Poem Girl

patterns

Writers are natural observers. I noticed human patterns, relationship patterns, weather patterns, crochet patterns, and now I've come to terms with my depression patterns. I had a depressive outburst yesterday at work with an obnoxious customer on the phone. I snapped - I could not focus on her story, I offered everything to get her off my phone, but she was playing mindgames. I handled it in the most unproffessional manner: when the conversation got heated, i hung up, logged out, and broke out in tears. My supervisor gave me no solace in contacting me right after it happened, and I could imagine in my mind how my supervisor had finally had what he needed to cut my supply from the best company I ever worked for. Benefits. 401k dental and health insurance. It was a home job. I made 12.50 an hour. I thrown it all in the garbage. I was starting to fear that I could never succeed (the high achiever work aholic I am) because eventually, I'd forget how to take care of myself and fall into depression. A disease that a lot of people thought could be fixed if I "changed what I did not like about myself." A self destructive lifestyle caused my own destruction.

I've lost my job and now I stare at my blank screen, the paragraph line blinking at me, the equivalent of leaving your car emergency signals on.

What have I done?

It hasn't been a full 24 hours yet. I've heard it said to me so as not to get lost in my pouting: You should have seen this coming. You were asking for it because you had such a negative attitude. Why did you let the customer get to you? Maybe that job wasn't the best for you, but that was Easy Mode. It doesn't get any better than sitting at home with your cats and taking calls, you never have to interact with these people again. Maybe they won't fire you and will put you on a final. But every day you take too many breaks and you are always late to work. It's not the end of the world you can get a job any where. But you're going to have to work extra hard for less money, and no benefits.

I couldn't imagine walking around putting applications in - for a year I've had an eye condition where I get terrible styes in my eyes. It was actually getting better before that episode at work. I've been crying for hours and they've swollen up for a more permanent, defeated look.

I tried to remain hopeful but I knew what's done is done. I could never reverse it. I'd play the call back a hundred times, how I wish I had been more firm with her and not panicked. My mind was "abort! abort! abort!" and I did something so irrational and impulsive and against my original character. Who was this girl full of rage? It was feral. Untamed. It had teeth sinking into my heart.

I can't feel my body. Or, more accurately, i'm starting too and to avoid suicidal thoughts I started writing this. I told myself I wasn't ready to die - there was a lot of unfinished things and my cats. And how would he feel finding your body? I thought of hanging myself, stabbing myself, shooting myself, cutting myself, bashing my head against a wall, overdosing. I thought about the suicide note and how I did not want to ever write it, because it'd mostly have two words "I'm sorry."

I've noticed a pattern in suicide. In the end, its your choice.

These thoughts are very scary so I'll put them here.

Pretend I did not.

It's just in my mind now it's an option. An easy way out. From the destruction I've made. From the bad relationships I've formed. For the people I let down.

Everything starts looking like a weapon. I wish I had taken the pills the doctor perscribed and gave it another chance. Looking at my life, I can see this pattern. The beast does get a few kills.