Archive for category Fear

lost my job, need to move, no clue wtf to do and scared shitless (g2)

Well… I feel rather dumb for complaining about things right now, but then again I kind of have to purge it. I have my health, which somehow managed to avoid the death flu and several stomach bugs, I have a great kid who will be going to an advanced art program this summer. My depression has not, so far, kicked into gear. However, I feel like I’m just strong enough to keep that below a crust… for now.

I even have a landlord who tried to give me his rent back when I told him I’d lost my job and said he’d support me getting moved if that is what I felt I needed to do.

End of March, not long after my fifth anniversary, I came into work expecting to have the same soul-sucking experience that is has been over 90% of the time I’ve been there. I’d been training a new manager on how to do everything I did (plotting for a smooth exit), most of which fell back to me as they were getting overwhelmed. They helped field some of the calls and emails coming in, but now we had two of us drowning rather than just me.

But I’ve been there the longest. And I work for a company that epitomizes every single article I’ve ever read about toxic environments. I get no information, no communication, but then am reprimanded when my responses to those outside are “too vague” and not “resolution-driven.” It’s really no wonder that the company itself has had to change names over the course of “twenty years” it likes to brag its been in business. By law, you have to shut down when you report a loss too many years in a row.

The VP… again, not my superior… but is the right-hand to one of the owners….calls me into a conference room around lunch. Everyone is gone and the only other person there is the HR manager.

The writing is on the wall.

“Huh, am I being let go?”

I’m being told yes, and they ask if they need to go over why. I say “I don’t see the point,” and go through the list of where to find anything they might need, forward my phone to the new manager, pack my things in a very small bag (all while being offered a large box several times and professing I don’t need it). I tell them its not like I’m going to disappear so if they can’t find something, just contact me.

It was so surreal.

I’ve never been fired.

I hate this place, but I busted my ass for over five years, and now… fired?

I get in my car and take one last look at the building I feel like I have wasted a chunk of my life on and realize… I NEVER have to come back here…

I realize I’m smiling about this idea.

I realize that I’m so stubborn and have been such a closet optimist that this shithole might actually get better that this might have been just what I needed to leave and make the changes I’ve wanted to make.

I don’t even unfriend the VP on facebook, though she does get moved to the restricted group.

I talk it over with Spawn and let them know what happened and we talk about moving… like… now.

Thirteen years of life to clean out, toss, donate, sell… and so so much. Every time I think we might have gotten through one room, I find yet another box, stash of papers etc.

I would even be grateful if that was the most stressful part.

I’m jobless.

Yes, they are paying me an additional month and told me to file for unemployment (which I’ve yet to see, so apparently I did something wrong). I socked away my tax refund rather than pay anything off or blow it and I have a 401k and a money market investment account I can pull from if I feel like buying a house… a modest house, but a house nonetheless.

I’m ok.

But I don’t feel ok.

I feel on the edge of freaking out.

Every time I’ve ever moved, I’ve usually had a friend or family to stay with until I got settled. And this time, I do have a cousin in the area, but neither of us are the type to share space unless we have to… holidays and that sort of thing. Three days is the expiration.

I’m sure the wife if dodging me when I’m up there for interviews so I don’t ask to move in with them for awhile. But the truth is, I’d live in my car and lie about it before I’d even ask.

It killed me to even tell them I was out of work. They are the pair with which I feel like I’m being graded whenever I’m around them and to ask for advice…. was an intensely hard thing for me to do. They know the area, they might have tips and places I would not think to look. And my cousin, did  have contacts at a couple of the staffing agencies, both of which has sadly done nothing for me.

I’m also prideful as hell. Every time I’ve been through something stressful: divorce, poverty,  a death of someone close to me, I shut out the world and maybe talk about it once I’ve resolved it.

But when you have a kid at stake, you have to put on that face of adulting as though you know what the fuck you’re doing when in truth, we’re all still those kids inside and figuring shit out only when we fuck it up. And when you have a kid at stake and their well-being, you get help wherever you think it might happen no matter how much of a prick your pride tells you to be instead.

