11:52 PM - 07.23.16
Saw Louis CK at the Forum (First time I’ve been there since seeing Prince a couple years back). Felt lonely and sad before the show – wondered why I was the only person in the entire venue there by myself, and as the crowd filed in, enviously wished I were the one people were coming to see – but got over it once the show started. Thought it was fun, and it was good for me to get out, but between the ticket, the parking, and the Pinks chili-dog, wasn’t sure it was over $100 worth of fun (Certain erotic adventures notwithstanding, I don’t typically spend that much money on entertainment, because I’m fucking poor).
Commercial audition at 2:15. Sadly, the best thing about it was its convenience – It was two blocks down the street from where I work on Wednesdays, where I’m typically done by 2:00. Thought I was going in for the “Hero” role (I.e. the “lead” in the spot), so was bummed to find out I was mistaken. Depressed afterward (Didn’t book it – didn’t even get a callback).
Appointment with a psychiatrist (Dr Iriele) at 3:45. This was to get drugs for my increasingly shaky mental situation. Was miserable just being there, and almost burst into tears during the brief consultation. Was asked “Do you feel hopeless?”, and had to say yes. Lexapro (sp?) was the first drug suggested, but was told it could have an effect on my libido (Debated with myself whether that really mattered – decided it did somehow – and we ended up going with Wellbutrin). Was taken aback when the Dr wrote out the prescription and said aloud, as he was writing, “Major depression…” – “Oh shit! ‘Major depression’? Things are even worse than I thought…!” - but told myself (and have been told by others) “He probably just has to write that to justify the prescription”. Instead of feeling hopeful, left feeling, ironically, majorly depressed, and somehow “defeated”. Have a follow-up appointment this Wednesday.
Talked to Mark and Jane in the morning, touched that they were clearly “reaching out to me in my time of need”. Good conversation, mixing the personal, the political, and the philosophical. Toward the end, Jane suggested making it a weekly thing, shooting for Thursday mornings (I agreed, without considering how the first two episodes of Shameless this year were both shot on Thursday mornings). Touched again that they were “looking out for me”, since I need to talk to people way more than anyone needs to talk to me (All the people I feel close to have people they are closer to still, so don’t really need me to confide in most times)
Went on a “date” with a Tinder connection. “Date” is in quotes for a reason – went to see the new Ghostbusters with her and her sister (visiting from New York) at a theater downtown, had planned to do coffee or something afterward, but was brushed off. Wasn’t attracted to the woman (Who looked way older than her picture), hadn’t really enjoyed the movie that much, but was still crushed at the rejection, and hugely angry at myself – “Why the fuck did I agree to go see a movie with her and her fucking sister…?”. Just bummed that things had gone so badly when I’d tried to “put myself out there”.
Appointment with Dr Artal, my “sleep doctor”. CPAP not working out, so looking to explore other options. The other options turn out to be a “dental appliance” (Something I’ve considered before), and…a t-shirt with a tennis ball sewn into the back (Something I’ve tried and failed to jerry-rig before, since I don’t know how to sew). Not sure what I was expecting, but was frustrated, especially by the “t-shirt with a tennis ball” option (Wanted to say, “If that was a fucking option…” – I have “positional” sleep apnea, so theoretically, long as I’m not on my back, I’m good – “…why the fuck have I spent hundreds of dollars and countless frustrating hours trying to make the fucking CPAP happen?”). Left feeling like, “You could have told me that shit in a motherfucking email…!”. Haven’t called the dentist he suggested yet. Have looked on Amazon at various belts and harnesses and such to keep me off my back at night, but haven’t “pulled the trigger” on anything.
Had to self-tape an audition for a show called Lucifer, that shoots in Vancouver (Because the “live” casting was on Thursday, and I was shooting Shameless that day). Don’t like self-taped auditions (Think I need to book something from one, so I can shake the feeling that they’re pointless). Liked the scene, but felt hugely stressed trying to get it together. Was depressed that I have so few actor friends (After 16 years in LA) that I couldn’t find anyone to help me with it – the two people I called were, 1. Out-of-town, and 2. Not really set up to do it. After that, I was out-of-people. Went to a professional place my friend Josh suggested, and paid $40. Felt like it was $40 I might as well have thrown down a fucking well. Was kind of fun to do, but was disappointed that it took just long enough that I missed Zumba, with the instructor I really like.
Shot my third episode of Shameless for the season. Had an 8 am call (So missed the “conversation appointment” with Mark and Jane at 10:00). Waited two-and-a-half hours to do anything, and just missed getting finished before lunch, which meant another hour with nothing to do (And felt vaguely guilty because the last thing that had to be done was my “coverage” – the shots where the camera is on me). But the work was fun, my favorite Kermit stuff so far this season. Was also happy that I got out early enough to have some “down time” before hitting Zumba class in the evening (Typically working at WW on Thursday evening, so was nice to get to do the class with Thea, since I’d missed getting to do it on Wednesday)
Talked to Mark and Jane again, time-shifting our weekly phone call. It was nice. Then had Zumba class at 5:00 (With Alfredo, who’s okay…but no Thea). Was fine, I guess (Though I’m executing less well in class in general, and frustrated to be losing ground over time instead of getting better), but afterward, felt like bursting into tears, which is happening a lot these days, usually after…pretty much everything (Work, Zumba, Shameless, therapy, Dr’s appointments, etc), but it’s still startling and scary when it happens, because I’m in public, and I’ve come close to losing it. Came home, and spent the evening working on my journal – when I was almost done (After having spent most of the day working on it, and having already lost a previous draft), I accidentally hit I-don’t-know-what-fucking-button, and the entry…disappeared. Furious, I started slamming myself upside the head, hard as I could. But it wasn’t enough, so with my hands clenched into fists, palms facing me, I hit myself in the face three or four times…and gave myself a fucking black eye. Horrified, crying, I called my therapist, tried to assess the damage (It was more of a “goose egg” under my eye than a bruise, but I’d clearly fucked myself up), and tried to get in contact with the person I work with on Saturdays at Weight Watchers (To try to get out of working today). Eventually talked to my therapist, tried and failed to find anyone to work for me today, and went to the RiteAid for a concealer (Which didn’t work that well, since as I said, I had more of a “goose egg” under my eye than a bruise).
Which brings us up to today…
Covered things the best I could, which wasn’t great, and went to work, very angry and resentful, and deeply embarrassed, that I had to go to work (If you can’t take a fucking “mental health day” in this instance, when can you?).
I told my two coworkers, because I was uncomfortable lying to them (And they are people I like, who I think like me). The members mostly didn’t say anything, though whether because they didn’t notice or because it would be “awkward”, I’m not sure.
The couple of people that did say something just got a hand-wave and an “Oh, it’s nothing…”, for the most part, since I’d tried to come up with something plausible last night, without success (One member, in the second meeting, even provided me a story – “Did you fall off your bike?” – so I said “Yes…that is the thing that happened”.
So what happens now?
Seeing my therapist on Tuesday, seeing the Psychiatrist on Wednesday, then possibly seeing the therapist again on Thursday (Thursday morning just doesn’t seem to be in the cards as the time for a weekly conversation with Mark and Jane…).
Beyond that? I don’t know…try not to kick my own ass? Work on keeping my hands off “The Moneymaker” until (hopefully) the drugs kick in? Hope that actually inflicting visible damage on myself will “scare me straight”?
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