zeptember

Bold text is mine to emphasise where I have problems with this job.

Organizer: HR
To: me and the rest of the group scheduled to go on a certain day and time
Subject: [name omitted] Volunteer Event
Sent: Tue 3/20/2007 5:14 PM

Hi everyone,
We are partnering up with [name omitted] for our mandatory, companywide community service event.
…As volunteers we might be doing some of the following activities: compost making, mulching, planting, and irrigation work. This is an outdoor volunteer event, so you should wear clothes and shoes that can get dirty! It has been muddy on their grounds because of the recent rains too. Please wear closed-toe shoes, and I recommend dressing in layers. If it’s warm, you should also bring sunscreen and a hat.

…I hope you all enjoy this volunteer event!

I went on the outing and worked in the sun for two hours, coated in sunblock. After this event, I called the state and federal job boards to see if this is legal. It’s legal to send employees on company time to a charity event and it’s legal to fire them if they don’t comply, because the job and the state I live in are classified as “at-will” employment, which I’ve described before.
What isn’t legal is not paying me for mileage reimbursement, since I had to drive my own car to and from the event.

From: HR
Sent: Mon 4/2/2007 9:53 AM
To: the crew including myself designated to attend
Subject: [place omitted] Details!

Hi everyone,

I just wanted to remind you that you are signed up for tomorrow’s Hidden Villa event from 2pm – 4:30pm. As I mentioned before, this is an outdoor volunteer event, so you should wear clothes and shoes that can get dirty! Please wear closed-toe shoes, and I recommend dressing in layers. You should consider bringing sunscreen and a hat. The event will happen rain or shine.

…Don’t forget to bring the volunteer release form with you tomorrow too.

The release form stated that the company I work for is not responsible should I become harmed on this mandatory “volunteer” outing.

From: me
Sent: Wednesday, April 11, 2007 11:58 AM
To: senior management guy
Subject: Mileage reimbursement form

Hello [name omitted],

[HR] referred me to you – I’m looking for a mileage reimbursement form so I can turn in my mileage to and from [mandatory “volunteer” event].

From: senior management guy
Sent: Friday, April 13, 2007 9:45 AM
To: me
Subject: RE: Mileage reimbursement form

I checked it out and we don’t re-imburse mileage for this.

I wrote my boss and said that next time we have a mandatory “volunteer” event, I will want to drive the company car to and from the event.

In reality, I may be fired for non-compliance because I don’t want to attend another mandatory “volunteer” event.

From: my boss
Sent: Wednesday, April 11, 2007 10:18 AM
To: me
Subject: Dedicated Email Time

As we are in Code Red Status again with SLAs, we are going to need everyone on taking calls all day.

So, for the time being, we are going to be cancelling dedicated offline times for emails.

Once the new temp hires get ramped up, things should be back to normal. Though, eventually, I would like for your to be able to handle phones/emails at the same time.

Do you feel that you can handle phones and the email volume without dedicated time? I feel that you are fairly knowledgable with the programs now, that you can fit in emails during/between calls. Otherwise, OT on emails, is always available.

If you think you need help/tips, I would be glad to ridealong with you for a couple of hours and give you some pointers on how to get through emails/phones at once.

I have known this is expected of me since week one on the job, but I do not have the type of brain they are asking for - that is, I cannot be listening to a customer describe their problem on the phone and troubleshoot it while also researching another customer’s issue who has written in via email. This, if not my eventual attitude, will be the cause of my firing.

From: my boss
Sent: Thursday, April 12, 2007 4:11 PM
To: the team I’m on
Subject: Code Red Meeting Notes

[one of the points taken from this email is]:

NO MORE “My manager is telling me to get off the phone.”

They used to be big on having us get customers off the phone by pushing them to email support. If a call lasted more than six minutes, the timer on the call turned red and after ten minutes, we’d have a manager messaging us to see if we needed help with the call.
So ok, I’m all about giving the customer the phone time they need to resolve their issue - some are better listeners than they would be following email instructions.

BUT, this was the same week that the company cut over from one customer service ticketing system to another, and the emails from the old system got duplicated - existing AND closed tickets. This flooded the new system with over 2000 emails. So the same week we’re encouraged to give the customers the phone time they need, we’re being told again that we need to push them to email.

From: my boss
Sent: Wednesday, April 18, 2007 10:17 AM
To: the team I’m on
Subject: Code-Red: Mandatory Overtime

Hi all -

We are still in a huge hole with the our current volume. We are fully staffed - 35 people - so we should be able to knock out the volume if everyone works at least 1 hour of OT each day.

We appreciate all of those who have been working OT these past few weeks, but now we need everyone’s help.

