O’vr Whelm’d

I’ve been in a trance.

My mind is gripped in a vice of self-induced stress.

I have nothing to say, and everything to say. I need to organize my thoughts, that’s what I need to do. This past week I’ve been working from 7am and getting home around 8 or 9 or 10pm. I began this new position as Group Sales Manager, and it’s truly overwhelming.

My main contention is the lack of organization. Where do I start? Do I maintain excel spreadsheet hell? Or do I create my own custom relational database, and rack untold hours of mental torture and toil into creating something that at best will marginally improve my productivity?

Or do I just sketch out a process and build small steps?

Do I even have a process? I believe I do. I believe there is a process, a strategy, for effective technical sales. It involves understanding three things: 1.) Customer Needs 2.) My Value Proposition 3.) Customer Organization

I feel like I need to create a checklist that answers this question: what information do I need from or about the customer to transact a sale?

The next question is, is there common information across all customers that needs to be collected to transact a sale? The answer is yes. Formulating the process for that collection is how we get efficient at qualifying and selling and growing business.

I’m just overwhelmed. SO much on my mind. Spent last weekend developing an “access database”. What a joke. So overwhelmed. Data is a shit show. But what can I do to create a process for myself?

My creative drive has been reduced to a pathetic whimper.

No, my drive is there. It’s more like my… time? I’ve strangled my creative, imaginative side by not leaving any time for play, for exploration. I am too intense, too much business. It’s killing me, physically, spiritually and emotionally. I’m probably a miserable, uninteresting person and I probably and completely unaware and clueless!

What the fuck am I doing with my life?

I work 12 hour days. Come home to a girlfriend that I know I’m not going to marry. Live in a downtown apartment that I can’t afford. I don’t have a social life. And I’m not even sure why. I blamed my job, the industry, the travel. The nature of work. But maybe I’m just an intolerable asshole. Maybe I’m boring. Maybe I’m too cerebral. Maybe I just don’t like people as much as I want to believe I do. Maybe I’m depressed.

I feel like there’s some truth to the last point. I may very well be depressed. Exogenous testosterone has ceased about six months ago, and though I feel the worse is over, I’m living in this purgatory hell. Which is probably how I always felt, and which is probably why I chose to self medicate with testosterone in the first place. I work out to feel good. Testosterone feels good. More testosterone feels better. But that’s just not sustainable. Too harsh on the body, and I have only one. So now I’m inhabiting not a youthful corpse, but a used one. Without the testosterone pulsing through my veins, which inspired invigorating daily physical training to jettison feelings of euphoria throughout the day, I am left feeling more empty, more drained, more gray, more lazy, more used. This, I hope, will not continue forever. I feel like I need to move again. But I’m also “happy” at my current corporate job. Which feels like enslavement. But I also do enjoy it. But only because it’s a coping mechanism for the other sad realities characterizing my existence.

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