POKE

It seems these days that everyone knows how to poke my weak spots. I feel like a fleshy, raw body exposed, shell removed and everyone can't keep their fingers away from the reddest, most vulnerable spots.

One of the ladies tonight asked how I was, and I said "Good," and she said "No, seriously" smiling, "You're right, everyone knows I'm not." I'm not good these days, that's right folks, but nor am I bad, I'm just a little thrown off by everything I'm learning and grappling with and on top of all that I had a job review today.

My boss knows the minimum, but here's the issue - he knows enough to believe he understands and yet he knows enough to know he does not really want to know how serious it is. So instead I get the talk about my future, when do I plan to work until and how can I not make my medical absences evident because my staff will start asking questions etc. I heard everything negative so unbelievably clear, but it was not until I was on the bus home that I read, that this response, my paranoia that my boss is horribly disappointed in me despite all the good I've done is part of all this. It's part of my self ingrained paranoia that the world would see fault in me and not love me for me, broken, ugly, messy and the necessary parent apparently to two adults. I've formed my life around trying to over and protect everyone and everything believing that at any moment it could all fall apart, my mom could get sick again, my dad unemployed - I had to make sure that they would survive, primarily because they both believed they could do it without God and the other, and yet every time they did because of choice - my mother's leavings or her illnesses, I was there to make sure that everything was done when she returned as expected. I remember feeling horrible guilt about the house being messy the last time she returned after walking out/leaving - I was in the middle of my last semester at university, burned out after 4 semesters straight of school and I was worried about laundry. I shake my head and cry about it now... wow, that's going to take more therapy that issue...

I wish I could tell Ross that it's not minor, that I really do need time off, even one day every other week to just sleep - I should be entitled to it as I have 1 week's holiday left. I'm prepared to take them unpaid just to not melt down. I don't want to go on EI for medical illness, the job is safe and I can do it on autopilot in the next little while. But rather I get asked when I'm going to leave. Do you want me to? If not, find the compassion to support me in this pain and grief and all that. I don't know my future and I'm glad, I'm glad I'm here and I'm stuck here - I know you don't believe me on that one, but seriously I'm glad. There is no where to run, no pipe dreams, fantasies or anything, just life here and right now. But instead I know I'll keep working and I'll spend the next however many months addressing the issues like I'm no longer my super cheerful self with the patients, parents have been complaining that there is something wrong with me, nothing wrong with my work, but rather my soul. I know it's written all over my face some days, that's why I don't look people in the eye any more, the tears are always right there, it's like grief, huge ugly seas of grief just waiting to swell the shores.

I wish I had a song to add but honestly I don't. Music and I have a tumultuous relationship in times like this.

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