A Bit of Rambling

Today marked the start of my second week of training. Those of us on the Sound Transit account received our batons and went through training for how to use them properly; those of us on the King County Metro account went to another room and sat through training from a book. I understand KCM’s day was much more boring than mine, as a Sound Transit security officer.

            I look forward to the completion of my training and the start of my day-to-day (or, perhaps, night-to-night) work routine. I look forward to becoming stable and secure in my position and moving my family forward in purchasing a second vehicle for myself, a new couch (sectional!), and, hopefully by August, a home. It’s a lot to look forward to in the four short months before our lease ends; not every goal may be attainable by that time, but I’ll find out as I go.

            My second official paycheck should appear in my checking account on Thursday, this week, assuming the company has my direct deposit information all squared away. If I don’t see my available balance increase, I’ll know to ask some questions, at least. I look forward to using that paycheck to re-enroll Persephone into KinderCare, if nothing else. The size of the check will be a good marker for what I can look forward to in the future, as my pay will increase from the training amount of $13.00/hour to the transit security officer pay of $15.95/hour. Some of you might think that’s quite a bit—and it’s certainly nothing to sniff at—but consider…

            I live in Washington State and the cost of living is pretty high, especially to the west of the mountains and the closer to Seattle/further north you look for housing. Houses in Thurston County are less expensive than King County but sometimes more expensive than houses in Pierce County, but the overall cost of living is relatively high compared to a state like Kentucky or Indiana. In fact, the low cost of living in other states is what has me considering moving us to another state when our lease ends, but we’ve moved so much over the past year and a half that I really just want to find a place and settle down. I also don’t want to transfer elsewhere within my company—since it is all over the USA—and have my pay cut, even if the cost of living is much lower.

            Randy had the brilliant idea to take us to Dairy Queen for dinner and then to the swimming pool! I was happy as could be to hear that he wanted us to go swimming; I’m a total wannabe fish and I love being in the water, although I don’t go to the pool nearly as often as I’d really like to, because I hate—and I mean, I hate—doing anything alone. That means that no matter how much I like to do something—i.e. swimming—I will avoid doing it if there’s no one to join me in my endeavor. Since our gym is typically empty and devoid of all souls, I tend to avoid going, not because I want an audience, but because I want company. Much as I may identify with introverts, I am an extrovert at heart; as I grow older, I realize that the introverted side of me exists solely because there was such a long period of time in my childhood when I had little to no friends.

            It’s my desire for companionship that has me determined to get back into martial arts classes. The problem is, the more I think about it, the less I think it’ll be feasible; I think my work schedule will not allow me to join a regular dojo and go the two or three times a week that are offered for my skill level and because of this, I wonder what I might do to get back into shape. I ask myself, Would it be enough for me to do my workouts alone and blog about them?

            The answer to that question is not a simple one. I require companionship and support, although I tend to be shy when I’m actually placed in a group. For example, I’ve managed to make a couple of acquaintances in my training class, but I’m not sure I’d call anyone my friend; I tend to avoid approaching people of my own volition out of fear of rejection, but the couple of times I have approached individuals in my class have turned out quite well. So, would it be enough for my fragile ego to blog about my exercise routine? Perhaps.

            After all, I did manage to get out and work out by myself when I was in Germany. The only reason I had to work out was to improve my PT score, but it was enough to get me out of my dorm room and to the gym—so what’s stopping me from putting on my running shoes and blogging about what I do for a workout each day? After all, I had no one cheering me on from the sidelines when I found my motivation in the Air Force, while I now know that at least one friend would openly support me should I make a point of publicizing my progress at this time.

            I’ve questioned myself as to why I’ve been unable to keep myself motivated since separating from the Air Force. I think the answer lies in the problem: My depression and, as my doctor believes is the case, my bipolar disorder—but mostly, my depression. My diagnosis came after my separation and shortly after I gave birth to Persephone, but the weight of the diagnosis didn’t sink in until more recently.

            People underestimate mental illness. They tell us to get over it. They tell us that it’s all in our heads. They tell us to get over it. They tell us to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. They don’t realize how debilitating the illness truly can be—and neither did I, at first. Before pushing my daughter into this world from my body, I hadn’t the slightest idea that depression could keep me sitting in a chair for days on end, accomplishing nothing. It never occurred to me that the very idea of motivation would be pushed away by the monster holding me down, the name of which had been dubbed “depression”. Now I know better. Now I can do better—but it’s hard.

            My new job makes it easier. My new medication will help. But the biggest trick in the book is to take life in chunks—one day at a time, one week at a time, and so on.