the trick is to keep breathing

no, this is not the post about job search depression. not yet.

I participate in Get Your Words Out every year as something that motivates me to make words, much like NaNoWriMo -- it isn't necessarily about "winning" either, but it's about having a reason to track words, which then becomes having a reason to write. In 2020 or 2021, I forget which, I managed to write somewhere near 350,000 words. What a fuckin' banger. A lot of it was Old Vines, and some of it was work words, and all of it was fun as hell.

The thing I noticed at the end of the year, however, was that my writing was just inconsistent -- I was carrying myself towards that goal with days where I wrote 5000, 7000 words in one day, and then not writing for the next 4 days in a row. So if I could get my ASS to the COMPUTER to do the THING, i usually could get a significant number of words done. So let's focus on that, sez my brain, and we'll be a super-writer.

2022 Sev said well, hey, there's a habit pledge for GYWO, so: I took it, with the rather extreme idea of writing 240 days out of the year. that's like 4-5 days a week. But hey! It isn't wordcount! Although I still fucking decided I was going to try to write 300,000 words. just 300K. Not 350K. lol. I'm stupid.

Then at the beginning of 2022 I lost my content writing job - more like, they hired someone full-time and let all the contractors go without warning, yes, I'm still mad - and therefore lost one of the major impetus for me actually sitting down at the computer to write. Plus, I'd been counting work words as part of the yearly target -- which I think is fuckin fair when you write for a living, yeah?, so.

And then as I realized other work had also dried up and I was going to have to start major job hunting - and then the experience of that job hunting - there was a depression zone where I absolutely dried up on words. Like, nearly completely. Most of my WIPs just kind of hung in space, and I had to start an entirely new Good Omens fic (forth the fifth) to have anything going on, and THEN it was only a super-hyperfixation on Detroit: Become Human that really pulled me out of the wordslump and back into writing things. Getting back to the WIPs has been challenging.

And with my new job, there aren't wordcounts I can tally towards anything -- I'm writing and editing at the same time, and sometimes working on things like how the fuck do we cite this and a surprising amount of meetings, and the moral of this story is that I'm unlikely to make either my formal or informal GYWO target this year -- which again, I don't do it for the win, but boy howdy did I misjudge this year.

And what have I learnt about my writing process this year? Since that was the entire point of trying a new target and a new approach? Well, fuck, I'm not sure I've learnt anything, except that it's more fun to write when people are directly cheering you on, which isn't anything new. As of today I've written about 150K, and 135 days out of the year. I am 69 days behind where I should be and there are like. Idk. 70 days left in the year? So obviously I'm not gonna make it lol.

Anyway this has been a long ramble about things that are only important in my head, with no real conclusion. Clearly I am a professional! And I need to get back to actual work!

Stay tuned for NaNoWriMo, where I try to get my 3 FTH fics out in a month while still updating at least 3 WIPs! oh my god, why am i like this? I'm so stupid?

Talk to me about your 2022 writing (or creating in general, if you're a creator but not a writer!). How did you do. How dumb am I. It is a mystery!

What the actual fuCK is insurance these days

So I’ve been off of Cymbalta for what is now 14 days. I’m absolutely not ONLY feeling the lack of the drug in my current all-over State Of The Union, but I’m ABSOLUTELY going through withdrawal now which let me tell you for duloxetine is absolutely fantastic. Have a story.

• about 4/10 realize I’m running out. Play happy phone tag w my rheumatologist (they always want me to come in for an appt before they will prescribe anything; i kindly ask them to check my records where it says I’m immunocompromised).
• 4/17 Dr office finally agrees to call in a 90 day refill and will do another one when i get an appt any time during those 90 days.
• me: waits expectantly.
• last week: no drugs, no notification of new prescription, no nothing. I call the dr office. They submitted it to Express Scripts on 4/17.
• call ES. They have absolutely nothing on record for me more recent than a 2016 script.
• realize my other prescriptions have been filled through CVS Caremark.
• call Caremark. They have the other prescriptions but nothing for Cymbalta.
• call my Dr. They won’t submit another script even though ES has nothing on file. They tell me to call Caremark and have them contact ES to get the script.
• call Caremark / Carefirst / whatever it is. I discover that the other prescriptions were run up through my old Bridgestone COBRA insurance.
• I spend 2 hours on the phone bouncing between 7 different people trying to explain the situation.
• Apparently there is a special team that is supposed to handle my current insurance plan, but as I am transferred around, I apparently haven’t talked to anyone from that fucking team yet.
• I eventually manage to find someone who can transfer all of my recent refills OFF the COBRA and ONTO my carefirst insurance.
• I’m then tossed through three other people before I find someone who can tackle the missing duloxetine.
• turns out CVS/Caremark does NOT call out so they will NOT contact ES to look for the script.
• They recommend that I ask the doctor to submit the refill to a local CVS so that i can get the drugs sooner.
• i start laughing uncontrollably and remind them that the dr has already submitted a prescription and has absolutely refused to submit another, that the office is waiting for some insurance to make the request.

