Can't sleep, future will eat me...

While it is sad that QoW isn't an active strip, this last panel is very fitting.  It pretty accurately describes the anxiety I life with every day.
Ok, well usually I don't have all my shit together.
For example, if I'm not properly drugged up on sleepy meds I will wake up- for whatever reason, rolling over, my husband snoring, the cat using me as a pillow- and then my brain just goes nuclear melt down.  I start worrying about everything.  What I'm going to do tomorrow, what lectures I will give my future, currently non-existant children about anything, how I'm going to die from cancer because my period is late.  I have gotten to where I am probably on the verge of being labeled a hypochondriac.  I go to the doctor when any little thing might be wrong.  I have a new mole on my hand, my period is weirder than normal, or whatever else is plaguing my mind.  While being in grad school SUCKS, one of the perks is the free office visits at the University Quack Shack. Any testing they do isn't free, but even my grad insurance has been pretty good so I've never lost much out of pocket. So I go, and point to my new mole or spaz out about how my period (which has never been regular) is now SUPER irregular and the doctors, thankfully, explain that I'm most likely not dying of cancer, that everything is normal, and I probably shouldn't worry- but if I still am worried then they order tests or make referrals.
Which reminds me... I really should go see a dermatologist about this mole...
Well, now that I've made a doctors appointment, and not even for the mole, I guess I'll get back to work. 

Feeling the descent

Imagine, if you can, feeling yourself descend into madness.
You love (ok, maybe not love right this minute, I am in grad school) your job. You are passionate about your field of study. You wanted this.  You want this.
And every damn morning you have to convince yourself to get out of bed. You have to convince yourself that slitting your wrists is actually NOT what you want to do.  That, yes, it would get you out of a few days of work.... but it would potentially ruin the rest of your life. Every day this inner struggle to get up and go do the thing you love.
Now imagine being paranoid to tell anyone about it.  Because they will want to commit you.  They may want you to stop work.  They may want to take actions that would take away the things you love.  You know that the angel can beat the demons.... but they are not confident enough in you.  Besides... you know exactly how to slit your wrists so as to cause damage, but not death. You know the enemy.... you just can't defeat him.
You get to work and can barely do anything for fear of screwing something else up.  But inaction is just as bad as mistakes. So you can't win.  You have to continually subject yourself to a situation where the losses will far outnumber the wins... and your brain is already skewed to make any loss greater than a win anyways.  Seriously, just getting to work is a triumph.  But it is not enough.  You *know* this. But you can't seem to get your brain to be convinced of it.
Every morning you wake up to a partner who loves and cherishes you.  It is the amazing love of someone who understands.  Someone who will not judge.  Plus the undying love of a pet who thinks the sun rises and sets with you.  Yet you feel alone and isolated.  You feel adrift, disconnected. You know you are loved yet you yearn for...what?
It is a cloud that rolls in over your brain.  You feel as if you are working through a fog, or running in sand. You know you need to act... but deep down you just don't care. What is the point? Sure, you may have a good day tomorrow or the day after.  And then what?
The light at the end of the tunnel is not a fixed point, it moves, retreats, advances.  It teases you, encourages you, and then flits away like a firefly.
And then you begin to wonder....why is a raven like a writing desk?
And you yearn for tea....
You watch yourself go through this, unable to stop it. Knowing and not knowing, helping and unable to help. Is it better to know you are mad? Maybe.  But it is not easy to embrace the madness when you know. 
The only thing knowledge may do is stop you from slamming your head around when that is all you want to do. The knowledge contains but never controls the monster in your head. It would be easier to embrace the monster, to let it rule, than to have to keep constant vigil. 
So who is really more sane:  The individual who embraces the insanity?  Or the one who hides it?
The never ending battle takes its' toll on the field. The field becomes no longer green and lush.  No longer able to support life. The tears and craters in the earth are an assault on something that does not chose sides, only favors. The fog rolls in, obscuring the damage, but it is still there.
If only there were a true way to tame the beast.

Shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle.

One would think that sleep would be an escape. After all that is why people sleep so much when stressed, right?
Well what happenes when even in your dreams you are screaming, crying, and having panic attacks? How are you supposes to get through your days when you can't even get through your nights without your brain breaking down and begging you to quit? I mean my psyche was just flipping out last night. I was having intense crying jags, panic attacks, and seriously considering a medical leave of absence in my dreams. Really, it doesn't make for positive, productive days. And it is not like Sunday is really a work day.
Even once I got out of the panic dream loop I was still stressed and panicked in the dream (apparently I need to watch less Wizards of Waverly place).
I need restful sleep, not more stressful sleep.

Where/When the hell am I?

