Progress

A lot has happened since I posted last. Highlights:

  • Gloria is back!
  • Miranda is on her way out the door!
  • Lazyasfuck asst. manager is still lazy as fuck
  • Busy VP/Manager, busier
  • Me? Super tired but healthier than I was

Toward the end of May, I was at my wit’s end. I was in pain daily. My usual intake of B12, Cramp tabs, Naproxen, Ashwaganda, Kava kava… just wasn’t doing it. I had twice in the previous two months negotiated favors for some prescription pain medications and I hated that.

I hated waking up in pain, taking pain medication, working in pain, choking down food that made my stomach hurt but I needed because I was on so much medication, never being comfortable because I was in pain and going to bed in pain… more often knocking myself out with sleep meds to push past the pain so I could sleep.

A scary thing happened. My legs started to swell. Four days straight of being unable to tell my calves from my ankles, of feeling like I had water balloons inserted under my skin. I came home from work, cried my eyes out for half an hour then I made a call to the nearest GM I could find. I had almost no money but enough for a copay. When she emailed me the forms, I realized that it was not a GM, it was a pain management specialist. A chiropractor. I stared at the forms, debating on whether or not to call back and cancel but then I decided that if it was pain they managed… they could manage mine.

By the time my appointment came around, the swelling was down like it never happened and I was in so much pain, I just wanted to die.

The fellow was nice. He went out of his way to make sure I was comfortable and he took some x-rays. Equipment was down but instead of making me wait, he invited me into the computer room to view my films. My L5-S1 was in trouble again. It wasn’t herniated but it was compressed and probably pinching nerves. He hooked me up to the best e-stim machine that I’ve ever been on and I went home with less pain and an appointment for the following week to be adjusted. I wasn’t pain free but I could think. I could cry tears of relief that there was a pinpoint of light at the end of this very dark tunnel.

I started taking inventory. I’m over double the weight I should be but being geographically locked, I’m unable to do a lot of shopping the way I should but I have my produce delivered and I can move a bit…. but not enough. I formulated a set of goals.

  1. Have no pain – do whatever the doctors said to make it go away.
  2. Eat better – just better choices based on my wallet and what I could get my hands on
  3. Lose weight – incrementally but have it as a goal
    1. Determine a desired weight and how many pounds would get me there – quarter that and make it my goal
    2. Exercise as able and within guidelines sent for movement
  4. Save money – as able and probably after my appointments were done
    1. Need a car to access better food options
    2. Need a car to be independent in accessing better exercising options

I had my plan. Since then, I have been back to the doctors twice a week (I skipped one when I had a bug). I did e-stim for several weeks to reduce pain. We walked through a bunch of exercises and discovered my right leg is still useless for things like walking long distances, any sort of running or riding bikes. At their office, I use the hand bike to get my heart rate up. I do micromovement exercises to ease my disc back open. We took more x-rays and my neck is out of whack. I get adjusted at every visit.

As of today, I am down to 1 visit a week. I am pain-free. I am able to walk without a discernible limp (but my right leg still fights quick movements). I smile more. Just cause. My neck is starting to realign, as are my hips and I can feel that I am better. I feel fantastic. The doctor was surprised I’d made so much progress and I am, too. I powered through this. I can power through anything.

I haven’t felt depression as deep but the voice is still there that tells me that I deserved my pain that I should stay inside all the time because the outside world doesn’t like me.

My anxiety is down to just your garden variety social awkwardness. I didn’t realize how much I missed people. Laurel was over a  few weeks back and she wanted to eat on my patio… I hesitated to go outside. On my own damned porch. Damn the anxiety. I’m two weeks off my kava kava and ashwaganda.

I’ve taken advil twice for headaches but otherwise, I’ve been off pain medications altogether.

I would like to be social but I know this is too fragile. I’m just… I went to a baby shower last weekend and there were so many people and I had to be “on” the whole time… I didn’t say anything to my ride on the way home. I still haven’t quite recovered from the socialness but… it did feel good to get out.

