I’m a minority. I’m a woman. I work in a major city. I’ve been through major surgeries. I’ve been alone literally across the globe from the people that I’m closest to at times when I needed them the most.
Fear is real.
And sometimes it keeps me frozen to a spot. I look around and I wonder if I can make it from point A to point B.
Jesus Loves Me repeats over and over in my head at times. That repetition of my love for my God helps me. (If you don’t have a higher power okay. If you have a different higher power okay. I can only speak for myself and I’m not a person who tries to convert people).
People say if you’re afraid you let the bad guys win. That’s the truth. I’m not doubting that. I think one of the major problems in society is the fact that people are afraid of so much.
That all said–I live in times that can be frightening. Fuck it-that are frightening.
And so when something not frightening happens–when someone tired on the train nods off and her head falls on my shoulder…I’m fine with that. We’ve all been there where we’ve worked so hard all we want to do is sleep.
Day to day we’re surrounded by things that are scary.
Normalcy is welcome in all its forms.
My job is ever changing. It’s what happens when you actually get stuff done in a sea of people who…don’t.
Figure this out, show people what to do (so they won’t do it), give people the tools they need to do something (they won’t do even though they should).
I have two (okay more) but two modes that I am going to talk about today. If I think you’re trying I will do my best to help and protect you–I will send you reminders that I really should not have to. I will watch you and help you with the goal so that you will grow and do it yourself.
But if your growth doesn’t come, if I don’t see even baby steps, eventually that turns into “Yeah…gives no fuck” mode. Because that basically means to me that you don’t care about yourself or your well being or your job apparently so why am I going to expend my energy? It may sound harsh, but I take on too much. I don’t leave enough for myself.
Until I realize you’re taking up emotional space that I need.
If I am in “Yeah…gives no fuck” mode and your lack of work is effecting MY work, I’ll remind you for MY sake, but I don’t go down with your ship when you refuse to help me paddle. I move along to the next ship. Preferably a cruise liner but like the cool ones from the OG Love Boat of the 70s (the 80s sucked).
I am interested to see what happens today. Looking around my guess is that it’s not going to be good. Maybe I will be surprised…but really, if not, well…I can tell my boss is at the edge of the rope.
And with very good reason.
Last night I played the “How long can you stay awake while knowing the clock is ticking on it being time for you to wake up” game. The title of the game is long and lame because I came up with it at probably around 4 am.
I have been battling insomnia since I was 19. I know what triggered it on one hand but not on another. That is a post for another day. Maybe. Possibly.
Last night I should have been able to sleep. (By the way, I never sleep any decent amount of hours. When I say I should have been able to sleep I mean I should have been able to catch some zzzs in between tossing and turning). Anyway I had a night cap and everything. But I couldn’t. There were no zzzzs. Only tossing and turning. I was wide awake and I tried everything. Eventually I got out of bed because one miserable person is enough for a bed and why toss and turn and wake luckily slumbering man up?
So I sat in the corner and wondered what time the sun would come up. And why is it that songs you hate manage to get stuck in your head–especially when you only know so many words because you hate it (the lines to that damn song are still in my head). And now what time is it? I wonder if I can fall asleep at all? Maybe I should just be at work by 5. But then I will be alone and being alone at work really early or late kind of freaks me out.
And so on and so on.
I finally got sleepy around an hour before I was supposed to get up.
Needless to say I worked from home today.
I should be in bed soon. I’m wide awake with those stupid lines to that stupid song stuck in my head.
No nightcap tonight though. I don’t nightcap every night unless I am on vacation.
I really don’t want to play the long lame titled game again.
When I play that game too many times in a row it turns into the “how many things can make me cry because I’m so fucking tired” game.
I hate that game the most.
Maybe I am hoping that having written all of this down will somehow stop my mind from running in overdrive. I am also listening on loop to one of my favorite slow songs.
Hope springs eternal.
Unless I can’t sleep again tonight.
I was speaking to someone at work on Friday. She came in to give me money she owed me that I completely forgot about because I had picked up a danish for her while on a coffee run.
I told her it wasn’t necessary and she said she was always the child who returned money she borrowed from her parents. I joked that I was always the child who would find money and give it to my parents.
We were both the youngest siblings. We both have older siblings who let’s just say weren’t the stereotype of the “mature” one.
But this post isn’t about my sibling (maybe another day). This is about me. Growing up in that shadow. Not a shadow of Marcia Marcia Marcia perfection. A shadow which stressed my parents out daily.
I was told I was always “a little adult”. People would comment on how well behaved I was. I was quiet. I was respectful. I was that annoying kid who stressed so much about grades when I almost always got an A (fuck you math and science).
There are a lot of things I didn’t do. I’m not saying I wish I did them. I’m saying I wish that I had more of a choice. I wish that I wasn’t always so scared of adding stress that I just never wanted to be not so adult. I wish that I wasn’t the one whose mom would tell her things that kids shouldn’t know or have to process.
I wish I had felt some freedom.
There are things I didn’t do. I’m not saying I wish I did them. I’m saying I wish the thought had crossed my mind.