Its like when you are exhausted and sleeping in a strange bed.  You wake up and have a moment of  "Where the hell am I?!?"
Only it happens when you are awake.
And it is freaking weird.
Seriously, I just had a momentary freak out as I looked around my work place and for a nanosecond had no freaking clue where I was. My stomach lurched, I started to panic, and I looked around trying to find some clue until my brain finally was like  "...wait... ok..got this.  Sorry, boss."
Last week, after a grueling mental thought session (SHUT UP! THINKING HARD! BURNS CALORIES!), I was driving around town and part of my brain SWORE I was in Mississippi, not in Texas.  It was like my eyes were taking in Texas, part of my brain was navigating around Texas, and the other part of my brain was like "Isn't Mississippi wonderful?  I am so happy to be here! I love this town". But... I know that the place it was remembering is not the same today as it was 4+ years ago when I lived there. And when my fiancee tried to explain where this alcoholic slushee place was I was trying to figure out where the road was and I couldn't because Mississippi and Texas don't coexist on a map!... so I had to sit and convince that part of my brain that it was freaking lost in time and space.
Not a pleasant discussion to have with yourself. (also, probably indicative that alcoholic slushees are a bad idea, at least for the immediate time being)
Apparently though, it does happen.  I have a friend who, occasionally, swears she gets lost in time.  She doesn't know WHEN she is. We joke and just say she is a woman ahead of her time.  But, honestly, it is a creepy feeling to know exactly where you are.... but not sure about when you are.
Its not quite the dissassociative disorder thing.  You are still a part of your body, and capable of interacting with things.  You just feel like the guy from Quantum Leap, only you are not used to that shit so it is really freaky.   
At least de ja vu is cool.  This is just plain freaky.
Though if I could Quantum Leap out of grad school that would be AWESOME!

Why me?

Finally got to have a little sit down to plan out my work to try and graduate. And, of course, I got the you need to work more/harder. That I need to be in the lab earlier. Well, sorry but sometimes early in the morning it is freak out time. I just kinda wig out, I have never, ever claimed to be a morning person.
But everyone else gets into work around 10am. And they leave at 5. With a one hour lunch break.
I get in, on a bad day, around 11. I leave around 6. And I am usually too stressed to eat lunch.
So why am I expected to work 10 hour days? I mean....no one else does.
I just wish I could explain that working 10 hour days is going to make things worse, not better?

Why did we not do this SOONER!!

OK.  My boss wants to save money. I understand.  I spent about 5 months trying to fix two little tings wrong with my research.  5. Months. Since January. Doing it his preferred way.
I just fixed both problems in about a week and a half doing it the easy way.
Really?  We could not have done it the easy way a few months ago when we were under a time crunch? 
Science hates me, I swear.
Also, the expensive machine I need for only 3 hours has decided it doesn't want to work right now. 
I would like not to work right now too.
Asshat machine.

Facebook...not supposed to be a drama farm once you are out of Jr High

Ok.  So I generally try to keep my Facebook drama/troll free.  I have friends, and yes we disagree politically, but we agree not to start shit.  We all know, mostly, where the lines are and unless we are teasing, try not to start pointless arguments that will just leave us pissed.
SO, yesterday I posted a picture of Irena Sendler, who worked to save over 2500 kids from the Warsaw ghetto. With the picture was commentary about how she deserved the Nobel Peace Prize, for which she was nominated, more than Al Gore or Barack Obama.  Which is true. Al Gore won for an over bloated, not entirely scientific power point, and Obama won it for being....well... himself.  Obama won on the premise that he was going to bring peace to the world and give every child a kitten. 
Normal stuff for me.  I don't overly vett my Facebook, cause it is fun commentary.  Not to mention I have no problem admitting when I am wrong. 
THEN ENTER CRAZY LEFT WING STATIST PROFESSOR!
Now, I generally DON'T friend professors I actually know on Facebook.  I have some academic crushes I friend, because I am a nerd. But if I know you from class or around the department, no Facebook friend.  But apparently I was feeling generous one day when Facebook suggested her as a friend and I was like "Sure. why not. She's not too crazy."
WRONG! WRONGY WRONG WRONGNESS!
So she like ATTACKS me saying that Global Warming is REAL (not), that a majority of the scientific community agrees with it (not), and lists why the Nobel gave the awards (geo-political social commentary was the *real* reason). And she sums it up with "I am disappointed in you".  
Excuse me?
You are what?
Are you my mother?
So... that kinda trips a little trigger I have.  I volley back a few points of my own, ask if we are going to start citing wikipedia, and point out that the Nobel have no place making political commentary. Not their job. 
She writes back but I'm busy doing...you know... work (which...why is she not doing work?).
AND THEN MY MOTHER GETS IN ON IT!
Now look.  I love my Momma.  But she is right wing crazy. She accuses my professor of drinking the Kool-aid, they exchange some leftist-right wing traditional banter/talking points, and I look for places to hide. 
At the advice of my fiancee I shut it down.  Not knowing how to pull the plug on ALL THAT CRAZY I actually unfriended the professor and just deleted all the comments.  Hence why there are no direct quotes. 
So... I actually managed to handle most of it without hyperventilating or having a panic attack.  Though I am still waiting for my PI to come up and say something.  Luckily he is older and so not into the Facebook thing. I hope if she does say anything to him about it he would tell her he doesn't care. 

And if anyone reading this totally believes global warming, I have two words for you: dinosaur farts. 
Seriously.  I can't take that field seriously if that is a legitimate topic of discussion.