Not sure I’m going to start dating again because my inner-feminist rankles at the first impressions I get off of 90 percent of men who approach me. I’ve started to be vocal about what ticks me off. Like one of my coworkers touching me all the time. It’s not sexual in nature but it’s intrusive and he’s of the opinion that I just need to get used to it and I keep telling that doesn’t work that way. My space is my space. I asked at first. I told for a long while. So I did snap the other day. When you walk up behind a person, touching their back is not okay. I’m barely okay with significant others doing that. Even now that I’m not in constant pain, I dislike my back being touched. Every single person I work with, except that one, gets it. That’s a topic for another day.

Next week when I go back to the doctor, we’re going to do a testimonial and get a plan going for weight loss. My goal is to lose 162 pounds. My first goal will be 40. Something reasonable and attainable. A focus.

I can breathe. I can sleep. I can work. All without discomfort and sometimes it makes me cry to remember that I was in so much pain.

Second decal done

Help.

So exhausted.

Shortly after my last post, my coworker Gloria got sick. She missed a couple of days. I stepped up, like I do, and made sure everything got done. She came back and a day later, she got into a wreck. she didn’t miss work, though she should have but she wasn’t at full capacity. It’s fine. Then a few days she ended up in the hospital. She’s fine, now. Had surgery and in recovery. I’ve been making sure that everyday there is a manager or myself on duty. I am not a manager.

The last three weeks have been hell. To the fair the first week was just stressful and I had to pick up an extra day because our manager is also the vice president and he’s been taking on more duties in the VP capacity, takes him off site more and more. Our assistant manager is lazy as fuck and does literally as little as possible and he took a day. So that was workday 6 and the only member of management on the floor. The following week, I didn’t work extra but lazy fucktard of an assistant manager and our manager performing VP duties and that turned out to be because his stepmother’s mother passed and so… yeah, death stuff.

This past week was just HELL. I had to work a 6th day. I’m so tired. Mostly everything was okay until Wednesday. Events: A overnight dispatcher was frustrated about the events of the night, so I sent an email to HR on his behalf. A dispatcher didn’t find their schedule printed and waiting per usual. He only asked one person and that person was too busy to look. He sent an email to the entire company that basically stated a supervisor in the field didn’t do their job. I don’t know about this for HOURS because no one told me. When I did find out, it was after the owner took care of it himself. I tell the truth. “My fault. Usually it’s there, I didn’t check, I will from now on.” I didn’t names though I could have. I just chalked up that I got complacent that other people would do their jobs but the person who normally did it was off that night and the other people in charge couldn’t be bothered. Next, I was building a case for the dismissal of a person who just don’t have what it takes to do this job at the level that’s expected. I was yelled at for allowing a person who had been a temp to get hired on. I don’t like getting yelled at for something I didn’t do. As infuriating as my manager can be, I don’t like him getting yelled at if he didn’t do it (I’ve rather enjoyed him getting yelled at by HR before). I said it. Our lazy as fuck assistant manager made the unilateral decision to hire on a person who did not have the mental capacity to do the job because he wanted a body in the chair. We were given marching orders and I got excited because I EXCEL at marching to a beat set in clear terms. A dispatcher got fired for falsifying a document that I took. That was my bad. The signature was suspect and the stationary wasn’t stationary. I should have kicked her out but at 6am, I can’t vet shit and it’s not my job.

I was going to treat myself to a movie but I had to sign for a package at home first. So I rushed out as soon as I could (still an hour after I’m scheduled). Package didn’t come. Didn’t come. Three hours later I look on the website. Plans cancelled cause I knew it could show up as late as 8pm. Damn thing was delivered 20 minutes after I got home and no one knocked, left the package or a note. It was in the leasing office and by that point, the office had been closed for an hour. So I took a walk with my rage. Only my neighborhood doesn’t have sidewalks in some places and my bad leg makes walking on uneven surfaces really difficult. But I wore myself out and came home and went to bed.

