So my day is going along just fine. I've done the laundry, packed for our trip to Grayling, applied to NMU in case I decide to take summer classes, filled out my FAFSA...a very productive day I must say.
In an effort to have everything ready to go when Joe gets home, I decided to pack us a couple of sandwiches and stuff for the road and get everything put into the impala. Once in the impala I was going to head to the bank, although I can't remember why anymore (other than for money).
So I head out to the impala with our bag, two jackets, my purse, two books, our packed snacks, my keys, some mail for the mail box, and two water bottles. Of course it's raining, but I'm still feeling pretty good about the day, so it's not a big deal. Then the bag got caught in the door and I (inevitably, it would seem) dropped one of the water bottles.
It's weird when you drop something and you kind of see it falling in slow motion as you say to yourself "please don't break" or "please don't spill" or whatever over and over again. In this specific case, my thought was "please don't fall into the gutter" (as in the deep little pit in front of the basement windows). And of course, as usually is the case, that's exactly what it did.
So now I'm a little annoyed because I was excited to have to car perfectly packed, but nothing I can't get over, ya know? Deep breath and all that stuff. So I start walking to the car as the rain suddenly started coming down much faster. I fumbled the keys, dropped them into the mud, and then saw that I was going to have to wade through a puddle to get to the back door of the car to put our stuff in there.
At this point, I'm pretty much miffed. I got out stuff in the car and climbed into the drivers seat to head to the bank. As I'm sitting behind the wheel it dawns on me that I really have no reason to go to the bank. At all. Perfect, now I can relax and chill out after the unfortunate series of events that had just taken place.
I'm going to go ahead and throw the obvious pun out there - when it rains, it pours. I still have to get the stuff to the mailbox, but I've decided that a little rain is no big deal. So I jog over to put the item into the box. Earlier in the day I'd put some other important stuff in there for the post-person to get, but it hadn't been picked up yet. So I opened the already flag-up box to put the extra item in.
It should be noted that our mailbox has a slight "I've been hit by a baseball bat" look to it. And hey, I'm totally cool with mailboxes building character so what do I care?
I'll tell you why I care. I care because a bent mailbox doesn't close properly. And when a mailbox doesn't close properly it lets rain in. It rained today. So all of the shit I'd put in there earlier (i.e. my app to NMU, some documentation for our FSA, etc) was wet. My frustration is growing, no matter how hard I'm try to curb it. I took it out on the mailbox a little bit, but I swear it was only because it NEEDED to be bent a different way. Seriously, true story.
Ok, the bags are in the car, the mail is in the mailbox, I don't need to go to the bank...so all that's left is getting that water bottle out of the mud hole it fell into. Immediately I note that it's in an area that will put me directly beneath all of those huge drops/streams of water that come off the roof when it's raining. Absolutely no way around them, as if I'm not wet enough. But I can't leave it in there, so I went in.
I must mention something seemingly unrelated at this point. I only own two pairs of jeans. Well, that's not entirely correct, but let's just say I only own two wearable pairs of jeans The rest have stubbornly decided that they do not want to be worn on hips of my size, discriminating bastards. Obviously, I'm wearing one of these pairs. In fact, it's my favorite pair.
Back to the story. The only way to get to the water bottle is to get into the hole, nothing I can do about that. So I carefully lowered one leg into the whole as the other went into the squat position. And that's when it happened.
As soon as I heard the sound I knew it wasn't going to be some little tear. Without having to look I knew that I was dealing with a gargantuan hole. Further inspection proved me right - my favorite jeans had ripped from seam to seam on the inside of my thigh about 3 inches from my crotch.
I have my limits people.
This was the last straw.
I had no choice but to set the building on fire. Red stapler and all.
(Truthfully I just ended up coming inside, going directly to the computer and ordering new jeans...same ones, same color, same size. But setting the building on fire was a much better ending.)
Friday, April 18, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
validation
While I wouldn't have believed it possible last Thursday, I've managed to survive a colposcopy. I was crampy and sorta sore on Friday, but I've had worse. Yesterday the doctor's office called to tell me the results of the biopsies weren't anything to be concerned about.
I asked the nurse to have Dr. Pond call me personally at her convenience because I think it's important that someone know how uniformed I was. I didn't even receive aftercare instructions, so if I hadn't dug it up on the internet I wouldn't have had any clue that I wasn't supposed to use tampons, have sex, use a hot tub, etc for a week. I also wouldn't have known that I should expect the "spotting" (holy understatement) to be gray or black nor did I know how long it was supposed to last. How would I have known that I should be keeping an eye out for excessive bleeding and signs of infection? I didn't even know what the signs of infection were! (Ok, well maybe I could have figured those out, but they shouldn't assume that) I also think I should have had to sign a consent for this, but I guess that's their problem. Along with worrying about the results, I think most of the reason I was so upset about the procedure was because I felt so disrespected. As if pelvic exams aren't demeaning enough. Once I talk to Dr. Pond I think I'll feel at peace about the whole thing.
