How Did I Get Here?

**Heads up: this post contains introspective statements on sensitive subjects to include eating disorders, mental health, and thoughts on suicide. No details, no lengthy descriptions of sensitive matters, but they are briefly present from my own point of view and should be taken into consideration for those that may be negatively affected. I encourage anyone struggling with any degree of mental health issues to seek help and support through friends, family, professionals, your local Community Mental Health Center, support groups, etc.***

Dream Chronicles – A Lover’s Quarrel

A History in Review

Not too big of a deal here.  This was just the first dream I’ve had in a while that I remember all the details of.  It was still pretty upsetting and I woke up breathing hard, emotionally disturbed, and teary eyed because it was so vivid.

I’m sitting in my home – not my actual tiny one bedroom apartment that my boyfriend and I share.  It was a larger home with a different layout, but in my dream I knew it to be home.  My boyfriend was sitting on the couch with one of his friends, an older lady from his work.  He stated he was hungry, so I asked him what he wanted.  He told me hash browns, which we did not have, so I gathered up some potatoes and began cleaning and cutting them to make homemade hash browns.  While I’m in the kitchen working away, he begins telling his coworker friend about how I work from home and have a decently flexible schedule.  This is the exact opposite of his factory job with strict shifts and guidelines for taking time off.

In real life, we often have conversations about how he believes his job is much harder and more demanding than mine because it is more physical.  I remind him occasionally that while this is true, my job is more demanding mentally and emotionally, as I am responsible for the lives of my clients.  Yes, my job is mostly paperwork and desk work, but this is still complicated and tiring.  He knows this, he sees me struggle with certain things or work long hours to meet deadlines.  He sees the drama and trouble I go through from having to work with different agencies and staffing and the state and insurances.

However, in my dream, he is not understanding of this.  He comes into the kitchen while I am cooking, still talking about my job to his coworker.  He explains in a very sarcastic tone that I get exhausted and it upsets me when people talk about my job like it is not a real job.  I respond with, “When you say it like that, you’re basically saying that you believe that to be true.”  He gives me a look and I know he means that I am correct.  He is sarcastic and borderline belittling me in front of his friend.  In my head I think, “How dare he do this in front of company and while I’m in here slaving away to make him home cooked food.”  I can’t control my emotions and I begin crying and yelling.  Next thing I know I’m throwing punches, each one landing squarely on his face, while he seems unaffected and continues on chatting about how I must just be lazy because my “job” can not be that tiring.

I think it was after the 3rd or 4th punch that I woke up to sharp breaths and a moist cheek, realizing that I had fallen asleep on my couch and that it was all a dream.  It took me probably 5 minutes to regain my composure, but I still felt off.  I ended up climbing into bed with my boyfriend to relax and nap, as he was still asleep so he would be rested for his night shift job.  During my nap with him in bed, I did not have any more dreams.

A Quickie While We Do Some Math

No.  Not that kind of quickie.  Sorry…

I will not go into the fact that I’m a bad blog-mom again.  I know my posts have been minimal.  But I have an equation for you:

4 years + approximately 200 miles + approximately 150 credit hours = my Psychology degree

And now:

Psychology degree + extremely demanding job + general life expenses = (broke  + unhappy) x stressed the eff out.

So I’ve got all these numbers of time, distance, paychecks, bills, and so on, that all lead to the result of me being generally unhappy with the point I’ve reached in my life.  I worked my ass off to get my college degree, something that I thought I would be insanely happy doing, but then got a quick reality check upon graduation.

Yes, I Have A Working Toilet

I complain. A lot. I think it’s in my blood. My mother’s a complainer, my grandmother, and probably her mother, as well. I like to think that even as complainers, we are also very thankful people. Generally, we are. I appreciate what I have, such as my job.

My job, which I give a brief description of in my “who, me?”, has put me through some of the most stressful periods of time in my life thus far. With deadlines looming – or passing much too quickly – and mountains of paperwork. With days upon days of meeting after meeting. With 12 hour days and no time for lunch. It definitely takes the right mindset to not completely lose it. But then again, it takes the right personality to get into this field to begin with.