What a bad week it’s been so far. I got another one of those nasty, huge, ugly projects dumped on me at work last Friday, with only eight business days to complete it. I have had to cancel several PT and other doctor-related appointments over the next two weeks to clear the decks for working late, and I had to provide proof/justification why I really, really cannot be available on Saturday June 1 when the project is due, so we’ve had to back up the due date to “accommodate” me. All of my other evening/weekend plans suddenly become tentative while something like this is going on, and I’m already stressed out enough to begin with. I had one of those long, long dreams the other night that goes on all night long; I dreamed I was kidnapped. I suppose it’s my subconscious meshing together feeling trapped at my job along with the Gina/Amanda/Michelle story still rolling around in there.
I did, however, finally manage to make it to therapy last night. Like many damaged creative types, I’ve been in and out of therapy most of my life, the last time being a couple of years ago when I went to try to get over the visions that would not leave me of directing them to burn up the little dead body of my 17 year old cat via cremation. That event sparked some serious mortality problems I’ve been battling ever since, and along with everything else I’m dealing with, I’m hoping to sort some of this out in therapy. This new guy I found, I wasn’t sure about – this ain’t my first fuckin’ rodeo and I don’t cotton to spending the entire first three sessions giving him my whole life background, I just want to talk about the problems and how to fix them or deal with them. To his credit, since the intake part took quite awhile and I was the last patient of the day, he let the session go over an hour and a half. And boy did we argue, I mean, discuss things. Most of my FB friends know there’s little I like more than good, meaty argument as long as the person on the other side of the table has good debate skills and posits cogent theories. If nothing else, it was very cathartic to spend so much time arguing with someone about whether or not our matter goes on in some form or not after the body dies, so I’ll probably continue on with him.
And then there’s Ray. I may devote another whole blog post to Ray, but in the interim, I lit extra incense for him last night and went out and talked to the tree I talk to sometimes about Ray and how green everything has gotten. It’s like someone blew up a summer bomb all of a sudden, with temps in the 90s and very high humidity (but of course, a high of only 58 this Friday – you know what they say about Cleveland weather; if you don’t like what you see when you look out the front door, go to the back door and it will have changed).
And the Oklahoma tornado of course. I can’t even write the “OK tornado” because it’s so not ok. My heart hurts so many times for these tragedies of late, I wonder how much I can take. I hate feeling powerless to stop all the bad things going on, and like there’s not enough good things lately. Progress on the online class I started a few weeks ago has completely stopped while I am consumed with this project, and meanwhile they’ve just added another huge set of job duties to my job and the job of my colleagues – they eliminated a small department elsewhere, and now we have to do that department’s work. In our spare time.
One small positive – I think I am starting to get a little of my strength back through PT. I can now squat down (only once) to zip D’s coat without collapsing from the pain or having to use my hand to lower myself down to a crouch. I can also go down stairs normally again, so there is progress. Must keep up with the exercises.