In other news...
On Friday I saw Dr. Moore, my psychologist. I've definitely grown to like him and am comfortable talking about everything with him. On Friday we talked about my job and how I'm scared that once I'm healthy enough to return to work that I'll just crash again. I don't want to put all this effort into making progress just to have Biolife take it away. He asked me to explain why I felt that I would have a hard time returning to the center, so I went over how I felt strung along and how I perceived the management and working environment. He analyzed the situation perfectly (as psychologists do) - the number one issue I have with my job there is that I feel completely powerless. And powerlessness is not something that a person with my particular personality and disposition deals with well.
I'm not able to sit back and watch as my managers disrespect and abuse my coworkers and are so unethical and apathetic when dealing with things like safety. At the same time, however, speaking up only makes me a target for them. I'm not scared that I'll get fired, but I can certainly recognize that my work environment would suddenly become "less pleasant." This "damned if I do, damned if I don't" situation is so stressful to me that I'm nothing short of miserable from the moment I walk in the back door. Even since I've been off work I find myself worrying about how horribly my co-workers are treated and feel somewhat responsible for how much harder they have to work since management refuses to do anything about our staffing shortage. Since I know that an improvement in my mood isn't going to change the dynamic of my work environment I'm plagued with anxiety about returning. But when I recognize that I'm feeling that way a part of me convinces my brain that I'm just trying to avoid having to work.
To my great relief, Dr. Moore immediately dismissed the idea that I'm trying to dodge having to work. He said his observations have shown that I am not the type that wants to sit at home without purpose, and he's right. Not being able to work makes me feel useless, so I busy myself with keeping the house clean or making sure our finances are managed appropriately or taking our cars in for maintenance or doing the grocery shopping...the list goes on. Anything I can find to make me feel like I'm accomplishing something for someone other than myself.
In addition to assuring me that he didn't think I was trying to avoid working, Dr. Moore told me something even more significant. After allowing me to explain the conditions at the center and the reasons I was so worried about returning, he told me I wasn't the first patient he had heard such things from. He'd heard from many people (some patients, some not) about the hostile working environment at Biolife and said I wasn't the only one that had such anxiety associated with the center and it's management. I can't explain how relieving it was to hear my feeling validated. He suggested that perhaps I should find a different job, but once I explained our situation with moving he agreed that quitting wasn't necessarily feasible. He said that he wouldn't recommend that I return to work until we've resolved my anger and angst toward my current employer, no matter if it took 20 minutes or 20 sessions. I think my sigh of relief was both audible and physically noticeable to him. I was so worried that my general improvement would force me to return to Biolife and ruin all of my progress. Wanting so badly to return to normal while concurrently being petrified of it is a contradiction that's very hard to sort out.
I still haven't called the center to "touch base" with them, but I don't care. Really, my health isn't any of their business. My human resource department placed me on FMLA and communicates with my short term disability company on whether or not to keep me there. So if the center's management can't figure out that HR handles this, well that's their problem. If they want an update, they can call HR. In fact, I believe that's their job and I don't feel like doing it for them.
There's that anger thing.
To end on a positive note, Joe and I (aka me - one of those things that makes me feel useful) are planning out the remainder of our time here and are excited about all of the things we're going to do. Not all of our dates are set in stone, as we're waiting for some confirmation on a couple of things, but this is our current version:
April 18-20: Visit Grayling
April 26-27: Visit my Mom at East Paint Lake
May 3: Graduation Party for some of Joe's fraternity brothers
May 5-9 or 10: I'm possibly going to visit my Grandmother and other family in Denver
May 10: Mary to take a bead class with sisters...PS, it's my birthday. If you need an address to send cards and gifts, just ask :)
May 16-18: Joe and I will drive to Grayling, then I'll carry on to Flint for Kristy's Bridal Shower.
