I hate those Cymbalta commercials - probably because they’re true. There are physical and physiological effects. It hurts everywhere - in the non-physical realm of the mind, and everywhere else to boot. Look - they even provide a picture you can take to your doctor. How helpful.

Physical = pain, nausea
Physiological = insomnia, loss of appetite

I’m not in a good way right now. Aside from the omelette I had on Saturday, I’ve been living off of one soup a day for the past three days since I have no appetite; nothing seems “right.” I don’t feel well — I feel nauseated and dizzy and feverish and stiff. Anytime I start talking to someone, my eyes start welling up because, much like Old Faithful, I could gush at any minute.

Today, I left work at 2:30 because the closer it got to 3:00 (the time of our holiday party) the more and more ill I was feeling… just this sickening deep dread or anticipation of nothing in particular coupled with nausea… the idea of having to be social just made me want to cry. The worst part is that I LIKE the people I work with and, if I were normal instead of some sort of f***ing freak, I would have had a good time. But I couldn’t even think about it… I felt the need to get out… and just be by myself. This means I also missed the company holiday party in NYC. That was just an overwhelming thought; having to mingle among hundreds of people, trying to talk over loud music; feeling sick to my stomach the whole time; feeling self-conscious and awkward and ugly; wanting nothing more than to go hide out in the restroom and stay there all night like it was a middle school dance (though I never attended any for this very reason). I would’ve kept myself from having a good time… no fault of anyone I work with, just my messed up brain.

At least I know it wasn’t a panic attack since I didn’t feel any sort of “need for flight” and managed to stick it out until 2:30 without going sweaty and cold - I just wanted to get away SO I could be by myself. Means to an end.

I cried in the car the minute I closed the door. I cried the entire ride home. I started getting hysterical and hyperventilating so I took the nearest familiar and sat in a Michael’s (craft store) parking lot, bawling like a bad actress in a Lifetime movie.

Then I stopped home, cried some more, splashed cold water on my face and then went to buy milk (since my mom asked me to), went to the post office to send Christmas cards to family and friends in Poland, and then got one of the last two Christmas presents I need to buy. I’m getting the other one either tomorrow night or Thursday morning.

Perhaps I should be concerned that only the concept of responsibility - HAVING to go to work, HAVING to bring in party supplies since I promised, HAVING to buy milk, HAVING to go to the post office - can get me to do anything. My overdeveloped sense of responsibility is the only thing that provides me with the impetus to get my ass out of bed in the morning… I know that people are depending on me and that I can’t let them down. Letting them down leads to guilt which leads to increased depression, feelings of worthlessness and insomnia.

The flip side is that if people depend on me too much (see also: familial relations) I deeply resent that responsibility because I didn’t choose it.

But I guess that’s pretty universal. The things we don’t choose to “own” (in the business jargon) or which are unexpected are inevitably the ones we hate the most. See also: Office Space, “I wasn’t even supposed to BE here today.”

We humans like our freedom of choice, or at least what passes for it.