zeptember

nervous breakdown monday
recovery still on the brink tuesday
don’t fuck with me wednesday
the last customer HAD to piss me off thursday

what will friday hold?

I almost made it through another week. Go me!

Today my friend sherpa brought me a present to work. She rode her bicycle all the way from her workplace, went to the store, found a gluten-free pie, bicycled to my workplace, and delivered it!
WHAT A WOMAN!

I am loved.

Yesterday afternoon, after work, I went in search of new combat boots. The closest army surplus store was 10 miles from my work so I trucked down there in rush hour traffic, only to find that they didn’t have any jump boots in my preferred style.
Bust.

I realised then that I was close enough to my favourite sushi joint. I decided lately that if I’m going to be miserable on ovarian supression medication, then I’m going to goddamn very well have my favourite food and drink EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK if I can help it.
Why? Because food and drink make me happy.
So I went and ordered a massive amount of sushi and took it home to my man, and we feasted like kings.

My search continues for new combat boots - I will have to trek back to San Francisco Real Soon, Now.

And as of today, I’m on the hunt for roller skates again. So before I join my mates at Pissup Nite™, I’ll head over to the sporting store and see if I can find anything suitable.
I dunno, it’s been like three years now, I’ve been on a kick about wanting to roller skate. Ever since our failed attempt at roller blading (my boyfriend felt like his ankles were breaking, and I got shin splints), I’ve decided to just go back to my childhood and get new rollerskates.

Don’t let my fun fool you. I was suicidal again today when as my last call of the day, I got some cuntslit who yelled and put me down and verbally abused the shit out of me for no good reason. I hung up on her and threw my phones and left the building. I didn’t finish my emails today. I just left.
I didn’t let customers bother me like this before getting on the hormones. Now I get The Rage on a daily basis. It’s really … REALLY… out of my control and depressing and puts me in that pit where I don’t like to be.
Oh and morale at work is through the foundation. One guy quit on Friday without having another job lined up - he told me and a couple others that he was so miserable there that being jobless is much more appealing. The same day, a newly hired temp was fired for demanding to be hired. Then, on Tuesday, a permanent employee was fired “for performance reasons”. Then today, another cow-orker starts ranting to me again about how much worse the place is sucking, now, and how she’d convinced they’ll fire her before she can go on maternity leave cuz they don’t want to pay for it and they did that to a girl in the sales department…. and then she tells me she’ll bomb the building but give me advanced notice so I can get out. This is the same girl who now, for the last two days, has people logging into her computer (popping her screen) to see what she’s doing. Usually one gets their screen popped if one is taking over 2 minutes to write up a phonecall. But people are staying logged into her machine for hours at a time for the last two days. She says, “they’re going to fire me next”.

Oh, and because we’re down a few people, and several others called in “sick” today (did I mention morale is low?), we were all forced to give up half of our lunch hour and keep taking calls, which, for the past two days, keep hovering around 13 in queue all damned day.

It’s THAT bad, there.

I highly recommend at this point that you sit down and watch the movie Office Space.

I popped TWO lorazepam on the way out of work and listened to angry music on my iPod all the way home.

Then I got inside, my cats crawled all over me and purred, I had some gluten-free cherry pie with a wee glass of port, and now I feel muuuuucccch better.
I survived. I made it. I came home and didn’t sob. I didn’t break down. I didn’t make out a new Shitlist.

Time to see if I can get me some roller skates and then head over to Pissup Nite™.

Today was bad and good.

I woke up feeling like shit. My eyes were puffed and stinging from all the crying the night before. My shoulders and neck were stiff and sore, despite having taken a muscle relaxer the night before.
I didn’t have an appetite so I grazed on stuff here and there instead of making a meal.

I went outside to my car and it was a lot colder than the previous day or evening had been, due to the storm that had rolled through. So I bundled up with my scarf, put on my gloves, and took off, heading towards the gas station.

I drove right past the police station, and a motorcycle cop shot out and followed me. He pulled me over. I had no idea why until I came to a stop, rolled down my window, and went to unbuckle my seatbelt.

That’s when I realised I’d not put my seatbelt on.

I always put my seatbelt on, ever since my car accident in 1994.