Thursday morning, I walked into an iceberg. Overnight crew is livid at me because they were told by their manager that I had “thrown them under the bus.” No clue what was going on, I was subjected to shade so dark and fierce that my toes are still frozen and my very soul is chilly. The overnight assistant manager handed me a packet and stated that I had to take them into my hands and she was checking out with me. I was still very lost. I mentioned the thing that happened the morning before but that I took the heat on that. Frost. I said fuck it and went on with my day. Then one of my fellow supes walked in and said she was accosted at the door by the overnight assistant manager demanding to know who was telling stories. Still fucking lost.

I got dispatchers calling in for things they didn’t bother to schedule out, dispatchers going to the ER, dispatchers doing so terribly I can’t abide them being in their current locations, then one of my supervisors’ daughters was rushed to the ER. I started moving folks around. Then my seniors started getting mad because “she’s just sitting in the office but I got three trainees and she’s going to take one of my mentors.” My boss backed me up before I even had to explain the situation in full to him. So when this person walked up to me with attitude, I told him. We’re strapped. The trainees can just sit behind and if you got so many calls that you and your other two seniors can’t handle it, call a code.

My supervisor didn’t leave because her daughter needed a Zantac and a good fart, not the ER. So I didn’t move the mentor and then the trainees went back to class. Life righted itself. I can’t stand to be accused of not doing my job when a) we’re short staffed, b) we’re busy and I’m handling all the codes, and c) it’s my fucking day off and I’m in the office doing jobs that are NOT MINE just so I know the company isn’t tanking.

It wasn’t until the end of the shift I found out the other shifts’ manager unilaterally decided her shift was full of fucktards (it is but not the point) and they weren’t doing their job and had to check out with me (without telling me) and that a specific supervisor had to hand me the packet (she didn’t) and it was all a result of the email I responded to the day before about the thing that was MY FAULT. She’s fucking crazy. Her interpretation of events was so wildly off the chart that when I asked the other assistant manager, he couldn’t even give me anything because he knew nothing. So, now I’m mad at him too.

I came home and went to bed for three hours, then I woke up and got drunk. And I decorated my walls. Here are some clumsy photos:

It took forever and it is so satisfying even if it feels a little incomplete. And yes, those dragons are swooping in to take a swipe at that unicorn. If I’m honest about it… the dragon on the far right is the one attacking and the one on the far left just wants to watch and really, that unicorn will probably fuck them both up. And fire. Cause. Fire.

I feel really calm right now. I’m going to take advantage and take a nap. Then I’m going to a movie.

Some music to sleep by:

New Year, Same Old Thing

I’m actually a little upset that this is my first post this year. I meant to post something last week or the week before but I was so tired I was literally asleep 14 hours of the day. Please note that I work anywhere from 9 to 12 hours a day. (There is a chance I was asleep some at work but I was working!!!)

Nothing is going to change with this New Year. I know it. I don’t have any motivation for big changes. I’m going with the little ones.

I’m deleting all accounts with dating apps. It’s no longer amusing. It’s no longer fun. It’s a terrible way for me to meet men because of the following:

  • Men who are bold enough to talk to me only want one of the following:
    • A date for the night
    • A woman they can dictate to
    • The person they think I am by my face.
  • The market is flooded with snakes, they scare off the teddy bears
  • I have a weakness or two
    • Jerky men that I can throw away
    • Interesting men who turn into stalkers
  • I tell the truth far too often

I tend to scare off the men who are good for me. If those men are interested, their moves are so subtle they fly under my radar. I need to pay more attention to my surroundings.

I’ve decided to cook more. Which is becoming a chore as I kind of stopped eating. Currently there is a very delicious soup that I spent all morning making while I was cleaning up around the house… I’ve been snacking out of a tiny bag of vegan jerky that I accidentally bought thinking it was real meat. I don’t even like it. It’s got an awful aftertaste and the jerky part is so powdery that I may have to scrape my tongue later.

I’ll end up eating that soup all weekend while I’m at work and the soup weather probably won’t hold and I’ll get sick of it and throw it out. I’ll end up surviving on tacos at work.

My washing machine is busted. I came home from Christmas to find the timer broken. They maintenance guy had to wait until after the start of the year to order a new one. That’s a week without a washing machine. Then it was going to take 10 business days to get it. So that’s three weeks without a washing machine. Last Friday, the part arrived. They sent a timer for a dryer instead of a washer. So he had to go back and reorder it. Tomorrow will make a whole month without my washer… and still another 5 business days until the damned thing gets here most likely.