I know… I know, logically, we will be fine. It’s been 3 weeks, I’ve submitted to over 90 openings, been in one 3 hour interview doing something I’ve never done before, but was eager over the prospect of learning something new, in spite of the long hours. They won’t decide until the 15th of next month, so I’d prefer not to wait. I’ve had a few other promising phone interviews, but its just not happening as fast as I would like it.

I’m really fucking good at what I do, and when I’m not, I’m very independent about figuring it out. I own my mistakes, I’m as honest as I can be within professional constraints. Hire me, dammit!

But then you also start house hunting, and they tell you to get pre-approved, but then they tell you you won’t qualify if you’re not employed… a friend advised just getting up there in the first cheap postage stamp I could rent, and then start looking and this way I would be available for interviews… which sounds great!… until I look at the daily cost. It’s HUGE and its like NO ONE wants to give you a deal for maybe a month. They are hell bent on locking you in for a year or more.

I want as much as possible to buy a real house.

Spawn wants a real house.

I want a real house.

This is where Spawn wants to finish school.

I don’t have much time before Spawn realizes that living with their parent is just not the way they want to do it forever. So before that period, I want them to have the house I’ve never been able to offer so they can decorate and do and make it, into everything they ever dreamed. I want that too.

But first, I want work… or I want both… or I want to not have to worry about both…I don’t know.

What if I’m just not enough for any of this? The last thing I want is my stress to become Spawn’s stress. I wish I knew what to do…

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So What Happens When Your Sex Drive Becomes Hormonally Challenged? (G-uno)

I have to say that I thought nothing about aging would make me any more annoyed than getting use to wearing glasses every time I need to read something. Well how wrong was I? Now life has taken a completely different turn, and I have to admit I’m pretty angry about the way it has effected Mr. G-uno, and I’s sex life. Any one who has been in a long-term relationship will tell you that it’s hard work balancing two humans wants, desires, and needs on an ongoing basis.
Mr G-uno, and I have been at this for over 34 years. I have been completely spoiled in one area of our relationship. Our sex life has always been the most compatible part of our relationship. We ran on automatic pilot, and our biggest obstacle was finding time to be alone to do what we like doing best. In other areas we are complete opposites. We are both strong-willed, we both think our way is the best way so there has never been a lack of passion either inside the bedroom, or outside. The saving grace no matter how explosive we are as a couple is the sex.
It’s always been the one area where we are explosive, and completely in synch, That is until “The Magical Vagina” became  hormonally challenged.  Hormone replacement therapy is not an option for me because of genetic predisposition health issues. To be perfectly honest I can learn to deal with experimenting with sexual lubricants. It’s wrapping my mind around the loss of who I have always been that scares me. More importantly the loss of who Mr G-uno, and I have always been sexually.
So what do you do? In my case when I finally faced what was going on with me, I just sat Mr. G-uno down to make sure he knew that nothing had changed between us. My issues have nothing to do with him being less attractive, or less desirable. I have to pull up my big girl pants, and adjust to this next phase of my life. The thought that scares me is that it does change us.

 

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i’m getting better… (g2)

I’m trying desperately to catch up with all the items I’ve missed, I have been simply incapable of sitting down for even ten minutes and reading anything. I don’t know why.

Antsy, irritable might all begin to describe me, but mostly I just wanted to cut off everything. I lost my phone, it went dead for days at a time. I worked like an automaton and treated people much the same. I came home with only thoughts of hunger, then exhaustion.

I moved one day to the next with checklists in my head, no love or desire for anything.

I would say that under normal circumstances this would be the period when I would slide into the abyss of depression for a bit, go back on the meds, work the steps that pull me back out of it. Like accepting every 8th invitation whether I want to or not, for example, which is the only reason I had any interaction with the Yankee outside of work, pleasant as the experience was to my surprise.

I suppose having a kid is kind of a motivator for me to push away the darkness more strongly than I might otherwise. Considering we only have one another, we talk daily, we discuss everything, it tends to keep me more grounded and tethered to something. I realize this doesn’t work for everyone and I’m certainly not belittling that in any way when family has no effect on your darkness when it comes to call, but my kid is very much my totem.

