Oy.
First of all, I made it through the night once again at work and believe me, there were moments of heavy doubt and absolute panic. There was a moment when I actually considered just quitting, saying "I'm done, I can't handle this" and walking out. But I didn't. For the huge part of me that just wants to quit it all, quit everything, the part of my that wants to quit life in my more capricious moments, I think there is a larger part of me that is a survivor. But damn, that part was pretty hidden last night. The panic sat in my chest from an hour before I left home until maybe an hour before I got done at work. My startle reflex is so hyperactive that I'm exhausted by the surges of adrenaline that hit me all night long. At one point, my mind left my grasp and I felt the terror again, and a case of Texas Pete left my grasp as well. Twelve 18oz bottles of hot sauce crashed to the floor and apparently I just stood there with spicy orange muck all over my shoes and pant legs until one of the guys walked down my aisle after hearing the glass break. It's good that the store was closed by then, because I doubt very much that this type of behaviour is good for customer service.
But I made it and I'm alive. And my shoelaces are crunchy with dried hot sauce, which may or may not be advantageous for some reason that could present itself in the future. Maybe it will keep vicious dogs away or something. But I made it without quitting work or quitting life.
Tomorrow, it's lather, rinse, repeat.
First of all, I made it through the night once again at work and believe me, there were moments of heavy doubt and absolute panic. There was a moment when I actually considered just quitting, saying "I'm done, I can't handle this" and walking out. But I didn't. For the huge part of me that just wants to quit it all, quit everything, the part of my that wants to quit life in my more capricious moments, I think there is a larger part of me that is a survivor. But damn, that part was pretty hidden last night. The panic sat in my chest from an hour before I left home until maybe an hour before I got done at work. My startle reflex is so hyperactive that I'm exhausted by the surges of adrenaline that hit me all night long. At one point, my mind left my grasp and I felt the terror again, and a case of Texas Pete left my grasp as well. Twelve 18oz bottles of hot sauce crashed to the floor and apparently I just stood there with spicy orange muck all over my shoes and pant legs until one of the guys walked down my aisle after hearing the glass break. It's good that the store was closed by then, because I doubt very much that this type of behaviour is good for customer service.
But I made it and I'm alive. And my shoelaces are crunchy with dried hot sauce, which may or may not be advantageous for some reason that could present itself in the future. Maybe it will keep vicious dogs away or something. But I made it without quitting work or quitting life.
Tomorrow, it's lather, rinse, repeat.