I borrowed my neighbor’s machine around week two. Unmentionables and jeans, a hoodie or two. Just to tide me over… That’s a commitment I can’t make too often. She likes to talk and talk and talk. I’m not a talker. I love her but I can’t do it again, especially after the week I’ve had. I’ve got NO clean linens. I just hand-washed three loads of clothes in my tiny bathroom sink. I’ll probably do another two tonight. I’m wishing for my grandmother’s old scrubbing tub & wringer right now.

I want to cut my hair but I can’t tell if it’s because I want short hair or if I’m frustrated with my hair or if I’m frustrated with life. I AM certain that it had nothing to do with a man. I was told once by a good friend and former coworker that I should NEVER take my frustration with a man on my hair. He was right. I hated that hair cut I got that time.

My phone is blowing up because a coworker who just had a kid (technically his girlfriend had the kid) needs to find coverage for the shifts he’s missing this week. I already relayed through my manager that I probably couldn’t and that was before the trainwreck that was yesterday. Yesterday takes a bit of explaining.

My manager has this terrible habit of indulging bad behavior in dispatchers because he fancies them friends. Note: No one is ever FRIENDS with the manager and for a reason. He enables and enables and it gets us stuck with someone who now has the following mentality. “My supervisor is talking to me but… I don’t really want to do what she says and since Bossman thinks we’re friends, I can complain to him and then… I won’t do what she says anyway. Yeah… I’m going to get on my phone and walk off the floor without telling anyone. He’ll back me up.” I know it’s really specific but this has happened more than once and in almost exactly the same manner. Capable dispatchers stop being capable because my manager enables them to be mediocre.

SO. The situation is this: we are short-staff, it’s winter, and it’s fucking busy. I try not to dispatch because I can’t monitor. If I don’t monitor my assistant manager sure as fuck won’t. He gets annoyed that someone is interrupting his Netflix time and then I have to deal with a disgruntled dispatcher. So I always spread the wealth around to make sure everyone has just enough fuel to get through the day and I work hard as fuck to monitor and catch everyone’s bitchwork. I update the digital texts for EVERY MARKET IN THE COMPANY. Then at the end of shift, no one has transferred shit into the billing program and I stay behind to get that done, for the whole company. I did this on Saturday and Sunday. Exhausted. Monday was double the busy. Call-ins. Blah. I got stuck monitoring because my senior supervisor was dispatching. We put another supervisor to dispatch. Then we put another supervisor to monitor ONE pod. Nobody fucking did any communication. It fell on me. I got yelled at. I was monitoring the whole company, dealing with a new program we just opened and picking up holds for every market that rolled over. Tuesday was triple the busy and all those supervisors I mentioned, they were dispatching. AND we had another one who was dispatching. So, I monitored and updated AND communicated. It wasn’t everything but I got a system down where I moved pod to pod and whatever happened in the previous ten minutes got reported. Big Boss got a highlight reel and it was going to have to be good enough.

I’d like to note that I did not eat during shift on any day except Saturday. I didn’t have time. So, while I remembered to take my medication, it was on an empty stomach and I’ve had horrendous back problems the last two weeks.

Yesterday: I’m exhausted. My manager texted me early to remind me about the meeting he had with the new program rep. All supervisors were dispatching except me because he wanted me in the meeting. Around 8am, I get a call from a dispatcher. Her podmate “Derek” was fighting with a driver. I didn’t have time to deal with it. I told her I’d look into it and that we should be dispatching and not fighting with technicians. My assistance manager rolls in and he’s pissed cause it’s his day off and he has to be in this meeting with the rep. 9 am and boss man is there, assistant manager and the rep are talking about reports. I’m trying to get problems addressed, customers updated and then I get Miranda telling me that Derek popped off to our junior supervisor when he was asked what was going on that they called a code red. Something along the lines of “You know what? Never mind, I’ll just call a real supervisor for help.” Fuck. I have to pull this guy off the floor. Only it’s a code red and they gotta get settled first.