May 22-26: Driving to North Carolina to house hunt, etc, with my brother Joe and his wife Sara
May 31-June 1: Possible date for Mackinac Island, depending on my Dad's schedule
June 7: Tentative date for a joint going away party, since Joe and Sara are going earlier than us
June 14-15: Back up date for Mackinac Island
June 13-15: Camping at Tahquamenon Falls
June 26-29: Visiting Grand Island with my Dad, Teri, and Joe's parents and brother
July 3-5: Fourth of July festivities in Gwinn, Little Lake, and Marquette
July 17-20: Travel to Kristy and Cason's wedding in Grand Blanc
So at this point, we really only have one or two open weekends for the next three months. About half of our dates are tentative as we try to coordinate with family, but that's the general idea. We're also planning on taking a pictured rocks cruise as well as a hike through Dead River Falls, but that will either be on a weeknight or on an open Sunday. All of our family members are invited to join us for any of these adventures. Hopefully our busy schedule won't be too wearing - most of our activities should be fairly relaxing.
We're both really excited to have actually made plans for all of the things we'd like to do before we leave. :)
I asked the nurse to have Dr. Pond call me personally at her convenience because I think it's important that someone know how uniformed I was. I didn't even receive aftercare instructions, so if I hadn't dug it up on the internet I wouldn't have had any clue that I wasn't supposed to use tampons, have sex, use a hot tub, etc for a week. I also wouldn't have known that I should expect the "spotting" (holy understatement) to be gray or black nor did I know how long it was supposed to last. How would I have known that I should be keeping an eye out for excessive bleeding and signs of infection? I didn't even know what the signs of infection were! (Ok, well maybe I could have figured those out, but they shouldn't assume that) I also think I should have had to sign a consent for this, but I guess that's their problem. Along with worrying about the results, I think most of the reason I was so upset about the procedure was because I felt so disrespected. As if pelvic exams aren't demeaning enough. Once I talk to Dr. Pond I think I'll feel at peace about the whole thing.
In other news...
On Friday I saw Dr. Moore, my psychologist. I've definitely grown to like him and am comfortable talking about everything with him. On Friday we talked about my job and how I'm scared that once I'm healthy enough to return to work that I'll just crash again. I don't want to put all this effort into making progress just to have Biolife take it away. He asked me to explain why I felt that I would have a hard time returning to the center, so I went over how I felt strung along and how I perceived the management and working environment. He analyzed the situation perfectly (as psychologists do) - the number one issue I have with my job there is that I feel completely powerless. And powerlessness is not something that a person with my particular personality and disposition deals with well.
I'm not able to sit back and watch as my managers disrespect and abuse my coworkers and are so unethical and apathetic when dealing with things like safety. At the same time, however, speaking up only makes me a target for them. I'm not scared that I'll get fired, but I can certainly recognize that my work environment would suddenly become "less pleasant." This "damned if I do, damned if I don't" situation is so stressful to me that I'm nothing short of miserable from the moment I walk in the back door. Even since I've been off work I find myself worrying about how horribly my co-workers are treated and feel somewhat responsible for how much harder they have to work since management refuses to do anything about our staffing shortage. Since I know that an improvement in my mood isn't going to change the dynamic of my work environment I'm plagued with anxiety about returning. But when I recognize that I'm feeling that way a part of me convinces my brain that I'm just trying to avoid having to work.
To my great relief, Dr. Moore immediately dismissed the idea that I'm trying to dodge having to work. He said his observations have shown that I am not the type that wants to sit at home without purpose, and he's right. Not being able to work makes me feel useless, so I busy myself with keeping the house clean or making sure our finances are managed appropriately or taking our cars in for maintenance or doing the grocery shopping...the list goes on. Anything I can find to make me feel like I'm accomplishing something for someone other than myself.
In addition to assuring me that he didn't think I was trying to avoid working, Dr. Moore told me something even more significant. After allowing me to explain the conditions at the center and the reasons I was so worried about returning, he told me I wasn't the first patient he had heard such things from. He'd heard from many people (some patients, some not) about the hostile working environment at Biolife and said I wasn't the only one that had such anxiety associated with the center and it's management. I can't explain how relieving it was to hear my feeling validated. He suggested that perhaps I should find a different job, but once I explained our situation with moving he agreed that quitting wasn't necessarily feasible. He said that he wouldn't recommend that I return to work until we've resolved my anger and angst toward my current employer, no matter if it took 20 minutes or 20 sessions. I think my sigh of relief was both audible and physically noticeable to him. I was so worried that my general improvement would force me to return to Biolife and ruin all of my progress. Wanting so badly to return to normal while concurrently being petrified of it is a contradiction that's very hard to sort out.
I still haven't called the center to "touch base" with them, but I don't care. Really, my health isn't any of their business. My human resource department placed me on FMLA and communicates with my short term disability company on whether or not to keep me there. So if the center's management can't figure out that HR handles this, well that's their problem. If they want an update, they can call HR. In fact, I believe that's their job and I don't feel like doing it for them.
There's that anger thing.
