I'm a piece of work.

Discussion in 'Help Me! I Need to Talk to Someone.' started by Sharky, Apr 17, 2007.

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  1. Sharky

    Sharky Member

    So.

    I wouldn't necessarily call my situation a crisis. I would call it a heavy malaise. There isn't really anything to me. I'm unremarkable, common, and boring. I go through ups and downs just like everyone else. I wouldn't call myself a drunk; I've got a healthy drinking habit, and I enjoy putting my alcohol in funny places, such as rolling up bottles of vodka in my sleeping bag and putting five liter bags (yes, bags) of acrid wine in my sock drawer.

    Bag wine is awful stuff. The makers simply have to know their main demographic. First you're pouring it into glasses, then you're cussing at the bag because it keeps flopping over your eyes while you're trying to drink straight from the plastic spigot.

    I'm an insurance agent, which means I think about suicide eight or nine times a day. I don't actually consider suicide very often, but suicide crosses my mind more often than sex. Call it a professional curiosity.

    I'm a self-destructive procrasinator. I put things off, even while I'm trying to get them done. I'll stare at a blank computer screen with a deadline just outside the door, then put on some music and fall asleep. I think success up until this point has been chiefly coincidental.

    I have to talk to policy holders as an insurance agent, which means I would abuse prescription drugs if I got the chance. I hate my job. I hate my life. I would rather be killed by the yaks at the zoo than talk to someone who calls me names referencing ethnicities and races to which I don't belong. I have had a man tell me he was going to come to my office and kill me over a $33 dispute. I hate people.

    I can't go out at night any more. I go to work, come home, and drink myself to sleep without dinner. I weigh less than 135lbs now. I can't interact with people like I used to. If a girl or a boy came along and wanted to hook up, I wouldn't know what to do. Oh. There's another thing.

    I am trying, with everything that I am, to avoid hating women. There are good, nice women out there who don't want to grind my testamonials into my gall bladder. They're adept, stealthy little creatures.

    I'm not going anywhere, and if I'm not careful, I'll be doing this for another 35 years.

    I have to go to work tomorrow and sit in front of divorcing couples. One such couple I've screwed over for $200 by accident. An honest mistake. But they're still screwed. I have to live with that. I have to tell the guy whose house burned down that we're not going to help him because he lapsed. He's screwed for life. I have to tell the guy with the $1.3 million dollar claim that we're not going to help him pay for it because he was driving a truck with a magnetic business logo on the side, so it should've been rated business class instead of private passenger class. He has five kids.

    I can't sleep on Sunday nights through Thursday nights, because I know I'll have to go to work the next morning.

    Sometimes when I'm at work I can feel a shadow of my arm reaching for something that cuts or burns, and so far I've been good at stopping it, save once. Okay, four times. Had to throw away all my short sleeves.

    I can't write anymore. I loved writing. Had a book going. My creativity's dead. My job sucked it out of my head, aborted it, and replaced it with a gray three-ring binder of insurance regulations. That's the hardest thing to come to grips with. My sense of humor's gone. I'm rotten, cynical, and depressing.

    I'm not sleeping. I'm not eating. I'm not talking to people who aren't calling me at work, and I'm not writing. I think about killing myself. I'm not registering for graduate school. I'm not getting closer to my dream career, and if I ever got close, I'm sure they'd do a background check, find me here, venting, and reject my application. And that's depressing, also.

    I think there are fleas in my bed. My room's clean, but I'm getting bitten by some little insect bastard every night.

    I need to sort things out. I went to a restaraunt today, and for whatever reason, nearly cried in my General Tso's Chicken. It was just chicken. Sad, depressing chicken.
     
  2. Sharky

    Sharky Member

    Sharkie-Malarky, baby, sweety-pie, pootie-kins...

    Obviously, you should quit your job, fella. It's killing you!

    But I can't afford to do it. I can't afford school, and boarding, and food, and acrid bag wine without it. I don't have another job lined up because this one takes up all my time.

    There's always a way, sport. Go live with a friend. Your only friend, who doesn't have a live-in girlfriend and probably won't mind. And get off the hooch, fella.

    But I like-a the hoochie. It takes the edge off.

    GET OFF THE GOD DAMN BOOZE OR I SWEAR TO GOD YOU WILL LOSE YOUR FRIENDS, FAMILY, JOB, AND EVERYTHING THAT'S MEANINGFUL IN LIFE. DO YOU THINK I'M STUPID?

    Pssh. You're a screaming genius, I am.

    Hell yeah, loser.

    Go to bed. You need your nappy nap.

    *yawn* nyum, nyum, nyum.
     
  3. Esmeralda

    Esmeralda Well-Known Member

    Hey there.

    No, do not quit your job...BUT, apply for others outside your current field. You are obviously morally opposed to what you do every day, and that will wear you down. Do what you must currently to survive, but your skills are applicable in many other fields...so while you are doing what you hate, find yourself a position you can feel good about being in. You sound like a good person who simply wants to do something meaningful. Once you are doing something that makes you feel good and creative, then your writer's block will disappear. Trust me...I write too, but it doesn't pay the bills huh :)

    The skills you have learned in your current job will take you into any number of less odious positions.