I go check on them and they seem real busy only the screen doesn’t have a lot of calls on it. I tell Derek I need to see him when he gets off the phone. I wait but I don’t interrupt my boss or the assistant manager. This isn’t a big deal. I’ll talk with him, we’ll get it addressed, he’ll go back to his seat. THEN, Gloria storms into the back room and pulls the Jr. supervisor out to ask him some questions. We have a meeting in the training room. This would be Gloria, Miranda and I and we swap stories. Turns out Derek is still popping off to the jr. supervisor and he cursed out a technician, who reported it directly to Gloria. We have to send him home. I page for him again. I go in and I let the assistant manager know that Derek’s being an asshole and I have to clock him out. I wait. I call the extension directly, he picks up right away. I call him out again. Gloria disappeared. I shut the manager’s office. I shut all the dispatching doors and I pull Derek into the training room. Miranda is there and sitting quietly as my witness. Derek called the other junior supervisor in to be HIS witness. I ask him what he said to the supervisor in his pod. Swears nothing happened. I ask about what happened with the driver. Doesn’t remember, nothing happened. I say, “Well, the reports I have is disrespect for a supervisor and cursing on the dispatch floor to a driver. I can’t pull the tapes right now because boss man is in a meeting but I have to clock you out and send you home pending an investigation. Someone will call you to let you know the outcome.”

Derek starts arguing immediately that it’s not fair and who reported what and he demands to speak to bossman. I repeat what I said. I’m calm. I’m fair. I don’t raise my voice and he just keeps on and on about talking to bossman. I tell him. “Both our manager and assistant manager are aware of this situation and that I’m clocking you out. Please do so.” Miranda hops in and then the shit hits the fan. Derek starts yelling and cursing and I move for the door. “I change my mind. Don’t clock out. Just go.” We make a human wall between the training room door and the front door. This man starts pushing us. This is a grown man. In fact, all four of us are in our mid to late 30s. He calls Miranda a cunt. He calls me fucking worthless. About this time, a man who works for recruiting walks through and sees this madness. His posture immediately screams “Oh Hell NO.” He becomes a human bulldozer and without pushing, gets Derek toward the front door. Then Derek throws a cup he’s had in his hand this whole time. He’s aiming for Miranda. It hits me square in the face. They get him out the front door and onto the street.

I’m shaking. I’m more in shock than anything else. I go directly to the manager’s office and compose an email about the event. I’m trembling and my boss is staring at me but I don’t say anything. Then our onboarding manager comes to get me. I go sit in her office for ten minutes while the tears leak out and the shaking subsides. I’m fine. I had worse happen to me working for the state. They have to gather all the facts but dude is done. He’s good as fired. The timestamp on my email was 10am. I still had half a shift left to do.

So, no, coworker, I will not pick up your shifts. I’m trying to figure out why I don’t want to eat and how I’m going to get the rest of my clothes washed so I have something to wear to work on Saturday. I’m a superhero to some people now but I don’t want it. I’d rather it be spring and the country not breaking out in blizzards and tornados and these new folks trained right. I’m gonna start being a hard ass just to get everyone where I need them so I don’t have to kill myself just to keep up.

I feel like I might be teetering on the brink of another deep depression but I’m addressing my pain issues and my mood issues and maybe it won’t be that bad. I’m not eating like shit the way I was last year when I toppled into the abyss. One day at a time and I’m not expecting 2016 to solve all my problems. I’d just like a whole week without back pain or stomach issues or feeling like hurting myself is going to make the dark feelings go away. Just one week.

Rotten fish

I’m home. I should have stayed home last night but I didn’t.

So, the deal is this. I’ve been seeing someone the last few weeks but I’m always fragile about things I think could work. So, I don’t talk about them. For the purpose of this post, we’ll call him Victor.

