Disappointed Me an inner monologue

 How it works.

Excitement

Event or Non event 

Disappointment

One week:

"Dont say anything, remember that happy people have no expectations."

"If you say something, you're a selfish shit. Don't say anything."

"That was kinda important to me though, but don't say anything"

Two weeks:

"The fact that nobody has mentioned it means they either; dont care, dont think what you think is important and so YOU are NOT important. Don't say anything, it won't be important."

"It's a long time from the event now, saying anything would be weird. Just put it in the back of your mind and help out."

Three weeks:

"As youre not important, you should just throw yourself at stuff for anyone and everyone, just do stuff because everyone IS more important that you."

"Well, at least doing stuff is keeping me busy but I cant really sleep even though I'm tired"

"Doesn't matter, its your problem, not anyone else's."

Four weeks:

"Okay, I'll say something but only if someone asks directly."

"Wow, I honestly thought someone would've asked. I know, I know, its because I'm not important."

"Well just do stuff to make yourself happy, buy stuff, make stuff, do stuff"

"You're no very talkative, better start giving more than one word answers or someone will think something is up."

"Huh, nobody thinks anything is wrong. See not important to anyone."

What's worse than being disappointed is the confict of the shame I feel for being disappointed which just serves to remind me that I am disappointed which makes me ashamed...

Nervous Me

 To say that I'm generally a nervous person is somewhat dishonest.  I'm a (fairly) capable masker when it comes to being uncomfortable and I have become used to getting up in the morning and exxisting like this everyday. 

I wonder how other's feel when they know things are about to end. How did the Chicago Bulls feel when they knew the 1998-99 season would be their last together? How did the cast of The Big Bang Theory feel when they knew ahead of time the show was ending? Is the shock better than the gradual realisation of a huge looming change? Is it better to burn out than to fade away?

When I knew my time at my workplace would come to an end I was excited about the future and new opportunities, a time to hit 'reset' and be able to reinvent myself (maybe into a version I liked better). You cant do that when you work in the same place. 'Are you ok?' and 'You've changed' become common topics of conversation and I have to revert back to my mask.

I've tried to come to work this year and leave my mask at home. Somehow I fear all I have done is leave my familiar mask behaind in favour of making a new one. What will people like? Try not to make an ass of yourself. Dont give anyone a reason to tell you off for something you did wrong. Make zero mistakes. Youve done this job before so dont ask any stupid questions? Don't be stupid, ask things you dont know? 

The dialogue I have with myself everyday and the reality of learning a new system, with new people while still under very real professional expectations has more or less crushed my enthusiasm. I've become less helpful in terms of talking things out because my head is spinning coming to grips with a new workstyle and coming home to pretend its all great. I'm just craving people to tell me things instead of telling me then asking my opinion.

How many weeks/months will it take before I can wake up without the sick feeling in my stomach? Will it disappear before I have to decide that this change is 'it' and make it permenent? I do try to be pragmatic and make decisions based on evidence but that means I can't afford to have the dcision influenced by something that wouldn't have passed naturally by the time I have to make it. More pressure.

So why did I make the change? It was something different. I could jump before I got pushed. My previous role had no management/leadership pathways for someone such as myself. Men do not do the job I was doing once on the wrong side of forty. A chance to do something that I'm passionate about.

Of course there are also numerous doubts I have about my own skills, there's a pandemic, insecurity about my health and seeing a specialist (if required). Then there's nostalgia. I have a history with the place I work now and I've wondered if my penchant for mid 90s culture has been a way I can go back and 'fix' things in the past and maybe make me a better person and not the 'selfish, self centered little s**t' that still rings in my head when I have to make a decision. I mean every decision, for myself. What would you like for dinner? Do you want to order that tool? What movie do you want to see? I genuinely can't answer those questions honestly. I will sabotage myself and pick an option I don't want so I feel bad so I wont be a selfish little s**t again. It drives people around me crazy. Because it doesnt always mean that saying 'no' means I really MEAN 'yes'. 

Under all this I am trying to move forward and not let this mental fog get in the way. But what is the right thing to say to people who ask me how things are going?

'How are things going up there?'

'Great' lie to make them feel better for asking.

'It's very different' vague but inoffensive, obvious observation that really tells people nothing.

'I wake up feeling sick every morning and I'm crippled by my doubs in my abilities, but the people I work with are nice'.

Manipulative Me

 Wow, these posts are planned to become more frequent an average of nearly six months between them seems to be a constant in my life. So, what's happened since April? Vaccinated, therapised...somewhat.

