Dating Over 30 #8

I’m not in the mood this week. I’m finding that my pain levels directly correlate to my moods.

I’ve been in a paranoid state for about a week. Then yesterday in the middle of my shift, the pain just overwhelmed me and any shift of my hips sent pain shooting up my spine and down my right leg. I might have whimpered out loud. I could barely get to my car and the walk from the car to my bed was a little longer than it needed to be. I’m feeling marginally better today but now I have to suss out the sudden pain relapse so it doesn’t happen again. Good news though! I felt pain in my right leg. In the areas I don’t have motor control and normally don’t have feeling!

Anyway, dating stuff. I’ve not responded to any messages and some of them seem like they’re worth it. That makes me sad. It’s the pain causing depression causing doubt. My daily chant? Depression lies. It tells you that even if you take the chance, it won’t be worth it. Even if you want to try something, it won’t work. Depression lies.

It’s okay to try something new. To take a chance on someone new. It’s fine. It’s okay.

Having loved ones who don’t understand your depression is hard. My brother and I aren’t too close these days. He’s busy. I’m busy. We live far apart. He just tries to offer his shoulder. I admire that. My older sister is more understanding. She listens when I talk about my feelings of not being able to move because I’m scared of nothing in particular or that I’m so sad that potentially having eyes on me as I walk my garbage to the dumpster is terrifying. She understands that when she checks in and I beam “I cleaned my house” or “I took out the garbage” that I’m not being cheeky. I’m proud.

My little sister is young. Her filters are busted. She’s got a lot on her own plate. She can’t comprehend my feelings. She says insensitive things all the time and not to hurt me. She thinks she’s being honest and helpful. Honest I can handle. Trying to be helpful usually backfires. Disparaging my love of books and telling me to “get out there” doesn’t help. “Out there” is the scary place. I have my usual haunts that feel okay and I can go by myself. Going to those places when I don’t feel okay can cost me that comfortable place. I could go to a new place. Crowded with people. I could have a panic attack and be afraid of going to that place again.

I’m still getting used to my work schedule. I’m searching for a roommate. I’m trying to keep myself healthy, physically and mentally. Really, until I’m back on my feet, I don’t feel like I can go to a bar. I’m the lame person who has to be home by 11pm or I’ll sleep through my alarm and getting fired during my training period. Until I’m secure in my job, I can’t take a risk that will take me back to the place where at the beginning of the month, I’m only 10 days from homelessness. That’s the hugest blow my psyche can take right now.

My goals for today? Go through my messages and take an honest look at the fellows who took a chance and sent me a clue, clean my house, take pictures of my home, and rest. My back really does hurt and I think I left my ibuprofen in the car.

IndiscriminateDouches:

“¿Es tu padre un astronauta? Porque alguien cogió las estrellas del cielo y las puso en tus ojos.” (Is your dad an astronaut? Because someone took the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.)

Just. Wow. Not many hits today. Just a lot of the same. “Hey, message me.” Though, one dude who asked me to chat with him kind of looks like Darryl from The Walking Dead. I should ask how he handles a machete.

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