The meet-cute:

I was taking a walk. I hardly ever do it. My agoraphobia gets the better of me and I hide inside. There’s a bar across the street from my apartments. I don’t go there a lot and never by myself. Loads of folks from work go there and I try not to get embroiled their drama. So… I’m walking past the bar to the store and I tripped. It’s what I do. One of the guys smoking outside the bar rushed over to help me up. First time that’s happened in a long while. I thanked him and kept walking to the store. I buy some beer and chips and head home. I could see the group heading inside. This fellow lingered and when I passed, asked if I needed help carrying my bag. I politely declined and tried to keep on walking. Then he calls after me, from the edge of the sidewalk. “I can’t keep walking with you because that’s creepy but I’d like to talk about your shirt.”

That’s where he got me. I can talk about my Always Keep Fighting shirt… just always. I told him I’d be back. I tried to be casual as I walked off and tried not to rush back but I congratulated myself on picking up on a social signal… even if it had been triggered by my tripping and a nod to my SPN-but-not-mental-health attire. When I returned, he wanted to go into the bar. I declined. I explained that I worked close by and my underlings were likely inside.

So, he smoked and I chatted about depression and anxiety and Supernatural and he listened and asked questions. He’s a year younger than me, from Brownsville and it was the first time he’d ever been to that bar. We exchanged numbers. That started a texting thing.

We got together once a week. He drove his friend to the bar and we’d go for a walk or go for some coffee. We made it past my awkwardness with intimacy and it seemed fine. We have a lot in common and most of our nerdiness is compatible. He understood when I didn’t want to have him meet my dad when Dad popped into town. Everything seemed to be going fine.

The beginning of the end:

Then came Halloween. We were supposed to go out. I wanted to introduce him to my friends but I haven’t really seen my friends much lately. Poor planning and lack of funds, mostly. Mind you, I still hadn’t mentioned him at all to anyone. ANYONE. Including people at work.

Victor was on edge. Wouldn’t talk about it. Needed some gas money for our outing. I gave him some. We hung out a bit, fooled around and I needed a mini-nap because my work hours make me horrible at late nights. I woke up, I got dressed and I waited. Then I waited. Then I texted. Then I waited. Then I gave up and changed and started drinking and watching The Guest, then Hocus Pocus, then Practical Magic. I had a marathon while telling myself I wasn’t waiting for a man to show up.

I went to work wrecked. Then found I was the only supervisor on duty. I was mightily pissed. I spent the next two days in a state of rage. Then Monday evening, I got a phone call. No apology either.

I’ve heard a lot of reasons why I’m not the person a man thought he was dating… this one was precious. My enthusiastic lovemaking is overwhelming. I had trouble wrapping my head around it.

I’m not a scratcher. I’m not a screamer. Positions are limited due to one of my legs not having full function. SO CONFUSED.

I floated into the bad place. Beyond anger. Beyond sadness. Despair is a strong word but the best one I can come up with.

So, Wednesday afternoon, I got a visitor. I agreed on an overnight visit. For the first time, we went to his place and I’m a bit dead inside but I’m always being told that I don’t give people chances so… I’m giving this guy one. To be terribly honest, I divide guys into catergories: guys I fuck and guys I date. If I’m okay jumping the sack right away, I don’t want that guy around. They’re generally dicks and the terms are clear. We fuck and we split. Never going back for seconds. The guys I date usually have to wait… A WHILE… before I’m comfortable jumping in the sack. Victor was a little bit of both.

So, I’m terrible at being in strange places overnight. I don’t sleep well. I rarely sleep well with a partner in the first place. Basically, we played house. Then we got to talking about shit. I was still, a bit, in a rage. the lower simmering kind. I laid out everything I could think of. I can’t have kids naturally, I have scary depressive episodes, I am prone to anxiety attacks, I like sex, I believe in God but not necessarily in Jesus and also do not attend church. I really wished I’d taken a picture of his face.

So, we had a talk. I busted out the laptop this morning and started writing in every moment we weren’t speaking. I got a lot of writing done but only because distress inspires me.

We learned a lot about each other and ourselves. Most importantly: We are wrong for each other. It’s totally okay that we’re wrong for each other. There are plenty of other people in the world.

