Just waiting.

One more month to go before I get my sleep study results.  It feels like so much time has passed since I had the thing.  Some of the delay is due to them needing time to interpret the results and the rest is scheduling, I’m sure.  I was going to start calling for a cancellation spot but I don’t want to be on edge, waiting for the call that never comes, so, I’ll just sit and wait.

I didn’t take any stimulants today so far, which is always a mistake.  I hate them though…hate needing them so much.  If I don’t take a double dose every morning I am absolutely useless by 1100 in the morning.  When I went for the study, I went off them entirely for a week prior, just to ensure I was feeling the full symptoms; hoping it would help get clear results.  I was so fucking tired at the end of that week it took me almost a month to recover.  It’s a sickening, drugged out, sedated, fighting a losing battle kind of tired….actually, “tired” doesn’t cover it at all.

Sometimes, I almost feel like I’m slipping into another pocket of depression but I don’t really have the time and that seems to keep it at bay.  I mean, work is so busy and difficult to manage that it entirely eats my time while I’m here and by the time I get to my couch at the end of the day I’m so wiped out I can barely sit up.  I’m asleep soon after and the most of the living I do is in my dreams….and they are all over the place.  I’m back to feeling like my dream world is reality and the real world is the dreamscape where all I do is run and run and run and run and try to stay upright before it all catches up to me and eats me alive.

One of the girls I used to work with at my last job (in real life) just got a layoff notice.  She’s the second in the last little while….we’re having some huge (ever-lasting/ always ongoing) budget issues and support staff is usually the first to go when that happens, of course.  It’s brought back so many feelings, hearing her tell me how scary it all is.  I’m dreaming of my last set of coworkers and bosses and it makes me feel so crappy when I wake up.  They really messed with me…..back stabbing assholes.  They said they cared but in the end they held it all against me…the boss even made backhanded comments on my sick time on my way out the door.  I should have never trusted them with what I was going through (physical illness only – I never disclose my mental/emotional issues in the workplace).  Anyway – disappointing lesson learned there and I was happy not thinking about it anymore…until the ex-coworker reached out to me.  Now it just makes me tired.  Even more tired.

10:00 and I’m starting to fade.  Screen is blurring and swaying in front of me; eyelids are pulling down as hard as they can and my brain is shutting off, switch by switch.  Better take my meds before I crash.

I am so tired.  It’s a double-whammy kind of tired this week….tired because I’m always freaking tired and fighting off sleep thanks to whatever is going on with my sleep cycle, but also worn-out, exhausted, haven’t stopped working for days that feel like weeks tired.  Stressed out about work too, which also triggers the kind of tired I get when my brain has just had enough and the whole of me starts shutting down out of sheer unwillingness to participate any longer.  My body is sore…my spine is killing me and it hurts to move….or not move….it hurts no matter what right now.  I could get up and take some more pain meds but my purse is all the way across my office and what I would most like to do right now is just gently rest my fingers on my keyboard, right in home row, and stare blankly at nothing on my screen until the next two hours have passed by and I can go home.  Of course I still have to pick Colt up from the kids who are watching him after school and then, after a quick rest in which I will have to stay standing so I don’t fall asleep, I have to go grocery shopping.  I do not want to go grocery shopping.  But.  Whatever.  We need stuff and if I don’t get it tonight I always put it off until Sunday and then hate myself for it by Sunday morning.

I feel like I have absolutely nothing left to give today.  Not even to myself.

Wednesday Mini-Meltdown

Ahhhh now that was a nice morning.  You know when sometimes things just all come together and you end up feeling rather supported and whole again?  This week has been wearing me down to the bones.  Well, hah, month/year, really.  Work is impossible and continues to get more impossible as the days go by.  I’ve adopted a new stance after going’s on over the last week where one boss hammered me into building an entire website while the other left me pretty much alone, thinking she was helping me resolve the overflow of workload to let me catch up.  I don’t like to play one against the other but by the end of it all I had an entire website created and populated with dozens of policies, procedures, guidelines, medical directives, staff resources, order sets, directories and pager listings galore.  I had all the teams split and reporting payroll and vacation time weekly….there were some excel formulas so complicated I’m not sure I could even repeat them, but fuck it, there it is….you can now enter your shift and my spread sheet will auto-calculate your hours, unpaid breaks, flex time, benefit hours, patient workload, attendance ratio, treatment ratio, service and non-service time percentage and will even tell you the time frame you have left to take your accumulated stat holiday banked hours, paid and non-paid vacation, and accumulated flex time.  There’s a nice rolling total too which will help when I have to pick through the finances at the end of each month.

