Truths

Blood Shall Be Shed

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Revelations galore this week, son.

Hardcore, motherfucker.

Wiggity, wiggity, wiggity wack! Don’t do crack!

I needed a non-generic introduction because my brain is non-generic and I’ll get bored of myself if I don’t act ridiculous. 

Could you all imagine me in a business position (without my social anxiety)? I mean, let’s all think about that for a minute. Think about my severe distaste for power-hungry, self-centered authoritarians (of which I could actually be the more I think about it), the majority of Act Utilitarianism, and zombie submission in the workforce today. Think about my atrocious mouth and unconventional (perhaps somewhat Gestalt) ways of handling situations. Think about my humor.

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I’ve already told you all that I would be the psychiatrist listening to the old Snoop Dogg in an easy leather recliner chair with a joint in the corner of my mouth. I’d speak in Ebonics, put up a middle finger to insurance companies and their demand that I diagnosis my clients and prescribe medication even if they prefer not to go down that route (I’d do it for whoever I felt needed it or whoever wanted it of course), and I wouldn’t be scared to write “fuck your shit son, 420 blaze it” on paperwork I felt dehumanized the actual act of therapy or the field of psychology.

Still not convinced psychiatrists should also perform therapy with their clients? Well, let’s get you off mars and back on Earth. Read this here. I’d love to heard valid arguments against it. Honestly, I would, that’s not sarcasm or passive aggressive wording.

All my clients will love me. Especially the teenagers.

Now, I’ll make sure to erase this post in case any future universities/ psych-employers search for dirt on me to tell on me to the board and get my license revoked. I have a feeling there will be a lot of people wishing to do that do me.

For those of you who actually think I’d sit in my office and smoke weed as a professional, shame on you and your inability to read into my idiotic sarcasm.

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My problem with the world if business if their expectancy for a “yes man” mentality without giving anything in return. There is no humanity left in corporate conduct these days. That’s why I’m thankful the department I work for, the finance/cash department has managers kind enough to pull us new people into their office a couple times every few weeks to ask “how are you feeling? Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable? Anything you need to talk about?”

Now, whether my social anxiety has allowed me the freedom to fully embrace their kindness is a different story. I still need to request I keep my part-time hours through the summer and inquire about switching to the night shift.

Working this position in a field that is literally the exact opposite of what I want to go into has made me search up volunteer positions related to the field I do want to go into. There aren’t many, but there are a few related to social work I’d like to  get involved in.

This could be the good mood speaking, it really good. I do that often: feel great, expect the greatness to continue, and then get myself into situations I crumble under.

1ebrgs73gd5re6t37ugj0un78-299x299x1And that could just be me jinxing myself. I do that as well, I’ve realized. The thing about depression and the mindset of someone with depression is that we’re always finding reasons why we suck, why we can’t do anything right, and using those reasons as justification to why we shouldn’t do something. Anxiety causes that as well, but I think the depressive mindstate has a little more influence in that.

I never volunteered for anything or applied to jobs because I was convinced my social anxiety would prevent me from living up to my expectations and everyone else’s expectations. Now that I’m back in the working world for the second time in a position that I would never dream of being able to handle . . . and to see that I’m handling it, regardless of daily anxiety, regardless of the fact that no one else seems to recognize this huge accomplishment, makes me believe I really have been lying to myself all these years.

It’s very easy for someone else to tell you “oh, you can do it”. It’s a lot harder and a lot more effective if you get out and show yourself you can do it. 

It doesn’t mean I’m not terrified. I still worry if people like me. I worry if I’m too quiet or if I seem shifty or strange or odd. I still need constant reassurance on whether I’m doing a procedure right or not (although I’m trying to hide it) and I’m still trying to push myself to communicate more with co-workers and establish a business relationship.

Deep down I’m not this kind of person. My anxiety makes it seem as if I care but I really don’t.

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I’m the creative type. I use jobs and tasks where repetition is required so I can think about other things–you know, kind of like Einstein and his Postal work. So I don’t care to move up into positions. I don’t care how good it would look on my resume. I have a mind that can take me wherever I want regardless of references or “amazing accomplishments“.

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But, because the world is always looking for a reason for you to kiss its ass, I realize those kinds of positions and resumes can also help you get places. Therefore I intend to get that experience through volunteering in subjects I care about. Like social work. Like tutoring adults in English, Math, and Technology.

Some of them worry me, like the positions that force you to be in charge of people.

Which sounds contradictory given the fact that I love to be in charge of people. In a good way.

Not a narcissistic way.

I hope.

I can’t make this clearer: my anxiety thinks and feels one way, I think and feel another way. I love helping people, and I love guiding them down a path and providing them with good resources but doing it face to face? My anxiety says aw hell to the no. 

I say aw hell to the yes.

Tune in next time to see who’s won this battle. Should be a bloodbath.

About AlishiaDee (372 Articles)
Alishia D. is a blogger, a beginning novelist, and a counselor at 2nd Story Peer Respite house where diagnostic labels and the culture of mental health is long forgotten. She's a mental health peer who has bounced through as many labels as she has doctors, and enjoys being sarcastic when she can. She also hates writing in 3rd person.

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