I’ve learned that I give off Church-lady vibe. I’m totally judging you but not in the ways a Church-lady does. Most people seem to assume that I am a religious person, attend church regularly and that’s why I’m a kind person. The truth is that while I believe in God and am on the fence about Jesus… I absolutely want nothing to do with church-based religion. In the last decade I’ve only gone to church for weddings and funerals. My pet peeve is “Jesus loves you.” It’s not that I don’t believe Jesus loves me, it’s that people presume to know the mind and heart of a being that is utterly unknowable. For all we know, Jesus only kind of wants to be friends with. You know, how you are with that one woman from work. She’s your friend from work but is NOT your friend.

Victor learned that not all nice people believe in God. I gave him a list of Atheists who are wonderful people. I also gave him a list of God-fearing folk who were terrible people for contrast. He’s never going to forgive me for that.

I learned that some men are not aware of the biological reactions that women go through during sex. Victor, hopefully, learned that a woman who is enjoying herself, experiences a full gamut of physical reactions that she cannot control. Then i was blunt and stated that dry-fucking is terrifying and harmful. Victor’s not a monster, he’s just never fucked someone who enjoys it as much as I do.

Victor learned that nice women aren’t necessarily good cooks. I can fuck up rice. I definitely can fuck up gravy. Victor taught me how to make a good chicken broth rue.

Then a storm rolled in and my place is furthest from the bad stuff so I made him bring me home. I’m very tired. I wrote 3,763 words between talks and staring at the TV like an old married couple. Compatibility has so many layers. I know it couldn’t work if he’s got to have a church-going lady who can birth some babies.

On the way home, I listened to things that were so familiar, I have ceased cringing when I hear the skipping record.

“You’d make a great friend.”

“You’re more like one of the guys.”

“You should think about some different hobbies and go out more.”

“I wish you were more honest about yourself.”

The last one made me whip my head around. I had been waiting for it but it was the first time he’d said it out loud. “I should be more honest about addressing the assumptions you made about me in your head?”

The shade of red he turned was rather satisfying. Kay, I’m mean. I admit it. Freely.

“I don’t pretend to be a nice person. I’m nice until I’m not. I’m mean. I’m vicious. I’m a bitch. All valid facets of being a person and not a card-board cut out. If you want to meet a polite, church-going, lady… meet one at church. We met outside a bar. I was wearing a shirt that proclaimed not only my nerdiness but my social issues as I was on my way to buy beer to drink alone at home.”

I get it. I do. I am… unassuming. When people meet me, they don’t see me. When they do, they are intimidated. Maybe I do need more hobbies and more mingling but people in general suck. Girls are vicious. Boys are oblivious. When strangers do pay attention to me it’s usually to go off on me. Don’t know why. They just do. I don’t speak loudly and ignorantly in the wrong places. I’m fairly quiet and reserve my best jokes for those who will appreciate them. Something about me intrigues and angers people. I wish I knew what it was.

My buddy says I have swagger. I don’t know. My onboarding manager couldn’t put into words what I exude but something along the lines of confidence. She said it’s superattractive.

I don’t know. Victor will probably call once more. Maybe twice. We’ll talk. Then we’ll stop thinking about each other altogether. The rain finally hit my neighborhood. I just want to sleep but my mind is still going.

I always come back to “I just wish you were more honest about yourself.” It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. I’m pretty up front about myself. I don’t dish everything out straight off the bat but if I’m asked a question, I’ll answer it.

“Sure, technically I’m Mexican. It’s complicated. I’m more of a Texan.”

“It’s about mental health. Tons of people struggle with anxiety and depression. It’s kind of my thing.”

“I hate clubs. I don’t like being in crowds of people.”

“I’m not picky. I’ll eat wherever we go.”

Ways that I’m allegedly not honest? Technically I’m anywhere from 50-75% Apache. My father’s mother’s father is the only actual Mexican in my family tree. My father’s father’s grandfather is from Spain and his wife was half-French and half-something that spoke English. My father’s father’s mother is from the same place as all of my mother’s family./ I’m technically undiagnosed but given the nature of my last job’s insurance reportings I couldn’t get diagnosed and keep my job. I haven’t gotten around to it since then because my current job has switched insurance twice and it sucks so bad that I’m just white-knuckling until I can figure out what I can get covered./ There are things I don’t eat but it doesn’t mean I won’t. I’m fat. I’m not going to starve to death if I only order a little something off a mention where most of it is unappealing./ I’m a nerd, just not that kind of nerd. Not liking Dr. Who does not mean I’m not a nerd. I just nerd about other things.\

Well, I’m nigh on 2000 words for this post by itself. I’m just glad to be home and done with my latest drama. I’m joining a cloister as soon as I can find one. Big sea, right?