Anyway.

It took overtime hours to get that up, for which I will not be paid as I have maxed out my flex time bank again.  Whatever though, it was worth it to get her off my back about it…..or so I thought.  The very day it went live (after she fucking deleted all my fucking files that were originally linked to redirects on the website effectively making half the shit up there not work) she sat down in my office to nitpick over the font I had chosen for the staff directory.  Haha…soooo whatever.  It was up, it was current and all documents were up to date, reformatted into better shape and it looked good too.  After that, she wrote out her announcement to the staff about how we were finally able to launch (she actually wrote “finally” in her announcement…(sigh)) and then called me to ask me to do something specific when, after the mention of a meeting came up, she decided to take the opportunity to remind me of the other meetings she’d asked for that I hadn’t yet booked, like her meeting with a small set of staff over at the other campus that she has quarterly.  ???  Seriously?  There’s a secretary over there who knows the staff’s schedules and does NOTHING all day but, after taking up my entire weekend and week with her stupid, redundant website (all the info I put up there is already out there available to staff on our shared drive.  It’s just that most of the staff don’t know how to click on the fucking S in the drive list to find what they need.  Yes, I’m serious.  I had to gather all that info to make it ‘easier’ for the staff to find) she wants to start picking at me about a staff meeting she’s been waiting a month for me to book????  I’ve SEEN her make her own meetings many times….why she’s just left this one floating so she can bother me about it is beyond comprehension.

So, the other boss, now realizing that my free time that she’s given me by taking on more work herself has been eaten up by the first boss, is now on me to get all of her stuff done.  As I was struggling yesterday to get that done, plus stats audits and the rest of my too-goddamn-busy job, the first one comes in and asks me about what we will do over this period of time where the part time secretary role at the other campus is being covered.  You see, part-time-do-nothing secretary has found herself a new job out of sheer boredom, I’m sure, and now there’s a vacancy.  The boss decided to take my casual, who is the only reason I get payroll and stats audits done each month, and have her fill in there, making her totally unavailable to come help me.  This will go on until May because the boss is taking two weeks’ vacation at the end of April and can’t interview people.  (I’m tempted to apply.  Seriously.  If I can find another part time job and keep my benefits and pension I’m doing it.)  So, not only will the girls here and I not get vacation this summer unless I am willing to cover them at registration (cries…no one covers me..), I can’t get any help while the casual sits across town doing nothing.  THEN….oh then….the boss comes to me yesterday.

“Uh Grainne?  Oh…hahaha…look at this.  You’ve closed and locked your office door like we told you to and here I am walking right in anyway.  Sorry.  I’m sorry.”

(I had closed my door in the morning but the two of them just kept coming in so I locked it in the afternoon.  They started bringing their keys after that.)

“So..Grainne.  I’m sorry…I know you’re really busy but with *secretary* gone and *casual* covering, I have some access requests I need to get done before the next set of students start.  Can you do those for me?  Today?  I did one but now I can’t find the form anymore.”

The online form.  She can’t find the online form she found only moments before to do the first one and….okay.  Whatever.  I contemplated getting the casual access to the management side of the network but the hassle involved would take longer than doing the fucking thing myself, so, I did all the necessary paperwork to get the students cleared to work in the hospital.

“*Boss?”  I tried to ask in a friendly tone.  “Do you think it a good idea to get *casual* ordering access for the other site – just so she can take care of equipment and supplies without having to go through me while she’s covering?”

“Oh, well.  We’re pretty lucky that she’s agreed to cover the hours.  I don’t want to take advantage of her.”

My jaw literally dropped.  WHAT?  THE?  FUCK?!!  You don’t want to take advantage of HER?  What the hell makes that your go-to when all you do is take advantage of me???  So you’ll put all that additional work on my over-full plate just so the casual doesn’t feel taken advantage of?  Holy hannah….  I nearly hit her.

*Breathes iiiiiiiiiin Breathes ouuuuuuuuut*

It’s now Wednesday and I’ve not started payroll that closes Friday morning.  I closed my door upon arrival and posted a sign that said:  “If you’d like to get paid, please do not disturb”  lolol.  It works like a charm for the staff.  The bosses….not so much.  They’re both in meeting now though so I’m taking the moment to vent my frustrations.