We have over 2000 unanswered tickets that need to be cleared. Our Queues should be zeroed out daily.

Our SLAs were at 33% yesterday.

Overtime can be done during lunch or before/after normal work hours.

I opted to work overtime on my lunch hour.

From: my boss
Sent: Monday, April 23, 2007 9:53 AM
To: the team I’m on
Subject: Mandatory OT: Can’t be Lunch

Hi guys -

Mandatory OT cannot be during lunch anymore since we are required by law to give everyone a 1/2 hour lunch.

From now on, all OT must be done before or after normal work hours.

That same day, I began seriously looking for a new job again, rather than every now and then looking at job leads. I signed back up on the job boards.

From: my boss
Sent: Friday, April 27, 2007 10:35 AM
To: the team I’m on
Subject: Work From Home - this weekend

Hello Guys -

We need to clear out our ticket backlog asap, so we are looking for volunteers to work on Tickets from home this weekend.

…Please let me know if you’re interested!!

I wasn’t interested. However, two hours later…and notice this falls on FRIDAY AFTERNOON…

From: my boss
Sent: Friday, April 27, 2007 12:54 PM
To: the team I’m on
Subject: RE: Work From Home - this weekend

Hi guys -

This is actually mandatory for everyone this weekend.

Please complete at least 25 tickets this weekend from home.

…If you have any conflicts, please let me know, so we can work something out.

Included in that mail were instructions on programs to download on one’s home machine. I noticed they were Microsoft Windows applications. I wrote back to say I have a windowless household - that is to say, I only use Macintosh and Linux at home. I got out of working the weekend from home, but it didn’t stop me from nearly having a panic attack from the job stress. I had to take a Lorazepam and walk away from my desk for several minutes to calm down and breathe.

When I got back to my desk, the managers began popping my screen. In case I didn’t explain that well enough before, popping one’s screen means that they are using remote viewing software to log into my machine and see every action on my desktop. I know when they are logging in because the WinVNC.exe application becomes active in the Task Manager, which I keep open in my system tray. This boiled my blood. I say no and they think I’m slacking off? I work on average 96 hours in my two-week pay period, every week. FUCK THEM!

So I typed what. into the ticketing system window instead of documenting a call, and let it sit there like that for about ten seconds. The manager who was popping my screen then left my computer. I’m sure a screenshot was taken and sent to my manager. That’s what they do to prove you were fucking off instead of working, in order to fire you.

So this coming week, I may be fired.

Instead of working from home, I opted to add another hour of overtime, on a Friday evening, to get through as many emails as I could. I got through 20, just five short of what they wanted. Hopefully this will appease them.

I’m about to have another panic attack, I swear. This place is now ranked as WORSE than Excite@Home. I had previously ranked that as the worst place I’d ever worked for. Now this job has the title.

In December, 2006 I sprained my ankle. It was the ankle I always like to crack, which makes a loud pop and scares the shit out of my man.
It took until March, 2007 before I could start popping my ankle again (I do that because it gets stiff and therefore painful, so cracking it relieves pressure).

The job is growing worse each week. They are still logging into peoples’ machines. We’ve lost two more people who went searching for better employment. They’re still trying to threaten us if we don’t also create sales leads while doing technical support. Then they ported us over to a new customer support ticket tracking tool, and several hundred tickets were duplicated in the process. Now there’s over 2000 tickets in the system and they don’t know which ones are new tickets and which ones are duplicates right off the bat.
Good times!

So they enforced mandatory one hour overtime at the end of one’s shift - every day - until further notice.

And the whole mandatory community service thing? It’s completely legal for them, according to the federal labor board and the state labor board. California is an at-will employment state, which means the job can fire me or I can fire them at any time, “no hard feelings, goodbye”.

The only thing that the company IS doing wrong, according to the labor boards, is they have failed to reimburse people for driving to the mandatory community service events.
So naturally I caused a stir by asking for a mileage reimbursement form.

Get this - I was told they don’t do that, because it would be too much hassle for the HR finance department to work out the details. I told my boss that per state and federal law though, the company has to. As I contemplated what to do next, the director of Human Resources came up to me in front of everyone in my office cube (there’s four of us) and hastily put cash down on my desk, asking if that was enough to cover gas/mileage. I told her I had no idea, and to please give me a form to fill out. She said she’d worked out something like $.45/mile and that $16 should be good enough.
I waffled and waffled and left the money there for hours on my desk, before finally saying fuckit and taking it. I then told my boss that next time there’s a community service event, I am NOT driving my own car. I told her I want to take the company car or ride with someone who doesn’t care about mileage reimbursement laws.
My boss said that will be fine.
But I’m still going to find a way to report this.

