Just as I thought things were beginning to steady, a whole fist of stress came and punched me square in the face.
So Friday night after a particularly hard night of not sleeping. I woke up and thought “fuck it” I jumped from my brains runaway train of pure anxiety, hit the ground and dusted myself off. I strolled into work and thought “yep, it’s all going to be ok, I am ok!” And then Saturday happened.
In an effort to not overstep any contractual agreements to not discuss certain aspects of my job all I will say is, there was a huge fuck up, a really, really humongous, monumental screw up that made me go from so laid back I was almost horizontal to vomiting profusely all over myself in 40 minutes. In short there was a miscalculation somewhere that left the tills incorrect and my colleague and I in complete and utter speechless shock. We had no one to ask for help, so we did the only thing we could do. Flag it for Monday.
The second we realised there was a problem my heart sank, I wanted to have a good day. But as usual, no. I cannot have nice things, I should know this. As we left I was finding it difficult to even begin to form sentences. I went straight to the closest open shop to buy alcohol. Of course I was feeling more and more nauseated as I reached the bus station I realised I still had 20 minutes before my bus was set to arrive and I realised I would have to spend that time concentrating on not vomiting on myself. I was going to distract myself with music but then a friend appeared at the bus stop and automatically began talking at me. I was struggling to make conversation, thankfully he doesn’t stop talking so he probably didn’t notice my lack of input. And so what I hoped would be a simple bus ride home of me concentrating on not throwing up everywhere became me having to attempt to listen to someone who talks at 8 thousand mph and a screaming child for a good 30 minutes. I know by the time we were half way home I was struggling to force my face to look even remotely happy. As I got off of the bus I thought I might just stand in the dark and throw up outside. However, I didn’t and went home.
As I walked in the door, I threw my bag on the sofa and went to throw up.
And throw up I did, like a damn fire hose, projectile vomit. Then I lay on the bathroom floor. When I finally decided to crawl back downstairs my mum asked if I was ok. I told her I didn’t feel very well. She kept asking me if I wanted different things to eat. I was getting frustrated after the 4th suggestion and yelled “IM NOT HUNGRY!” I think she got it then. So I threw up a few more times over the course of the evening, but I also had the most “real” conversation I have had with my mum in a very long time.
I told her I had a doctor’s appointment on Thursday. She didn’t ask questions thankfully. I told her about my work problems. I even read something I wrote to her, nothing big, no mental health stuff. Just my comparison of my workplace to a hive. She told me it was how she felt about her workplace, I braced myself for my mum to tell me her workplace was worse. But then suddenly she said “I think they put too much pressure on you” I had no response. She told me how she was thinking about taking time off sick. It shocked me a bit to be honest.
And before I went to bed she gave me a hug. Yep. She gave me an actual hug.
I didn’t hug back, I was kind of shocked I don’t think she noticed. She told me she loved me so I reciprocated. It’s not that I don’t love my mum. I do. I just struggle with expressing it sometimes.
I really wanted to go to sleep and wake up feeling better about the next day. It was going to be ok. Right? No one told me it would be but I guess I had convinced myself enough that I no longer cared about the outcome that when I woke up this morning I no longer felt worried. Well, I say I no longer felt worried. The tension in my back and the nauseated feeling that continued throughout the morning begs to differ. I went to work, started 20 minutes early to make sure nothing went wrong, I planned on writing out the whole till process for another person so I will not need to be in next Sunday. But like I said, this is me and I can’t have nice things, and by nice things I mean a normal day where everything goes ok. I seem to be some form of drama magnet. Of all the mental health issues I have, I would keep them all to lose that drama magnetism.
Once again another monumental till screw up happened and once again I was left to try to deal with it. Obviously I didn’t need it. I spent the majority of the afternoon convincing myself, my kidneys were giving up on me due to the immense pain in my back. But after googling (yes, I know, never web MD yourself) I discovered that anxiety can cause lower back tension which can feel like a kidney problem. I guess this was sufficient enough in making me feel a little better, or maybe I just over reached my critical anxiety level and moved on to a whole new tier called “FUCK IT!” because I no longer worried about it. Instead, I wrote 5 A4 pages of instructions in the hopes I will have one day where I don’t have to worry about work.
The Elephant in the Room