Hi.

Hello. A lot of my friends call me Otto so it should be okay here.  I don’t have very much of an education so grammar and spelling and sentence structure and all of those kinds of neat things probably won’t have much of a place here. I could take more time to try and learn but ya see my head doesn’t work all that well and I don’t remember things like I used to. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to keep up with this much, all of the options are overwhelming.

A place to get some thoughts, ideas, and questions out of my head does sound kind of appealing. So this will mainly be just a place for me to spill randomness.

Okay, so introduction. I am 35 years old living in south west Ohio. I rent a room off the attic of a house my ex girlfriend that I was in the closet with for over a decade owns. (hilarious right? It’s so complicated I might ramble about it later)

I haven’t had a full time job in quite some time now. People laugh about how lucky I am and wish they didn’t have to go to work but I miss working so very much. I miss feeling useful and needed and waking up in the morning feeling like I had a purpose. My goal is to somehow find my way out of this hole and work again. It would be alright if it was just cleaning and taking out garbage, just something that I could do well. I would be proud of that. Worse than people calling me lucky would be the people who look at me smugly with harsh judgement in their eyes. I wish I could make them walk for awhile in my shoes. I never aspired to be a burden on society. I know I’m too young to be this way. I think that’s why I stay in my room so much. I hate facing people and am ashamed.

I wish I was as strong as the characters I play in video games. They can run for hundreds of miles and not get tired. They get chances to fix what they mess up. People don’t know what I am like in real life so they don’t judge me. In the games I get comments on how well I do a job. I run around repairing walls and building defensive seige weapons and healing my allies in fake battles. “Otto join my guild you’re a rockstar!” “Otto is looking after our base for hours. Thanks Otto!” “Who disabled that enemy seige on our tower? Holy shit! Good job Otto!” “Nice healing Otto!”  I know it’s not real but it’s all I got right now. When my anxiety and depression start getting real bad I just log out and ride out the storm.

On an upside, I was able to sign up for some health insurance. I will barely be able to afford it but maybe I’ll get some treatment that works. I research new ways to treat anxiety and depression every day. Something is bound to work. Just gotta keep trying no matter how tired.

Some jobs I’ve done in the past were bagging groceries when I was 14 in the summer. I was trained and moved up to cashier but people didn’t respond well to a butch looking woman ringing up their groceries lol. Stairwell sweeper at an apartment complex and maintenance assistant. (This was pretty fun seeing all of the handiwork that needed to be done but this ended when the summers were over) Video store clerk ( Ah, the good ole days of VHS. I loved helping people find movies to fit their moods or hearing what they thought of new releases) Auto-parts factory (this was my favorite job. I loved loading parts and watching robotic arms come down and weld them together. The hum of the machines was mesmerizing. I used to watch the robot repairmen work so much that I learned to repair my own machine in most instances when it broke down. This kept the bosses very happy because it decreased downtime) and finally my last job was for a friend working in her vet clinic as a kennel worker. (I would give dogs and cats their meds, clean their cages take them outside for walks when needed and do laundry  take out trash and sweep floors. This job was bitter sweet for me. I love animals and always felt good when I could help but there were cases where the animals couldn’t be helped and seeing this too often would trigger my anxiety. )

Why did these jobs end for me? Usually the anxiety would become too much and I would be paralyzed with fear of messing up and then I usually did mess up and then I would feel the tears coming on and bosses and coworkers wondering whats wrong with me and then after panic attack hits it would happen more often till I couldn’t go back.

Typing it out it looks like such a small thing that should be easily remedied with therapy and a cocktail of the magical wonder drugs on the market that we see so many commercials for. Hardly the kind of thing that could wreck a persons life so badly that they spend almost every waking moment hiding in a attic room but that’s just what it did.

I was started on medication at around 13 years old for anxiety. I think buspar and paxil were the first drugs they tried. I also went to a therapist and was pulled out of classes at school to talk to a councilor once a week. I didn’t like the medicine. I didn’t feel like myself and I think it made my anxiety worse but they just said to keep taking it. My mom made sure I did.

The school councilor used to ask me why I didn’t wear dresses lol. I hated dresses they made me feel like a clown. He was a really nice guy and most the time we just talked about random things or how I felt when my dad died. He once said he would be like my dad since I seen him so much. Every week wednesday or thursday. I actually missed when I stopped getting called to go see him. It felt like he was a good friend but yeah he wasn’t really, he was just doing a job. I don’t know why I was asked to sit with him. After I didn’t get sent to see him for a few months I was called to go see him again. He said he had been really sick and he did look very different. He had lost a lot of weight but he looked pretty healthy. He seemed happy. Mr. Jones was his name. He gave me a card and told me if I ever needed help to give him a call. I didn’t ever see him again after that. I wonder if the offer would still stand 18 years later.

I tried the 9th grade three times. I kept getting attendance failure. My science teacher used to give me shit. He said I got an A grade  but failed because I wasn’t there. At least I got an A. Too bad I can’t remember anything I learned. I do remember liking that science teacher a lot. Mr. Steele was his name. He was very passionate about Earth Science. He would give us samples of the rocks and minerals to pass around and check them on Mohs Hardness scale. He used to play classical music during class while we were doing work sheets. One time when I was actually at school and having a good day I gave him my copy of Yanni Live at the Acropolis tape. I loved this tape very much it helped me not have as much panic. I would sneak my cassette player under my jacket and only use one earbud that was hidden pretty well under my hair so I barely got caught with it on. I gave the tape to him because he played the same classical music over and over and it was getting really stale. I figured he would like Yanni even though he was known for being a new age hippy his live at the Acropolis album was damn good. He didn’t rely on the synthesizers as heavily because it was live with an orchestra. It truly did help stop most of my anxiety when I could focus on it. Too bad walking around highschool listening to a walkman wasn’t acceptable. Mr. Steele appreciated the tape very much and played it whenever I was there. I liked sharing it with someone.

The panic attacks at school got so bad l was afraid to go and got to where I was actually given in-school suspension for missing school. The principle said he wasn’t going to suspend me out of school because he said he knew that’s what I wanted. Brilliant idea that one. Stuck in the same room all day  with no windows where they taped construction paper over the clock so you couldn’t see when it would be over was just great for my anxiety and was soooo conducive to learning…. NOT! I made it half way through the  week long suspension but just couldn’t take it anymore. I got up picked up my backpack while the lady monitoring us yelled at me to sit back down. I was crying like a freakin baby the whole time but I just left. I walked down the hall out the doors and started walking down the shoulder of the road. I walked for about 4 miles before a cop stopped put me in his car and took me home. I tried homeschooling for a year after that. I ended up quitting and getting a generic education diploma. That was the end of my education.

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