On Coming from a Strong Line of Lunatics

It's past 1 AM, my brain feels like a bowl of Jell-O, and my stomach tells me I should order pizza. I woke up yesterday feeling like Hodor died on my chest while the Lannister army sacks my intracranial cavity. At this point, exhausted is a colossal understatement and I can't go around Facebook posting "feeling tired" like a pansy. I guess I just need a break from it all.

I'm doing this right now in the name of catharsis (one of my favorite words of all time). Shit just got real recently and by that I mean inside my head.

I take pride in having a psyche with low center of gravity. Because of that, I have little to no trouble keeping my demons at bay. A small number of things to nothing ever gets to me. I guess it's the years of practice through bad experiences that have kept me from letting my head sink like a coin tossed in water. I was unsinkable. Until now.

I've been employed for a year and three months now. Since getting hired, I've gotten two promotions and the favor of most of my bosses up to the highest of them in the span hierarchy. My colleagues tell me I'm one of the best they've ever worked with. Some of them even look up to me. I'm so frickin' great that one of our big bosses dropped my name in one of his emails to our managers asking me to perform a miracle and turn the tables for our account's quality. My immediate supervisor told me, "You showed him what you're capable of and now he knows it. That's why he asked this of you." Upfront I was like, "Sure, no problem. Tell me their weak points and I'll send them right back to battle bulletproof." At the back of my mind, I'm melting like ice under direct sunlight.

Right now, I'm tasked to come up with a whole new training plan complete with modules, exercises, and exams to retrain our coders to undergo focus education. In short, it's my job to make them quality coders and when they fail, I fail too. It's not really a problem for me, to be honest. In fact, I love my job now more than ever because I finally get to do what I've always wanted to do—to train people and bring out the best in them. It's just that everything is happening so frickin' fast. I may be overconfident at times but I'm not God. I can't create a world in six days. Damn, I wish I could say this to my bosses' faces.

But I'm your big old people-pleaser. In fact, I'm the big old mother people-pleaser that I constantly set myself up for suicide missions just because I haven't come back from them in a body bag. When you've pulled off a number of impossible stunts before, you get cocky and even hungrier for the next one. More than the proof of indestructibility, it's the applause that makes everything taste so sweet. Ever since learning what an award is for, I haven't stopped doing everything in my life in the name of winning. I've always loved the limelight after a great victory, standing in front of a sea of strange faces showering me with thundering praise. Yet again, until now. Maybe it's the reduced adrenaline, the age, or just the fact that I'm not cut out for these things anymore. Maybe it's finally realizing that I don't have to win all the time, that sometimes I just have to try and hope for the best. Even as I'm writing these thoughts now, the back of my mind just goes, "You can do this. You always have. You said it yourself—self-set suicide missions and never came home in a body bag. You got this. You're just tired. Rest but never stop."

Yeah. This is what happens when it's past 12 midnight and everyone in the house is either asleep, away, or licking their butt (our dogs, calm down). Even if I had an actual someone to talk to, I don't think I can open up this much. I hate being vulnerable especially when I'm pretending to be a mafia boss.

I still got a lot of work to do and they're all due on Monday.

But I feel much better now.

Thanks to blogging and me coming from a strong line of lunatics according to this quote.

Stay crazy, people.