I need to work on telling people what I want. That's extremely challenging, I cant even fill out budget requests at work for fear of having to be held accountable for how having an office chair makes me better at my job. The therapy itself has been beneficial, however, it has made me think of when my inability to tell people what I want started. Don't worry, wont go through that here.

For someone who doesnt ask for what he wants, I have many things that I want.  In the past I've been accused of being manipulative, maybe so. Maybe (therapy head) a bi-product of my previosly diagnosed inability. I often feel ashamed, guilty or downright unworthy of asking for things that I probably try to arrange for them to happen "organically" right or wrong.

Wants and desires can be acted on by myself quite willingly as long as Im the sole participant, new clothes, shoes, premium motor oil, all me. Things that involve others, I will try to arrange things so that I dont have to decide or when faced with an alternative, I'll pick the option that will hamstring my happiness or make the other parties happy. Makes me seem like a nice person most of the time, alas, it also makes me miserable and also makes me feel worse when I do the shoes and premium 5w40.

My true wants feel like something I can look at in my hands and weep over while everyone is asleep. I try to scrunch them into a ball and hide them away as often as I can. I lie awake hoping that people will say the magical combination of words that will mean my cryptic hints have been decoded...they dont. 

My job means I must answer 150 pointless (in the scheme of life) questions a day. I hope and wish to not decide when work is finished but get so upset inside when things dont go as I'd hoped. I suppose there is a way to fix that. Although, I am not sure how someone with no self worth cn either suddenly discover and value it accordingly or can just speak out and be damned the consequences.

This is clearly the wrong way to fix myself but writing things down has a direct correlation with healing (I'm told). Either that or this blog will be the undoing of me, personally, professionally and relationally. Stay tuned to find out which.

I.M.

Triggered Me

 It seems that two months between posts is quite a quick turnaround at the moment. "Some people just dont want to get better". Not overly sure how to feel about such triggering posts.  The kind of people who post stuff like that seem to like pointing out faults in others and by virtue have no interest in rising above such actions themselves. Ironic.

Whenever I speak with an adult I resort to a phsychological age of around 16. Not about to start telling them why Puff Daddy is like a modern day Shakespeare but rather abandonning all confidence in my own knowledge and abilities. Forgetting that I am an adult of nearly 40 and have life and profissional experiences, as well as higher education on my side in a wide range of exchanges. I feel that I have nothing to offer any sort of interaction outside of family and some friends and am totally devoid of confidence.

When will I be cured or fixed? I asked my therapist if I was broken. She told me that she didnt think so, more akin to my thoughts about myself are scattered on the floor and I can only reach for the negative ones as they're the easiest to find. It's funny that sometimes the well meaning people get away with saying things they really aren't prepared for. "You can talk to me about anything?" is one thing that doesnt really mean what has been said.  I can talk to you about a lot of things but I sincerely doubt that ANYTHING is actually able to be spoken about due to the confines of friendships and social rules of appropriate conversation.  If I started asking if we could compare bowel movements I think the conversation would end quite abruptly. 

Knowing when something can be said and knowing who certain things can be said to in order to maintain relationships is tricky. Of late I've been trying to say things that are important to me but finding myself cut off or the conversation diveretd and I need to sit there while the words dissolve into hurt feelings right there in my throat. When you have no confidence you need people to listen but to be heard you need to be saying something interesting. I dont think that's me at all.

I dont see myself the way other's do. I havent for a long time and as much as I wish I could snap out of it, its something that has wormed it's way into my beliefs. I cant blindly believe things, and my negative beliefs about myself have been reinforced for decades. 

Mud-guts, chubby, husky, stocky, fat arse, tubby, flabs, man tits, hunchback. There are a few nice vaiations on my name but they're not for the blog. Combined with, "you're a nice guy...", made for a very easy transition to my current state. 

"You're a niuce guy...but youre too fat to dance with me" 

"You're such a nice guy...but you're nowhere near good looking enough to hang around me"

"You will make someone really happy one day...but it wont be me, have you seen how awful you look"

The best advice at the time was the women love confidence. I think it takes a level of confidence that borders on denial of reality to overcome these consistent let downs. Especially when being nice wasnt the barrier with any of these people, it was being thin, athletic, muscular. And I get you cant fake attraction, if it's not there, then it isn't but maybe is better to not sugarcoat the answer.

