First day at work, readjusting to normal life, etc.

Well, today was my first day back at work. I’d say it was a difficult success.

Difficult because though I’m not having full-blown schizophrenic episodes, I still get this paranoid feeling that I’m receiving a lot of aggression from my coworkers, and there’s always this sexual tension in the air that is really inappropriate for a professional workplace.

I’m still waiting to hear back from the people that find a therapist for me. I’m definitely going to start going to individual therapy. The blanket statement coping mechanisms-deep breathing, awareness of surroundings–from my health insurance provider just doesn’t cut it for me. I need some deep one-on-one analysis of my problems, and I need someone to see things from my side, the side where they are real, where my coworkers really do sexually harass me, and to have someone understand what that’s like and try to help me cope with it instead of blowing it off like typical schizophrenia.

I don’t think I’ll be writing as much poetry anymore now that I’m off leave. It’s just a decision.

I AM glad I’m not sitting around the house all day anymore. There was nothing for me to do here. My mom would say, “Help us get rich by designing the computer game!” but that’s not something I can do. I don’t know why but I can’t force myself to do it. My brain refuses, and I wish it didn’t. I wish I could settle down and enjoy cognitive engagement in intellectually stimulating and creative activities. I think I’m just too simple a person for what she needs out of me.

I’m on the last chapter of the book I’m reading about lesbians. It was a “good” book that I recognized as objectively good, but that I didn’t really enjoy reading. I liked it, but it was more hard work than leisure. I’m saving the last chapter for a good time and I already know the next book I’m going to read. It’s in the family’s personal library, or from rather. Apparently it’s 50 years old, first publication.

I have to go to the gym now. Gotta cut out the belly fat. It’s taking so long… But I increased my dose of cardio recently so that should help.

Bye for now.

varjak

 

PS: I’ve decided that my boss is a good person and I’m going to be more communicative with him from now on. i think that can help me. I need someone to rely on.

This place is sort of the unofficial log of my schizophrenia. I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder but I’m not depressed anymore so I think the diagnosis should be changed to bona fide schizophrenia but they didn’t do that because psychiatry is an ineffectuate shitshow. I can’t stay in my room too long because of the ants. What I mean is, there aren’t actual ants here, but I am antsy. I am restless. I can’t just sit or stand and enjoy being alive. I am not happy to be alive. There is nothing to be happy about, and I am not happy about nothing. My mood is not too good. The voices show hints of starting in the afternoon and progress pretty seriously, regularly, in the evening. So that’s like around four to five or probably sooner is more accurate, as I am wont to dumb things down and make everything seem rosy when it’s not. No one knows who I am, and they say they understand my condition but they don’t. My dad doesn’t even think I have one. He’s opted for the conspiracy theory one, where the government intelligent agencies are using advanced technology to disrupt my cognitive patterns. His too. He has schizophrenia, paranoid, but his is undiagnosed and he doesn’t want to believe it’s a medical condition. He’s never done drugs so he has no idea how powerful the human mind is. I have so I have a hint, but even if I hadn’t I think I would still be convinced it’s a medical condition. But I’m not. When I’m schizophrenic, I believe voices are real, and I’ve given up trying to explain how they happen. I.e. what their mechanism is. So my condition is calling and I can’t write anymore right now. My instincts are fucked, I get called by them to get up and walk down the stairs, go outside, vape a few minutes, go back inside, sit at the computer, realize I have nothing to do here, vape a little, go back outside downstairs, repeat the whole process ad nauseum. I can’t read. I envy, really really, people who love reading. It’s such a rewarding peaceful thing. My mind is not at peace. I have to go back to work in a month and I hope I will probably be able to, but I don’t anticipate my condition leaving any time soon. I think this may be permanent. I think I just don’t have a life anymore.