To end on a positive note, Joe and I (aka me - one of those things that makes me feel useful) are planning out the remainder of our time here and are excited about all of the things we're going to do. Not all of our dates are set in stone, as we're waiting for some confirmation on a couple of things, but this is our current version:
April 18-20: Visit Grayling
April 26-27: Visit my Mom at East Paint Lake
May 3: Graduation Party for some of Joe's fraternity brothers
May 5-9 or 10: I'm possibly going to visit my Grandmother and other family in Denver
May 10: Mary to take a bead class with sisters...PS, it's my birthday. If you need an address to send cards and gifts, just ask :)
May 16-18: Joe and I will drive to Grayling, then I'll carry on to Flint for Kristy's Bridal Shower.
May 22-26: Driving to North Carolina to house hunt, etc, with my brother Joe and his wife Sara
May 31-June 1: Possible date for Mackinac Island, depending on my Dad's schedule
June 7: Tentative date for a joint going away party, since Joe and Sara are going earlier than us
June 14-15: Back up date for Mackinac Island
June 13-15: Camping at Tahquamenon Falls
June 26-29: Visiting Grand Island with my Dad, Teri, and Joe's parents and brother
July 3-5: Fourth of July festivities in Gwinn, Little Lake, and Marquette
July 17-20: Travel to Kristy and Cason's wedding in Grand Blanc
So at this point, we really only have one or two open weekends for the next three months. About half of our dates are tentative as we try to coordinate with family, but that's the general idea. We're also planning on taking a pictured rocks cruise as well as a hike through Dead River Falls, but that will either be on a weeknight or on an open Sunday. All of our family members are invited to join us for any of these adventures. Hopefully our busy schedule won't be too wearing - most of our activities should be fairly relaxing.
We're both really excited to have actually made plans for all of the things we'd like to do before we leave. :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
i've been violated.
So when Dr. Kroll's office called after my most recent yearly PAP smear and told me that there were abnormal cells I was a little freaked out, but I was able to get over that. They referred me to an gynecologist and scheduled me for April 10th (today). I remember being told that the GYN would take a closer look at my cervix and put a solution on it to determine what strain of virus I had. In fact, I was really under the impression that I was having another PAP smear with more advanced cytology and pathology testing. PAP smears are no picnic, so I wasn't looking forward to it, but you deal with it. That's life as a woman.
So I get to the office and sit in the waiting room, surrounded by pregnant women. No, really, every one of them was pregnant. The nurse calls me back and takes my weight and BP and all that normal stuff they do when you go to the doctor. My BP was actually a little high, but since I was about to have a huge metal apparatus shoved up me I figured that was normal. She asks me to give a urine sample (which means I peed on my hand because I've never, ever managed to pee in a cup without doing so) and then met me in the hallway and took me to the exam room.
That's when she dropped the bomb on me. It turns out I was having a colposcopy today. For those of you who haven't experienced this, allow me to enlighten you:
-The doctor came in, talked to me, then proceeded to shove the aforementioned metal thing up in my vagina and spread it apart. Not confortable, but no big deal. SOP for gyn exams.
-Second, she took a q-tip and wiped vinegar all over my cervix. It doesn't tickle, trust me. But again, it's manageable.
-Third, she took a pair of high tech binoculars and checked out the inside of my vaj jay jay and my cervix. She saw white cells, so she scraped them off. Yes, I said scrape. And not with that bottle brush looking thing they use for PAP smears. I am pretty sure she used a machete.
-Fourth, and this is my favorite part, she tells me to give her a big cough on the count of three. I'm amused by this because it reminds me of the "turn your head and cough" part of a dude's physical. But I wasn't amused for long -as soon as I coughed she shoved something up into my cervix (like where babies come from) and cut a chunk out of it. That's when I started to cry (and don't you dare call me a wuss until you've had a part of your body cut out without any anesthetic). Better yet, we repeated that 3 times. That's right, THREE times.
-After that things got a little fuzzy, but I will tell you that there was more poking and scraping around in there. I was just too lightheaded to remember exactly what she said she was doing.
-Then my uterus began to cramp in ways I didn't realize it was capable of...oh, and I started bleeding. Pretty significantly, at least until she smeared this stuff all up in there to help it stop. And I'm talking all UP in there, which means she was basically poking the areas that she's just ripped off a chunk of with a q-tip.
When she was done she told me to take my time getting dressed and she'd see me in the hallway. I laid on the table, my legs still up in stir ups, too scared to move. I was in so much pain and I was sure that moving would make it worse. So I probably laid there for a solid 5 minutes. Eventually I took my legs down, one at a time, and slowly got my clothes on. I felt like I was going to pass out at any minute.