Back in the phone trenches, I’ve taken a stance of “I’m just answering the next call, ok?” and I take as long as is needed on the call to resolve the customer’s problem. I know there’s 29 calls in queue. I know there’s hundreds upon hundreds of unanswered emails dating back a week. But I’m just taking the next call, ok?

And then there’s the whole “we want to focus on pleasing our customers, so we’re doing away with the timed calls - take as long as you need with each customer!” speeches that the managers are still giving us each week. And then while on the phones in the trenches, the same managers urge us to push customers off the phones because there’s even more people in queue now than they were seeing just two days earlier. In light of their contradictions and trying to bend the law, I expect to be fired for not meeting their expectations. But so far I have not become mean and unruly like I was doing when I was on the Yasmin.

On the health front again, I have had two MRIs in the past couple of months. I haven’t gotten the brain MRI results back yet from my neurologist (I see her next month), but I did get the MRI results from my pain management doctor (for my neck and back pain).
I have two bulging disks at C4 and C5 (my neck). My man’s insurance company, who at first denied the authorisation for the MRI, then turned around and authorised it, is now writing to ask my man for PROOF that the MRI was necessary and PROOF that it was due to a car accident, so they can go after SOMEONE to help pay for the procedure. This of course pisses me off, because they friggin authorised the damned thing, and now they’re acting like an HMO insurance and not wanting to pay for it.

Meanwhile, what does a bulging disk mean? It means I know now what’s happening when my back goes out on me. A disk is the squishy-looking stuff that lives between one’s vertebrae. When the vertebrae are compressed, such as in a car accident, or start to deteriorate due to age, it can cause the squishy-looking disk to buldge out from between the vertebrae. The problem is that also coming through the vertebrae are nerves, and the bulging disk can end up pressing a nerve into the vertebrae, causing lots of pain. Like in my case.

The problem in PROVING to the goddamned insurance company that the MRI was warranted for car accident is that there IS no proof that it was car accident related, BECAUSE a disk can buldge due to age.
But then, I’m still only in my thirties. And the MRI report also states that I have mild reversal of the cervical lordosis (loss of the natural curve of the cervical spine), which according to my chiropractor years ago means WHIPLASH. However, to the medical community, reversal of the cervical lordosis can also be a congenital condition. And, well, I’m from a large Appalachian family riddled with scoliosis and joint deformities. I myself have scoliosis - diagnosed at age fifteen.

So now is a fight to prove the car accident from 1994 caused bulging disks over time. I’m still convinced this is not just me aging rapidly or my Appalachian congenital deformities at work. *sigh*

In the meantime, for treatment, they want to inject cortisone treatments into my neck. I’ve refused this treatement, opting instead for physical therapy, chiropractic, and accupuncture. I’m seeking all of that out, now.

And now, I’m off to work!

At the end of my post on April 7, I gossipped about my friend Sherpa.

I HAVE HEARD FROM THE WOMAN!

She really was in Ireland. She really is getting married!
Last summer, she was touring New Zealand, staying in hostels, when she met a man from Ireland. Hostels are co-ed over there, so they were sharing a room, and sleeping in bunk beds. They became fast friends and spent a couple of weeks touring the country together.

Then he continued his world tour, coming to the U.S. for a bit, while Sherpa continued her tour of En Zed.

Apparently, they’ve been emailing or phoning each other every day since they split off. Every day! Since last summer!

She went to visit him on March 31, and he proposed to her on April 4.
And she said YES!

You know how people tell you that you’ll KNOW when THE ONE you’ll marry comes along?
You know how we never believe that line?

I’m so happy when it DOES happen. It happened to me in 2000, when I least expected it. And I know for sure that Sherpa wasn’t expecting it!!!

Of course, her mom, my man and I all had a betting pool independent of each other that she would find a man in En Zed, but I thought it would just be a fling. Don’t get me wrong, I personally believe that when single, flings are good and necessary!

But MARRIAGE!!!

I’m SO happy for her - we talked for an hour when she re-entered the States and was making her way home via connecting flights.

Ever since last year, I’ve been all weepy over my friends’ and their friends’ weddings. It’s called ‘Bridezilla’, isn’t it? Or Bridal Rabies? I dunno. It just started. And so my man and I started talking more and more about marriage. We leak marriage-related topics to our friends, shocking them without meaning to. We don’t have an official date yet, either - it’s just talk! But we WILL be married.

And now my friend Sherpa has kicked off the latest bout of Bridal Rabies for me - THANKS!

While my man and I are dawdling over marriage, Sherpa and her man are planning their wedding in the next 8 months. If anything Sherpa will spur us into action like she is so good at doing, just by her very planning!