Oh, the good part!  Back to the beginning of this post :)  I had three staff members stop in to say hello to me this morning and all three came to see how I was doing and to ask how things were going.  I don’t complain to many here….I’m not stupid enough to put my job in jeopardy….but these guys can see I’m struggling.  Two came in because they were worried aggressive-boss was mad at them for something.  One was near tears when she told me about how the boss had yelled at her because she titled a vacation request email “vacation request”.  The boss wanted it to be called “Time off request” (only because that’s what she happened to search at the time when she got caught with her pants down and likely told the other managers that the staff member had made no such request and went to prove it by searching her email). There was an email war that waged for a few days, back and forth.  I shared my story about how we recently had a 25 minute argument over the name of a file that’s been called the same thing for the last five years and the staff member felt better.

Talking to the three of them, two of whom made me laugh so hard I nearly choked on my coffee several times (I adore these people) and one who had an even worse story about the boss than I have ever heard….she’s so unprofessional, aggressive-boss.  She said the most outrageous things to her staff all the time.  After they left I felt better…lighter.  I’m human I guess; I like knowing I’m not alone in things and that the nasty behaviour isn’t only directed at me.  Several insist on calling it ‘abuse’ and I can’t go there.  I’ve know the angrier sort in my life and although my ways of coping with this are definitely linked to my past experiences, it’s really just a shitty work environment.  The huge department filled with amazing people who all work under this shitty umbrella, like me, make it worth it enough to deal as long as I can.  Both of them are nearing 60 anyway.  They won’t be here forever and my career will well outlive theirs.

Now that I’ve had the ‘pleasure’ of working for two asshole doctors who screamed profanity at me on the phone, a director who eliminated my job because I was sick, two horrible bully secretaries who made me cry every day (when I first started here nearly 15 years ago) and now, two deranged, miserable women who get a kick out of being in charge, I can take just about anything.  I even had a manager who once did nothing but stare directly at my chest every time he spoke to me.  Every time.  No wavering. I called attention to it and he started avoiding me in every way he could.  Happily, I managed to get myself out of there before anything got worse.

Ah.  Workplaces.

Now.  Onto to pay a hundred people so they don’t all turn on me when their mortgage payments come due.

One down!

I got a call from the Clinical Fellow who ordered my sleep study this morning.  I was surprised to hear from him because my results weren’t due to be finished until mid May.  They did a lot of different testing and want all results back and reviewed by the various services and then the consulting physician before I come to get them, so I have an appointment at the end of May for that.  Anyway, I answered, wondering why someone from the sleep lab might be calling and he said he had just received the final study for sleep apnea and that everything looked good there…no sign of apnea or a decrease in oxygen saturation while I sleep, which is quite a nice relief.  I thanked him and told him it was good of him to call….he’s going to make a really good specialist when he finishes his fellowship.  By the time they reach this point in their training, most people are already jaded in some way or have grown that shield necessary to stay detached from the drama involved in people’s health, life and death.  To find someone who actually cares about how his patient’s feel is pretty rare and it tends to make for the best kind of physician, when it comes to bedside manner.  I appreciate it, anyway.

So yay!  One down.  No sleep apnea and no C-Pap machine for me.  The rest of the results will come late May.  I’m really so thankful for all of this

Things at work have been okay this week – busy as anything but the bosses are busy elsewhere and haven’t been on my case too much.  I’m enjoying every moment lol!  On that note … it’s back to the piles of work for me. :)

Dreams and Sleep and Dreams

I’ve been sleeping a lot…even for me, in the last month or so.  I’ve been pretty stressed in work/life/living/feeling/thinking/everythingeverythingeverything of late so I think that makes it even worse.

