I’m not having a good day. (It’s not over yet, and of course I’ll decide later that it’s a good day overall, but for now, it sucks.) I find it disturbing that far too often, I’m as amused as I am offended by some of the things I read online. Earlier, I mentioned to a friend a protest against Steam for hosting a game in which you organize slaves on ships, Tetris style, and listing it as an educational game. They refuse to remove it. Fuck Steam, this is offensive. Unfortunately, my initial response was laughter… Shit. I laughed for half an hour. But I still think it’s offensive! I just don’t know how to process this information in a manner that isn’t hilarious to me, and I feel incredibly guilty about it. This is the kind of day I’m having, so far. Sigh.
At least it’s Friday. Not that I physically went into work this week. I was barely able to check my snail mail. I just don’t want to leave my apartment. There’s a reason I have a job that allows me to work remotely. I dabble in agoraphobia. Meaning I have the diagnosis, but in my case it’s not severe enough to call a disorder. I acquired it after my brother died. He was my anchor to this world. My best friend, and the one person on this planet that I trusted without hesitation. Even more than my Mom. I was his sidekick growing up. We got in a lot of trouble, but had loads of fun in the process. He had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, which in his case meant he was unable to foresee the consequences of his actions. He used to make me laugh so hard, and he always defended me when other kids bullied me for having brown skin. That alone made him my hero.
After he died, it was like having the rug pulled out from under me. I was lost, and I was afraid I’d never connect with anyone on that level again. I’m not afraid anymore, and I did manage to go on, but it was one of the biggest challenges I’ve faced so far. I suspect it left me so numb, I didn’t fully process the loss of my parents and younger sister over the next five years. Grief is a weird thing. Recovery is cumulative and slow, but full recovery is a futile goal. It becomes part of your baggage. It was a relief to recognize I’m not failing at grief, I just needed to adjust my expectations. It was the type of trauma that can lead to agoraphobia, but as I progress in recovering from loss, the severity lessens as well. Whenever it resurfaces, I panic a little.
I remember too well what it was like to be locked into my home. I’m not locked in now. I’m just having to put forth extra effort in order to leave. There’s a huge difference. I’m also struggling with my frustration tolerance level.
- I’m stuck on several quests in WoW. Usually, this means I’m too overwhelmed to be playing, and need to just step away, and calm the fuck down.
- I dropped my new insurance card, and spent 43 minutes searching for it. (The ceiling fan must have caused it to float about 8 ft. from where it normally would have landed.)
- The man who parks next to me in the underground parking garage keeps parking ON the line, making it difficult for me to avoid dinging his car with my door when I enter. (But I was too chicken to put a note on his windshield.)
- Something hurts, but I’m too agitated to narrow down where the pain is coming from.
I can’t remember what I should do to dig myself out of this pit before it becomes bottomless. I’m going to go for a run. It’s too hot, and the worst time of day, but I know I’ll feel better when I get back.