As I type this, it is just about 730pm on Thursday. I am already in pajamas, I have already taken an Ambien. So much for fun. I have work to do. I must be functional and on point at work tomorrow.
There is a DVRed, episode of American Idol paused on the TV. It’s been long enough that the image of an advertisement for Buitoni flickers across the screen. I don’t have the attention span to finish watching. I don’t have the attention span to get through one whole performance. The first few notes, and my judgement is made. In all honesty, I don’t care anymore. AI, for me is a show of lost hopes and dreams. I’ve always been too old to compete, no matter what they raised the age limit to. Plus, I’m not really…um, camera-ready, I guess is the best phrase. So watching all these young’ns makes me sad.
However, THIS CONTESTANT appears to be a bit of a wackadoodle (or high?), and has an odd/intriguing voice. He’s got a smile like sunshine, though. I dig him, kinda.
(Geez, I wish someone would read over my shoulder as I type, tap me on the shoulder and reminder me when I get too far off topic.)
Point is, I don’t have much of an attention span anymore. Heh, anymore. I was diagnosed with ADD in 2001, but haven’t been on meds for it since 2005 or so. I just kinda cope the best I can. Which, these days, is not that good at all. I don’t really read much anymore. News articles? Books? Nah. I only read until I can find the magic phrase that is the requirement my client needs!
My work life has become increasingly more like this. My boss is thrilled that this side of the business is growing, but I am still just me, and still trying to support 10 other employees while handling my new responsibilities. It’s not enough for me to have an assistant, but it’s enough to be overwhelming to me. I’m the low-girl on the totem pole, and yet I’m in the office by 730 in the morning, multitasking like a fiend, often straight through the day (break? What is this “break” you speak of?) until I try and get out of the office by 445 to avoid traffic on the 805.
If I could someone use my new responsibilities to help friends of mine, I would. But clients have specific needs and requirements that only certain people can fill. And those certain people aren’t always dear friends of yours.
The guilt I feel, that I can’t help my friends, kills me.
More is being piled on me at work, at this pivotal time where I’d like to be taking time OFF. I’d like to take 1/2 days or 3/4 days to handle wedding-ish things. To shop for last-minute necessities and clothes for a Bahamian honeymoon. To get a pedicure because I fucking need one. To get an oil change, because…that’s what you do every 3000 miles. To clean the house, because it’s a mess. To try on my wedding dress, because I haven’t since late October and I’m afraid that I won’t fit into it.
These days, I don’t take a lunch break. Today, I managed to take 15 minutes to go across the street, go to the bank, put gas in my car and pick up lunch. Yesterday, I sucked down a Slim-Fast shake at my desk while smilin’ and dialin’. I haven’t had time to get presents for friends’ upcoming birthdays! I’d like to do little errands mid-day. But that is very much a rarity.
My chest is increasingly achy. Like, pain…tightness. I know that it’s stress-related. I know I’m panicking more than ever. Somewhere in the back of my head, I am afraid I will have a heart attack and not be able to make it to my wedding. I’m chomping on more Xanax than ever. My sleep is restless at best.
But I can’t say, “Oh no! This is too much!” I am Work Ethic Girl™ (Can I trademark that? That’d be rad. It’s like a superhero or something!). Plus, in this economy, I’m not about to risk it. I don’t want to give anyone a reason to lay me off. Say “of course, no problem,” get to it, and get it done. On time. And correctly.
Although, my attitude is starting to suck. I sigh and grumble a lot. I need to fix that…STAT. Probably not just at work, either. I’m a big old crabapple to everyone around me.
My poor fiance. *sadface*
I should probably go see a doctor for the chest pains, since I already have high blood pressure. Which, by the way, I never had until these new work responsibilities came along and I started planning a wedding. But I’d like to know when I should go – because even being out of the office for 2 hours to get my Marriage License seemed to cause a shitstorm of chaos.
I should probably go to a shrink, and re-evaluate my meds. Maybe get back on the Adderall, or something. But again, when would I go? I miss my old shrink back in the Jerz. He was no-BS, and his office hours started at 4am. He’d give me my cocktail of meds (I was on 5 at the time), congratulate me on my continued weight-loss, and send me on my way. I’d stop at Starbucks and get a Skinny Vanilla Latte and head off to work. He was WAY better than my shrink in Philly, who admitted that she was probably more ADD that I was, and no-showed for at least 1/2 of our appointments.
Again, off-topic. Sorta. Shrinks.
Most shrinks don’t have weekend hours, so I’d have to go at night after work. Which I’m wary of doing, because parking in my neighborhood sucks. I don’t like to go anywhere in the evenings that is not within walking distance, because I have a paralyzing fear of there not being a parking spot near my home when I get back. I can’t tell you how many invites I’ve avoided for this exact reason.
Geez, I should probably go to a shrink for THAT reason alone.
When I think of my upcoming honeymoon, there hasn’t been one time where that thought wasn’t tainted by, “OH GOD, the pile of CRAP on my desk and in my inbox that I will return to!!!!”
That is some FUCKED UP SHIT, yo.
Work/Life Balance? I ain’t got none of that shit these days.
What the hell is wrong with me???? I feel like I’m going to have a breakdown just about every day. I’m exhausted and stressed and feel very fatigued. Rummaging around in my purse to find something is a tiring task. Although, that may be the purse’s fault, not mine. If you saw the giant satchels I lug around, you’d probably agree.
I just don’t know.
If I come out of the next two weeks intact, and make it down the aisle in one piece, then I’m good…right?