In moments when I would otherwise not be able to stop it from pulling me under, I have the half-pint who reminds me why I’m not done fighting today. Maybe tomorrow. Or, maybe the day after.

For my G-uno, I was the one who brought the dysfunctional in-laws into my marriage. I never knew what a family could be like until I met my ex’s family. I’m still very connected to them, just as I’m very disconnected from my own. It is extremely painful to not be loved and accepted within your own family and to know that in every subtext of how they speak to you.

To be able to walk away from that, know them to be the poisonous element and still have faith in your own self as being a good person and not seeing yourself through their eyes, takes a strength a person just shouldn’t have to bear with people supposedly under the title of “loved ones.” My made family, the family I built from my teens on, G-uno and BFG very much included, shaped a lot of who I am today, gave me the strength to fight against a very twisted guardian and their brood.

We feel compelled to try to make and fix things. You and I especially like to fix. Maybe it is a Gemini thing.

But I will never be able to fix the person my gran made me out to be to their family, a spoiled and greedy orphan never satisfied with anything received and working poor gran’s fingers to the bone demanding more. This spilled over to my aunt and uncles and poisoned the mind of my cousin and his wife. They will always have that haughty smugness when I spend time with them that I don’t measure up enough to have been “gran’s favorite”.

I already knew that. I spent a great amount of effort trying not to be, repeatedly kicking that fucking pedestal anytime I saw it coming closer. To be in gran’s good graces would mean I was like them. That was the last thing I ever wanted to be.

I had an epiphany recently. I knew I married another version of gran, so I could have the same bullshit fights with different outcomes and I had to do a lot of soul searching to overcome that. But it went further than that. My ex manipulated me to be geographically isolated. Gran, being the manipulation master they were, managed to do it emotionally, mentally. They made sure I had no one in my family who saw me as I was. No one to confide in. No one. Except them.

When this hit me, I kind of wanted to dig gran up and just beat the hell out of them. It hurt, but it was their own selfishness that motivated every diabolical thing they did. They destroyed their own family, caused so much internal fighting and baseless hate that those of us generations later just want nothing to do with any of them, or one another, save for a small few.

So when a person, such as yourself, who has had nothing but selfless goals calls a lost cause a lost cause, why would you feel this in any way your fault? To be able to fix them, you’d have to think like they do, and in turn understand them, and take a risk of turning into that yourself. I couldn’t risk that, I try to carve that ability out of myself much in the way you battle the Kraken.

There is a point when self-preservation has to kick in and you have to give it up and escape. You don’t call it a bad thing if you’re not able to fight a bear with brass knuckles, its a fucking bear. You’re thankful you survived.

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Sitting On The Edge Of Dark Waters (G-uno)

She sat there on the edge of the lake with with her feet dangling in the cool dark waters. Her body was present, but her mind drifted off to darker places. Occasionally she was aware of her silent surroundings, but the loudness of her thoughts robbed her of the peacefulness of her surroundings.
She could no more silence the deafening noise of her own thoughts then she could stop the endless flow of the warm tears that streamed down from her cheeks. Her sadness came from years of struggle, and from the realization that most of what she believed to have been the truth in her life was nothing more than a world that only she inhabited.
I’m not sure if the pain of not being able to recognize the fact that she had created the illusion, or the thought that no one around her even noticed its existence was more devastating. Perhaps she lives within a world that only exists within her head, or maybe she is just simply unable to see the world that actually exists.
Either way she is lost within the darkness of the waters. She dangles between two worlds wondering which one holds the truth, unable to discern how to cross over to a world not designed by her own perceptions. Then she wonders if everyone resides in a world of their own design, their own illusions. If she steps into the dark waters will she swim, or simply become a part of them.

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so vp think she’s good with spreadsheets… (g2)

I think I’ve already gone over how the VP in our department thinks I’m a fucking idiot, something even the Yankee picked up on even though my boss tries her best to play the diplomatic card as much as possible. My boss rocks as they are not the type to get into drama and will get pissed at the issue, not the person. They also have a tendency to try to see the best in others and want to explain bad behavior under a more rational light. Sometimes a bitch is just a bitch. Also, like I told my boss… I have to value the opinion to give a shit what it is.