I’m so excited for Sherpa and for my man and I, … I can’t stand it!
I need a day off of work to get all OCD for weddingness!!!

Thursday, April 12th - I left work and went to my friend’s house, where we puttered about and chatted until it was time to get ready to go see my man in concert with a band called Black Snake Moan (no, it has nothing to do with the movie, and yes, my man and I are tired of explaining this to people (For the lead singer’s explanation to the world, go here).
My friends and I caravanned to the show, met up with other people we know there, and generally had a good time. I volunteered to be the “merch babe” and sold a band tee shirt and a CD to a couple of fans.
I had two Johnny Walker Black drinks that night, came home, and promptly went to bed. Got up Friday morning and headed in to work on about 5 hours of sleep.

Friday the 13th - I left work and went to San Francisco to meet my friend P for dinner. We spent several hours with a group of friends to celebrate P’s moving to Connecticut for a new career.
After dinner, I came home and took my man to the local tiki bar, where we each had a couple of drinks and chatted. He was running on about 4 or 5 hours of sleep from the night before as well, due to getting in late after the show (of course, he doesn’t have to be to work til 10am, the lucky bastard). Being with my man at the tiki bar started our weekend-long date; long-overdue intimate time with each other after all the crap of the last couple of months (i.e. the Yasmin medication and being psycho as a result).

On Saturday, my man and I cruised through some local thrift stores in search of anything that might help me dress as a pirate. That was a dismal failure. We ate a horrible fast-food lunch that day, too.
Saturday night was a pirate-themed party for our friend’s birthday, and she, her husband and her friends really did up the place nice! The rest of our friends did our part by dressing as various interpretations of pirates. I went as Anne Bonny in a sort of modern-day interpretation, because the only bright clothing I had was my bright blue-green bloomers with fish bones all over them (I made those for Renaissance Faire when I was working there as a peasant back in 1998). Pictures hopefully coming soon! I have finally installed Photoshop on my new machine, so I’ll be able to crop and reduce sizing on my digicam pix, now.
We got home after 2am and collapsed, we were so tired. I was proud of both of us for not getting trashed at that party. Collectively, the party emptied a fifth of rum and a half-gallon of rum. And they were lookin’ for more! Lordy! Pirates will be pirates!

By the time Sunday rolled around, we were VERY lazy. I didn’t get off my ass til 1pm. My man made breakfast for me, though, how sweet!
We did manage to vacuum the hell out of the house, clean the kitty box and take out the trash, do dishes, and flip the mattress (one is supposed to flip their mattress every so many months).
I also got grocery shopping done, and bought new pillow cases. I wanted a body pillow, but Mervyns’ body pillows are too soft/flimsy, and I was too lazy to drive off the island in search of a Target or a Bloodbath and Beyond (Bed, Bath and Beyond) store.

Ahhh, the weekend. How I wish I had more of it.

Now it’s time to get my ass to work.

I spent all of Friday evening and all of Saturday on Tylenol 3 and a heating pad for the pain - just like old times. I was ok Sunday until late afternoon and then I needed more Tylenol 3 for the pain. I went to bed with a heating pad.

I needed a total of 2 Ibuprofen 800mg pills to get through the workday yesterday, and I struggled through work today on 1 Ibuprofen 800mg pill because I ran out of my portable stash. As soon as I was on my way home, I popped a Tylenol 3. My arms and back felt like they were going to seize up on the way home, because I’d been steeling against the pain all day, so I popped *another* Tylenol 3 when I was just minutes from home.

Since Friday night, I’ve been bleeding like a stuck pig. Again, just like old times. I’ve even had the shooting anal pains.

I only had ONE month free of george since surgery.

I am NOT going to try out any other hormone pills. Call me stubborn if you like. I can’t go through the mental anguish again. In my heart I *know* all hormone pills will affect me the way Loestrin did in 1990 and the way Yasmin did in 2007.

I called my surgeon today to let her know I’m no longer suicidal, but that all the old pain is back. I asked if she would give consent for me to join the Oakland Cannabis Club for medical marijuana (you need doctor approval to join). She refused, citing she doesn’t know the long term effects of Cannabis or if it actually helps one with medical issues. Great, so she’s in that camp.
She recommended accupuncture. Ok, fine, I’ve been saying I’ll try that for the pain, too.

I’m so sick of this. I don’t want to be a fucking patient all my life. I’m tired of doctors. I’m tired of being sick and I’m tired of the whole world knowing when I’m on my period because I have to explain *why* I’m doubled over or missing work or having to go for surgery or can’t go out with friends or I’m stoned silly on Tylenol 3.