The cop was apologetic. He ran my license - clean. He came back and apologised - said it’s “click it or ticket” month and he HAD to give me a ticket. I took the fucking ticket and had no way to explain myself. “But I just forgot this once” doesn’t cut it when they’re on official quota for a specific violation. The ticket will cost me betwen $78 and $89.

I nearly cried right there after the cop left. I nearly turned my car around to go back home and sob again. But for some reason, I put on my seatbelt and continued on my way.

“I have no choice” rang in my head again.

I got to work and began my day. I felt like I could have a nervous breakdown at any moment. My shoulders continued to tighten.

Just before lunchtime, a disgruntled cow-orker of mine informed me that one of our cow-orkers had been fired.

Well, last Friday, another cow-orker was fired (I later found out she was threatening management to hire her full time so they told her to feck off), and another cow-orker quit without another job lined up because this company is that stressful to people.

Later on, I was told that the cow-orker who was fired today was told it was for poor performance. I was told she’d had more than one warning. But the thing is, how is it poor performance when she was taking between 33 and 48 calls per day? That’s about what I take.
Well, another cow-orker told me that good performers take up to SIXTY calls per day.

So now I wonder if I’m next to be fired.

“There must be better ways than this, I ask you” - 1000 Homo DJs

I worked through lunch and left early to go to another MRI appointment. This is the one that was denied, then accepted by the insurance company. It’s for my neck/shoulder pain and is related to the car accident. Sounds sick to say but I was happy that my shoulder felt like it was about to go out, and I was in pain laying there for 20 minutes in the MRI tube. Because that means something was going on and something will show up on film for the doctor to look at.

When I got out of the MRI office, I had to take an anti-anxiety pill. I HATE the noise from those things. This time, the attendant was nice enough to tell me how many minutes each iteration would last. So I counted the seconds and tried not to let the loud noise of the MRI machine take over the counting. .. if that makes sense. The noise made different pitches of sounds. And as I count, I tend to get OCD with counting sometimes. But on top of the OCD, I tend to let sound get in the way of counting. So instead of a steady “one one thousand, two one thousand”, my brain lets the sound dictate how the seconds will be counted, and they’ll draw out longer or be shorter. I amused myself by fighting against that, and freaked out less by the sounds this time.

But as I said, I still needed an anti-anxiety pill when I got out of there. I had remembered to grab the camera this morning, and so I drove straight to the estuary after my appointment, and snapped pictures of ducks, geese, sandpipers, seagulls, foliage, the shoreline, and ground squirrels.

Special note to Mel: I didn’t feed the ducks but I did enjoy watching them. They make me think of my sister, who loves ducks.

I’d post the pix but I STILL don’t have photoshop on the new machine. I keep bugging my boyfriend for a crack of it.

I got home and the depression set in again. I wonder if it’s the friggin house, or just the fact that I’ve come home and that’s the end of my day and I’m on the countdown before bed again. I’m so stressed out by time regulation it isn’t funny.
So I started drinking.

I only had two drinks. It was enough to get me nice and fuzzy. I chatted online with friends for a bit, then took a shower.

Now it’s time for bed.

Still having breakthrough bleeding.

Enjoyed the sights on the way home because of the storm clouds.

Got home and sobbed for half an hour straight while pacing the house and clutching my head.

I hate the synthetic hormones.

I hate my job.

I’m waiting for the on-call nurse to call me back. She’ll probably tell me to get off the Yasmin. But then I bleed and get horrible cramps.

Either way, I might have to miss more work. I can either miss due to being mental sobbing basket case or I can miss due to dying menstrual pain.

And we just got lectured on Saturday on our mandatory overtime day at work that we can only take 3 days off total per month from now on.
And I’ve already taken 3 this month as of tomorrow when I have to leave early to get another MRI (car accident related - to get my neck looked at this time).

As of this Friday I will have worked 100 hours since March 16th.

Crying resumes.

…

Crying stopped by 8pm when I took a shower.

The on-call nurse never called back.

I considered at one point during my pacing and sobbing that I should just take myself to the Emergency Room and commit myself.

But fear took hold.

I have to be at work - I’m afraid to miss any more days.

I’m afraid to be locked up for longer than I need.

I’m afraid of how much it will cost to be locked up.

I didn’t try calling the on-call nurse or the manager because I was afraid they’d tell me to stop taking the Yasmin, and if I stop taking it, I will bleed and have pain again.

