1-29-08 internal conversations.....and epiphanies?

This rant...only in my head...began when he ended his e-mail with: Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Which, oddly, doesn't seem to apply to ME but only to her.

Here is what you don’t know about me right now. Everyone – without exception – EVERYONE in my life outside these walls, is in some stage of the grieving process. Myself included.
Two of them are suicidal. One of them, because she really is lost. One because she exploits the sympathy of others. Regardless, they both need consolation.
I spend my days trying to find joy in a joyless world. I come here and smile and work and pretend this happiness. I leave MY pain outside the door. It doesn’t belong here. I do not require anyone here to bear any of my burden. None. It is mine.
I am sorry if my well of compassion is not endless. It has a bottom and it is drained dry much more often than one might think. I cannot take on another. I will not. Particularly when that one, like the latter of my own, creates most of her own pain. AND the alcohol. I won’t try to save a self-destructive soul. I won’t do it again. It ends very messily. I’ll not do it again.

Leave me to my own. Let me bear my burdens alone as I choose and try…try not to add to them.
If it is your calling to save the world, then by all means save it. It is not mine. I thought it was and then I learned that I am powerless to change a person who wants to live a miserable life.

Does that class teach you how not to let other people’s burdens become your own? You might want to watch that…and re-read Mother Theresa’s own inner conflict. As strong as you are, you can lose yourself and your faith if you surround yourself with the pain of others.
Good luck with that.

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for Everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for everyONE you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for EVERYone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for EVERYONE you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!
Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!

even me

I just, this very second, learned something about myself.
I learned that the big, strong, loud voice in my head that says “NO! I’M NOT GOING TO FEEL! I’M NOT GOING TO BE SUCKERED INTO THIS AGAIN! I’M NOT THE SUPPORTER ANYMORE! I’M NOT GOING TO BE THE COMPASSIONATE ONE!” is hiding this little tiny voice that says “what about me? Who’s going to support me?”
The sudden knowledge of that tiny voice makes me spontaneously tear up. Cry? I haven’t cried in………………………………………………ages.

Everyone is fighting some kind of battle.
Even me.
Please don’t go trying to support me. I don’t want to cry. I won’t cry. I WON’T FEEL ANYMORE!

Man. It really is my issue. It really is.

1-26-08 - A week of conflict

Ok, I've got the angry music on and I'm ready to start blasting.

I wrote this at work on Thursday, the day I got busted for job searching. "RRRRRRRRRRRRaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh! I’m so busted, but why wouldn’t I be? I’m the one talking crap in e-mails and surfing Monster during business hours. Do they really want to “make me happy” or do they want to pander to me until they can replace me? Still, what is right for me?
Is SHE the only problem? Is that honest? I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t been given a chance to do this job w/o the daily animosity. Animosity. That is exactly the right word. So much undue anger and stress. Oh yeah, we can blame it on “what she’s going through”, but just so you know, when I say I have no patience for her because of what I’ve been through, you’re going to have to grant me that. (and really – is it “what she’s going through” still? It’s been this way ALL YEAR!)

Self-pity. Ptooie! I’ll have none of it NO MORE. NONE. I don’t care the “reasons”. Who, in fact, really ever does? Moreso if the self-pity is self inflicted. Good grief. Stop making things up and maybe the world won’t look so damned bleak all the time! A 10 minute problem becomes a 3 hour rant before the 10 minute problem is ever even addressed. FOCUS and maybe it won’t look so damned bad. And for crissakes – take a little pride in your work.

No! Stop! This is silly. I don’t care enough to offer advice. I’ve done my time in hell for advising. I’ve had my 14 years of preaching “It’ll all work out, hon. Hang in there.” If someone want to self destruct, they will self destruct and all anyone can do is sit back and watch. CHOICE. It is HER choice. It WAS her choice. It will be HER choice. I’m done watching people die. DONE. D O N E.
Quit telling me how you hate your job and just quit.
Quit telling me how you hate your life and just quit.
That goes for the lot of you.
Sympathetic? Empathetic? NO. No more. I paid the price for that and it cost me the ability to ever do it again. I haven’t got it in me.
NO.
Get her away from me. Get them both gone.

And it’s very apparent that the problem is me as much as it is anyone else.
Not entirely me, though. Not entirely."