When I was married to my first husband, Harry, and things got stressful, I’d instantly start to feel that pull to sleep.  He was incredibly immature for his early 20’s having been coddled by his mom and life until I took his pathetic ass off her hands.  He moved directly from his parents home into mine…should have realized it at the time that we were on different planets having had been on my own since 15 years old.  Still, I didn’t understand myself then and I didn’t know how I loved…how I attached and bopped along in life without actually feeling much of anything.  All that came crashing down on me in my 30’s after becoming a mother to a disabled, screaming little boy who seemed to hate me.  Ohhh the memories eh!?  Anyway, Harry was an asshole.  He would argue with me if he didn’t get his way and it was always over such silly, self focused crap that didn’t really matter.  One time, he decided he wanted a bbq to put on our 3 foot square “balcony” that exited the living room of our 12th floor apartment.  It’s not like he cooked or anything, but wow once he sunk his teeth in…

“Grainne?  Grainne?  Hey Grainne?  Grainne grainne grainne grainne? Hello Grainne?  Graaaaaaaaaainne?  Grainnnnnne?  Grainne?  Hey!  Hey!!  Hey!!!  Grainne?  GRAINNE!  GRAINNE!  Grainne??”  He would demand in a whining, three-year-old-wants-a-cookie voice.

I’d ignore him as long as I possibly could but would eventually snap, every time.

“WHAT?  Harry?  What do you want?”

“Can I have a barbecue?”

First, we had no money.  I worked at the mall full-time and he only part-time.  That does not equal much money at all.  We had no car but did have cable TV (no satellite back then for the poor kids) and had to pay rent, heat, hydro, food and laundry.  That left a negative number in our accounts each month as it was and then he would go out and spend more on beer – a necessity he refused to live without.  Once, he told my mother that “No creditor was going to stop him from enjoying his life” a quote he learned from his abusive, alcoholic asshole of a father who had never been even close to out of debt in his miserable life.  My mother was unimpressed…lol…to say the least.  Anyway….no money.  Plus we had an apartment and couldn’t bring propane up the elevator, of course, so would have to pay for a delivery where they would hoist the tank up to our balcony for a very dear price.  It seemed ridiculous to me, considering we would barely use the damn thing.

“Come on Harry, that’s just stupid.  We’ll get a bbq when we have a house okay?”

But no.  That was never good enough and it never, ever, ever ended.  I think I held ut for a year before he wore me down and I, in the midst of near hysterical tears after an 11 hour onslaught of his stupid nagging, just gave in.

“Get your fucking bbq and leave me the hell alone!” I remember yelling loud enough for all the neighbours to clearly hear.

The bbq was purchased later that week and we had to pay for a cab to bring it to us, since we didn’t have a car.  It was winter at the time so we couldn’t use the thing anyway and when spring came we paid the ridiculous fee to have our tank of propane hoisted to the balcony from the outside.  Harry used the thing exactly twice before we moved and decided not to bother dragging it out when we moved into a house.  We bought another one.

(I should write a book about not getting married until you have at least ten people who care about you vet the person as being good for you.  Parents the world over would buy it for their stupid kids who thing they’re all grown up and know what they want despite all the warning signs.)

Of course, that was just a silly thing…things got much more serious down the line, particularly after I married the idiot, but that’s another story.  The point of this memory was that, after our first year or so, I would instantly start to yawn and feel my eyelids drag down the moment he started one of his temper fits and called my name incessantly in a whining voice until I gave him what he wanted.  Stress of that intolerable nature has always pulled me to sleep.  Work, these days has the same effect, along with the endless exhaustion I feel.  When the two combine I’m pretty much a walking zombie, arguing myself from the brink of unconsciousness in a constant jumble of thoughts and internal words.

With all the extra sleep comes extra dreams and the more I dream the less I feel able to drag myself from them, even when I’m awake.  I’ve been having constant dreams of having to hide children, which is a strange one.  Sometimes I’m the child that needs to hide so they aren’t taken away by some powerful force (like an army? or mob of people?)  The other constant theme is the place I used to live.  I’m forever finding myself back there, hiding inside, not wanting to be seen by the ex landlords but not having anywhere else to go.  I woke the entire house up several times last night when I sat up and screamed bloody murder while in the grip of a dream.  Once, I woke in the kitchen….just standing there, in front of the sink.  It was exhausting for everyone and it makes me feel bad.  Colt and Dayne are so used to this that they automatically know what’s going on and don’t ever wake panicked, even if I’m screaming.

“Mom?  Mommy?  It’s me, Colt.  You’re having a bad dream mom.  Time to wake up.”  A very familiar disembodied voice said, floating into my dream.

I was dreaming I was sweeping up a mess in the old house, the walls had collapsed (disintegrated, really) and I was alone in the house.  I heard Colt and froze, confused, knowing he wasn’t there but was elsewhere with his dad.

“Colt?” I said both in my dream and aloud – I could hear my dream voice and my actual voice in sync.

