Can’t read my, can’t read my, no, you can’t read my poker face

I don’t even like Lady Gaga.

I don’t wanna say it’s half the battle, but definitely a good chunk of dealing with mental illness is maintaining a poker face. Granted, I’ve become a lot more open about my shit in the last few months and willing to talk to anyone that wants advice or help.. as well as finding out that more people wanna listen to me vent and be there for me than I thought. However, there’s still a few lines I’m not willing to cross. Shocking coming from someone who can tell their father he’s being a dick or telling my boss that my vagina is in severe pain.. but like I said, very few. 

I had a shit fucking day today. I woke up exhausted, threw on the nearest clothes I could find, and attempted to cheer myself up with Christmas music. It didn’t work. I knew it was gonna be that day. I got to work, and it didn’t take very long for me to start wishing there was a gun around. It wasn’t even 9 am before I found 6 reasons to start tearing up. On days like these, I know it’s best to try to hide out at my desk, attempt to type, and just Grace VanderWaal through the day. Unfortunately, I was forced into a lot of human interactions I didn’t have the mental energy for today. 

Back to the poker face. So I’ve managed to hide my “second life” from a lot of people for like 15 years. But when you’ve gotten to where I feel like I am.. where there’s so so few fucks left to give.. I have a hard time forcing that “I’m okay” smile. Work is the hardest because somewhat of a  filter is necessary. I have to work. I have to function. I need to be productive to get anywhere. The last thing I need is to lose my fucking job over this shit. There’s a select coworkers that I can be open with and they recognize those days, which I’m actually very grateful for. I’ll get a “That’s your “I’m lying” response” when they ask me how I am or I’ll get a “Talk to me” text because they see I’m about to cry. 

But then there’s the rest of the office. It’s really uncomfortable to have to give people an attitude, one word answers, and wanna slaughter them for doing nothing other than existing. It’s not really plausible, or a good idea, to tell your boss you wanna kill yourself when they ask why you have an attitude. Suicide doesn’t go over well with people.. especially normal ones. And especially those that sign the paycheck that pays for all your medical expenses that are keeping you on earth. It’s the definition of a double edged sword. I’ve thought seriously about the disability thing. But then I realized that I’d have to default on my student loans, stop therapy, and probably live in the ghetto because they give you like $400 a month to live. So that’s cool. Guess I’ll keep half assing life.

That’s all. I’ll get back to my drink now. Happy Christmas.