Oh, You Knew it was Coming... Part II

I'm really not sure how to write this post. Not really sure how to begin or where to go with it, but here I am.

So, a dear friend of mine called me twice this week, which is out of the ordinary for him. He's not really a phone person and we see each other so frequently that phoning is not really necessary. But he called me twice this week and when I asked him what was up, he responded "Like, why am I calling you?" And I was like, "Yeah?" and he was like "Because I haven't freakin' seen you in like, two weeks and I was wondering where you've been."

Oh, right. Because I haven't really bothered to leave my house or shower or put on pants more than is absolutely necessary to go to work.

And I work in a place where it is perfectly fine to go in wearing your jammies if you so desire.

Not that I've gotten to that point or anything, but yeah. Jammies. Hermit. Not leaving house. Far too much cuddling with a very smelly beagle. Staring listlessly off into space. Avoiding human interaction. Avoiding interaction with anything other than mindless novels or my laptop.

That's me!

Another phone call came in a few weeks ago from my dearest Mal. It was one of those two a.m. phone calls that we are so fond of making. In fact, tonight when she called at a little after midnight, my father didn't even bother saying "Who the hell is calling this late?" as he usually does. Because that's just how we roll, us middle-of-the-nighters.

And Mal had some concerns and she listed them quite bluntly and I was like, "Dude?" and she was like, "No, Dude." And I was like, "Nah, Dude!" and she was like, "Seriously. Dude."

And I promised her after that phone call that I would do something with myself because her concerns were very valid, very real, very true.

I just haven't been myself the last several months. And I could easily launch into the tales that I have subjected my friends to but really, who wants to write about that sort of thing on the Internet? Plus, I try to avoid incriminating myself. Not that I've done anything illegal.

Just crazy.

Just The Big Crazy.

Just that fucking thing that follows me wherever I go, that little trail of "Haha, I've got you in my grips and I'm not letting go-o!" Just that piece of me that I fight with and that I hate, that occasionally controls my life and renders me unable to function. You know, that little teeny tiny thing that just won't go away and just won't leave me alone no matter how hard or try or how long I battle.

I'm angry. I tried for over a year. I gave it a valiant effort. I tried being unmedicated and pretending to be sane and my best efforts didn't make me an easier person for others to be around. I'm just so *pissed off* that its back again. (Or maybe that it never went away?) I thought, like every other time I've tried, that it was gone for good and that I could just carry on with my life.

Sigh.

Enough negativity.

I've seen my trusty Dr. Chuck and been prescribed something new and wonderful, along with a couple of old stand-bys. I'm feeling a little more human, a little more able to cope. The feeling that my brain is about to spew out my ears all over the people I work with has faded a little bit, and that rising hysteria that I feel all the time is waning. I've also slept lately, deep and glorious sleep. Since Christmas, I'll honestly say that I've been running on a few hours here and there, that my body has been so angry at me for not sleeping that it started exacting its revenge via acne and other craziness.

I'd like to be able to say something like "Oh, well! This too shall pass!" But I can't because I've got a funny feeling that it won't. That this is just the way I'm made and that I'm going to stay being this way forever.

So I stopped in to visit my dear friend for an hour after work yesterday. I was telling him how I've been feeling and why I haven't left the house and he was quite sympathetic.

And then he slapped my elbow and grinned and said "Buck up! Life is better through chemistry!"

And I guess for now, I have to accept that this is, in my case, true.

And then A Good Thing Happened

And then I almost cried.

And then I did a little bit -- maybe even a lot -- of shrieking. I shrieked into phones, I shrieked via text message, I shrieked at my steering wheel, and I shrieked at other drivers who I passed on the road.

I went for a job interview on Monday morning and I knew that a decision was to be made by day's end. I left feeling great: I rocked the questions, I was dressed to the nines (the girl in before me was wearing cords! Corduroys! Or however it is you spell them!) and I didn't say "Uhm" a whole lot.

I returned to my house beaming and decided to nap until my phone rang with the good news.

School ends at like, three in the afternoon, for those of you not in the know.

At four o'clock I was laying in my bed in the depths of despair. Four o'clock is not a good sign at all. Four o'clock means no job. I had an outing planned that night and I knew it was too late to cancel. I would have to put makeup on and pretend to be social and happy and go out. I would have to interact with other human beings, and I don't know if you know this or not, but human interaction is not one of my strong points. In fact, it usually ends up in drunken debauchery or awkward silences.

At four thirty I managed to roll out of bed, slap some foundation over my acne, and drive listlessly down my driveway. The phone rang and I didn't want to answer it but I sadly reached into my pocket and answered the phone.

And it was HIM. The principal. From the school. OFFERING ME A JOB.

A JOB. WORK.

Like, one of those things you do in exchange for money.

I walked in on my first day and got high fives from staff and kids. My mother's high school best friend works at the school and ran up to me and hugged me in the hall way. Physiotherapists and occupational therapists and other EA's have been congratulating me all week. I feel like I've won gold for Canada, for cripe's sake.

I also picked a great week to start: All the kids were away my first day, the second day I supervised a school dance, and the third day is a "Professional Development Day". Where we develop ourselves professionally.

We get BREAKS on this job. And weekends off. And the kids aren't at the school between the hours of three p.m. and eight a.m. and do you know what that means?

I WILL NEVER HAVE TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT MY NEW JOB.

Unfortunately, I will also never be able to wear cowboy boots and a Metallica T-shirt to work, but I suppose this is a small price to pay.

Oh, You Knew It Was Coming... Part I

So, here I am.

Two successful weeks of working at the school board and hot damn, I feel like I'm on fire. I'm really happy with my performance in the school and I actually feel like I've found a calling, so to speak, working with the kids I work with.

So Wednesday, I went to work at ten a.m. I arrived back in my driveway here at The Ranch, followed by Mal, at five o'clock Thursday. I did a twenty seven hour stint at two different locations and I could hardly hold my head up by six p.m. Friday I started my day by leaving at 7:15 a.m. and I returned to my house at eleven.

I'm sure that Zydeco misses me. Dixie threw a fit when I walked in the door tonight, like "HEY! YOU! I remember you! The napping! The one I used to do all that napping with! Now MUPPY ME!!!"

If nothing else, I suppose it is good to be missed.

I knew that I would have to work double for a while, until something contract or permanent comes up. I've done it before, I can do it again.

But OH MY WORD I am exhausted.