That’s when I woke and realized I was in the kitchen, in the dark, and my boy was standing beside me with his hand on my arm, concern filling his eyes.  My 11-year-old should not have to take care of me.  It feels wrong and backwards, but there we have it…his heart is in tune with mine and he is instantly there when I need him; as I am for him.  It turns from embarrassment to a beautiful, graceful bond at that point so…at least there’s that right?

I made my way back to bed and Dayne sat up, bolted really, realizing I had been gone.

“It’s okay dad, mom was just having a nightmare.”  Colt said, yawned, and knowing I was in good hands, walked back to his bedroom and went back to sleep.

Dayne’s face changed from defense and surprise to tenderness and he held out his arms to me.  For some reason, I burst into tears and threw myself into them and he wrapped me up and held me, arranging the blankets around us, until I was safe, covered and back to sleep.

It wasn’t an hour later that I woke myself up, yelling again, tears drenching the t-shirt Dayne wore to bed.

“Oh my god please don’t leave me here?  Please?  I can’t do this I’m so afraid…”  I stopped talking as soon as I realized the voice I was hearing was my own and I was awake, clinging to Dayne and not where I thought I was in my dreams.

I think it’s the absolute lack of control I have when I dream that messes with my head the most.  I don’t know what I’m about to say, do, scream; where I might wander and what I might do.  When I was a kid I’d take off all my clothes every time I sleep walked…thankfully I seem to have stopped that but it carries the same helpless feeling.  Vulnerable.  Exposed.  I hope that something in that sleep study helps me understand how this all ties together and they find a way to either knock me out so cold at night I can’t even move, let alone dream, or at least allows me to get some rest between these nightmares.

At least I’m not alone at night anymore.  Alone is much, much worse.  Much worse.

Ah well.  Back to awake for a while.

 

 

 

Warping my own reality

Pain and I are friends.  She’s not someone I really liked when I first met her; she was clingy and uncomfortably so.  She was always in my face when I needed peace and would take up all of my energy with her endless nattering and calls for attention.  There was nothing that satisfied her aside from having my entire focus set her way.  I tried to make her leave me with thoughts and intentions and abject neglect but when that didn’t work I tried to chemically vanish her…erase her existence from my consciousness.  That was okay for a while but very temporary and it just seemed to make her angrier.  She would come back full force, bruised and insulted, and her scream would be louder than ever before.  I sought advice from medical doctors, osteopathic practitioners, chiropractors, surgeons, physiotherapists and even psychiatrists but the all came up short, leaving me with a shrug of the shoulders and dismissal clearly set in their eyes.  It came down to just her and me, over and over, time and time again.  Finally, one day I decided to reason with her.

“Pain.  You are exquisite in your way and I know you want to be heard; to be known.  You and I are fighting for space in the same body and it is causing so much torment.  Why don’t we compromise and find a way to exist here together?”

She thought about my words, paused her aching, vibrating hum, and I thought I felt a small smile touch the corners of her lips.  She was willing to try.

I reached inside myself and felt around my soul until I knew, exactly, the space it took.  I found that I could shift a little to my right and when I did I felt her slip out of my spine and into the space I had made for her.  The space grows and shrinks as my lungs expand but she is careful not to put too much pressure there; keeping a wide open space for my lungs and heart and when I can, I pull myself up tall and tight to try to allow her the same courtesy.

We are both still learning how to tessellate into the same body but so far, it’s working.  I breathe in and I can feel her; I breathe out and I can feel her but she never overwhelms me and tries to fill every inch of space inside me anymore.

I have tried to make friends with exhaustion in the same way but pain and exhaustion seem to feed each other and then grow out of control.  Exhaustion isn’t inside me, but all around me, dragging on the ground as it clings to my ankles, making me stumble and fall.

“Could you not just walk beside me?” I asked it one day, but it didn’t have the energy to answer.