At this point, mind you: The dr has submitted a refill request and therefore won’t initiate anything. ES has not received anything on file for me at all, and therefore can’t do anything for me. CM will not contact ES. My literal only option here is for CM to contact the Dr for a new refill script and just PRAYING that the Dr will mcfuckin fill it.

• I finally - finally - land someone willing to take down the information and request a 90 day refill (through the mail service, because that’s the ONLY way i can have the request initiate from CM, since my dr won’t initiate and ES can’t) from my goddamned dr office.
• they recommend i call the Dr office and explain what’s happening so that they don’t reject the refill request.
• fuck
• the dr office doesn’t really seem to understand what I’m saying. They have me schedule an appointment and they’ll ask the Dr if they can submit another request to CM. I’m desperately trying to explain that CM is going to send a request just like please just make it go through and don’t complicate this any more.
• i am transferred to scheduling, where I sit and let the phone ring repeatedly for 15 minutes before I hang up and call back. The phone lines take a lunch break from 11:30-13:00. They were just going to let me sit there for an hour and a half i guess?????

HOW is this the way things are SUPPOSED to work? (Spoiler, it isn’t; I’m american, i get it.) just. Like. I HAVE BEEN ON CYMBALTA FOR OVER SIX YEARS. This isn’t some new medication everybody has to be woo-boo careful about. This is a fucking maintenance drug I’ve taken for a big portion of my adult life.

And I’ve been off it for two weeks. I hurt. My brain is dumb. I’m fucking exhausted. And I’ve wasted all morning on this. I’m so frustrated I want to cry and punch things.

what the FUCK.

Reasoning:

1. I make amazing money for my age and I should take advantage of that
2. I am in a good position: owning a house already, partnered but legally single, no dependents
3. I need my goddamn health insurance so cannot quit
4. I don't completely loathe what I do yet (it's more like a bipolar disorder relationship).

Plan:

• live well but frugally for the next 15 years
• enjoy the shit out of the next 15 years well but responsibly
• take good care of self and health
• pay off house
• save well
• retire at 50.
• become actual hermit
• spend rest of life writing and giving the world the middle finger
• become millionaire
• replace body with wheels
• profit

15 more years at my job gives me the new plant I want - covers everything from engineering to actually flipping the switch to development projects - as well as turnover to build a dynasty (not that I am arrogant BUT I AM but really it's to protect the years invested in the place): I'd literally hit the peak of my career then leave. and, if I work it right, lots of company buffing of my 401k.

50 will be a bit old on my poor broken body, but it's still an age you can do most things: travel, hobbies, open a bar with your friends, etc

The counter-thought is "take your break now" but I'm not in any kind of position health-wise to do so: need insurance, so need (a) job; this job has good/decent insurance; not good at traveling right now; too much house debt to really call off the paychecks. Trust me, it's tempting to toss everything and run to the woods, but it isn't a good place.

But working towards something makes the working seem slightly more palatable

1^0 edit I FORGOT TO MENTION what I want to do with my millions: I want to be a patron of the arts and sciences.

One of the things that sticks out in my memory from my Germany trip - touring an old palace - it's so weird that this was significant - but I was doing the headphones tour of Queen Sophie's palace and there was so much discussion about how royalty and the well-off were patrons -- of arts, sciences, literature, voyages, anything they wanted. It is this weird mindset - and ok I know that historical context etc life was NOT A MAGICAL BETTER BACK IN THAT CENTURY - but in our evolution to what we are now we have really and truly lost that spirit? Rich people don't go and support artists they personally think are cool anymore, or host salons for neat artists to get together, or sponsor someone to write a symphony or a novel, and --- there's something about that concept that really appeals to me.

So after my job and my novels and my millions, I plan to become a patron of the arts and sciences. If you can wait 15 years, you all get first dibs.

2^0 edit im not even drunk guys, seriously

So I've been reading about stress management, and one of the things I've seen recommended a couple times is to keep a journal. I assume it's along the same lines as let it alllll out kind of thing, which often causes more problems for me than it solves -- much like the whole "talk to someone" thing; it doesn't work for me because while talking to someone about an issue may make me feel slightly better about that one issue, that gain is utterly and completely negated by the hassle involved in telling someone about my shit: background on the situation, background on me, background on my brain, what's bothering me, why it's bothering me, what I don't want to hear, what I meant because the first explanation of something is guaranteed to be shit; plus the neverending hassle of that person then, continually, and without fail, asking me, "so how is [issue]?" at a future date, which frustrates me so much that it literally undoes any small good I may have gained from the conversation in the first place: I don't talk to people because it doesn't help me, and that isn't because I think I'm some special snowflake and no one will understand my problems; it's because it quite literally on paper does not help me.

