(Quote from Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose)
My mood was down again today, just to serve me right for telling people I thought my meds were working. I phoned my parents and said I was fine because I didn’t want to worry them, or field questions about why I feel down. I feel a bit guilty.
As to why I feel down… well, your guess is as good as mine, but things to choose from are:
- making more mistakes at work;
- worrying that I’m working too slowly at work;
- fear of being told off at work for making mistakes and being slow;
- said mistakes making me feel that I’m not competent at my job and maybe not at any job;
- remembering that I could be unemployed in a month when my contract ends;
- remembering that it’s Pesach (Passover) in less than a month, with attendant stress, work and possibly OCD;
- having thoughts that I worried were the return of non-Pesach pure O/OCD and struggling against them;
- remembering my therapist wanting me to tell the assistant rabbi of my shul (synagogue) about my worries about not fitting in to the community because I’m too ‘modern’ and geeky later in the week;
- everyone I know getting married;
- the assistant rabbi of my parents’ shul not getting back to me with the name of the shadchan (matchmaker), making me wonder if there hasn’t been some misunderstanding and he and his wife didn’t have the name of a shadchan for me after all (there was some talk of helping me with my confidence (as if that’s the main reason I’m unmarried) and I wonder if that was the name they were going to give me);
- the new temp at the library where I work starting tomorrow;
- remembering being told repeatedly over the years that I should marry someone significantly less frum (religious) than myself and pondering this, even though I know it’s not right for me and even though the non-frum women (okay, woman) I’ve liked have never liked me (or possibly were scared off by my frumkeit) and my only real relationship failed when (among other things) my ex started to become less religious and the existing gaps between us became unmanageable;
- the fear that my book will never get published;
- the return of my negative self-talk;
- feeling very autistic in that other people just seem to like talking, without thinking whether the people they are speaking to are interested or even upset by what is being said. The newspapers are just as bad as people here;
- all of the above;
- none of the above, which is possibly the scariest, because it suggests my moods swing completely independently of external stimuli.
At school we used to get marked a lot (excessively, some would say), so I always knew where I stood, what I was doing OK and what I needed to work on. But life doesn’t get marked, so I don’t know how I’m doing with my job or my friendships and other relationships (community, dating) or my religious life or my personal growth… it’s very confusing to someone who likes clear rules and instructions (autism again).