I see you!

It’s morning, and the carpoolers are doing their small honks like someone clearing their throat and pointing at their watch.  I’ve made it through another week of work, and I’ve landed in a softer place.

The time has come for this, and I don’t think I’m ready.

The time to face the fact that people are actually reading this thing.

I felt uncomfortable, and still do, very anxious about much of what I write here, because someone might take offense, or take it the wrong way.  But then the anger comes back out saying, “fuck that.  This isn’t for them.  Its for you.”

Well, some of the words have affected a bit of change in my life, and I have to slow down and give a little context.

Today, I walked in to work, and had the whole formal writing up of my two times being over six hours with no lunch.  I still find it infuriating, even if there are fines involved, and the chance I might sue them for documented lawbreaking, and ‘making’ me work past the six hour threshold  (Because that’s the kind of asshole I am, I guess).

But it turns out that I have six of them, not three, before I’m fired.  I thought it was about that much before, and then got freaked out when I only had one chance left.  So, when I heard that indeed there were six, I did want to punch somebody. 

I talked about this to a coworker who understands… those of us with anxiety disorders- in chaotic situations, like, say working at a grocery store- we tend to clamp down further on to ourselves, make sure everything we do is spotless, methodical, in complete control.  But when something slips our grasp, and we are seen as not having control over even a small thing, the dam begins to burst, and we wonder if ever we will be able to trust ourselves again.

I literally did not count the hours correctly when I got my second infraction.  I somehow skipped over an hour, so that six hours was coming up as five.  I’ve never done that.  And this wasn’t just some thought in and out of my head, either.  I was counting on my fingers over and over again that day, and only when I took my lunch did I realize I was wrong.  The more I try to be in control, the more out of control I am.

But lets get back to today.  Things got less intense at work, although I still now have that doubt about trusting myself completely.  When am I going to fuck up?

I was out on the floor, replacing shelf tags, when one of the assistant store managers came up to talk to me.  Turns out, she was reading this blog, and found out what happened.  So, she talked to folks, telling them to make sure both I and them have the right context. 

That was incredible of her.  She surprises me all of the time. 

And they did give me the right context this morning.  Six instead of three.  A little wiggle room, if I fuck up again.

I also have to give a mention to another friend who obviously read my blog, because she came up, gave me a big hug, and that was it.  No ‘how are you?’

To be honest, I was going to start a retraction of what I wrote yesterday about that.  It started to look like I was closing myself off to help.  That’s not the truth.  Not having everyone ask me how I’m doing may seem odd, but I’m difficult right now, and if you want to talk to me, you’ll find a way to talk to me.  People already are.  I am receptive to conversation, just not about my health.

Or about cancer.  I walked into two people talking about the high frequency of cancer at our store, and they were trying to pull me into it.  I flatly refused and moved on.  Not the time or the place for me.

People are there, and I’m more aware of them aware of me.  My trap is to start building on, “See?  Its OK now.  Now you’re fine.”  Like a good little actor, I get my cues from my fellow performers that now is the time to speed through my character arc, so I am magically transformed at the end of a two-hour play.

This will take time, and as much as I want to believe that any positive moment is the turnaround moment, I still have quite a way to go.