optimistic

So much I'd like to say... and I even have some time to say it, as I don't have to go into work until late tomorrow morning.

I feel silly sometimes, coming here, always writing about how miserable I am... but I AM miserable...

And I hope the day comes when that's not the case. But I'm not holding my breath.

Which brings me to something I came across. This is from "Ask Marilyn" in yesterday's Parade Magazine:

Q: Which do you think would have a more positive effect on the world: a cure for cancer or for mental illness?

A: Readers may be taken aback to learn that the human suffering and cost of mental illness outweigh even the misery of cancer. According to the World Health Organization, mental and behavioral disorders are present in a varying 10% of the adult population at any point in time. Mental and neurological disorders account for 13% of total worldwide disability. In addition to the expense for health and social services, the loss to society -- including the impact on families, crime and unemployment -- is incalculable.

Despite this, I've tried to find a good charity for mental health research, and I really couldn't find any. There are a couple advocacy groups, but that's about it.

Anyway, the incident I wrote about in my last post hasn't really resolved itself. Or I should say it has resolved itself by not resolving itself. I won't go into the details. I fessed up to someone in the bureaucracy, and it stopped there. I didn't bother to follow it up.

Which brings me to...

I hate my job. HATE it. HATE IT. It is boring, yet extremely stressful and requires prolonged intense concentration and effort. The work environment is terrible. The management is demeaning. I'm not even very good at it, so I feel like shit for that all day too. I just can't handle it. And it goes on for 55 hours a week on a short week. Yet when I look at all the benefits and pay, there is nothing in this area that I could switch to that would get me even two thirds of what I have now. So on I go through the grind.

I was thinking earlier... if I quit in September and went back to school full time, I could graduate in May. I'd have the money to do it, too. If I knew it would get me something half decent, I'd do it. But there's no guarantee of that. And for various reasons, it's difficult to get rehired at the company I'm at, and it's the only one of its kind in the area I'm in. So if I did that, I'd kind of be stepping off into the abyss.

But is it really worse than where I'm at?

I'm not sure.

Deep down, I think I'm a crusader... someone who'd like to throw himself at a cause... but I don't have one. I think if I were religious, I'd like to be involved in clergy. A monk, maybe. But I don't believe in anything. I can't join the military; they don't take us manic-depressive types. I'm not bright enough to be a philosopher or theoretical physicist... and as painful as it is to say, I'm not sure I care enough to do charity work in a third world country. Or at least not enough to give up what comforts that I have.

So on I trod, taking the long, round-a-bout shuffle off this mortal coil.

Ah, shit.

Well, I see my shrink next week. Maybe she'll find the magic pill. Maybe I'll ask her about getting me into some form of talk-therapy. Maybe that will help me figure something out.

And I guess I'll keep praying, although it doesn't seem to have gotten me anywhere. Keeps me from going off the edge completely, maybe, but sometimes I think I'd rather just go.

OK, I'm not going to end on a dour note this time.

Tomorrow just might be a better day.