A “Rather Gloomy Place”
Why does everything seem so hard? Some days I'm breezy, but more and more I am stalled... listless... gutted. My prayer, my chant, is always, "Let me be strong. Give me strength," but so far there is no answer.
In the weeks since I learned about my layoff, I have been astonished by the rapid cycling of my moods and well-being. At a workshop on job-interviewing skills, the four of us attending were more engaged by the opportunity to commiserate and vent than by the subject matter. All but one of the job openings I've seen in my general skill area locally pay approximately in the range I was making in 1992. About a 40% cut. Jeez Louise!
This weekend I had another bout of what is now a too-familiar affliction: extreme fatigue, muscle and joint pain, and IBS. It was gorgeous out, yet I spent two days indoors, sleeping and/or lying on the couch in front of the TV watching real-estate shows on HGTV.
Can I really be coming down with a GI virus every other week? What's with the headaches? The brain fog? Am I sick, or am I heartsick? I can't tell. I've lost control of the household, too. Dirty dishes sit in the sink, the dishwasher goes unemptied, the disposal smells rotten, the stovetop is littered with grease and blobs of food. Every surface in the house -- tables, desks, kitchen counters, blanket chest upstairs -- is cluttered with stuff I need to deal with: put away, give away, sort, process. And I have no energy to do it.
I have no energy to package myself for an upcoming interview. I have no energy to "craft" (please!) customized resumes for different jobs. I have no energy to act competent and excited. Is there a term for this? General malaise? I'm already taking two antidepressants; is it possible that I'm depressed? Have CFS? Fibromyalgia? That I'm dying? (Lucy van Pelt voice: "That's it!")
Clearly I need to do something. A list is the only place to begin – a modest list, something I can manage. Here are two phone calls I can make tomorrow:
1. Get some psychotherapy appointments.
2. Make an appointment with my doctor for a complete physical.
That's it for now. Oh – and resume posting here about my blessings, even if I have to stretch. Stretching, after all, can feel good.
In the weeks since I learned about my layoff, I have been astonished by the rapid cycling of my moods and well-being. At a workshop on job-interviewing skills, the four of us attending were more engaged by the opportunity to commiserate and vent than by the subject matter. All but one of the job openings I've seen in my general skill area locally pay approximately in the range I was making in 1992. About a 40% cut. Jeez Louise!
This weekend I had another bout of what is now a too-familiar affliction: extreme fatigue, muscle and joint pain, and IBS. It was gorgeous out, yet I spent two days indoors, sleeping and/or lying on the couch in front of the TV watching real-estate shows on HGTV.
Can I really be coming down with a GI virus every other week? What's with the headaches? The brain fog? Am I sick, or am I heartsick? I can't tell. I've lost control of the household, too. Dirty dishes sit in the sink, the dishwasher goes unemptied, the disposal smells rotten, the stovetop is littered with grease and blobs of food. Every surface in the house -- tables, desks, kitchen counters, blanket chest upstairs -- is cluttered with stuff I need to deal with: put away, give away, sort, process. And I have no energy to do it.
I have no energy to package myself for an upcoming interview. I have no energy to "craft" (please!) customized resumes for different jobs. I have no energy to act competent and excited. Is there a term for this? General malaise? I'm already taking two antidepressants; is it possible that I'm depressed? Have CFS? Fibromyalgia? That I'm dying? (Lucy van Pelt voice: "That's it!")
Clearly I need to do something. A list is the only place to begin – a modest list, something I can manage. Here are two phone calls I can make tomorrow:
1. Get some psychotherapy appointments.
2. Make an appointment with my doctor for a complete physical.
That's it for now. Oh – and resume posting here about my blessings, even if I have to stretch. Stretching, after all, can feel good.