I slept almost all day. I asked my mom what connected stress, anger, irritation and the like with anxiety. Her answer ended up annoying me. As I took a shower I mulled over it and entered a sarcastic-like state and did a bit of mocking. To counter-fuel that mocking I would go, “Oh, so what is the fear driving this moment of annoyance now?” I also thought of the movie Donnie Darko. The spectrum of LOVE and FEAR. Heh. I also thought of Good Will Hunting and the therapy sessions.
I talked to her again after the shower. “So, does that mean every sense of anger, aggitation, blah, blah, blah stem from anxiety then?” She pretty much said yes and there was some other things said I cannot remember. Somehow we got to talking about my dissasociation with the human race.
My mom went to a site and on it listed seven signs of it. Six out of seven were me. I wondered if that meant I was schitzoid rather than one with asperger’s. My mom thinks I am both. Joy. I took half of the mentioned med. I have that feeling people get when gravity seems to be even working against him or her.
All in all, I just thought I’d type this lovely crap up. I feel “lazy” at the moment however. The med? Who knows. I just know my head does not like thinking a whole lot right now.

I cannot remember yesterday too well. I went to work, I worked, I came home at 1:30. Icleaned some and then I retreated to my room. I was tired and considered sleeping, but I had a doctor’s meeting and I had no idea when my mom would be back home. Also, if I did sleep, I’d be woken up and be groggy.
Well, my mother and I left. We got in there and tried to replay things for Wynn and stuff. I cannot really remember. One, I could not follow up on half the conversation. Two, my head hurt. Two, they were annoying me. By the time we left I told my mom what I was thinking whenever a freakishly lucid thought came around. The memorable one is “I want to damn you all to hell.” Thing is though, that pleased her. Why? Because I was helping them and making progress in saying my feelings and thoughts. Bah.
Well, I am sorry I have a tendency to be courteous and polite. Also, if I were to keep it up, I’d likely curse everyone – including the kids at the library, because I certainly have many unwholesome thoughts when in there.
Anyway, all I remember really is that they want me on another med to help me with my “anxiety”. I see it more as frustrated, pissed off and aggitated. They seem to just smile at that thought and dismiss it. What is the point of me telling them “how I am feeling and thinking” when they pretty much find it funny? Yes, the Wynn-woman found things I said humorous. Bah. She seems to find most of the things I say to be funny. Good for her.
The other thing I remember is that they continued on about “what I want” and my “happiness”. Bull. The thing I ultimately concluded in what went on in the whole converstaion is that they want me happy, but on their terms. “We want you happy, but we also feel you need to expand your horizons and gain a better sense of independence.”
Well, that is lovely, but is that not a bit contradictory? Gain a sense of independence, but it would be best that I do it in a way that satysfied what you think I need? What if what you think will help me find happiness tends to lead only to what I consider annoying to the point that I am daming people and wanting to punch walls again – because yesterday I did want to punch something.
Bastards.
Want me to be happy? Bull.
It sort of reminds me of something my mother mentioned before. It took her a while to accept that despite I am “smart” I do not have the same goals as her expectations had been and she had to deal with that reality. Well, perhaps that is the same here? Maybe Wynn thinks for me to gain hapoiness in my life I must learn to interacts with people, gain independence and a bunch of other bull she believes I NEED.
Well, I can interact with people. I just don’t strive for it. She goes, well just be around people. I say, I am sorry, but that is impractical as far as I am concerned. Why should I put energy at all in a person I will only see once? What is worthwhile in that? If I am going to interact, I would rather it be focused on someone I intend to know by name and will see more than every once in a while in passing like passing a stranger on the street every other day.
Besides, it was she, my mother and my whole hearted agreement when mentioned that I sound like a schitzoid. I’m sorry, I don’t care for people like most would. They do not interest me. Sure, I do noot mind watching them, but I find no other real interest. I do not relate and idon’t care to relate considering that the things they find interesting goes over my head and sparks no fascination in me.
Sigh.
Last night I thought of this fsort of analogy/metaphor/whatever. Perhaps I am like a show music box that one collects. There is much contentment in just sitting there and looking pretty. It is calm and will be well taken care of. Then thereare them. They are like people who like to play the box. Every once in a while they come by to make it play.Then it is forced to “perform”. It does as the person wishes. Keep turning the key, however, or play with it rather than let it rest in its rightful place… The kinks will wear and the box will cease playing. The box will become worn and possibly break from too much use.
What that meant at the time, I cannot recollect quite exactly, but the analogy is quite clear in meaning. I’m a wind up toy that does not need to be “alive” like other kinds. While other music boxes are supposed to be played constantly, like a jack-in-the-box, a noise maker, etcetara… Maybe I am just a different kind of “music box”.
Sigh.
Oh well and god damn it – perhaps even a few fuck it all’s.