Many years ago, when I was still a teenager, I didn’t tell people I was on my period. I just told people I was in a lot of pain if they asked what was wrong. People to this day can’t see a physical reason for my pain - they just see me suddenly steeling against it. And to this day I don’t tell *everyone* the reason for my pain, because I feel some people are too easily squicked by details or are too Midwestern or Southern, if that makes sense. People who don’t want to know about it because females don’t talk about such things.
I can usually tell the type and adjust my reply accordingly if someone asks if I’m okay.

I’ve noticed though that whenever I *don’t* tell people I have a medical condition, that they get a look or an air about them that says I’m some kind of drama queen to be expressing pain in public without a physical open gaping wound of some sort. I’ve noticed the same judgemental reaction for years from people if, when they ask what’s wrong with me, I reply with something like, “I have pain - it’s too much to go in detail about.”
Instantly, I’m a drama queen.

But it IS too much to go into detail about.

General people on the street don’t want to hear a fucking story - most of them don’t have much of an attention span.

General people on the street also don’t want TMI. They don’t want to know that “it’s a girl thing”.

In all honesty, strangers and cow-orkers don’t ask if I’m okay because they care. They just want me to stop looking painful or unhappy and therefore causing drama.

If I sense someone actually does care, I’ll tell them about Endometriosis.

The director of the department I work in, for example, wanted to know the reason for my surgery, and expressed genuine concern. When I told him, I found out his wife also has Endometriosis. He asked how I was doing today and I was honest. He looked concerned. He understands because his wife goes though it. He told me to hang in there.

I’m not a terminal patient. I’m not in 24/7/365 pain. But once a month, I’m screwed for five to seven days at the least. I miss work for up to 3 days every month because of the pain. I get moderate pre-menstrual pain for up to a week before the actual bedridden pain. The pre-menstrual pain is not enough to make me miss work but it’s enough to have me take 600-800mg of Ibuprofen and be really uncomfortable.

My entire life is affected by this disease. I went on an exclusive women’s group 66-mile bicycle ride in 2002 and the disease hit me smack in the middle of the ride. I’ll be having a lovely intimate evening with my man, only to end up crying from pain associated with this disease, and it doesn’t matter what time of the month it is - the disease makes sex painful.
The disease is always with me, even if it only makes me bedridden for up to 3 days a month.

I am feeling very pessimistic about the next few months. I’m told that the first couple of months are or could be bad because I’m still healing from surgery. But I don’t believe anyone. I just think george is back. Although the surgery was hugely beneficial in providing me with a diagnosis, I don’t feel it SOLVED the problem even on a temporary basis.

I feel like the woman who felt relief for a short time after pressing charges on her abusive husband, because he was confined to jail. For a short time, she tasted sweet life again.

Now he’s out, and he’s just forced his way back into the house, and the wife is again being beaten.

I feel beat down by george. I feel like he’s won the game - that he’s not going anywhere. This disease is laughing at me and beating the shit out of me.

I mostly believe in reincarnation. I believe from time to time that I’ve given myself all this shit in life for a reason, and that I’ve got to survive it for that same reason in order to get to the next spiritual level - to have a better life next time around. Striving for that spiritual lottery jackpot as it were.

Today, I don’t believe in reincarnation. I don’t believe I asked for this disease. I feel like a victim. I feel I do not deserve this. I feel angry. I feel powerless.

…but I keep fighting.

I’ve just asked my masseuse for accupuncture referrals.

I guess that’s the next step in pain management, along with getting off my ass and getting to a regular yoga class.

I want at least ten pain-free years before menopause sets in.

I created a new version of the george F.A.Q. today. You can also click on the “george” link at the top of my journal to reach that page.

I spent all day yesterday on Tylenol 3 with a heating pad, just like old times. The pain was bad and then non-existant and now it’s bad again this morning and I’m about to take more Tylenol 3.

This is really depressing, but I must note that I’m no longer suicidal.

The Yasmin is still in my bloodstream, as is evidenced by my still-bouncing legs, but I don’t feel the rage anymore. I don’t feel like sobbing uncontrollably anymore. And as I said, I don’t feel like killing myself anymore.

I had a horrible nightmare that I was fired from my job and that I got so verbally violent about it that they decided to also withhold paying me my last paycheck.
Of course, that won’t happen in reality, but it was still a shitty nightmare to have, and reminds me that I still need to get the hell out of that place.

And now, I’m off to drug myself and start looking for a new job.

Nobody took care of the issue I left behind on Wednesday, so when I got in on Thursday, I called and left messages for the customer. I don’t know if she ever got back in touch with the company.

