Okay, so your uncle has a condition. I"m sorry to hear that.
But, honestly, when I describe what it"s like to slip into a depression so deep that I go from capable of quantum mechanics to unable to accomplish the most chimply of simplistic, menial tasks, how much of it will FoH understand and how much will lead to more flaming or bullshit? Seriously.
What people call "emo" is worthy of dubious attitude because it"s a weak mind or a choice, but what about when your brain decides that it"s misery time and draws you involuntarily into a pit so deep that you can hardly stand to think? What about when it"s involuntary? What about when it happens over and over and over on a nearly predictable and steady loop?
What about when the counterbalance to that are moods of such elation that you speak too quickly for anyone to comprehend and move like a squirrel on a caffeine binge? What about when the only fucking jobs in your area are service jobs that don"t manage to pay the bills, and on these days when every little utterance from your brain slips from your mouth without time for a filter, you find yourself telling your boss who didn"t even graduate high school (I swear to God, that"s ALL management around here) what a backwards, drooling, ignorant, lazy, simple-minded retard they really are?
I"m not on SSA for being unable to GET a job, nor for an inability to work. I can not KEEP a job because it"s inevitable that between my days as Eeyore and my days as Chippy the Chipper Smartass, I WILL be fired, guaranteed. Customers LOVE to deal with both, after all.
This isn"t even taking my general mistrust for human beings, my general hatred of the general public, my constant need to have my guard up, nor my social inadequacies a"la "assburgers" into account.
I know what you"re thinking. Work alone. Work for myself. Well, when you"re joined at the hip with an area whose residents have a collective IQ roughly equivalent to the natural log of the number of calories their lard asses absorbed that day, it"s hard to find work that allows more independence in your tasks than that granted to your average five year old in kindergarten.
Why am I joined at the hip with the podunk place? Well, partly bad luck and partly bad decisions, but I can not say that I regret any of my three children as I love them more than anything in the world.
So, that leaves working for myself. With enough time drawing MY FUCKING MONEY, I should be able to accomplish that and start to put back into the system what I took out. I"m working toward it. I"m taking steps. I always push myself one step further than my therapist suggests, and I am opti-fucking-mistic.
And until you stand behind a counter unable to fucking move because you"re fighting an urge to take your customer"s purchase and stab yourself in the jugular with it or stand staring blankly at a wall of colorful products of assorted shapes utterly unable to process the nuclear bomb of sensory data your average business maintains at a volume roughly near that of a three story speaker because your white matter-riddled brain won"t allow it, I wouldn"t expect you to understand. Nor anyone else without years of schooling and hours of the right tests.
BUT I have pride somehow after 30 years of this life, and I AM fucking working to come off this shit. So, if it doesn"t happen fast enough for anyone here or anywhere else for that matter, then welcome to the wide world of I don"t give a fuck.
Not being rude in this or my other posts in this thread. FoH rocks. I"m just being blunt and honest. It"s called heterophenomenology. Not everyone in this world experiences it the same way that you do, and if you don"t understand that, it"s okay. It"s not your job to and you don"t have to.
