Yesterday, I felt like I was getting one of the various plagues that are going around. Then last night, I fell asleep on the couch sometime between midnight and 12:30AM, and woke up around 4:15AM. I staggered into the bathroom to brush my teeth and then fell into bed with my CPAP mask on.
Today, I feel like I am 217 years old and someone has scooped half my brain out and replaced it with dead horseflies. I wasn’t able to get enough steam or brainpower to accomplish anything, and I spent far too much time on the couch disgusted with myself because of it. I just sat on the couch with my eyes closed, feeling that gentle slide toward sleep and then the BAMP that jerks me back awake every time. I didn’t design or print anything, I didn’t sew anything, I didn’t look at anything under the microscope, I didn’t write anything. Just sat on the couch doing nothing until something got my attention that I couldn’t ignore and had to investigate… that happened a LOT today. Probably because I’m tired (the quality of my sleep without CPAP is very poor) and not feeling well, things were harder to ignore or rationalize away. I spent over an hour sitting in the basement and watching and listening for the hot water tank to go through a couple of cycles and only stopped because J startled the crap out of me when she got home from work and opened the door.
My mom called this afternoon and it was good to talk with her. She’s been having a good time with my sister and the kids… and the cats. For whatever reason, Mom seems to be the cat whisperer – they’re all over her and once they get settled they go to sleep. It’s pretty sweet but Mom says she’s not a big fan of all the fur left over.
A letter arrived from the health department today. I was too nervous to open it so I put it on J’s pile to take a look at when she got home. She called a while later, though, and while we were talking we decided to open the letter. The letter says that my application has been approved and I am now medically retired. J says it’s good news, and I get that, but I feel very mixed on the whole thing. Part of me is relieved that I won’t have to sit through a bunch more examinations and interviews designed to make me uncomfortable. Part of me is grateful that I will still be getting my disability payments and I don’t need to worry about being cut off. Part of me is worried that there’s been some sort of paperwork error and we will get another letter in a few months saying that no, in fact, I have not been approved. Part of me worries that I don’t know what I’m allowed to do and not do while I’m medically retired – despite what most of those know me might think, I don’t want to spend my whole life in the house, and I want to work again and contribute something. Part of me is very sad that all of the stuff I was before – back when I was a capable person who did stuff that mattered – I don’t think I can ever be again. All those friends I left behind… all of the good times that helped everyone get through the bad times… all the tradition, the history… they’re all gone. I will probably never work with WG again, and that makes me very sad. And, part of me is really, REALLY angry with my former employer because they were arrogant, inflexible, and incompetent to the point that any brand new hire (I’m just kidding – they weren’t hiring! But anyway…) could’ve listened to a department head for 30 seconds and figured out they were completely full of $&%@. They made me flush two years of distance and evening university courses down the toilet. That was a lot of time and money and sweat, let me tell you.
Hate is a strong word. I may toss it around and say I hate fish or I hate it when the sun reflects off the car in front of me and shines in my eyes, but those are just irritations or distractions – not actual hot, seething hatred. There are very few people who I honestly, truly hate in this world. All of those managers who spent more time bragging about how good they were before announcing that we were going to be responsible for LOWERING the level of service to our clients… all the “yes men” who blathered platitudes and just reported what their managers wanted to hear to improve their chances of getting promoted – I hate them. The upper management/COO/President-level people who never clued in on why things weren’t going well and figured that the number of re-orgs and the constantly changing people in management were normal – I hate them. The directors who insisted they were the best qualified to develop and roll out an upgraded network but who didn’t even know what the word ‘latency’ meant – I hate them. The even higher-ups who clawed money back from our budgets, turning a merely untenable situation into an impossible and dangerous one – I hate them too. The arrogant manager 2400km away who didn’t bother to figure out who I was or what I did but revoked the shifted hours schedule that I had negotiated with my previous managers, forcing me to quit university – I really, really hate him.
Sometimes I wish they could see this blog and read how much they screwed up my and J’s life, but then I remember that even if they did, they wouldn’t care. All they’d be looking for was whether they were mentioned by name and, if so, whether I said anything that’d help them get a promotion.
I appear to be winding myself up, which is what I should NOT be doing when I’m getting ready for bed so I’m going to stop this here by reminding myself that the letter I got today was good news. If all goes well, we should almost be at the end of the process.
I have a Dr C appointment tomorrow. I am looking forward to talking to her about being out to the hardware store three times now and how it all worked out, but I’m not looking forward to all of the introspection and digging that accompanies it. I hope that I’m able to maintain my current level of getting out of the house – I worry that I’m going to get up one day and it’ll all be gone again. Fingers crossed that doesn’t happen.