In my professional medical opinion, I am a headcase.
This last week, my emotions have ranged from homicidal, to jubilant, to determined, and back to fragile all in a matter of moments. Dont blink, because you might miss another personality change. I’ve been working off yonder once more, and it feels like it has been a trial of blunders and fuckups the entire time. I left my jogging shoes at home, I ran out of toothpaste, my iPod charger broke and I have had to do some creative recycling with my socks. I’ve been travelling so much lately that I haven’t had a chance to get my breath back. It seems that I’ve been existing with one foot in the air, my next step only a heartbeat away.
I’ve been missing my friends, and I’ve been missing the casual time spent with my peers. I’ve found that the more I travel, the more I appreciate the relationships that I leave behind. Not in a heartfelt confessions of undying love kinda relationships, but in a humorous insult “Good Morning! Get Fucked!” kinda friendships. Only other Australians will really appreciate what that last sentence really means.
I also miss my dog. I love him to death because he’s a cool little bastard with more brains than he is rightfully entitled to. He’s also getting over surgery, and I’m sad that I cant be there to take care of the little furry dribble-pot.
This last week, I’ve thrown a huge homesickness pity party. I dug myself a little hole, and I’ve crawled into it. At one point, I was bowled up in a Motor Inn on the opposite side of the country, working on a business system at 12.30am wondering what I was doing with my life. What was I working for? Nobody else was working at that time of the night. Why did I bother? Turns out, I had my answer the very next day. The customer confirming that the project was confirmed, partly due to my impact on the design process.
High-fives all round!
So why, then, did the success feel so hollow? I realised it was because I didn’t have anybody to share it with. Well, nobody in the same time-zone anyhow. This then triggered a downward spiral of self-pity and doubt, where I sat there wondering if I mean as much to others as they mean to me. Do they even know how much they mean to me? I let those Melancholy Demons sink their claws into my heart, and I wallowed in bleak thoughts. Next morning, the sun rose. The coffee was good. A few missed messages waiting for me cheered me up no end. I crawled out of my black self-doubt cave, dusted myself off, then I went to work.
Oh, I mentioned homicidal, didn’t I? I went from melancholy to maniac in one seamless integrated transition. Yeah, there was a point this week where I wanted to slay every person in sight and randomly hack and slash at everything, while screaming at the top of my lungs until my arms gave out and my vocal chords snapped. It takes a while for my blood to boil, but when it does, by Jove! I have a nasty habit of saying very nasty, cutting remarks, combined with whithering looks that convey more contempt than words ever could.
“Just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean I’m wrong – It means you’re stupid.”. I don’t like myself when I say stuff like that. I replay it in my mind late at night, silently condemning myself for being such a snarling hellbitch. Luckily for me, I didn’t let my mouth run away from me this time. Instead, I took a deep breath, took a walk in the sunshine, and let the frustration ooze from my skin as I soaked up some Vitamin D. I took a photo of a seagull. Then I listened to another persons epic rant about a situation I was totally detached from, and I saw the funny side.
And I sat there giggling for a good long while, all by myself. Like a retard.
Humans are bloody stupid creatures, and I am only human after all.
In my professional medical opinion, that is.