 

My life on a Saturday in March

Okay, maybe it’s just me.  Maybe there’s some logic here I’m just not seeing, regardless of my most diligent efforts to make this work.  Yesterday was a busy day at work, as always.  I worked with my head down, completing task, task, task, task; sending answer after answer that always seemed to generate more work but I didn’t even pause to breathe, just kept working at top speed for a solid six hours.  The meeting that had been rescheduled for one day after I fell apart from lack of time to do anything and the completely blind reaction from one of my bosses who was simply annoyed that I had not completed her work yet, was on at 2 and right on the dime, she showed up at my office door, notebook in hand.  We had our stupid, useless meeting on her needless project, but, and this is what boggles my mind every time, the 30 minute meeting that SHE scheduled and selected the time for, was not over for 2 hours.  She went from 2 until 4 when I am to go home.  ….  I don’t even know how to react to that.  How does that work now???  She’s FURIOUS with me for not being able to get things done, right?  We have endless discussion about my workload which, on all sides, is agreed to be far too great for a single person to do.  I don’t mean beyond my skill level either, I mean, I’m a freaking admin, not a brain surgeon….I went to school for software and I can work freaking magic with it, but the sheer amount of work is what is in question.  I cannot more clearly lay it out for them….I have spreadsheets !!  Big, long ones that are filled with detailed information on everything I have to do and exactly how much time it takes to do it…down to the minute!  I’m serious, I’ve broken it down to that level for them so they can stop wondering if its inefficiency or some weird process error I’m not realizing.  I’ve asked them to show me how to more efficiently enter 110 people’s payroll every two weeks, for example.  (FYI there is a full time role for that.  A 37.5 hour per week job here where all you do is time keep.  It’s called a staffing clerk and they only make $10/h less than I do and that is ALL they do.  The last job I had in staffing had 53 people to keep time for.)  So, obviously, they can’t tell me that I’m doing it wrong when I manage it, somehow, in three days over two weeks.  It goes on and on like that.  I type at over 130 wpm (average is 38-40).  I can type faster than people talk and am quite fine taking direct dictation.  I used to do that for physicians I worked for, right at my office door between patients. No lack of efficiency there either.  In fact, there is very little that I can’t do here better than anyone else could.  My bosses don’t understand their own budgets or accounts and I am forever schooling them in accruals and benefit hours.  They literally have nothing to complain about but the fact that I cannot do 70 hours’ worth of work in 37.5.  ….and then she takes up another hour and a half of my time.  Not to mention the hours spent watching her run a meeting earlier this week.

How does that work?!  How can she be all pissy with me and yet waste the fuck out of my day….and wait till you hear what it was about…this 90 minute episode.

I’m building them a website, this one department, and it’s looking really good too.  I have been forever picking at files on our network drive and having them reviewed by whatever group needs to review them to have it all up to date – processes, procedures, guidelines, medical directives….you name it.  Over the last year I’ve assembled enough to actually put content on my website. All of my files are neatly stored away in folders and sub-folders, all of which are linked directly to the webpage.  On Monday, when they first wanted to meet but ended up forcing me to take a day off after a large amount of overtime was accrued and not paid to me and someone at HR noticed, they went through my files, my boss and her second in command.  They decided I had some of the wrong versions there, which I may well have done, as some were pending and were acting as placeholders until the new versions were ready.  So what did they do?  The deleted them.  They fucking DELETED them.  The best part?  All of them were in duplicate, one word file, one adobe PDF (for the website).  Not only did they delete the adobe copy, breaking all my links and royally fucking things up on the website, but they trashed my word (original) copies too.  Now, the only way to recreate them is for me to TYPE THEM ALL AGAIN.  I didn’t have to fucking do that in the first place, you see, because they were all in existence, just not updated.  Now I have to go through, file by file, remove everything I’ve put up and replace it with the new files that I have to create.  Again.  A year of work, gone.

Had they though to mention this to me on ohhhh, Tuesday, say, I could have gone to IT and had the cache pulled or asked for access to the network back up to find my deleted files, but no.  The network dumps the back up every three days (we’re a huge hospital and use a lot of space on the servers) so, all gone.  I just closed my eyes and sat there….trying not to respond.

“I’m really sorry Grainne.” Said the boss in a small voice, her accomplice staring directly at the floor in front of her, unwilling to take part in the blame.

“Right.  Okay then, I guess I’ll start again.”

So we spent the next hour and a half picking through files, one by one and then it was time to go home.  I had put off the other boss (the mean, angry one) twice that day and she happened to walk by ten times in this two hours, glaring daggers into my office windows.  So, next week will be fun.

Now I’m here on Saturday and it’s 11:00.  I’m barely awake and I’m going to try to answer some of the 240 email waiting for me when no one  is here to answer back.  Monday is going to be a treat!

Fuuuuuck.