Nonsense and recommendations

I’m still alive. I’m in a relatively good mood. I blame all this cool air.

It’s raining! Every time I think it’s going to stop for good, it comes back. I’m very sorry that Mexico has a hurricane and that it’s lamely named Patricia but I am enjoying the spillover rain.

My uterus hates me but I’m so happy that we’re speaking again that I kind of don’t care. I’m drinking tea, taking Cramp Tabs (try them!) and have an excuse to make Banana bread. I cheated. It’s a mix but I don’t care. My house smells like bananas and I’m probably going to mix preserves with Neufchatel and enjoy the bread while drinking more tea, probably liberally doused with whiskey that I pour out of a Supernatural flask. And yes, it has to be out of the flask instead of the bottle because the flask fits in my hoodie and the bottle is in the cabinet.

I may also write. I’m feeling inspired but also ADD so… nothing has happened yet. Well, no writing except this post. I’ve had a shower, started some laundry, won a battle using a bleach pen and baked banana bread. Well, the first loaf. Forgot I was using my other bread pan for chicken pot pie so I have some cooling time before I can bake the other loaf.

So… My area has access to Amazon Prime and OH MY GOD. My life is getting so much better. I felt bad the first time I used it so I only used it for groceries (no fresh fruit or veggies, or unfrozen meats unfortunately) but yesterday, I used it to also get a dvd notebook and I started putting all my TV shows in it. Wow, the shelf room I have now. Highly recommend. You don’t have to apologize to the delivery woman for the rain but I did. It wasn’t raining when I ordered my peanut butter and sweet potato chips!!!!

Also, Lash. OMG. On My God. They deliver LIQUOR to your house. Also, beer, party snacks, cigarettes and get this… In-N-Out, Chik-Fil-A, and Wingstop. The menu is limited, mostly so the delivery guys can’t fuck it up but hells yeah. This is what I did after my dad left the other day. I ordered In-N-Out and booze. It was also hot when it got here. Highly recommend.

Also… It’s nearly Halloween. I have creeped myself out so many times in the last week with Creepy Pasta. Highly recommend. Thing is… my imagination is sometimes much creepier than the authors intended… and I don’t sleep for days. Candle Cove, though. Read it. Be mildly unnerved by it. Don’t go to the other dimensions like I did. It was far more sinister in my head.

Also. I didn’t know that this was a thing.

Please note… This is someone’s expansion on what is essentially a Disney song. Edgar Allan Poe had nothing to do with it. If he had, I’m sure the flowery poetry would be filled with more death and less magic. Just sayin’.

Also, I had no idea how long I needed this to happen.

I’m extremely upset with everyone who never told me that it happened five years ago. I’m not going to lie. I can listen to Meatloaf sing all day long.

Gasp! Meatloaf, Paul Rodgers and Bob Seger. Someone make this happen for me!

And away I go to my last loaf to bake.

Still here

The last month has been a trial of patience. I resigned myself to doing my job without hope of change in the way things should change. This meant I had to do what I could to make sure everything was going as it should though everyone was in my way.

I got mad. I got frustrated. I yelled. I screamed.

Nothing changed.

I got despondent. I got obstinate. I despaired.

Then I finally got people to listen.

I wasn’t passive-agressive though I wanted to be. I just got quiet and when asked, I was honest. Brutally. I might have been snarky but I was also factual.

Changes are yet to come but the road is clear and ready to be repaved.

This makes me a happier, if tired human being.

So tired, I can’t seem to find my pants to get a celebratory beer from down the literal street.

I have 105 minutes to get there if I still want it but. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just sit and rest.

Progress not achieved but shackles have been released.