Tag Archives: lonely

The Dip

2 Aug

3:32 pm

The Dip. I am experiencing the “dip” as we speak. I think everyone must feel the Dip now and then, but…do they want to drink over it? Welcome to reality, DDG. It’s sort of messed up in here, right?

The Dip. How to describe it? Hmm. Well, it’s not easy working from home, is all I have to say. Most days, I feel a certain sense of fear-loneliness, a combination that stems from a general sense of isolation–I am alone, all the time, and on most days, I don’t do interviews either. It’s not exactly pleasant, but would I necessarily be chatting it up with my cube neighbors if I were writing full-time for a company? Probably not. Sigh. One day, I think, my time in solitary confinement will have paid off, right? I’m not sure if other writers feel this way, but I don’t doubt it.

I used to So Totally Drink in the face of the Dip. Like now, I am feeling a mixture of failure, anxiety, and fear. Loneliness. Self-pity. Sure, it’s minor, and I’m a big girl, and a Diet Coke will make it better and make me feel a bit more focused on…well, tasks, rather than my feelings. But…damn, I “wasted” a lot of time this morning getting started as well as paying bills and other administrative tasks that simply go along with this lifestyle.

In my defense (because, of course, I’m talking to and fighting with my fucking SELF; other people talk to themselves all day long, right?), “work” has to be re-defined the minute you step foot into a home office, I’ve come to believe; and, it’s not for everyone. Actually, I think there are a LOT of folks out there who would find freelance writing to be their worst nightmare! Spending hours upon days upon months, alone? Having to rely on your own self-discipline to earn a paycheck? It’s not easy, and I have to keep the big picture in mind. Remain calm. Count my blessings. Take a few deep breaths. Do something that only takes a few minutes–just so that I can check it off my list. And retain a sense of perspective: I don’t have to hurt for it to be “good enough,” i.e., I only have to earn a certain amount of money, I don’t have to work beyond that amount of money, and some days simply consist of waiting–for others to do their part. I can have fun with this, right? Right.

The Dip can surface, too, around this time of day–late afternoon. By now, I’m used to having gotten ZERO done on some days, and working into the night just to feel OK about things. The worst is when I make up “fake work” for myself, stuff that really doesn’t need to be done and that could very well be exchanged for the more productive tasks of pitching, reporting, and writing. Yet, at least I’ve done SOMETHING, right? Oh, me.

Sometimes, simply staring into this screen drives me crazy. And, again, I can feel that pull–it’s weak, like a cord tied in the very distance, but somehow still tethered to my innards–of a glass or fourteen of wine.

At this point, I am going for a run. Turning it off. Run. Now. See y’all on the flip!

Perspective…and post-hoilday pangs

27 Dec

10:10 pm

Oy. I got ’em. Well, I got pangs, but I don’t got (ouch, sorry, Mom) perspective.

The past few days I’ve felt like a mack truck hit me. I just can’t. Do. Anymore. Taking care of shit. AND, it’s not like I had THAT much to do!? What is wrong with me? All I know is, I’m way too hard on myself AND, drinkin’ won’t fix these (post-)holiday blues…

Anyway, I’m tired. Overwhelmed by…what, exactly? The holidays are kind of bullshit. I mean, stressful, running, spending, expecting, performing, judging…no fucking wonder people go crazy. Someone in my AA circle hanged herself a few days before Christmas. It’s one of those things that just sticks in the back of your mind, rests there like a benign tumor. I had met and talked to her a few times, and she seemed to be, well, on something. Talk about my little first-world problems meaning nothing. Annnnnd, now I’m feeling guilty for having any feelings at all about my life. ARG.

I really wanted to drink today. Feeling somewhat exhausted from the constant telling myself that I really didn’t want to partake in the “fun” at multiple Christmas get-togethers; remaining cheerful even when I felt a little bit like stomping my feet and throwing a tantrum inside; looking on Facebook to see multiple people/friends, OF COURSE, publishing articles, and books, and yada fucking yada. Me? STILL stalling. No pitching, no reporting, no writing. I could do it, I could be competitive. I’m wasting my talents, I often think. Have I simply chosen not to participate, at least for now? Am I just lazy, or still burnt out? Or, maybe I, um, had a mental/nervous breakdown the past three years (since I was fired from my job after a disastrously drunken Christmas party shenanigan–I yelled at my CEO and then missed two days work because I, um, went to jail for disorderly conduct…). In any case, it’s time, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be busting a move? What is wrong with me?

All these thoughts were circling in my head as I woke this morning. And, I woke from a dream in which I woke up to find that I had gotten shitfaced and texted mean things to like, 20 people while sleeping. Let me repeat: I dreamt that I drank while I was asleep and did a bunch of mean things. So, there is now something called “drunkwalking” in my world, which is made even more meta because I dreamt about it. Jesus.

Today, I tried, but it was hard to really appreciate any of it. The water, the beach with my boyfriend, the sunshine, my new bikini and wrap… So, I decided to come home, take a deep breath, walk the dogs, gaze at the marvelous moonrise through a set of pink clouds, and eat cake. My boyfriend invited me out to the bar where he works, but I just don’t feel like sitting around watching people drink and then trying to have a conversation with someone who won’t remember it and who keeps repeating him/herself anyway…

So, what’s the point of this? Oh, perspective. Wavering at the moment. And I do have pangs, as in “I really want to drink when I hit 90 days”-type pangs, but I’m hoping they’ll pass once I get a handle on my next moves, professionally. This was a problem that nearly floored me when I was drinking, and I would drink and drink and drink over it. Now, I realize that it simply needs to be addressed. I can do it, if I put my mind to it. Drinking will not solve anything, and will only keep me in this place, for longer.

Onward and upward. Or, maybe, let it go and go to bed early. Or, better yet, watch The Lord of the Rings trilogy in preparation for The Hobbit in the theater tomorrow night? YES.

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