For my Friend, Who's Bored at Work

I'm not sure reading this will help your boredom, but at least it might kill 5 minutes of your time. I'm so proud of you for working at an 8-5 job. I've come to realize that I do not have the patience for it and that really makes me upset at myself. I don't even have the patience for a 4 hour/day job! Guess I'll never be a productive member of society. What can I offer? In my greatest hopes, maybe a book or two that might never get published or read widely. I can't say they won't be read at all, however, because I do have friends and family who I would force to read them. Hopefully at the very least they would read them out of a sense of obligation, otherwise I'd have to use Chinese torture methods. Those are never fun.

Yesterday, I came up with the conclusion that I might be happier if I'd quit thinking so much. Then I started thinking about how not to think. You see where I'm going with this. Think, think, think. The voices in my head never shut the hell up! They're always pondering, nagging, praising, chastising, encouraging, discouraging, soft-spoken, screaming, and so on and so forth. I tried hypnotizing myself but that was the biggest mistake ever. I've tried meditation but that didn't work. Maybe I'm just not doing it right...

I could see a therapist but there's really no way they are going to tell me something I don't already know. I'm sure a lot of people think that before they go to therapists, only to discover that they were wrong and that people on the outside can see things that they cannot. But I KNOW that he/she will only see less than what is there. And they'll give me some antidepressants that do absolutely nothing for me except make me wonder why they're not working, which makes me only worry more about my mental instability. And not to mention that these get costly and I have no insurance.

I did talk to a therapist, once. I think I was about 18 or 19. It was before I got married for the first time, anyway, but I was dating my soon-to-be future ex-husband. We had been arguing, as we always did, and though this time was nothing new or special, it caused me to have a bit of a breakdown. I mean, I really flipped out on him, my mom, and every other poor soul who happened to be in the line of fire, so to speak. I just took off running as fast as I could out my mom's back door and into the woods. When they found me, later, I was naked and trying to build a tree house. Nah, I'm joking about that. Fact is I never made it to the woods because my ex was faster than me and caught me before I could make my great escape. That was my first panic attack and it sucked, royally.

Let me describe a panic attack for those who have never had one. First you feel like you can't breathe and each breath seems to be pointless. You tell yourself not to panic because it will only make it worse, which of course makes you panic more. It really feels like something you will not survive. Then after about a minute or two (feels like 30) you are back to normal. Whatever that is. Basically, it's an un-fun experience that you would only wish on your worst loved one.

Well, I hope this has been as interesting for you as it has been for me!