Because I wasn’t a “little adult”. I was a “too mature child.”
I complain a lot about work (though usually just to myself). But generally it’s a “this part sucked but otherwise things were fine”. And that’s what work is. Even someone with the best job in the world has at least parts of it, I would bet daily, that go craptistically bad.
Yesterday was an entire day that went so badly I went and hid in my car to call my sweetheart who was also at work (I don’t do that because he hates it) and literally cried (he hates that even more).
When I got home from work the day continued to suck (seriously what kind of cosmic happenings were going on yesterday?) so I called my parents to vent. I vented to my best friend. Basically I just needed to wear a sign that said “please give me a hug.”
And I am not a hugger.
When my sweetheart got home I latched onto him like some clingy chick, something I hate and therefore am only such on rare occasions. He loves that stuff though so today he’s aggravating me with his need for me to be needy but that is another post.
Anyway as I was going through my day, I did realize or I should say really realized just how much my boss appreciates me. My day sucked. But everyone’s day at work sucked. Like should be a tv episode sucked. And my boss not only cared but let me know that what I did to make it less sucky mattered.
I have had all sorts of bosses–wonderful, horrible (oh I have some stories) and in between.
It may sound cliche but it’s not–a good boss can make a world of a difference to how you feel about your job and your role at work.
Even on a sucky day.
A number that tells you and everyone how many years you’ve been on this planet.
My goal was always to age gracefully. Then I hit 30something and all of a sudden if someone wanted to know how old I was I wanted to hit them in the face with a skillet. Non violently though.
I will say I have good genes and I look younger than what I am. Though he’ll always be the sexiest most beautiful man to me ever, my sweetheart is not aging as well as me. And I won’t lie and say he doesn’t care. Lord he does. He’s more vain than me–but despite this post I am not that vain. Really. I’m not my mother! I’m not! Or my father. My sister. Yeah…vanity runs in the family. But I am the least vain of all that’s a fact. I basically am on fuck it mode 90something % of the time. Fuck it is the same as Forget It I Give Up right?
Anyway, this week I felt both young and old. Young because someone who probably is about my age called me “Miss” rather than “Ma’am”. That’s a big deal when you get to be 30something give or take a something. I also heard someone complaining that he wished he could go back to the 80s. I was too young to really enjoy all of the fun the 80s could offer. Where they could go back to partying 80s style in the 80s my parties consisted of slumber parties.
Then I realized something about my job. I am probably one of the oldest people there. I’m not old enough for that. I’m not even close to retirement age though I would retire in a second if I won the lotto. Thing is, this has happened to me at work before. Maybe I belong in a youthful workplace. Maybe my maturity level is more twenty something.
Or maybe I don’t care. Maybe age doesn’t really matter. Maybe I have my “God I’m old” moments but they’re just those…moments.
Now excuse me. My feet hurt and I’m cold. I need a massage and to be wrapped in a warm blanket the rest of the night. Though it’s still light out.
(Talk of the monthly biology of being a woman ahead).
Tomorrow is a big day for me. And really I should be in bed in like 4 hours to get a full night’s sleep. But that’s insane. Plus I haven’t had a full night’s sleep that wasn’t induced, yes legally, since my second year in college (not kidding). And I really don’t like induced sleep. It’s like I’m just awake enough to feel my blood pressure drop. So I don’t do it.
Those women who talk about periods like it’s some great natural gift I think are cracked. Mine are horrible. I feel like Carrie but down below, I have been known to get lightheaded. And the 2nd day, of which is tomorrow are the worst. As in if I could take one day off a month that would be the day. It would be best for everyone.
But I’m not in that situation. I don’t have that luxury. So I have to feel like crap, worry about every time I sit down or get up, Pray I don’t get sick and yet try and act normal.
I am scared tomorrow will be horrible. I am more scared that it will be horrible and I’ll be sick.
This is not how to start something new.
Today was bittersweet. 99% bitter & 1% sweet.
I thought I was going to cry today. Surprisingly I didn’t. But I did think I was going to puke or get dizzy. Yay anxiety. It overtook my depression. Thank God for Valium and booze (do not mix these two. Unless you’re me. I’m only taking responsibility for me. Not for you).
I thought I should be responsible today. Surprisingly I was. Other people not so much.
Surprisingly I spent money for makeup I’ll never use. I never do that. I’m what Mom calls a tightwad. So I guess I was not completely responsible. Surprise.
Anyway I stopped wearing makeup regularly after my last job. But I bought some. Because new start and all but come on I know me. I’d rather sleep. Sleep is hard to come by for me. Especially in this bed. I want my old bed back. I’m glad I brought my pillow. It’s the one soft thing here.
But I’m alive. Never underestimate the importance of that. And hopefully things will work this time.
Why does anyone start a blog? Because they think they have something to say and they’ve decided to share it. Sometimes they are wrong but hey live and learn. I’m entering a new chapter in my life. Maybe parts of it I’ll share. Maybe it won’t be worth sharing but then I’ll just find something else to talk about.
Let’s see what happens.