Everyone thinks I’m on a diet, except they don’t know my diet is called “not eating”  🙄 Mr. Shrinky is mildly concerned about this (he’s the only one who knows the true name of my diet) but he’s not pushing it, guess he doesn’t want me closing up on him.
I do have an appointment with N on Thursday though, and she’s always up for some how-much do-you-weight-these-days kind of talk, so we’ll see how that goes… I also have to tell her I decided to stop taking the fat pills ’cause they were making me, well…fat, and I’m not taking anything else than the ones I’m already in, I’m just not willing to risk it when I’m starting to feel like me once again. The thing is, once you cross the bridge of being so hungry you want to cry, it’s not that tough anymore, once your body gets over the fact it’s not getting anything other than liquids and the occasional yogurt, that’s when the magic really starts to happen, and I’m thrilled about it…. Reading back what I just wrote, I can get a glance of it being crazy talk, but if I can’t get it out of me in here, then where can I?

Anyways, I know losing weight is another way I’ve found to cope with life, and it’s no wonder I’m turning back around it when I’ve been feeling on the verge of breaking down, like I just can’t handle all the responsibilities I’ve been getting myself into. Speaking of which, I received yet ANOTHER job offer. A former classmate of mine who works in what seems like a fancy event agency on Reforma (one of Mexico’s City’s posh streets), contacted me. We’ve never really been friends, but we’ve seen each other every now and then at uni’s events because we were both high performance students and we’ve received diplomas and stuff together.

Anyhow, she approached me and said they needed me to be a director’s assistant, that they’d improve any salary I was earning, and offered all kinds of benefits. I reminded her I don’t really have experience in that field, and she said they needed someone who had a perfect english, was smart, quick and charming (see what I just did here? 😆 ) and they’d worry about training me. I thought about it long and hard, it was a damn good offer after all!

And what did I say? I SAID NO! I decided to keep my crappy teacher job, together with my editorial-assistant-I-love-it-but-can’t-make-a-living-out-of-it job. It’s a decision that doesn’t really change anything, and yet it feels like one of the biggest ones I’ve made, like I just made a turn I can’t undo, like….like I’m CHOOSING what life I want to live, and that’s huge! I’m deciding I’m gonna keep on fighting to become a historian and/or a consul, I’m choosing to be a writer, I’m probably choosing to not have a lot of money EVER, and I’m choosing…to starve, I just hope all these big decisions don’t take a toll on me. I’m not the kind of person who regrets stuff, never been, but I just hope I can keep on being like that in 20 years ’cause if not…well then I’m going to keep filling Mr. Shrinky’s pockets I guess 😆

God I missed blogging! I wanted to post since yesterday but I literally couldn’t type another word after finishing my damn chapter, but hey! I’m ready for the dreaded thesis seminar! My chapter has been approved and sent to all participants, so now I just have to sit back and wait for their death sentence opinion coming next Tuesday. I’ll let you now. Glad to be back y’all!

anxiety-girl-header2

A good day today.

This one should be yet another short post. I hope I’m not making a habit out of it, but I’m just so incredibly tired, both physically and mentally. Sunday was a sucky day, didn’t get any work done, and it was a generally bad angsty day, even when I got to prove yet another time that it doesn’t matter what I do by going out with a very dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in a year. I just couldn’t enjoy it and be myself. When it’s a sucky angsty Sunday there is nothing I can do that will change it. And this particular Sunday was a bad one, that’s where my exhaustion began. When Monday came and it was time for me to get out of bed, that’s when my depressive-mode really hit me hard. It’s exasperating that on Sunday evening I kept wishing it was Monday already so I could get on with things, and when Monday did come I was just to depressed to enjoy what I had been waiting for.

All through Monday morning I just felt like quitting everything. My job, my thesis, my new job at the institute, my life really. Then I went to Mr. Shrinky’s office and he made it a little better. He helped me realize I’m struggling very much with the fact that there are people out there who care about me and who appreciate me for many reasons, even though I was made to believe I didn’t deserve it. I grew up with parents who would look at me as if I were a something like a pet. I never had any physical needs unattended, but I was not worthy of their time and affection, I just wasn’t interesting or good enough. I too watched some stuff I shouldn’t have watched, but they didn’t care what I saw, just like you wouldn’t mind what a dog or a bunny caught you doing. You feed them, you keep them clean, you teach them a few tricks. Then your job is done isn’t it?

And now, I’m faced with a new job I’ve apparently earned with my personal traits. There are people who think I’m valuable, responsible, smart, and they’re willing to put themselves out there for me. That’s just a very twilight-zone thing for me. They don’t HAVE to appreciate me, they don’t HAVE to care for me. They don’t HAVE to have me near them. But they still want to. This is something that’s causing a big unbalance inside of me, and on Monday I just couldn’t keep it together.

I did manage to get up and go to work though. Got there on time by the skin of my teeth. And I functioned. That was my biggest achievement yesterday. I functioned. Felt like torture, and getting the day done is actually something I’m proud of because of how hard it was.

Today was different. I’m once again alone at the house with the kitties. I don’t usually see the mother until night-time but knowing she’s out of town lifts a burden off my shoulders. So that made things a little better. Also, I went to Mount Olympus (I’ll be going there two days a week) and got a lot of tasks done. I felt productive and engaged, something I don’t usually get when working with the children and that somehow has a sweeter and longer aftertaste in me (with the children what I get are feelings of joy and concern, the first one lasts momentarily, and the second one stays with me through the day but it’s not something that makes me feel good).

So yep, I’m working two jobs now, a part-time and a full-time one. That besides the ever-lasting torture commitment of my dissertation. By the way, remember that thesis seminar where I made a huge fool of myself and got triggered like hell? Well, next month, it’s one of my chapters they’ll be discussing and I’m so excited (not), especially since I STILL haven’t finished my last chapter, the one that would set me free. It too feels excruciating, except I’m not getting the job done, unlike my last Monday.

I’m off to bed now, hope y’all are being nice boys and girls. I miss reading your blogs, but I’m gonna have to leave it ’til tomorrow for as they say here in Mexico: I can’t even handle my soul. Night!