Easy set up aside, I’m not trying to be funny at the moment. Over the last few days, and dealing with the clown of a handyman who has for the lack of better term, fucked me, I haven’t been dealing with the frustration over it very well, and it’s bleeding out in various capacities. As detailed, I got my glasses broken from negligence, and there have been other instances where I’ve made some careless errors that were fortunately nothing too bad other than aggravation.
But yesterday, since I’ve decided to take it upon myself to fix the fuck ups of my shit handyman, I had an incident where I nicked my ring fingertip with my belt sander; no, it’s nothing severe, but some blood was drawn, and it was in a terribly inconvenient place that made typing competently near impossible until I procured some appropriate fingertip Band Aids, which is how I’m back at the keys writing this right now. You never realize how much a single finger comes into play with an assortment of daily activities until it’s put on injured reserve.
In all honesty, the meme above, about the try not to cry, but then cry a lot? That’s kind of how I’ve felt on and off throughout this past week, and I’m feeling very mentally vulnerable right now. I’m not sure if this is just extremely poor stress management, perhaps this is quarantining cabin fever manifesting in emotional instability? Maybe it’s the anxiety of knowing I feel like the first three weeks of my paternity leave has vanished in the blink of an eye and now I’m on the downward slope of going back to work sooner rather than later. My dog is also acting a little strange, which isn’t helping, because I already feel like a shitty enough neglectful owner because baby comes ahead of everything, but at least he’s getting his meals and routine bathroom breaks and not locked in his crate eight hours a day like when I was in the office.
Or maybe it’s all of the above, and it’s an amalgamation of factors leading me to feeling like maybe I need some professional help to help me make sense of why I’m in such a mentally turrible state lately.
And no matter how much I talk to myself about how I really shouldn’t be in this much of a funk, here I am. I have my health, I have a stable job, in spite of some recent angst about it, I have a beautiful and loving wife who supports everything about me, and I’ve got the most gorgeous and precious kid that I have the utmost luxury to be taking care of every single day right now. Frankly, even I don’t think I should be feeling so volatile given these facts, but I just can’t shake it right now.
I’m hoping that once I get my property back in order, I’ll feel better about things, as the visual results of having been fucked will be behind me. But if that doesn’t work, I think I may explore what my options are, and/or see if my insurance can be of any help at all in this. Who really knows what’s going to happen in the future, but I’ve never been one against the idea of therapy, but I’ve always felt like I just didn’t need it, but if things can’t seem to get better through all of the channels that I’ve been using throughout my life so far, perhaps some professional help might not be a bad idea.
I owe it to my wife, child and rest of my family and friends to be the best I can be, and not be so wrecked by stupid shit. Maybe a good cry is what I really do need, like in Fight Club. Would probably be a lot cheaper than therapy!