But! Despite the derail! Keeping a journal is supposed to be helpful, and luckily I already have a journal of sorts I use for this kind of thing, so here we go. I will probably be slow with replying to comments, because it's occasionally difficult to keep up with them via mobile, but please officially note that I read them and appreciate them.

SO today sucked. I could start off every day like that: Dear Diary, Today sucked nasty fermented goat balls. Gundam Wing was good today.

At one of the management trainings I was at recently, we went over some of those "life tips" they give you in classes like that. I've decided to give a trial run to one of them: do three things every day. It appealed to me: three things is enough that you're making progress, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed. Just pick three things and do them. I figured I would start with work: Three things every day. On busy days I can pick three easy ones; on days I have no meetings I can try for one longer one. But three things a day, of my own, off of my own to-do list. Should be manageable, right?

I can hear you laughing. Shut up.

Today I came in and the first thing I did was pick three things: Finish slides for a training I have to give Thursday; print out training sheets for about 5 outstanding MOCs; compile a brief incident review on the last month that I also have to give Thursday. None of these are quite extensive.

I worked on my slides for approximately 7 minutes throughout the course of the day.

I started alright, but of course I've been out of the office for a while, so once I'm back everyone has to come in: how was the baby (cute), how was babysitting (exhausting), how was the weekend (fuck off), let me tell you this thing I did (fuck off), this happened last week (kindly fuck off), I did this thing (unkindly fuck off), did you get my email about (fuck right off with a british accent), I left you a note but (go fuck a rhino) -- you get the picture.

Had a meeting at 9:00am. Blew the entire rest of the day. Something exploded in the middle of the meeting, when E just exploded at Golem and the whole thing devolved into this weird yelling-and-cussing bit where they both snapped at each other (using stronger language than I've ever heard from E in all my days there) and then E calmly told Golem to fuck off, stood up, and walked out.

Because E is my Starbucks-and-texting friend, and because Golem is my eidolon team friend, and because this project directly affects my department, not their shit, so if something gets fucked I get directly fucked, I then spent the rest of the morning attempting to fix this shit. I took E into an abandoned conference room, let her rant, listened to what she was saying, and made sure I was picking it up right. That of course got invaded by L and L's boss, which threatened to devolve into a general wank-n-whine about this stupid godforsaken software system at which point I said nope nope noooope this ain't my problem, kindly fuck off and left to talk to Golem, who I got calmed down right in time for my 10:30 meeting on Running Chemicals In The Pilot Plant That We Aren't Electrically Classified To Run: An Exercise In Horribly Stressful Operation, By Me (Introduction written by Fuck Previous Management In This Plant And Their Complete Lack Of Oversight And Shits To Give).

Ran out for Starbucks and a Wendy's salad at 12 with E. Spent more time resolving the fight after lunch, in addition to having to deal with the fact that one of our monomer feeds is having a grand old time self-polymerizing and plugging up everything it finds up to and including an entire process area (joy; cue trumpets), and went right into the meeting I was running from 2-2:30 on the results of the alarm management workshop I did when I was in Midgar -- meeting #3 of a 4-part series -- which just infuriated me because no one understands the goddamn ANSI atandard, like, not that nobody understands the language, nobody understands why we want to align ourselves with an industry standard????????????? and they all keep insisting that the old system will be able to handle it, which is like telling someone that Internet Explorer 5.0 will be able to do your web browsing for you.

So that whole meeting got me riled up and went way over - despite the presence of my boss Bahamut, who claimed he was only trying to help - and fed right into the 3:30 meeting which was on a project for improving finishing that I desperately want and have been begging for but at that point had like 0.27 fucks left to deal with.

4:30. Out of meeting. Caught twice on my way down the hall. Sit down. Write up the follow-up minutes/record from the 10:30 meeting and send them out. Write up follow-up notes from the conversations I've had regarding the 9:00am shitshow and send that out. 5:45pm. I can finally start my workday.

5:48pm one of my second shift operators shows up in my office. I had asked for him to come down, because I'm promoting two of them this year (because fuck they deserve it), so I gave him the papers and congratulated him and we chatted a bit about the year and everything and then it's 6:20pm so I decide I am just going to go home

--and Golem catches me with a question as I'm passing his office, the conversation devolves into work shit we actually have to take care of, and suddenly it's 7:15pm.

My normal work hours are 8:00am-4:30, 4:45-5:00 if I have a long lunch.

I was home and changed and making dinner by 8:00pm. Watched one episode of RPDR, drank a glass of wine, and that's it.

This is how days go in this job though. Out of the 3 things I wanted to accomplish today? Ha. And that doesn't even consider 3 things at home, as well. This is an average day in my job.

I'm so tired. I'm so, so, so tired.

[EDIT] THE WORST PART OF ALL OF THIS is that I look back and there's this sick satisfied part of me that knows I was super effective today and that I, personally, just being me, made shit better by dealing with this bullshit today, and so there's like this load of angry exhaustion and then this tiny little shit candle of fuck yeah and that, my friends, is what keeps me from walking out the door and never coming back