Determination, Self-denial and Baseless Conceit

by

Oct 16, 2006

OK, I’m a little drunk right now but it’s taking the edge off my anger so I guess in the grand scheme of things, this is good.

It’s late afternoon on a Sunday - from my window I can see the ships go by. It’s beautiful I suppose but I really can’t be bothered. Right now, it’s all rubbish and if I could break it all to pieces, I would.

It might make me feel better.

In the meantime, I’ve been guzzling Guinness with a vengeance. This will, of course, make me eventually feel worse (and probably sooner than I think) - but right now it’s preventing a homicidal rampage so it’s all good. I know better (especially on these meds) but right now I don’t care.

No, this won’t be another "I’m depressed and surly" column - even though I plainly am both.

I am also resolute.

I am frustrated and angry - not (for once) because I did something stupid, but because I’m working my ass off and other people can’t be bothered to do even a semblance of the jobs they were hired for.

I’ve been working 90+ hours a week (and I don’t get paid for overtime) and have been for close to a year so I suppose it’s fair to say that I’m a bit burned out.

And today, to reward me for my efforts, I got a shitload of attitude from someone who should be, if not grateful, at least respectful of my diligence. What is remarkable is that I took it and didn’t say a word in response.

I started working today at 1:30 a.m. and although I stopped 8 hours later in a fit of temper and disgust, the wheels are still spinning and I would likely have killed something by noon were it not for the intervention of an unflappable friend.

Normally, his detachment irritates the hell out of me but today it was a calming influence (especially given his talent for pretending to agree with me while simultaneously defusing my incandescent rage with his equilibrium). He’s wiser than me - he’s been at this for almost a decade longer than I have and it has blunted his edge (but in a good way - he knows it’s not worth getting agitated about things that will never change). He humours me - what I don’t think he realizes is that I know exactly what he’s doing and why.

It’s just that today I went along with it because it was too much trouble to roar, especially at someone I care about. At least he had the good sense (this time) to refrain from telling me I was "adorable". I would have ripped his head off his shoulders (and part of his wisdom encompasses the realization that no one is better equipped or more likely to do it than I am.)

Here’s the thing: I don’t know where I am, existentially speaking and it’s freaking me out.

I’m in a city I hate, doing work I adore, getting zero appreciation with no job security, I’ve become a footnote in the lives of those I love and all the while I’m spending over $5,000 a month on medication to simply keep myself alive. I’d be making more money if I quit and went on welfare - I have no life, I’m ruining my health and apparently (according to another trusted friend), I’ll never get a date because men find me "scary".

All I have is this battle I’ve embraced as my own. OK, it gets me off more than is probably healthy, but I’m addicted to it. It nourishes me in ways I cannot begin to explain.

As for the male of the species -- fuck ‘em if they don’t get me. So be it. If all 5’5" and 115 pounds of me scares a man I might otherwise find attractive, I don’t want him anyway. I’ll be the first to admit that at least half of that is attitude and the rest is my big mouth. I’ve resigned myself to being single because apparently God doesn’t make brave men anymore but big deal. I’m sure I’ll cope. I exist in a man’s world and I mean to prove that I’m the alpha bitch in this particular kennel.

And as the lady said, I will have one mistress here, and no master.

I do this job because I believe in it. It’s important work (even though my part in it is inconsequential) and I take my duty extremely seriously. I took an oath (literally - you have to sign one when you start) and I intend to stick to it - whether or not I get cooperation is really immaterial.

While I’m putatively making a good wage, I’m spending it all on medication and I’m barely - barely - making ends meet. What paltry suplusage in income I enjoy is being saved for the fall, when I’m scheduled for surgery and will require about weeks off - unpaid - from work. Which is about the time my contract here expires and of course, there are no guarantees that it will be extended. I’m back where I started in the sense that I have to make the daily decision whether I eat or take my meds (and it is literally one or the other).

And I will take nothing I have not earned. The win is worth nothing if it is handed to you or you cheat to get it.

But food is for the weak - so is sleep. In the meantime, there is combat and I live for it. God makes some people conciliators, some diplomats, and others nurturers.

He made me a warrior.

It ain’t pretty and it is excoriating in its loneliness but I cannot change my intrinsic nature any more than a peach tree can bring forth apples. My job in this life is to give voice to those who lack the words to object to being victimized. I believe that. This is not just a job for me: it’s a vocation.