And I can't tell you how excited I was when she told me that if the chunks inside my cervix come back abnormal that I get to come back and have the inside wall of my cervix removed. If they don't numb me for that I'll probably murder them with the speculum. Speculums aren't sharp, but I'm positive I'd be able to do enough damage.
No one told me that this was going to happen. NO ONE. I didn't find out that I was getting pieces of my body cut out of me (without anestetic) until I was in the room half naked. I'm not happy about this. Someone should have informed me...Dr. Krolls office perhaps? Could the Ob/GYN associates have included a post-it note in my patient information pack they sent me? No, that would be too logical, too ethical. Why would they tell me beforehand? And PS, shouldn't I have had to sign some sort of consent? They technically just stole part of my body from me...we had no prior agreement that they could have it.
I don't know what giving birth is like, but after today I'm soooooo not interested in it that I think I might consider celibacy, just to be sure. Abstinence, after all, is the only 100% effective method of BC.
So I get to the office and sit in the waiting room, surrounded by pregnant women. No, really, every one of them was pregnant. The nurse calls me back and takes my weight and BP and all that normal stuff they do when you go to the doctor. My BP was actually a little high, but since I was about to have a huge metal apparatus shoved up me I figured that was normal. She asks me to give a urine sample (which means I peed on my hand because I've never, ever managed to pee in a cup without doing so) and then met me in the hallway and took me to the exam room.
That's when she dropped the bomb on me. It turns out I was having a colposcopy today. For those of you who haven't experienced this, allow me to enlighten you:
-The doctor came in, talked to me, then proceeded to shove the aforementioned metal thing up in my vagina and spread it apart. Not confortable, but no big deal. SOP for gyn exams.
-Second, she took a q-tip and wiped vinegar all over my cervix. It doesn't tickle, trust me. But again, it's manageable.
-Third, she took a pair of high tech binoculars and checked out the inside of my vaj jay jay and my cervix. She saw white cells, so she scraped them off. Yes, I said scrape. And not with that bottle brush looking thing they use for PAP smears. I am pretty sure she used a machete.
-Fourth, and this is my favorite part, she tells me to give her a big cough on the count of three. I'm amused by this because it reminds me of the "turn your head and cough" part of a dude's physical. But I wasn't amused for long -as soon as I coughed she shoved something up into my cervix (like where babies come from) and cut a chunk out of it. That's when I started to cry (and don't you dare call me a wuss until you've had a part of your body cut out without any anesthetic). Better yet, we repeated that 3 times. That's right, THREE times.
-After that things got a little fuzzy, but I will tell you that there was more poking and scraping around in there. I was just too lightheaded to remember exactly what she said she was doing.
-Then my uterus began to cramp in ways I didn't realize it was capable of...oh, and I started bleeding. Pretty significantly, at least until she smeared this stuff all up in there to help it stop. And I'm talking all UP in there, which means she was basically poking the areas that she's just ripped off a chunk of with a q-tip.
When she was done she told me to take my time getting dressed and she'd see me in the hallway. I laid on the table, my legs still up in stir ups, too scared to move. I was in so much pain and I was sure that moving would make it worse. So I probably laid there for a solid 5 minutes. Eventually I took my legs down, one at a time, and slowly got my clothes on. I felt like I was going to pass out at any minute.
And I can't tell you how excited I was when she told me that if the chunks inside my cervix come back abnormal that I get to come back and have the inside wall of my cervix removed. If they don't numb me for that I'll probably murder them with the speculum. Speculums aren't sharp, but I'm positive I'd be able to do enough damage.
No one told me that this was going to happen. NO ONE. I didn't find out that I was getting pieces of my body cut out of me (without anestetic) until I was in the room half naked. I'm not happy about this. Someone should have informed me...Dr. Krolls office perhaps? Could the Ob/GYN associates have included a post-it note in my patient information pack they sent me? No, that would be too logical, too ethical. Why would they tell me beforehand? And PS, shouldn't I have had to sign some sort of consent? They technically just stole part of my body from me...we had no prior agreement that they could have it.
I don't know what giving birth is like, but after today I'm soooooo not interested in it that I think I might consider celibacy, just to be sure. Abstinence, after all, is the only 100% effective method of BC.
Monday, April 7, 2008
I'm told my blogs are entertaining, so even though I think they are too negative I guess I'm going to continue writing them.
Things have been kind of up and down lately, which is to be expected I guess. I think I've gotten better, but I'm not sure if it's improvement or just change. My life has definitely regained some stability and I'm sure that's helping quite a bit. But I still don't feel like myself. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm depressed and I've stopped denying how down I really am. Sometimes I tinker on the line of self-pity but I try to be vigilant and positive. It's exhausting.