I was emotional and kept to myself all day. Both of my fellow disgruntled cow-orkers were not in, yesterday. Neither was my boss. But yesterday was supposed to be Mandatory Team Drinky Outing at a stupid restaurant/bar not unlike ChiChis in the movie Office Space.

Every hour that passed was grueling. Time dragged on forever. With nearly every call, I wanted to burst into tears. The only relief I had was that since my boss was not there, there was nobody to overload my inbox with email assignments. Still, I took seven from queue and worked on those.

By 3pm, I could stand it no more, and asked the director of the department if I could leave. He said I could. I called my boyfriend at work and asked if he could also come home. I knew I’d need babysitting.
All the way home, I thought of ways to kill myself again. The noise wouldn’t go away. It had been 27 hours at that point since my last Yasmin pill. I got home and began taking more Lorazepam and washing it down with brandy. My boyfriend came home and I talked crazy talk again, said I still couldn’t handle being in my head and wanted out. The Lorazepam made me sleepy, so we took a nap. My legs were still twitchy - it’s from the Yasmin, they’re always bouncy and twitchy to the point that it hurts. My boyfriend has been such a sweetheart - he’s been massaging my legs for me. So he did that as I laid in bed, and then he laid down next to me for awhile.

Finally, I couldn’t stand the leg twitching anymore. On top of it, I was getting more annoying george cramps. My man suggested we go for a walk. We’d done that on Thursday, too, and the sun felt very nice, and it helped calm my legs down. We’d walked 2 miles (3 km) round-trip. This time, the sun was setting. My man took me on a much longer walk inadvertently, and unfortunately, the cramps began to really set in. On top of that, I was very emotional this time around. I saw a woman with two young girls, all walking back from the store and each holding bags. There was a shopping cart abandoned at the end of the street, so the mom unloaded the bags of groceries from her young daughters (who looked to be around ages five and six) and put the bags into the cart. I got all teary-eyed because I remember being so poor that we didn’t have a car, and we’d have to help mom carry groceries a mile from the local store, too. And their clothes are old, so I know this family I was looking at is poor. The mom rushed past us with the shopping cart, probably embarrassed like my mom always was. The girls, oblivious to poverty yet, skipped along behind her. After they were out of sight, I began to cry. A block later, we passed an apartment complex called the Capri. This reminded me of the hotel by the same name that my father and his wife operated for about ten years after my dad retired from Ford Motor Company. Being reminded of my dad made me cry because I’m so ashamed to be so emotionally broken. I’m supposed to be strong like he is - a survivor. And what would he think of me planning to off myself? And the Capri - it’s no longer there - some big corporation handed my dad a lot of money to move off the property so they could demolish it and put in a bank. I only got to stay at the Capri once during the ten years my dad owned it.
Not half a block later, I looked down and saw some thistle. As soon as I had looked down and saw the thistle, I thought of Scotland, and of our honeymoon that we want to have in Scotland. I began to cry harder, realising that there never would be a wedding or a honeymoon in Scotland.
My man held onto me and we crossed the street towards the beach. This made me continue to cry, because the beach is exactly where I wanted to go so I could drown myself. The tide was in, too.
We sat on a bench and I cried and my man held me. I watched the waves roll onto the shore - it’s just the bay - not the actual ocean, but waves are waves and make a little crashing sound that’s nice to hear. The wind was up out on the bay, so it wasn’t like lake water lapping up onto the shoreline - there were little crashing waves.

After a time, I told my man about the three images that had made me cry. This in turn upset him. On top of this, my pelvic cramps were getting worse, and we were still a mile away from home. My man felt even worse, apologising for taking me “on a death march”. I told him my legs at least felt better for it. In all, we walked about 3.5 miles (5.6 km).

When we got home, we decided to meet some friends at the tiki bar. It wasn’t pissup night but two of our friends had said they’d be there last night. We decided to join them - we needed a distraction. However, I still wasn’t out of the mental health woods. I popped a Tylenol 3 on top of all the Lorazepam I’d been taking all day. My pelvic cramps weren’t that bad as to need Tylenol 3. But I took it, anyway. I knew too that I’d be drinking. I didn’t care.
We got to the tiki bar and it was packed. Our friends weren’t there. It was the first time it was just me and my man there. Eventually we got two stools at the bar to sit on, and we watched the master bartender do his magic. On top of it, he was chatty and funny, and we got to sit right in front of his work space. So that was a nice distraction. I had three drinks last night. As soon as I stood up to leave, the full weight of the drinking plus the Tylenol 3 hit me, and my man said I was “near slobbering drunk”.
Great.

