Stay tuned for a hot dose of hindsight!
4/25 I have what I call “autoimmune shit“.
I’m getting treatments for it every six weeks. This means, every six weeks my body feels… normally functioning! And then it slowly deteriorates over the next six weeks. I’m about five weeks deep and OH BOY do I feel like a hot pile of excrement.
So, a coworker calls in sick. I’m called in. Well, I’m always sick. Harumph. I was looking forward to a day off. But I know this is the right thing to do. The schedule is barren for that day and I know the lone worker left to close is more than competent. But I know that’s his second night alone. Arghh. Body HURTS. Joints locking up, foot cramping, head pounding, gut… blech.
Ok, I’m smoking now, so that’s better. Eases the mental stress.
Two bowls down I call into work.
I recognize a coworkers voice, I ask for the assistant manager (an absolute sweetheart that I respect too much to even roll my eyes at).
The smooth jazz holds for a bit.
One of the higher-up picks up “oh, and by the way, are you picking up that shift”
BODY HURT, ANXIETY VOMIT, I HAVE SO MUCH HOMEWORK TO DO “Not really but if no one else can I guess I could come in ”
“well, the <sweetest assistant manager ever> would be working a 10 hour shift otherwise and, ”
“Oh, yeah, no, I’ll be there.” I instinctually responded.
WHAT HAVE I DONE. A good thing, actually (@ myself, chill)
5/2 Update: I went to work. I was in pain but I did it. I finished all my homework too. Enough time has passed that I don’t even remember the details of how it all happened. It seems that consistently the majority of my stress is in the period of time that decisions are being made or there’s any uncertainty.
I’m finishing this post from my infusion chair. I made it. We did it. Lo hicimos.
That day I was flipping out I realized probably carried some extra depression because it was the anniversary of my grandma’s death. Is there a better word than anniversary? It doesn’t feel right. Anyways, depression!
I can imagine how much anxiety and stress I could save myself if I jumped into saying ‘yes’. Probably a buttload. I overthink things way too much. BUT THAT’S SCARY. Ok, thanks survival instinct, I hear you. Baby steps though. And moderation. I need to stop saying yes to so much food, for example.
In defense of my overthinking, my energy is so fragile… anyone heard of the “spoon theory”? I’m a “spoonie” which recently in my life has meant no more than one activity a day. The fact that I’ve been able to wake up early, get stuff done, AND go to work all night? Previously unthought of. I’m still testing and learning limits, I get hesitant to do more than one thing in a day but I’m learning. It’s good.
Know your limits and know when to push them, you know? #roadtoremission