When I first took time off work my biggest concern was my anxiety. I just couldn't handle being at work; it was nearly impossible to try to pull myself together and appear normal. I felt like I was barely able to keep my head above water and at some point I really couldn't. I didn't feel well on my days off either, but I was certainly more at peace than when I was at the center. I knew I was not happy with my job but I'm not sure I really recognized how miserable it was making me. Beyond it being a horrible work environment I'm generally dissatisfied by where I am career wise. I don't have any sense of pride in what I do and I expect myself to be doing something more. I didn't struggle through 4 years of college to work somewhere that requires me to have a high school diploma. What happened to my ambition?
When I started back at Biolife I was given a very strong impression that they intended to take me beyond a line staff position. I was encouraged to apply for a few different positions immediately and was optimistic that I might be able to make something more out of my time there. I probably should have figured out last summer that this wasn't the case, but I was distracted with planning and paying for a wedding. Even when I was made full time I think they were just trying to pacify me. Not to sound arrogant, but I was passed over for positions I was far more qualified for than other applicants. I think that's about the time I started to realize I hated everything about my job and that center. And it's not even worth explaining how horrible the management team has become...once Jeff left the whole center went to hell. My experience with the center has left me angry, disgusted, and disappointed. Mostly with myself.
I'm ready to go beyond this sort of job, but I'm scared to take that step. I don't really see my particular degree landing me a job I'll actually like...or at least not one that would fit into the lifestyle I'd like (schedule wise). Now more than ever I need stability in my life, not ever changing shifts or crazy paced projects. So where I do I go from here? The easy answer is back to school but I don't think I should be making such a huge decision right now. People shouldn't commit to life changing experiences while depressed, the results are often less than perfect. So I'm waiting. I'm also not entirely certain how we'd pay for such an endeavor, although Joe doesn't seem concerned about this at all. I trust his judgment, but I still worry.
I fear the possibility of failure if I chose to take this path. Pursuing my first bachelor's degree was a train wreck. I'm too intelligent to have earned the grades that appear on my transcripts and to have abandoned a profession that I've wanted to pursue since I was 14. I convinced myself that I wouldn't like it, that I hated everything about it. And I really did hate my classes, but in retrospect I know that it wasn't because of the content. It was because I couldn't tackle them. I couldn't keep myself together. Not to knock all of us poli sci majors out there, but it's a degree that is much much easier to obtain. The difference is beyond measurement. I'm glad that I managed to graduate, but in the end my current degree means little to me without the other; I'd always intended them to compliment each other. College defeated me...sometimes it occurs to me that I was lucky to make it out alive. So even though the circumstances are completely different and I know that the only one I'd be disappointing is myself I'm terrified of screwing it up again. At some point in my life I have to start accepting that the people that love me don't love me for my accomplishments.
I don't want to go back to my job at Biolife. That's not to say I don't want to go back to working once I'm healthy enough to do so. I still hate being unable to work...it would be totally different if I was home with a broken leg or something. I'm tormented by my own personal stigma of mental illness...one minute I'll be certain I can return to work and to next I'm curled up in a ball praying for the panic to pass or the meds to work. The roller coaster of it all is so frustrating and I'm not sure I'll ever be convinced that people understand.
I don't want to convince myself that I shouldn't go back to my current job, but the fact is that a majority of my panic attacks are preceded by thoughts of going to work. Apparently they thought I was coming back this week and I found out on Friday that I was on the schedule, full time. I have many issues with this - first, were they going to tell me I was scheduled? Did they think I would just magically know that I was supposed to come to work? Second, full time? Are you kidding me? Third, the idea of being back in that center scares the shit out of me. I can't even answer the phone when they call. I had to have Joe check my voice mail for me. It's not about going back to work, it's about going back to Biolife.
So at this point I'd rather quit my job than return when my health improves. But then what? We're moving in July...finding a new job seems idiotic to me. Not only would I have a hard time finding such a short term job but I'm not too excited about the prospect of being tied to a job in which I'm not invested. We intend to use our remaining time in the UP to enjoy our surroundings and our family. I'm not going to give that up for some temporary job that means nothing to me or my future. This problem presents itself at Biolife as well. I had to use all of my vacation before I used my disability. This means I'd have no time to go to North Carolina for house hunting, no time to spend on Grand Island, no free weekends for camping or going downstate to see Joe's parents, no time off to attend Kristy's bridal shower. And if I go back part-time I'll still end up working 4-5 days a week because part-timers do short shifts in the afternoon. This is not acceptable to me. We can survive without my paycheck, but it will be difficult to do all of these activities without a second income. Still, I think I would rather be poor than miss the opportunity to enjoy our remaining time here. On the priority list of life money doesn't rank very high for me.