I don’t remember a thing after my man paid the check so we could leave the bar. He tells me I staggered out to the car with his help, I staggered into the house, and passed out on the bed. He kept waking me to feed me water. I woke up with a mild hangover.
When I woke up, something had changed. I didn’t feel suicidal. I felt relieved that I didn’t have to work, that I have all day today and tomorrow to just chill the hell out.

Of course, that’s when george took his opportunity. I’m full on bleeding, now, and the cramps are just what they used to be before surgery. I’m on two Tylenol 3 for the pain, just like I always used to be. This alone makes me want to cry. I never get a break. I’ll always be broken. The surgery was a fucking waste of money.

My man told me that he’s been considering comments made by Kahleida to my April 5th post, wherein she wrote, “I would sugest somehow finding a part time job and also getting into a good therapy”. My man says he’ll help support me during that time and thinks it’s a good idea for me to consider. I still think of it as being a dependent, though. I guess that’s where the therapist part comes in, heh.

The drugs have finally kicked in, and the heating pad helped with the pain. So far today, I’ve had no Yasmin, no Lorazepam, and no suicidal thoughts. I’d wondered if the Lorazepam could also be exacerbating my mental health issues (a topic also raised by Kahleida in her comments to my April 5th post), but even well before the meltdown on Wednesday, I’d been taking Lorazepam during the week but not on weekends and I was fine. I really do think it was the Yasmin doing all the nasty work.

I am still very emotional today, and I’m very pissed off that I have pelvic pain. I do know that I just need to be patient - that perhaps it’s the sloughing off of the interior scarring and scabs this time around, plus going off the Yasmin, that has me in pain. I don’t see my surgeon again until June, so that’s two more periods I need to allow myself to have, to see if the pain lessens.

I’m just so tired of being in pain.

I know it could be so much worse. I know that. Some of my friends are in much worse physical health condition than I am, and they persevere.

So, enough of the feeling sorry for myself for a second. I have gossip!

My friend didn’t announce anything to me or our circle of friends but hops onto IRC and leaves a cryptic message about getting married. She set her nickname to ‘IEsherpa’ which makes us think she’s in Ireland. So I called her voicemail and apparently she’s left the country as of March 31 and won’t be back til April 15.

So now we’re all waiting anxiously for the next episode of “Days Of Our Sherpa”.

Sherpa, thank you for the distraction. NOW SPILL THE DETAILS!

My surgeon called me back yesterday and sounded argumentive at first, because she thought I’d already quit taking the Yasmin in favour of the progestin-only pill called Micronor.
Whereas I had told her that I’d research the Micronor and decide if I wanted to take that, or stick with the Yasmin, or do nothing at all.
The surgeon got it in her head that it would be Micronor or nothing, and so thought for the past month I’ve been on nothing.

When I told her all that I’ve gone through on this latest mental breakdown, she changed her mind as to the culprit. Before this, she kept saying it was the synthetic estrogen component in the Yasmin that was making me so whacky. That’s precisely why she’d wanted me to try the progestin-only Micronor.

Well, after hearing about the loose cannon mouth and attitude and 5150 label, she told me it was the progestin in the pill that was making me this way. Now if ya’ll read several entries back in my journal, you’ll see that I was the one to pin this originally. But noooo. Once again, nobody ever listens to me. Even when I raised that question on an IRC channel, someone said, “are you sure it’s the estrogen?

But I digress.

Yesterday was spent being babysat by my boyfriend. In the evening, two more friends came over, and we went out to dinner. I was hungry but didn’t want anything to eat. My boyfriend fed me tidbits off his plate, and that’s all I had the stomach for. I really just wanted a bottle of vodka, but I drank water.
After dinner, we went and got dessert. I’d wanted a banana split and kept asking for that all afternoon. When I finally got it, I forced it down. I’m glad most everyone joined me, because otherwise, I’d have taken three bites and had been done with it. We all made a good stab but still didn’t finish it. I was happy to sit there with the guys in an ice cream palour, though.

The whole time we were out, I was super tired from all the anti-anxiety meds I was on. And my brain STILL wouldn’t shut up. I’d just stare off, brain still whirling, but not loud enough to make me wail and clutch my head like I’d been doing the night before.

Today I’m going to go in to work. I’ll see how long I can take it before I come home. If I need to come home, I am to call my man and he’ll come home, too.

I feel I somehow understand a comment one of my friends made months ago. She’s sick, too, but not with major depression or side effects from Yasmin. With her disease, she declared she’s only seeking help for the peace of her husband, but she doesn’t really want it. I didn’t understand that at the time.
I do, now.

I’m only trying to get better and get past being suicidal for my man, who still talks marriage with me even now. Even others - friends - family - don’t have the kind of sway my man has right now. I don’t mean to be cruel by that. I love my friends and family.