When they said, in their overly religious overtones, that "we have to be kind to her because she is the way she is because of what she’s going through, I honestly, nearly broke. I nearly said, "you don't have any clue what I've been through" and started the tirade that spins daily in my head now. But I didn't. I chose to be "politically correct". I said, "Well yes, and all of us though." hoping to get that message across gently. It was as if I'd never spoken at all.
Then I spent an hour in The Owner's office listening to his preaching while he rubbed his head and eyes like a man put on the spot. He kept searching desperately for the "politically correct" words. It was driving me nuts. Spit it out man! Let's talk like grownups. The woman isn't "overly vocal" she's a raving bitch! She isn't "going through a lot" she's a SYMPATHY WHORE. And that other lady, the sales lady that treats everyone like her personal maid, she isn't "a bit offensive" she's and egomaniacal bitch that no one wants to work with.
I truly do miss the Redneck commeraderie of the logistics world. Never a word was minced there, I assure you. Gawd I HATE fake people.
I guess, if I have to choose between nice and real, I prefer real.

That's a pretty good summary of the emotion rumbling around in my head. It's not the only issue though. The rest is the daily rant that I scream when I'm alone.

Since I started this job I've been horribly uncomfortable with the Christianity. Don't get me wrong. I begrudge no one their faith. Faith is a necessary part of humanity. But where do you get off assuming I follow your beliefs? I never said I did. If I implied it - well I won't apologize. It is your narrow mind that filtered my emotions into your tiny little view of belief. It is that overly-communicated faith of yours that has kept me on the outside looking in this whole year. I can't get close to these people because I fear their judgement. I've discussed only very minute details of my life outside of this job. NO ONE there has any concept of who I really am. I do not feel the need to expand. As well as that, I have lived through some life-altering experiences this past 24 months or so and those experiences have taught me not to trust. I assure you I do not. Not a one of you - and I'm not going to start. I'm not going to "join your family" Mr. Koresh. Leave me out of the cult please.
Then there's the work to talk about. I don't enjoy the work. I can tolerate it for a paycheck but it's like giving an artist a mathbook. It's depressing gibberish. I have no passion for it and can't see where I ever will. 20 years of this? I don't know about that. Bank forms and envelope dimensions are heinously dull and might as well be written in Japanese for all I understand of them. Also, I made the comment, way back in my logistics days, that a truckload of soda is not blood. It really doesn't matter if it delivers to the store on time. It's not a kidney. No one will die. I actually feel more disdain for bank forms and envelopes with company logos printed on them than I did soda and milk. It really isn't the end of the world if the stupid bank didn't order more on time and ran out of "cash ticket teller #3". Plan better and give ol' teller #3 a vacation day or something. Get over it being that freaking important.
The conflict there is that I don't like logistics either. I'm damned good at it. It pays really well, but it's a brutal job. It has no mercy and no holidays or weekends. It's also getting worse with the economy. So where do I turn? What is left to do?
I think I'll take night classes and become a network engineer. That pays well and I sure do love computers. Remake myself at 40. That sounds like a better plan. Maybe just bide my time until then. (That is, if the boss isn't reading this and fires me on Monday morning.)

The final arguement is this: I am not who I was but I don't know who I am now. I know I'm disconnected. I know I feel solitude all around me again. I often wonder if the solitude is my own doing and then I know that is the truth and I wrap my arms around the emptiness like it's my best friend. (there's a poem in there)
I used to practice compassion but I've sorely lost the ability. I used to enjoy laughing and making people laugh. Now I want them all at arms length and I don't think much is funny. I still have huge laughs with my Mom and sister and brother. I still feel comforted by this space and the amazing hearts out there. But that is my only world anymore. All of it in a tiny, safe bubble.
It isn't the life I had hoped for. It isn't the house in the woods on the lake in a small town where I can retire and people can come visit me. It is sadder than that........and worst of all.....I've quit dreaming of the house in the woods on the lake. I dream of buying a house that he and I can live in - right here in the city. The thought is exciting and depressing all at once.

Sometimes, I think of not going home again. I think of driving west without explanation or good-byes. I think of walking the West Coast beach at sunset where the man of my dreams happens by me and gives me that beautiful, overwheming love that opens my eyes and my heart to all things like it did when Iwas 26. Sometimes.............sometimes I want it all to go away and start over clean.
Is it too late?