On the plus side of things my irritability has decreased, which I'm sure is a huge relief to Joe. I've also think that I'm getting better at interacting with Mastin (Dee's son) when he's here. It's really easy to get pissy at a five year old because, well, he's five. He's got more energy in his pinky than I do in my entire body in a week. I really hated that I was annoyed by him so much because he's a really sweet kid. It wasn't just him of course...the list of people that I've been bitchy about isn't exactly short and the younger you are the higher you are on the list. I mean I have a brand new nephew and I think I've held him for a total of 10 minutes. I've been avoiding children (and certain adults) like the plague. Since when do I not like kids, seriously? I was once everyone's favorite aunt and now I'm avoiding them? That's not me, and yet it's been my attitude for a long time.
I have less generalized anxiety but have had a significant increase in panic attacks...I can't decide which is worse. I certainly hated being antsy and worried all the time. You know that feeling you get when you get pulled over? That's what its like all the time. So I don't miss that, obviously. But panic attacks are no picnic. In truth they're terrifying. Most of the time I can get through them on my own but there are times when I feel so horrible that I can't believe I'm going to get through it. These are the ones that require a lot of xanax and knock me out. It's strange the kind of physical stress it puts your body through. And it seems like these are the ones that happen when I'm by myself and everyone else is at work and unavailable. I'm only going to call Joe at work bawling my eyes out so many times, my Mom stresses me out, and my sister(s) are at work. So I try to deal (save it Laura, I can only find so many people to hang out with during the day).
My last thing I'm going to complain about today is that I'm bored. So bored. Heinously bored. I'm not one to sit still (especially not right now!) but I'm out of ideas. I've been trying to read, started making jewelry, have been hitting the gym, and have been trying to get outside and take walks. My weekends are generally my best days. I've been seeing friends and family a lot more. But I've also lost interest in a lot of things - cooking, baking, writing to my Grandma, stuff like that. I need to figure out how to expand the number of things I can actually find joy in, because Joe coming home from work can't be the only thing I look forward to anymore.
Things have been kind of up and down lately, which is to be expected I guess. I think I've gotten better, but I'm not sure if it's improvement or just change. My life has definitely regained some stability and I'm sure that's helping quite a bit. But I still don't feel like myself. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm depressed and I've stopped denying how down I really am. Sometimes I tinker on the line of self-pity but I try to be vigilant and positive. It's exhausting.
When I first took time off work my biggest concern was my anxiety. I just couldn't handle being at work; it was nearly impossible to try to pull myself together and appear normal. I felt like I was barely able to keep my head above water and at some point I really couldn't. I didn't feel well on my days off either, but I was certainly more at peace than when I was at the center. I knew I was not happy with my job but I'm not sure I really recognized how miserable it was making me. Beyond it being a horrible work environment I'm generally dissatisfied by where I am career wise. I don't have any sense of pride in what I do and I expect myself to be doing something more. I didn't struggle through 4 years of college to work somewhere that requires me to have a high school diploma. What happened to my ambition?
When I started back at Biolife I was given a very strong impression that they intended to take me beyond a line staff position. I was encouraged to apply for a few different positions immediately and was optimistic that I might be able to make something more out of my time there. I probably should have figured out last summer that this wasn't the case, but I was distracted with planning and paying for a wedding. Even when I was made full time I think they were just trying to pacify me. Not to sound arrogant, but I was passed over for positions I was far more qualified for than other applicants. I think that's about the time I started to realize I hated everything about my job and that center. And it's not even worth explaining how horrible the management team has become...once Jeff left the whole center went to hell. My experience with the center has left me angry, disgusted, and disappointed. Mostly with myself.
I'm ready to go beyond this sort of job, but I'm scared to take that step. I don't really see my particular degree landing me a job I'll actually like...or at least not one that would fit into the lifestyle I'd like (schedule wise). Now more than ever I need stability in my life, not ever changing shifts or crazy paced projects. So where I do I go from here? The easy answer is back to school but I don't think I should be making such a huge decision right now. People shouldn't commit to life changing experiences while depressed, the results are often less than perfect. So I'm waiting. I'm also not entirely certain how we'd pay for such an endeavor, although Joe doesn't seem concerned about this at all. I trust his judgment, but I still worry.