But given my own life, doing it for me alone, how I feel right now, I’d press the reset button.

I’m told the Yasmin takes like 48 hours to leech out of the body. We’ll be at the 24-hour mark around 11:30am today.

Last night I took 800mg Ibuprofen for george cramps. We’ll see how bad that gets, too. On a regular schedule, he wouldn’t have been due til the 12th.

Lastly, I wonder if anyone at work took care of the issue I requested when I called in sick, yesterday. I HIGHLY doubt they did. And I also wonder if I’ll be fired for absence or the one they love to use - performance issues. Even though, just last Friday, I was told the director of support loves me and doesn’t want me to go. That all changed on Monday when I didn’t get through my assigned mails in time and HR was still stewing over some comments a full week prior to that.
My boss is off work today, though. We’ll see.

Time for more Lorazepam.

A great gift to me would be to send me on a 100 day retreat to a Dzogchen camp.

i went to the doctor. i told him about my history w/ major depression. i told him about the yasmin. i told him about my night last night.

he said by law, he has to put me on a 51-50 hold - lock me up in a state hospital. i lost it and cried. he asked if i have anyone to help me. i brought in my man who was in the waiting room. the doctor had a chat with my man, who agreed to babysit me for the next 72 hours.

the doctor said i can get off the yasmin. he said it only takes about 48 hours before it’s out of my system. i don’t trust him but at the same time felt relieved.

he told me to keep taking the ativan and upped the dose; i’m to take 1mg every 3 hours for the next 72 hours.

i’ve missed my yasmin dose today. i already have cramps worse than last night. the dark brown coffee grounds stuff is coming out more. so on top of fighting the horrible effects of the yasmin, i may also get bad george pains again soon.

i still want out.

yesterday afternoon i became suicidal. very. suicidal. had several plans to choose from. also looked up one-way airfare to several countries.
i know within an hour of taking the yasmin of its effects on me. the hyperactivity and anxiety set right in.
two weeks after the incident by which a new temp was fired and i’d gotten empathic on her behalf and cried ‘bullshit’ and HR heard me… two weeks later i get in trouble for it. why so long? my boss had a talking to me yesterday.
so now i wait to also get in trouble for my ‘forced labor’ comments on tuesday. that could also take two weeks to get me in trouble for that, and who knows, maybe they’ll fire me.
i was so good when i was a temp. i kept myself in check.
i have an attitude and don’t respond well AT ALL to authority figures. i’ve always know that. but taking the yasmin helped all that rotten negativity spring out like a broken fire hydrant.

i also had a customer tell me “don’t EVER talk to me that way” when i suggested that she not have signed up for the software if she’d claimed repeatedly to me that she had no idea what the sales guy was selling her. she tried making it his fault. it’s not HER fault she didn’t understand! HE shouldn’t have sold it to her, then! what a crock of shit! so i told her that perhaps, not understanding things, she might have asked for details or not signed up at all. i’m sure she’ll report me and i’ll get in trouble for those comments, too.

it’s out of control, you see. my attitude mouth won’t shut up. it’s a loose cannon.

then i had to work an hour of overtime just to catch up on emails yesterday. my boss moved my email catchup time to the mornings. so when i finished most of my assigned emails, she piled another ten on me. this fucked me for the rest of the day because i have mail replies coming in, and escalation replies coming in, and i’m sending out mails to customers all day while talking to them on the phone - sending followup instructions and so forth. so she screwed me with more mail. then at one minute til quitting time i get an angry caller on the line that takes up 18 minutes of my precious email followup time.
so i stayed an hour.

there is, despite any yasmin medication, a direct correlation to my severe depression and the amount of overtime i work at the end of a business day. i’d had mental breakdowns well before surgery or yasmin medication because of the overtime stress.

but yesterday afternoon…

it’s the worst i’ve been since 2000 when i had the plan to off myself.
i informed my boyfriend that i was leaving and that i needed help packing my shit. you can imagine the terror and grief on his part. i was not in my right mind. i’m still not in my right mind. i cried and sobbed and grrrrr’d and rocked to and fro. i came very close to going to the emergency room but kept backing off of that. finally, at 10:30pm, i took 2mg of ativan and passed out.

we took today off work. i’ll be seeing a doctor today. despite what any doctor says, i’m getting off the yasmin. i know it won’t be a quick fix. the yasmin has to leech out of my body, now. i’m not out of the woods for awhile.

bottom line remains same as last night’s declaration: i’m tired of being trapped in this meatsack and i’d like to be released. it’s too stressful to be encased in this mess of a body with this broken brain. i want out.