The VP has more than once told me I scare her. I’m starting to wonder if she isn’t kidding.

The owners decided they wanted to see more training since our financial situation (i.e. people finally started paying their fucking bills and we got bitchier about getting them paid) started getting better. My stress level once this occurred plummeted. Up until that point, the VP wanted to send me to a class on communication skills, which in a meeting with one of the owners and the VP present, I pointed out “There’s only so many ways you can communicate ‘we can’t pay you because we’re not getting paid.'” The owner readily agreed, the VP stfu about it, but it was still on the to-do that we should have training of some sort.

Yankee and I both saw an advanced Excel class we thought might be interesting, so we requested that. VP is not so skilled in Excel, in fact usually asking for Yankee’s help and marveling at the skills, even when its a minor thing. VP and I don’t really interact much work-wise, so it became apparent she had no clue of my skill level when she suggested it would be too much for me, and I just said “I highly doubt it considering I’ve already taken the advanced certification courses. This would be little more than a refresher unless they’re getting into the actual VB coding or in-depth macros without the step-through recorder.”

I lost her somewhere in the first ten words, I could see it in her face. She backpedaled a bit, and it wasn’t long before she had signed up for the same course but before ours.

She came back afterwards and said she learned a couple small things but they didn’t go over anything she didn’t already know. Before I could stop myself I said “well that’s disappointing, I thought it was supposed to be an advanced class.”

The Yankee coughed to hide their snort, but we were rather concerned that we wouldn’t be getting much out of this. It looked like the only classes that were more of our cup of tea were a minimum of two days and about five times the cost. We were told point blank we were not allowed to be gone over one day.

Either way, we finagled it so our project cohort, the Hippy, is also scheduled for this same class (at the Yankee’s house, Hippy mentioned they had no clue how to even request training and they too used spreadsheets a lot, so I put a bug in the VP’s ear. Sometimes, she is useful).

So we get out from having to deal with the VP for at least one day. For that alone, I guess I don’t really mind if I don’t take a lot away from this class, though I’ve never walked away not learning at least something, even if its small. I’m also curious as to whether the VP just didn’t understand a lot of what was being said and filtered it out. Will be interesting to find out. At least the company will be worth it anyway.

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kicking diabetes ass: week…5…6? fuggit I have it marked on a calendar (g2)

Yes, I’m still doing the food insanity, somewhere around week 4 and a half it’d become such a habit I forgot to log my food. By the time I realized I hadn’t done it, it’d been almost a week.

I’m an organized soul, let me unclutter your life. (don’t, really… you’ll never forgive me.)

In the first 3 weeks, I dropped about 20 pounds and six inches out of my midsection, but I kept forgetting to check after that. Apparently, nothing else has moved from my midsection another 5? 6? weeks later, but I’ve noticed other stuff or I’d be insanely depressed. My last check had be averaging about 727 calories/day.

In the past couple weeks, I have been able to navigate stores without the assistance of a cart. For me this has been big. The pain started first and the weight followed, one exacerbating the other. It was three years before diabetes showed up. Walking around a store was hell and not just because I detest shopping. If you’ve ever seen the first steps of the TinMan after Dorothy gave him an oiling (that’s what he said) or someone trying to move their body in spite of paralysis, this is roughly how I managed to get around. No amount of pain pills could touch it.

I decided we were going to get up at buttass’o’ clock one Saturday and pick blueberries. We were out there until we filled 2 buckets, which took Spawn and I a little over an hour. It was disgustingly hot even at 7am, but we survived and physically, I was fine. I haven’t been fine in years.

Spawn asked their best friend if they wanted to join us, which they did but they had their six year old cousin visiting so they had to join us as well.

We already had plans to hit our favorite Saturday breakfast spot when we were done (they have about six or more omelets I can totally eat and still stay within range).

Pain In The Ass aka the 6 year old, only likes waffles. Plain waffles.

Our favorite spot only has french toast.

I got to hear about two hours worth of shit PITA doesn’t like, but also has never tried.