    And APPLY to grad school if you think that is what you want. Don't think about it, don't make excuses, just DO IT and let fate take its course...just because you get in doesn't mean you have to go, but it's great to have those options...
     
  4. TLA

    TLA Antiquitie's Friend



    cute comments!! You DO write good. Your brain is not all fried YET, booze does kill brain cells. Most things in life will kill us.


    :welcome: to SF---don't get paronoid that others will find ya, use your code name, ha.



    You may be drinking MORE now, cuz of work...or not? Maybe work just increased the need. I always wondereed what adjusters did. Maybe you thought of this: don't take it so personally!! You know money can't go to afterlife...money is not the end all. {Sorry my thoughts are not coming}

    On the other side, you may be too creative or sensitive to do "that". That is not all bad.....if you shoot up the office, that is bad.


    I have no helpful advice for you, as I am in the dark vortex now.....seeing as you are in crying times I need to share. (if you fear a crying spell coming on in the resturant, go to bathroom or get take out)

    I loved my mom, but she was not the Mother that was nurturing and warm.
    who knows why?
    My mother was not satisfied in life, life goes in twisted ways.....after her 2nd divorce she drank more......fast forward about 10 yrs.....(i forget the timeline)....she was hanging out with her friends at bars.... Got 2 DWI in Texas. So, her reasoning??!! She fled to New Mexico. Why?
    who knows....she drank, became homeless which led to bad dental hygiene (not a priority now?) well, the tooth infection spread to cells and blood, she was near death. Hospital saved her, she had whole chest/neck area skin grafted...there for about 6 weeks...Sister and grandmother went to get her.....At home, she did not stay in rehab classes like she needed to.....SHE DRANK (Scotch-ick!!) and DRANK...and DRANK.
    My grandmother hated to watch her leave in the car, not eat well....just waste away.....She did crosswords, played solitare and DRANK. She had emphasyma from smoking.....But, died from bleeding ulcer that ruptured. She was only 55. Slow way to kill yourself! :rip:
    It is hard watching your parent (or your friend) drink themselves to death.

    It's up to you, man. The bottle does not make your problems go away.
    I agree with Peanut, STOP making excuses. It is hard to face them, but that can also give you incentives and material for the writing, la la la
    :wink: Alcohol is an illness so look at it honestly.

    Wish you good luck!! PM if you need to talk. Hope you keep us posted.
     
  5. Terry

    Terry Antiquities Friend Staff Alumni

    I've worked in a place that slowly crushed the life out of me. I used to cry going in and cry coming home. It sucked all the joy of life out of me.
    One day I thought ENOUGH!!! found alternative work, went to uni while working part time and never looked back!!
     
  6. Matty321

    Matty321 Well-Known Member

    Yeah, Sharky, YOU ARE.

    A piece of work, that is.

    What an interesting individual.

    Great writing, very hard not to read you, esp. since I'm also a writer.

    So what was your dream career?

    ~Matty
     
  7. ~Nobody~

    ~Nobody~ Well-Known Member

    Your post made me laugh. Not at you, you just have an amazing style of writing and you write about things that I empathise with. Particularly the bag flopping over your eyes :tongue: I couldn't have put it better myself.

    I'm so sorry you're feeling this low. Can't you apply for another job? A more worthwhile job? One where you feel as though you're helping people rather than screwing them over? Hell, I know those kind of jobs don't pay too highly but bag wine isn't all that expensive anyway, is it. :hug:

    I really hope you stick around. I'm sure everyone here would love to get to know you. Hell, I know I would :smile:

    if I didn't have other commitments...


    Good luck, and take care.

    ~Nobody~ x
     
  8. Sil

    Sil Well-Known Member

    Well, once the things will be fixed, why don't you write about this situation? With your skills I'm sure it would be a great writing.
    I also suggest you to apply for another job as soon as possible. This one is killing you, why continue? Think of a job that could please you, or take a pause and see if your creativity comes back.
     
  9. Sharky

    Sharky Member

    Thanks for the replies, everyone. I do indeed appreciate them.

    My job's complicated. Everything about it is terrible, but I genuinely like the people I work with. It's a part of a giant Fortune 100 company, but it's a small agency, so if I leave them now, there's a very real possibility that I'll be taking their only chance for a bonus this year from them.

    Last night when I wrote all this, I was in a panic. Long story short, there were problems on Monday, and they all came to roost on me today. The good news is, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. Some things that were definitely my fault on Monday turned out not to be.

    I didn't sleep at all that night, but I made it through the day and I'm optimistic about tonight.

    I'm going to try and write a few paragraphs in my story, without the help of alcohol.

    I'll tell you how it goes.
     
  10. Sharky

    Sharky Member

    Re: Yeah, Sharky, YOU ARE.

    All through college I was gearing up to be an intel analyst for Central Intelligence. I'm still on track for that, but I need a master's degree first. That's the hard part.

    And thanks for the compliment. I appreciate it, bud.
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 17, 2007
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