It bother's me bacause two years of overpriced therapy wont undo 30 years of knowing that the thing that is wrong with me and invalidates me is the skin I live in. I cant stand to look at it. I dont look in mirrors, I get changed in a corner with the door closed. I wear clothes that cover me as often as possible.  I care about how I look but I dont care about trying to look good anymore. I shave most days and cut my hair off at every opportunity. My shirts are all a size too big so they dont pull on my guts or my chest anymore. I walk funny to try and correct my posture but that sticks out my chest and my gut more so I dont know which to worry about more.

In the meantime I apparently got through 37 years without knowing how to walk properly and now my feet need fixing. I'm clumsy and worry about spilling drinks or dropping food.  I dont eat things that might leave a mess on my shirt and draw anyone's atention to looking at my mid section "but some people just dont want to be fixed". Where do I start? 

Saying no to; swimming activities, or anything else that involves tight fitting clothes or shirtless is the norm.  I was once asked while at boarding college to dress up (thank goodness I didn't do it) not because I was studying drama  or was funny, because the characeter was fat.  The person who replaced me was fat too, I hope he's ok.

People have mid life crises I think, because they are tired of being afraid. the popular theory is that people turn 40 are afraid of getting old.  Maybe theyve been afraid of something for a long time and they've just decided that it's pointless being afraid. If that's the case then I look forward to my mid life crisis. If your mid life crisis consists of dying your hair and buying a convertible then good for you. Some people's might involve things of a much more deep and personal level. Things that may have a bigger impact on how you might see them.

Everyone has damage and nobody, even those who think they can just snap out of it can actually snap out of it.  It's taken me 30 years to dig the whole. Snapping out of it would be like kicking all of the dirt back in. That's fine as long as you're not the one at the bottom of the hole. I need the dirt to get shovelled back in slowly anough that I can tamp it back down with my feet and climb out. should take less that 30 years though. And stop posting crap like that and start doing something good for you.

I.M

Empatheticly Me

 Its been a rough start to 2021 (including the hangover issues of 2019). The second half of 2020 was in short, monumentally traumatic for the I.M family. It has rolled on into the beginning of the new year and more challenges professionally that are a catalyst for me feeling very tired, stressed and wanting to get away from things. 

This week in particular has been trying and I have felt more and more that I do not have the skills professionally nor personally to effectively help some people that I need to. This feeling is taking a great toll on me as I scurry by and try to manage my way through the days until my mood changes or my skills catch up to where they need to be.

Being a man of the shed, I am aware of how nice it can be to be away from others and focus on something relatively simple. As my work means that I deal with real people all day the last thing I want to do in my down time is deal with people. I want to be able to be alone to think. Unfortunately I find myself on the couch or at the dining room table with my laptop and a pile of paperwork trying to muddle my way through til next weekend and go to a very light sleep feeling like I'm drowning.

My therapist asked me how the year was going. It feels like a bond film when he's trying to wrestle control of an areoplane before it crashes. I used to think that stress was something that made people worried. I never thought I'd come to the realisation of how deeply impacted one can be due to stress. Lack of sleep, headaches, tense muscles, lack of intimacy, mood swings, hyper obsession with the unimportant or mundane.

These are all signs of serious burnout and Im only 5 weeks into the new work year. I know more is coming, I know I wont stop the feeling of drowning. I know that if I choose to not worry, I will drown in work. We have a new mortgage, I need to work.

The following is an observation that I made today. I write it as just that and not a 'cry for help'. I see why men hang themselves in their sheds. Things get so overpowering, so busy, the consequences of admitting theres a problem are worse than carrying on. They want to have time (and yes women do waaaaaay more than men in most families) to be alone.

I don't want to be one of them, I'm not worried about that. One way forward for these people is for the result of them admitting there is a problem mustnt be worse than carrying on. If I come forward and let it be known that I am suffereing burnout 5 weeks into the new year then my ability to make decisions will be too greatly impacted.  People with mental illness need to be able to decide things but the first thing the stigma of mental illness does is revoke ones authority and expertise in making judgements of any kind because "he was battling demons".

When someone has to choose between carrying on and burning out or risking having their ability and decisions questioned due to stress, what do you think they'll do. Some will carry on...others will carry on until one night they find themselves alone, burned out and in the shed.

Not Heart Attack Me

I managed to ruin my wife's birthday. A rainy saturday with not much to do to keep a five year old busy I suggest a drive and pickup a takeaway drink on the way home as nothing is open for dine in. We are atop a local lookout facing the beach and said five year old is complaining about the universe.

I started to feel a pain on the lower left side of my chest, like a cramp. The pain was quite persistent and despite deep breathing it seemed to spread to the lower right side of my chest. As it was not going anywhere I decided the logical thing was to get moving and hope the situation would right itself if I did nothing (like Donald Trump).

