Thursday, June 15, 2006


So this working thing sucks super badly. Oh. The. Pain. All day of both work days, so far. And I'm not sure if that is just how it's supposed to be, or if that has something to do with me? I'm pretty confused and feeling real low, scared, and bad about myself. I'm mad that God has all the power in the universe and just sits there and lets motherfuckers suffer and flounder. That is supposedly juvenile and trite to think, but it's where I'm at. Riddled with conflicting ways of thinking and feeling. I have faith in solutions and things getting better, I'm just not sure what that is going to look like, or what my part in it will be. For now I feel pretty concerned with not having my rent money, or any money for bills, but BAREly tolerating this job. I almost walked out, and this was day 2. I am never not in pain at any time through the whole day. And then there are the normal stresses of dealing with intimidating, impatient, passive/aggressive coworkers, and whatever else happens in a given work day. I've cried, so tomorrow I won't feel so hot likely. And I know I don't look so hot. I look as old as I am and as over weight as I am. My house looks like an outer manifestation of my internal state; and my landlord came by unexpectedly. I guess the gray sky is just something that I can mention in addition, but who knows if it's really governing any of these thoughts or feelings.

I think Devin may have written a song about me? That might be totally presumptuous, but either way I it's called "Carrie U.", which is my name and talks of things I can related to. I write songs about other people and had even started lyrics to one about him, but it never occurred to me what that would feel like from the other end. My whole body got hot from the inside. And I cried.

I've done a lot of crying lately. I've always been one to cry. I cried more than anyone I knew for years. That was a big part of why Ken left me, from my understanding. (I'm not actually sure, because he won't talk to me without yelling.) Anyway, I haven't been crying for almost a year. I mean not like before. But these last 3 weeks I've cried pretty much everyday, and today, the whole ride home from work and on the phone with a friend. I can't think a thought or feel a feeling without second guessing it, or invalidating it. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself" was a message that my friend's mother gave her last week. I hear that one come into my head. But it gets me nowhere. I am so confused about what to think or how to feel. There are all these theories about quantum mechanics and positive thinking and reality creation, and yet, I don't believe that people who are rich are that way because they somehow earned it with their righteous thinking. I don't think people who are impoverished deserve to be, because they aren't doing their affirmations. That seems to be the chic way to blame the victim. And I also get confused because I'm thinking, pain is pain; here in my apartment, or in a third world country. So if I am suffering physically, doesn't that just hurt? Am I lucky and fortunate? Because I am still pained, and still in the working class. I don't mean to discount that I have a fridge and drinking water and any number of AMAZING resources and amenities that many, or even most, people don't. I just wonder if my having a fridge is supposed to some how heal me physically or make up for the fact that I'm physically suffering? Sometimes I believe that hard is hard. And in many ways I think it's because I just don't have a perspective or reference point for hard. But I have broken my back. I mean doesn't that mean something? People are always so quick to say something like, "that's nothing, blah blah blah..." and invalidate people's personal experiences, whether past or current. I am not wanting to be a martyr, and I keep thinking I am supposed to will the pain away. That this only hurts because I have a bad attitude. Is that true? Furthermore, are jobs just supposed to hurt? Is it right that I should feel so uncomfortable that I want to cry? Today, over the dish water at work, I clearly heard the words, "I just want to be dead", in my mind. My second thought was maybe sympathy, which I guess is pity? And then my mind said, "I haven't thought that way in a long time, this can't be healthy". But what can I do? I have rent to make, bills to pay, people I owe. Am I capable, a day at a time? Do I only consider leaving because I am technically free to? Could I do it if I absolutely had to? If I had a gun to my head? Or would I eventually collapse? Could I happily do it, like Sisyphus, with the right willingness and attitude? Why have I let it come to this, and what is going to happen?

(I found this unposted from June 3rd)

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