But Clouds Get in My Way

At work we are looking at getting a system which will improve our budgeting, forecasting and planning.

Our current method has a lot going for it, we just think up figures out of our heads. For simplicity and speed it can’t be beaten. The new system, though, will place more emphasis on accuracy, and apparently management think this is more important.

Anyway, the man who’s going to implement it came in yesterday, and we spend the whole day with him, GoldenEyes, the boss and myself, explaining to him what happens at the moment, what reports we use, how we arrive at forecasts and actual results, what we’d like to see.

I had to get involved a lot. I listened to what the guy suggested. I had to explain in detail what we do now, sometimes showing stuff on a computer screen, sometimes giving long explanations. At one stage I found I had stood and was actually walking around the room while I was talking, hands moving like a charades-player trying to describe Jessica Rabbit. We talked about what could be done, argued about what we wanted. I made people laugh sometimes, and others made me laugh. It was intense and absorbing, the kind of day that makes you feel that you really are an important part of what goes on in the company.

And of course it all happened in a haze, slightly far away.

It’s on days like this that I suddenly realise how strong my derealisation is. At one point I was talking quite animatedly about something, when I happened to look straight at my boss, carefully listening to what I was saying, and I suddenly felt a brief flash of reality, suddenly realised that I was the centre of attention in an important business meeting, and it had all been happening on auto-pilot. I faltered for a second, as if I’d forgotten what I was saying, then just ploughed back on.

It’s been more than three years now, and I’m really pissed off. Compared to the depression days, the breakdown days, the heart problem days, the sleep deprived days, I’m so much better, so most of the time I’m quite grateful and content. Then a day like yesterday happens and it brings home how abnormal it all is. And once it brings it home, then the realisation of derealisation stays for a few days. This morning a great friend at work was telling me something that had happened to her and I felt a deep sadness that I had almost to try and consciously focus on the fact that she was talking, to me, right there and then, and that what she was telling me was real, and important to her.

Great days, tough days, fun events, deep conversations, sad stories, all barely discernible through the mist. I have three children – me, still a child in my own mind, have three wonderful people in my life who look up to me and adore me, and I can’t fully feel how astounding that is.

I’m sorry, I’m sure when you read the first two paragraphs you had no idea of the tone-detour this post was going to take. I just felt that I needed to vent, and I knew that as always you’d all listen, and care.

Thank you all as always. Normal rubbish will resume tomorrow.

8 thoughts on “But Clouds Get in My Way

  1. rummuser

    “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”
    – Thoreau

    Reply
  2. jmg

    oh tman you’re such a girl, tender hearted. This my theory depression with heart disease is not like other depression. When an animal feels its dying it goes off and hides, disassociates. Your heart like mine has damage that would have been fatal the machine goes around it but it doesnt change it, so your being I figure is still saying you are dying go hide away. Hence the hollow feeling. I put a lot of this stuff on the machine but the body knows stuff and responds to things we dont even imagine. Don Juan calls us luminous beings we are made of energy. I figure the major rerouting of the wiring has effects that are disturbing and depressing. But I am trying with about 5% success to think of this whole shit in a positive light. Which is up from minus 50 frozen solid. By the way did they test you for lyme disease, you have deer over there do you ever remember a circular mark, like a ring worm mark. anyway you make me laugh at times when I have no laugh left. I sing the Adams family song to myself do what you want to do, go where you want to go be who you want to be say what you want to say etc. we dont want to take responsibly but we have to.

    Reply
  3. Jo

    It’s frustrating there’s no easier path back out of the fog you wandered into.

    I think a lot of our emotional issues are coping mechanisms that made sense at the time we adopted them, but when they cease to be useful, we’re stuck wit h them and they become counter productive.

    Hypnotherapy?

    Reply
  4. Tinman Post author

    Damn, I wrote replies to each of the three of you, which I know I’m very bad at, then the bloody internet crashed and they’re all gone. It’d be depressing if I weren’t depressed.
    rummuser, I remember reading Thoreau back at college, and while I loved him I remember think in my carefree student way that he had a very negative view of the human condition. Bet he’s laughing at me now.
    jmg, the dying animal idea is interesting. I suppose we don’t fully realise how badly the whole heart thing affected us mentally – I kept making jokes about the whole thing and never consciously thought that I’d die, but who knows how I was really feeling deep inside.
    And Jo, I think you’re right, I think this was a coping mechanism that won’t go away, even though the thing I had to cope with has. I have thought about hypnotherapy, though I’m a bit scared, but if things don’t change soon I’ll try anything.

    Reply
  5. laughykate

    Arse, Tinman. I’m sorry for you. I know it sounds hopelessly Pollyanna of me, and doesn’t make your situation any better, but stop for a moment and instead of looking ahead of you and seeing how high you have to climb, look back and see how high you’ve already climbed.

    Reply

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