As long as I keep my head on straight and don’t drown in my own ego, I think I can do some good.

The ego bit is quite a struggle and likely not a battle I have any hope of winning. I get distracted and overwhelmed by the bloodlust, consumed by my own importance, caught up in the intellectual labyrinth.

And dear God: I live for the kill.

It’s laughable, really, because in the grand scheme of things, I don’t matter and am easily replaceable. I know this. Luckily, my motives are pure and my boss is All Powerful and will rein me in if I get too extreme. (And I do submit to that particular alpha male, without question - he’s earned it and he definitely knows better than I do.) I respect him - I don’t understand him but that’s not required. He knows what he’s doing and I trust in that.

In the meantime, I can do some damage.

Not that I’m getting much assistance.

Fair enough - I’ll suck all the learning and experience out of the marrow of the bitter bone that is currently lodged in my throat and no matter what happens, I’ll prevail.

Admittedly, this would be easier if I were healthy. I’m physically feeble and weakened - I’m seizing more often that I ever have, but this is just another irrelevant detail that I refuse to acknowledge. No excuses, no time outs, no concessions.

What it all boils down to is this: fuck the critics, fuck the doctors, fuck my own physiology. None of it will stop me. If I am to be defeated, it certainly won’t be via self-sabotage or physical frailty.

God wouldn’t dare.

This is who I am and I defy anyone to take me on. If someone accepts the challenge and steps across the line I’ve drawn in the sand, they’d better make damn sure they kill me because as long as I have breath in my body, I will get up again and will do my best to destroy anything that presumes to thwart me. I’ve never in my life backed down from a fight I considered just and I’m not about to start now.

Holy fuck.

I guess I am pretty scary. If I step back and observe myself dispassionately, I suppose I can’t blame male humanoids for not wanting to curl up to this snarling mess of rage, conceit and antagonism. Well, no matter - I guess I’m going to have to live with it. Alone. Everyone else will either have to get over it or get out of my way.

The weird (and oddly reassuring) thing is - this ain’t the meds. Although violent hostility is listed as a side effect my seizure meds, I was this way before I swallowed the first tablet. Perhaps the chemicals accentuated it but this intensity did not have its genesis in pharmaceuticals.

That being said, this drug induces rage to such an extreme and well-documented extent that its ingestion was used as a successful defence to a charge of first-degree murder in the U.S. It’s freaking me out and I have to be aware of it always - it’s not topamax anymore. That wound up giving me permanent vision loss in my right eye and induced a chain of seizures. This new stuff isn’t giving me reliable seizure control either - though it’s restricting the nature of them. Instead of falling down and breaking bones, I stay conscious while my perception of my environment changes drastically. These days when I seize (and it is becoming a nearly daily event), I first get a far away feeling. Then people’s faces start to melt and I am no longer able to perceive depth or distances - or even tell which way is up. I can still access my cognitive abilities and argue a case, but it is the most bizarre and frightening thing, to all of a sudden be beamed into a Picasso painting. It’s what I imagine a really bad acid trip to be like. I can generally get through it if I sit at the counsel table and don’t try to get up - but I will fall over if I try to walk and bump into things that look like they’re 3 feet away and are actually only 3 inches from me. I’m bruised from head to toe just from trying to get from point A to point B.

I’m tired, overworked, ailing and lonely though I wouldn’t dream of admitting it anywhere but here. And even though I am aware of all of that, it’s not going to stop me.

I’m not presenting myself as a paragon of anything but determination, self-denial and baseless conceit. I’m only here to tell you that despite all the drawbacks, this is still worth it. On most days, I don’t get what I want. Most days I fall flat on my face. Publicly. But every time I fail, I learn. And my resolve to achieve is strengthened.

You’ve been with me for seven years, so listen up. If I give you nothing else, let me give you this.

Depend on yourselves, no matter how lost that can sometimes leave you. Don’t compromise your ideals. Don’t settle for the convenient over your principles. Never sell yourself short. Never surrender. Realize the vastness of your own potential.

Life is not about "finding" yourself - it’s about creating yourself. You make the rules: you come up with the definitions and you can choose to accept no limits.

You can do anything you set your mind to.

Till next time.

Morrigan.