I drove down the lookout road and did a lap of the marina where I had to pull over as the pain had now reached my right elbow and I was suddenly feeling very hot and needed to take my jacket off. I got out of the car and stretched to see if the cramp would consider a recommendation of sex and travel but it didn't.

The car resumed and things seemed to be calming down as I could still speak, I wasn't short of breath and I had good strength in both hands. We stopped for a romantic drive thru cookie at subway and upon my son's complaining about 'why cant we go look at the car wash brushes..." the cramp returned to my chest and now I could also feel it on the left side of my neck. I drove to the local medical centre of excellence and again tried stretching and even considered going in. Not wanting to be silly or waste anyones time I got back in the car and drove home.

On the way I described the feeling to Mrs I.M and we agreed I'd call Health Direct at home. To call said service one must first answer questions about symptoms to get the phone number via the website. After answering them the message was "GO IMMEDIATELY TO THE NEAREST E.D".

I opened with "Hi there, I'm sure its nothing but I had this pain in the left side of my chest and it went down my right arm and up my nec...."
"Buzz!!"
"Go in now".
Two ECGs, two enzyme tests (my right arm sprung a leak in the shower later that night from where than canula was in but I wasn't keen on people seeing me with less clothes. I was asked if I was stressed. My answer was "I did a poo yesterday and that gave me a headache." It was Mrs I.M's birthday and she spent it indoors from the cold and rain, in a car with a crying five year old and then in the coldest corner of the emergency dept with her stupid husband. Happy Birthday sweetheart.

I have been politely advised that I should de-stress for a while. With COVID-19, meetings until the end of time, no sport (to participate in, not really keen on watching TV sport) and less time to wear the "me suit" I can hardly see many opportunities to de-stress.

Work will give the traditional "do what you have to do" but in the past when I've said "OK, I'll have the rest of the year off on double pay," I seem to hit a roadblock.

IBD me

Not having an illness but still having an illness is a pain. Essentially all the negatives of having an illness are still there but I don't officially have an illness. Allow me to elaborate..

I was fat growing up. I know this as I was reminded often and we had a mirror. I am still extremely ashamed of my body. I do not take my shirt off and cant stand anyone making any comments about my body. I have shocking posture from stooping over in an attempt to cover up fatness. I moved away to study and I got thin.  I started drinking, partying, sleeping in, skiping classes through layiness and I got thin.

I got thin because I started crapping like a machine gun in a John Woo film (low BDQ). The result at uni was being tired, failing classes, freaking out about why I'm shitting for the olympics suddenly and then came the blood. Along with that came holidays and the comments from people back home about, looking great, deciding to shift the weight, good on me, keep going...

Diagnosed after a colonoscopy (a theme for the rest of my life) with Ulcerative Colitis. Get to keep the thin, drinking, partying etc just take these pills. That worked for 6 years or so until the day/year it stopped.  Which coincidentally seems to be why I havent been able to watch 'Breaking Bad'. I worked sick, shitting 25 times daily wil blood and mucus, going home to sleep on the couch, get up and play sport because exercise makes you thin and being thin makes you healthy right Cathy Freeman?

I worked and played until the day that I couldnt get up anymore so I had surgery. I had a bag. Life with a bag of shit attached to your waist is less than ideal. Im a recovering fat kit so I have no washboard abs to attach the bag to, I have a flabby spare tyre that sticks out at all the wrong angles to 'hide' the bag. I got to order special pants that..What is it with the people who design clothes for people with ostomy appliances? Do they all have a vision problem or is it mass delusion? The pants looked like one of the brothers from school who had his pants so high all you saw of the shirt he was wearing was the man cans poking out...so there's that.

"You wont have to live in the toilet anymore."
It shits constantly. No matter where you are and wht you're doing, you're shitting 24/7.  Bonus being you get to take it with you, everywhere. Sometimes you're out in your expensive ostomy pants and the contants of your bag make a guest appearance at the table. Sometimes I'd empty it at bedtime anly to find myself covered in a huge sweat in the middle of the night...that's not sweat. All stemming from me not being legit thin like I should be to get anywhere in life. "It's just your body shape."

Combined with the feeling of shit coming out of my flabby abdomen at all times of conscoiusness it farts on its own as well. I remember being at a school PD with members of head office and the presenter was laughing so much at the sounds it was making that I just left. I was a 27 year old man too afraid to go to a pd session on literacy like a damn school child.