Will I last? That is what I wonder about the volunteer job. How depressing. I do not even work there eight hours nor do I go every single week day. Still though, my health has not been doing too well. Some of me often must wonder if I am merely being a lazy bum or if I am being affected like I used to be like when I was at school. I usually question the second one, however. I mean, I was able to “handle” it back then. Therefore, am I lacking will? Perhaps. However, as my mom noted, the way I lived back then was insanity, so… perhaps I cannot endure it like I once was able to because I am not so utterly mad?
I had almost a whole week off. I have Thursday off. Well, I also managed to have a manic episode that pretty much left me up for a long time, thus I only had a few hours of sleep by Friday morning. I asked my mom if she thought I’d be able to function on that whilst I was trying to wake up. She decided to play it safe and called me in sick. The night before, I had asked her about the scenario. I knew I was on a high, we both did, thus what would I do the next day if things work unfavorably? She said she’d call in sick. I argued that I was not sick though. She argued in a sense I was. Ah… mental illness.
It seems that just might be my main down fault. I tell myself my “mental illness” should not be an excuse to hinder myself… Thus, I seem to drive my self over the deep end when I ignore such things. What can I say? It leaves me feeling inadequate. Then again, should I not go along with a state of thinking I’ve had once in a while. “You are you, he is he, she is she, they are they. No one can be anyone else but themselves.”
Sigh. Anyway, Friday my dad arrived. The weekend went on as usual. My brother and his girlfriend came down on Sunday. I eventually had a headache and retreated to my room. I always seem to get them when people come over. Monday my dad left back for his apartment. I did not have to work on Monday because it was a staff development day at the school.
Tuesday was just another day. I cleaned and received a decent sleep. I also ended up having an appointment for a flu shot only to find that the lady informed my mother wrong and it was to be the next day. Well, they took me in anyway and I received the happy-go-lucky shot. I seem to be one of those who will automatically begin to ache after getting a shot.
Today was okay. I got a major headache at work and eventually wore my sunglasses even though I was indoors. Damn lights. My left shin ached, due to after affects of cutting there. My right upper arm still hurt due to the shot. Therefore I was slower than usual. Classes came in; I shelved, checked in and checked out books. I left when I usually do – 1:30.
I arrived home ten minutes later very tired. I did not even head for my room first off. I went to my mother’s. After a while I did a few things, but let myself collapse on my mother’s bed. When it was 2:23 I woke again and then retreated to my room to sleep. I did not wake up again until six.
I watched television with my mother as usual, ate really crappy pizza and left when it was 8:30. I was tired again. I retreated in here and have managed to still be awake. I doubt for long. I’m off to take a shower and likely will hit the bed again.
Oh, and I will be seeing Wynn on Friday.
Night.

Monday had been utterly slow… almost to a snail’s pace. I even struggled to stay awake most of the time. It was during my last thirty minutes or so did it begin to get busy. I did the necessary chores when I returned home.
Tuesday I watched “The Breakfast Club” for the first time. It was okay. I suppose I was expecting something more from what I read on it. Oh well.
Later on my mom told me Shawnie’s ashes arrived. I did not realize she had him cremated and to actually keep the ashes in an urn at home. I thought he would be buried or something. It creeped me out. I mean… Jeez… Waking up every morning with an urn next to your bed on the night table? That is just… yuck. It was a DEAD BODY! She said now he would still be beside her when she sleeps. I’m sorry… but… no. Just… no. There is something wrong there. I mean… would you sleep with a casket next to you in bed? I wouldn’t. Oh well. She wants what was once a body of a dog next to her head, she can do such… I just find it gross.
Anyway… Today I was on my feet nonstop while at the library. There were multitudes of books to be put away, thus I rarely manned the desk. I was shelving for probably four straight hours at least.
The main thing was, though, before I left for work, I hurt my back due to bending over slightly to pick up a small box holding a few calendars. Yeah, so it was obviously not the box that caused the pain. It was merely bending over that did the damage. I’ve had a bad back since my middle school years.
Some reasons are due to sleeping on a couch for two years, another is due to lifting things far too heavy for anyone my stature, other causes was a back-hand spring incident and a time of doing something like a back-flop onto a hard wooden floor. So yeah… bending over can lead to pain. Jeez… I’m not even twenty yet!
Other than the day being busy, I mainly kept to myself more than usual… and thus, the usual thoughts. I have a tendency to state what “kids are” when in there. Usually the line up will be weird, odd, evil, annoying… the list goes on. Today though, something stood out. “Kids are depressing.” Yeah. I found them depressing today.
Later on I realized maybe it isn’t just the kids that bother me about the job. I realized, it will be the same in any job that deal with being around others. Child to adult, both cases will bother me. I really do not like being around people. It is not an issue of anxiety I think. It is about irritation, frustration, impatience and annoyance.
Intellectually I understand. I can easily rationalize and be practical minded about situations. That does not change that I still find the whole things annoying. I can easily tell myself things, be able to sympathize… but that will never change what I am feeling.
I am great at suppressing things and being silent. I grew up that way. The most a person will see is that I am irritable, but that is all. I guess I am the shaken up soda waiting to spew when opened.
I will admit I curse a lot during the day. Aloud, no – of course I won’t curse aloud. Will I do anything physical? No. I’m not at a point that I’d do something irrational in regards to physical means. Examples would be hitting things be it inanimate to human.
My mother said one night I suppressed things too much and needed to learn to cope and junk since what I was doing was not coping. I cannot remember anything else of the conversation, but what she was telling me was suppression was something quite different to me and not the sort of suppression I speak about on this.
Oh well… I guess mentioning such is useless.
I told my mom about a second time of considering cutting. Now she asks me how I am more. One point tonight I wrapped my arms inside my shirt. My mom asked me if I was cold. I said no. She then asked me if I was hiding my arms from her. I smiled inwardly. If I cut myself and did not want her to see, I had other places to cut. I did not solely cut on my arms when younger. They were just my main place to cut. Silly mom.
Sigh…
Well, tomorrow I have the day off. Friday will be another work day. My dad is coming down on Friday. I might see my eldest brother and his girlfriend. Also, my mom is getting a new dog on Saturday. She intends to call him Killian. I might be wrong on the spelling. Something to do with Irish dancing anyway.
Well… that is all.