I know in my logical brain Spawn also went through this phase, but this child has never heard the word “no.” Ever.

Spawn’s BFF exemplified a patience I’ve only seen in the most kindest of souls. I kind of felt sorry that they had to play parent to just a PITA…but then, they could have left it at home too.

PITA and I butted heads only twice. The first happened when they had picked blueberries for about fifteen minutes and determined themselves bored and demanding we leave. My response was they were told beforehand that I wanted two buckets for us before we left, and if they were done they could either help make that go faster or find something to enjoy about the place until we were done.

The second, PITA dozed off on the way to breakfast choice number two (we checked the menu to make sure plain waffles were on it). When we got there Spawn’s BFF couldn’t get it out of the car. I poked my head in on the other side and said “You knew were coming here, so get out of my car please.” It did.

Spawn asked if I yelled at them, I told them I didn’t have to, I’m terrifying enough without volume.

In spite of it all, I still had a pretty lovely but insanely hot day with three kids, a good breakfast (spinach crepe with chicken) which I forgot included potatoes pancakes. Thankfully, they were small, and I managed to mangle them a bit and eat about 2 tiny bites so I could call them touched without being devoured, while small enough I didn’t feel bad about leaving it.

The blueberries though were a bit on the small side. I’m sure part of it was the season started earlier this year and I didn’t realize it until later, combined with the need to hurry so I didn’t hear “I’m bored, when are we leaving?” before I throttled someone’s kid and buried it under one of the bushes.

But fuck yeah, I picked mah own muthafuckin blueberries, bitches!

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kicking diabetes ass: week 2, day 6… as long as you feel ok, keep doing what you’re doing (g2)

My doctor’s visit was yesterday and that’s what they said after I got done with my long diatribe.

Spawn got their vaccine(s) and was given the final verdict that they were “disgustingly healthy.” We thought they were only getting one shot, but it ended up being 2 shots and a fingerstick hemoglobin test. I’m sure because my iron is still low, I’m also at fault for that one. My kid ended up with two Daffy Duck and one Tasmanian Devil band-aids, so overall I think it was a win.

My bloodwork in March determined that my A1C was down to 6.3 from 7.3 in January. I brought it down a full point in 3 months and this is before the insanity diet started.

I also dropped 20 lbs since I came in last. That was more reassuring than I thought it would be. Sure, you always hope for more no matter what amount, but when you have a ton to lose, you don’t see it until its a massive amount. It kind of felt like justification that what I was doing was a good idea.

The only measurement I’ve done at home, and only after I’d been doing this for a week, was measuring my midsection. That too has lost 4 inches in a week.

I was excited by this and felt the need share the good news with diet buddy. I don’t think they took it too well though. I have a feeling I might have to stage an intervention at some point so they don’t get disappointed and start using more excuses to end it. Their kids are going overseas for a few weeks this summer, so their excuses will be gone too.

With that said, I, like the planner I’m not, forgot to print out all the crap I was going to bring in hand for my doctor to review. I had to give the reader’s digest super-condensed version of what I read, what the study’s goals were and what I was trying to emulate. I at least had my app out and let my doc peruse the information I did have logged and how I was tracking my nutrition as well.

My doctor countered with starvation mode and the vices of that. I countered that I was only intending on doing this for 8 weeks, not forever and would be gradually increasing to a more reasonable level after. The goal being to shock the system into burning its own fat, especially in the pancreas. I told them about my carb goals, and how that had been working out. I told them I had cake on my birthday, so I added an extra day. They said “you can have cake on your birthday.”

They asked questions about how I’d been feeling, if I’d added any exercise and how my digestive system had been doing. I told my doc fine, no and actually pretty good. I said I had only had issues when I hadn’t had enough water, and I got a headache once from not enough salt, but otherwise I’d been feeling pretty good.

I also said that regardless of how well I did on this, I still wanted surgery if I ever got the option because I simply didn’t want to deal with this ever again. Doc said they’d write the referral as soon as I had the coverage.

Sometimes it just nice to know 1, you’re doing ok, and 2. you got someone in your corner.

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