I've written before about how garbage I am at basketball. Age is exascerbating the condition. I now dont have the mental skills for the game and the physical skills have already fucked off. There's no basketball with a 'bag'. What happens if it leaks from sweating? What happens if you fall over and it spills onto the court? I was a health risk to others so retirement.

The incentive of having a bag for me was not being in a box in the ground and that's it. I understand that for other's it gave them their life back but for me in my circumstances it didn't. It consigned my life to the graveyard anyway.

April 2010 and the bag came off. Now the 'cure' is in. I can live like normal but without a lot of things. Some easier to give up than others. Alcohol was an easy one but until you've been the guy who isnt drinking among a group who are and enjoying themselves its hard to not buy into the idea that giving up drinking wont cost friendships. It doesnt but I think I was dropped casually from the roster and filed under 'acquantanceships' instead.

Its not all bad, I did stay with my girlfriend who turned into a fiancee and then wife although I constantly feel a burden for her and my son. They miss out on stuff because of me. I remember trying to go without meds and using diet. Try eating a banana before every meal every day for a month. Then go on an interstate train ride with one toilet per carriage on that plan, it was awful.

I have to get a camera crew up my bum every 6-12 months. I tried going for 12 once but it was so painful we went back to 6 monthly. It's supposed to be done in the surgery, cold turkey. It was excruciating when I did it once and I could barely walk after, thanks Mr Turnbull, would love to see you give that a go. Now its a hospital thing. Im seven at seven months due to the zombie apocalypse and it will be eight once it happens barring incident.

This post is running out of steam. I had plenty of crap circling my head whilst out walking the dog but it seems to have escaped my at this juncture. I take Loperimide 2mg 1-12x daily. They stop me shitting my trousers at work. oh speaking of that I only buy dark pants now, people have not seemingly noticed 1. they make me look thinner and 2. they dont show the marks. But you can get by on not enough and frequent trips to the loo, but if you take too many you can get a blockage and that can rupture the pouch and then you'll have a bag again forever.

I woke up in my own shit once before a staff thing. It was around 3am and Mrs I.M was only just asleep as Baby I.M was new an didnt sleep. She'd just dozed off and I woke up thinking I needed to dash but too late, I was in a puddle. What are the steps in solving that problem? Wake up wife, go shower and hope she doesnt roll over? Wake her and everyone up to change the bedding? Nights like that are less frequent but just as shameful becuase even at 38, a healthy 38 year old does not shit themselves while they sleep.

Everything is planned around toilet breaks, going shopping, taking I.M Jnr to a playground, marking tme, agreeing to meetings, car trips, walking the dog, playing sports. But I'm cured. Oh the staff thing, it was about being grateful for my life. I had to write about how I had been blessed that day. I think I wrote something about a sense of humour. It's not a thing people talk about in the staff room, especially now that they're empty. I now have a rule that if you wake up in a puddle of shit, you should take the day.

All this stuff makes me feel like I can feel my time ticking away. I have things I want to do and my life (reportedly now shorter overall and in terms of my fit, healthy younger years) ticks away and I feel every second. When we go away and have family gatherings I'm quite antisocial as 1. not to be am imposition (my young, healthy charming self died 10 years ago) 2. I can feel the time ticking away. I hate sitting down and sleeping in. I get tired and sometimes sleep in but it feels like a missed opportunity. All this happens and I still hate my body. Cant do ab exercises as it may tear the pouch off the wall of the abdomen according to the surgeon. Im stuck in the skinny, ex fat kid, flabby body and I hate it so much.

I often think of my Dad's theory of winning a car (a school friend won a Mercedes Benz and my dad imparted this knowledge to me). If you buy a raffle ticket for a car and win; never service or repair a thing. Drive it until the wheels fall off and its on fire at the side of the road because it will be the cheapest car you ever owned.  I feel like that about my body. Just use it until it breaks. Pity I'm a coward and will eventually go to the doctor.

My cured body means I can do some of the things I like compared to having a bag and doing some of the other things that I like. Life isnt that same and never will be. I hate my body mainly because I never got healthy, I got thin and they aren't the same Cathy Freeman. The time just ticks away until it breaks again and I play along happily watching the clock run down and try to find something that I care about that I can actually believe I am good at.

Sometimes I think I've come a long way, and other days it feels like I've yet to sart healing. Maybe people with mental health concerns arent 'cured' but they have an understanding and the rational, cognitive tools to process things better. If that's the case then I am the former today. Feelings wise its the latter.

Happy World IBD Day