So yeah.  Taking a swing by the ol’ job posting board me thinks.   Damnit.  So much for emotional stability and all these great people who fill all the holes in my head and heart.

Oh, and then, just for a treat, Dayne had at me last night about the fact that this job is taking up all my energy and time.  Nothing left for him and Colt by the time I come home, you see.  Nothing at all.  He’s apparently feeling neglected and forgetting that every single bit I have left after clinging to the job that supports our family, pays all my medical needs and prescriptions, and is our only chance for retirement through my pension, I give to listening to him bitch about his job and how much he hates it.  Well, that and raising Colt and dealing with all of his needs and schooling and all the bullshit that comes with that piece.  I cram in cleaning the house and shopping for groceries somewhere between all that, usually while counseling Dayne and/or Colt on some issue, and then when my brain shuts my body off I don’t have a choice any more.  I go until I literally pass out on my feet.  I do nothing for me.  I don’t play video games, I don’t watch movies, I don’t write, listen to or play music,  I don’t go anywhere, ever, with anyone.  I don’t have any friends or any family aside from them so I don’t talk to or visit anyone.  I don’t email anyone, text anyone or do anything…I don’t have long, hot baths….I don’t do anything but work, clean, listen to them, love them, work and sleep.  Then he decided that it’s my job that’s making me so tired.

…..

I can’t even explain the reaction that one tore out of me.  It wasn’t pretty.

Then he went for depression.

“You’re all depressed again and it’s making you sleep!!”

Why, the fuck, do people keep wanting me to believe that?  M used to say that all the time too, completely dismissing all the physical issues I have.  He told me, before I knew my spine was deteriorating faster than should be happening to a 90 year old and that I have no discs left in my cervical spine up to my brain stem, that all my pain was depression related too, M did.  I’m actually not depressed at all right now…and trust me, I know when I am.  For Dayne to tell me I’m just not realizing it is ludicrous.  I’ve been at this for over a decade, getting beyond it all and working through it and, quite frankly, the meds and the therapy help.  I’m able to cope while I struggle….and now I have a decent handle on the PTSD (maybe I’m in full on denial, but I really don’t think so).  The sleeping shit started a year ago…not ten years ago when I fell into a black hole I couldn’t get out of and wanted to die.  I mean, I guess I could be unable to stay awake and literally fall asleep in the middle of the day because I’m depressed but you’d think one of the specialists I keep seeing might cotton on to that at some point no?  Plus, I know depression can cause withdrawal and make you very, very tired, but can it make you sleep for 40 hours straight and still feel tired all the time?   Even when you don’t feel depressed…at all?  Some kind of hidden, walking depression that has no symptoms other than making you fucking sleep all the time?????

(Okay I’m getting all riled up.  No need for that).

So yeah.  That turned into a mess and I fell asleep at some point during it and woke up this morning in bed not knowing how I got there.  Then, I came here.  Oh joyous day.

Dayne is now all contrite and worried that I hate him, which I most certainly do not.  All this has come about, I think, because he’s just been offered a pretty decent job but the drawback is that most of his work will be on weekends and night shifts, making our life all the more difficult.  I’ll lose the very valued ability to rest when I get home and will have to single parent Colt while Dayne is at work.  The up side is that he’ll be home days so can take Colt to the sitter and deal with the school (which always turns out not so wonderful but fuck it…what harm can be done now, in grade seven?  All the relationships I build are burned anyway and it was their choice, not ours). So, if Colt needs someone through the day I won’t have to drop my impossible work to deal with it.  He feels guilty, not being there to support me and my needs, I know.  It comes out of him as anger or accusation…I know him well.   I love him too and know he’s worried now, hoping I forgive him.

We almost never fight these days….fifteen years is a long enough time to sort out those kinds of differences.  We can get pissed at each other, be furious, in fact, but by dinner time we’re over it because there’s no use carrying that sort of thing around.  We talk when we’re mad and then let it go.  This will be over by today too.  He told me five times on my way out the door that I’m the most important thing in his life but he didn’t need to….they are, the two of them, the only thing I need.

…I could use a bit less sleep, more energy and a shit load less pain but fuck it, I’ll take what I can get at this point.  As long as I have my little family with me, life will be good, not just okay.

Jesus.  You think I need a friend?  LOL!  This blog is my friend now, so thanks guys.  You’re exactly what I needed.  xxx

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