Tunnel? Light? What?

Dare I say things are getting better? Every post I've written lately that contains such information is followed by another post that proclaims the bottom is dropping out and that I am, in fact, a nut job. But I think maybe things really are looking up.

It's been since Saturday that I cried, likely because I cried enough that evening for most of everyone in the tri-state area. Saturday was a rough day - super awful bad day at work. And bad days at psych hospitals are BAD. Further, whilst I was at work it was "man weekend" at my house, which I wasn't overly excited for. Not to mention that despite the increased degree of difficulty in planning, Joe had not yet made any special plans with me since his return home. But there he was hosting his animal friends at the house I'd taken care of by myself for the last two months. To give you the reader's digest version of how Saturday played out, I couldn't reach him for over an hour only to come home to an empty house that Joe vowed he wouldn't leave (while drinking all day and playing video games with a few friends). With empty beer cans and bottles numbering in the 20's and confirmed number of other people in attendance besides Joe being one, I thought they were hurt, dead, or arrested. I called the county jail and an ER before I finally heard from Joe: There were four of them, and they had gone to the movies courtesy of a sober driver...a note indicating such would have been amazing. Still, I was hysterical, and everything erupted from there.

We fought intermittently for the next 4-5 hours, but we weren't fighting just about the irresponsible man shenanigans, nor all the idiocy at my place of employment including the last patient I'd seen with 3 inch long vertical, bone-deep lacerations on each wrist that were stapled shut. No, more than all that, we were fighting to be heard by each other and to be back on some common ground. Through tears and shouting and losing our minds, we made it to the other side. And it started to click again. It's not back to baseline, but we've been making steady improvements since then. Sometimes I guess you do have to have it out (if that sort of things works for you - think comedian Christopher Titus), so long as it doesn't turn into a domestic in progress. No, no.

That brings us pretty much to present. Joe is passed out already, and I am lying here thinking about the future. I have two days left at my job, and admittedly, I've had to ask Joe (just this evening in fact) if I'm doing the right thing in quitting. He responded with "Yes, definitely; I want you to still have a soul." He's right. It's easier to doubt myself when there is an end in sight. When I think about continuing to work there without an exit, the rising panic confirms both Joe's thoughts and my actions. I just need to figure more out of what's next. Joe is betting on two weeks before I start to go crazy at home. He may again be right, but I don't know what's next. I know I need some kind of change, but I need to find out more of what I want to do before committing to something (and possibly returning to school for it). I guess I just need to roll with my eyes open and keep my ear to the ground. I'm confident there is some better fit for me. Of course in sort of an "Office Space" moment earlier when Joe asked me what I day dream about doing for a job, I told him "nothing - I don't think about working in any job." Yeeeeah.