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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About Grainne

My name is Grainne. This blog has been with me for years now and has served as a journal, a confessional, an outlet and a place for me to create and express my love of life. Thank you for stopping by and for becoming a part of this life long journey of mine. I appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to do so. :)

One response to “My life on a Saturday in March”

  1. Birdie says :

    You have every reason to be depressed but as a High Ranking Depressive I don’t think it sounds like depression. Take away all the health issues, your job alone has to pummel you and make you want to sleep. I work hard and want to do nothing but sleep and sit on the couch on my days off.

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