Oh and don’t say ‘how do you know?’
I’m tired of having to prove myself to people. I’m so goddamned tired of being the one who knows myself best, yet having to prove to the medical establishment and anyone else who talks to me that YES, I DO know myself well enough to make a statement about what MY BODY will or will not DO.

I TOLD everyone I get psycho and fucked up on synthetic hormones. I was asked to prove myself with “oh they’ve changed the dosage in the past seventeen years, just try it out” and “oh but you never tried THIS one before, just try it” and “you’ll never know unless you JUST TRY IT”. I’ve proved myself.

Now the only quandry is do I continue to prove myself or have I proven myself enough? When is it enough for me and the world? Am I now on a mission to prove to MYSELF - that is to say, have I lost the ability to TRUST myself over this??? Is that why I go on?
So the quandry is do I stay mental and miss more work or do I go off the Yasmin and get bleedy painful doom again and miss more work?

I make my case again for disability insurance. Only, I’m never sick enough for the federal government (social security disability insurance - SSDI). They say my disability means I can’t work AT ALL for a year or more. THEN they’ll give me money. And it will never be enough to live on.

I make my case therefore for reset button.

I never did get to finish my last post. I had to finish getting ready for work and then left for work. Suffice it to say that the depression passed, and I felt better on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

Today is the usual anxiety day - I have to get housecleaning and laundry done before returning to work again tomorrow. I only had one day off work this week because we were forced to work on Saturday to test the new CRM.

I’ve been on manic mode since Friday. I’ve got too much energy, I’m having weird dreams, my legs keep twitching and bouncing, my neck and shoulders are sore, I ramble on and on not just here, but in talking with people face to face, rapidly changing subject like someone with Attention Deficit Disorder.

Next depression? Dunno when. It’s a roller coaster when one is on synthetic hormones. It wasn’t this much of a roller coaster just having hormonal imbalance. Adding synthetic hormones to the mix just makes it a whole new level of fucked up.

There’s other stuff, too. There’s TMI stuff. Stop reading now if you don’t want to hear about TMI grossness.

….

A lovely side effect of taking Yasmin is yeast infection. I got something to take care of it, but then I started bleeding. It is light but has lasted for several days already. I’ve been wearing pads again. Perhaps it’s breakthrough bleeding because george caught on that he was supposed to show up last weekend but was suppressed? I dunno.

I’m about to change schedule of when I take my pill again, too, because I keep forgetting to take it at night before bed. I’m constantly between 1 and 3 hours late. That could also be why I’m getting breakthrough bleeding. So now I’ll try taking the pill with my lunch. I can’t take it with dinner cuz I rarely eat dinner. I get home from work and graze on popcorn or I drink booze. I need to take the pill with food or I get nauseous.

Another thing I’m going to alter again is my sugar intake. I remember sugar playing a significant role in my depressions before, and I’ve been craving sugar like nobody’s business since being on the pill. So it has to go. I know this means I’ll have another emotional meltdown due to withdrawls, but I have to do this for long term sanity. Here’s hoping that this helps me out.

Regarding the drinking….well… yeah. I need to stop that again too. Let’s just take it one thing at a time, shall we?

It’s not getting any better. Came home last night, did dishes, expressed my desire for a devastating earthquake to swallow me and everyone alive, and cried when my man was out of earshot.

This morning I found a list of shrinks in town covered by my man’s insurance (I’m still listed as domestic partner on his health insurance). I get 20 visits at $25 each. That’s about what, 4 months? Short term mental health care.

What I really want is for the government to give me my goddamned Social Security money. Every year they send me a statement of how much money I’ll be getting when I reach retirement age. But I know that there won’t be any money left in the Social Security fund when I’m of retirement age. Hell, according to the Fiscal Year 2008 Annual Performance Plan from the Social Security Administration, there won’t even be enough money left in the fund for people of retirement age in my mom and dad’s generation (Baby Boomers - many of whom already ARE of retirement age):

The large baby-boom generation (persons born between 1946 and 1964) is nearing retirement and most will have retired by 2030. Without changes to the program, there will not be enough workers to generate sufficient taxable income to support the Social Security benefits needed for the baby-boom generation. -Social Security Administration