show me a garden that's bursting into life

So, it's been a week since I got fired. Over a week. Last week at this time I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I could just cut myself a little bit.

Isn't that psycho?

All my life I have thought I was relatively stable. I have been the one who reasoned. I have been the one who was intelligent, who was artistic, who was strong, who was in control.

I may be intelligent, and I will always be artistic. But right now, at this point in my life, I cannot think of a time when I was less stable, when I was less strong, when I was less in control.

I am tired. I am sicker than I can say of the daily fucking struggle to keep going, to keep slogging through life's incessant ocean of shit. Some days I just want to sleep. I don't, because I can't; job or no job, my brain flops around like a fish out of water and I can't make it stop long enough to sleep...unless I have the Seroquel.

Two nights this past week, I had no Seroquel. Therefore, I did not sleep...or, rather, I may have slept but I did not sleep well, and I can't really remember sleeping. I dreamt last night about work and woke up remembering that I don't have any work to do, nowhere to which I must report at no particular time.

That's actually okay.

I didn't realize how much pressure the job I insisted was virtually pressure-free was putting on me. The recording, and the knowing EXACTLY what and what not to say, the keeping track of every move I made (writing down a three-minute bathroom break, for instance), the cameras in the ceiling, the security guards who guarded nothing. It was actually like going to prison everyday, except I applied to be there, was trained, and got to wear t-shirts, jeans and flip-flops.

Despite not having a job, I feel remarkably pressure-free.

I have decided not to take any legal action against ACS. Oh, dear. Talk about pressure! Family members and friends who are appalled at the way I was unceremoniously fired without notice (RICH family members, with LAWYERS) wanted me to at least make them squirm a little bit...but oy. I can't. I was at fault just as much as they were. I won't do that to myself. Them? I care not, but like I said, I have never been less strong. If I did not have the family and friend support system that I thankfully have, I would not be writing this, because in all honesty, I would not be here.

I think Earth, I think This Life, is Hell. I think that more and more every day. Hell is worse for some than others...I have it pretty good, except that I'm nuts, and I'm fat, and I hate myself, but that's a little nugget of truth that I don't really talk about. It just kind of just slipped out right then.

I almost smoked a cigarette yesterday, too. Ugh! A cigarette! That would make me feel like a dirty chimney! I didn't, because I didn't REALLY want one. I have seen the faces of 45-year-old smokers and they look like they're 60. I have enough trouble in the fat department without looking like a fat albino raisin to boot. Plus, there's that whole black-lung-cancer-2%-survival thing.

I did have bacon, though. On a hamburger. A greasy one, with cheese. Fuck. Everything.

So! Stability, it is not mine at the moment. I'm okay right now, I am relaxing and kind of letting future plans just drift through my consciousness at will. I don't know what I'm going to do any more than I did last time I posted. I do thank those of you who commented, and those of you who emailed, and those of you who called to offer support. I really appreciate it.

I think this is rock-bottom. It sucks, is what I'm saying. Luckily...nowhere to go but up.

So, here's to going up. *clinky*