I fear the possibility of failure if I chose to take this path. Pursuing my first bachelor's degree was a train wreck. I'm too intelligent to have earned the grades that appear on my transcripts and to have abandoned a profession that I've wanted to pursue since I was 14. I convinced myself that I wouldn't like it, that I hated everything about it. And I really did hate my classes, but in retrospect I know that it wasn't because of the content. It was because I couldn't tackle them. I couldn't keep myself together. Not to knock all of us poli sci majors out there, but it's a degree that is much much easier to obtain. The difference is beyond measurement. I'm glad that I managed to graduate, but in the end my current degree means little to me without the other; I'd always intended them to compliment each other. College defeated me...sometimes it occurs to me that I was lucky to make it out alive. So even though the circumstances are completely different and I know that the only one I'd be disappointing is myself I'm terrified of screwing it up again. At some point in my life I have to start accepting that the people that love me don't love me for my accomplishments.
I don't want to go back to my job at Biolife. That's not to say I don't want to go back to working once I'm healthy enough to do so. I still hate being unable to work...it would be totally different if I was home with a broken leg or something. I'm tormented by my own personal stigma of mental illness...one minute I'll be certain I can return to work and to next I'm curled up in a ball praying for the panic to pass or the meds to work. The roller coaster of it all is so frustrating and I'm not sure I'll ever be convinced that people understand.
I don't want to convince myself that I shouldn't go back to my current job, but the fact is that a majority of my panic attacks are preceded by thoughts of going to work. Apparently they thought I was coming back this week and I found out on Friday that I was on the schedule, full time. I have many issues with this - first, were they going to tell me I was scheduled? Did they think I would just magically know that I was supposed to come to work? Second, full time? Are you kidding me? Third, the idea of being back in that center scares the shit out of me. I can't even answer the phone when they call. I had to have Joe check my voice mail for me. It's not about going back to work, it's about going back to Biolife.
So at this point I'd rather quit my job than return when my health improves. But then what? We're moving in July...finding a new job seems idiotic to me. Not only would I have a hard time finding such a short term job but I'm not too excited about the prospect of being tied to a job in which I'm not invested. We intend to use our remaining time in the UP to enjoy our surroundings and our family. I'm not going to give that up for some temporary job that means nothing to me or my future. This problem presents itself at Biolife as well. I had to use all of my vacation before I used my disability. This means I'd have no time to go to North Carolina for house hunting, no time to spend on Grand Island, no free weekends for camping or going downstate to see Joe's parents, no time off to attend Kristy's bridal shower. And if I go back part-time I'll still end up working 4-5 days a week because part-timers do short shifts in the afternoon. This is not acceptable to me. We can survive without my paycheck, but it will be difficult to do all of these activities without a second income. Still, I think I would rather be poor than miss the opportunity to enjoy our remaining time here. On the priority list of life money doesn't rank very high for me.
On the plus side of things my irritability has decreased, which I'm sure is a huge relief to Joe. I've also think that I'm getting better at interacting with Mastin (Dee's son) when he's here. It's really easy to get pissy at a five year old because, well, he's five. He's got more energy in his pinky than I do in my entire body in a week. I really hated that I was annoyed by him so much because he's a really sweet kid. It wasn't just him of course...the list of people that I've been bitchy about isn't exactly short and the younger you are the higher you are on the list. I mean I have a brand new nephew and I think I've held him for a total of 10 minutes. I've been avoiding children (and certain adults) like the plague. Since when do I not like kids, seriously? I was once everyone's favorite aunt and now I'm avoiding them? That's not me, and yet it's been my attitude for a long time.
I have less generalized anxiety but have had a significant increase in panic attacks...I can't decide which is worse. I certainly hated being antsy and worried all the time. You know that feeling you get when you get pulled over? That's what its like all the time. So I don't miss that, obviously. But panic attacks are no picnic. In truth they're terrifying. Most of the time I can get through them on my own but there are times when I feel so horrible that I can't believe I'm going to get through it. These are the ones that require a lot of xanax and knock me out. It's strange the kind of physical stress it puts your body through. And it seems like these are the ones that happen when I'm by myself and everyone else is at work and unavailable. I'm only going to call Joe at work bawling my eyes out so many times, my Mom stresses me out, and my sister(s) are at work. So I try to deal (save it Laura, I can only find so many people to hang out with during the day).
My last thing I'm going to complain about today is that I'm bored. So bored. Heinously bored. I'm not one to sit still (especially not right now!) but I'm out of ideas. I've been trying to read, started making jewelry, have been hitting the gym, and have been trying to get outside and take walks. My weekends are generally my best days. I've been seeing friends and family a lot more. But I've also lost interest in a lot of things - cooking, baking, writing to my Grandma, stuff like that. I need to figure out how to expand the number of things I can actually find joy in, because Joe coming home from work can't be the only thing I look forward to anymore.
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