Sinking

 Image by “Lock Ness” on Deviant Art. 

I feel like I’m sinking. Completely falling off the bandwagon of writing 30 minutes a day was a setback. Then finding out the nurse at my old job was murdered along with her husband almost did me in. The sleep paralysis the following night was jarring. I am highly suspicious of my coworkers at that old place- I remember a lot of them hated her. In fact they mostly all hated each other. My anonymous tip hasn’t been looked at. I have a weird username and password full of letters, numbers and characters that I can use to check. But nothing will be done. If nothing is done about my tip by tomorrow, I may blog the details on Wednesday. 

Then we went to my mom’s house on Saturday. I took a bath, because my place with Kevin has only a shower stall. While in the bath, I could hear my mom and Kevin whispering. Later on, as we were leaving, I called out to my mom, “See you later!” And I know by talking about this openly on here, I open myself up to critical comments, but as I’ve said before, this is my space. My mother isn’t deaf, hearing impaired, or hard of hearing. But over the past 40+ years, she has selectively not heard or pretended to not hear whenever I say something that makes me sound polite. “Hello”, “Bye”, “Thank you” or “you’re welcome.”  She’ll pretend to not hear me say it in order to proceed to humiliate me in front of the person I’m saying it to. Even if the person insists to my mom, “Yes, Danielle said thank you!”  She still does it. So when I called out “See you later!” To my mom, she instantly screeched, “Ok fine, DON’T SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR MOTHER!”  My husband was right there. He told me later that he heard me say it. 

He also said that when I was in the tub, my mother was asking him if he was sick of me yet and ready to put me out on the street. He said he reassured her that he isn’t “sick of me” and that he loves me etc. He said that at that point, she started saying that I often “make it up in my head” that she tells me to be prepared if he leaves me.  So basically, she tried to gaslight me to my husband behind my back, but was unsuccessful, because in the breath immediately preceding the gaslighting, she was saying the exact thing she was claiming to never say. 

She did that with me before.  If she claims to “never say” something, and then say it, I’ll call her out, but it doesn’t work, because then she’ll just say, “I’m such a bad mother!” 

All women tell all women to be prepared if their husbands leave them. It’s obsessive. No one has to worry about me.  My husband isn’t leaving me. If he does, I have an entire baggie of back up plans.  If he dies, I’m POD on his accounts. The grief will suck, but you know what? No one ever told me to have a back up plan in case my college degree didn’t work out, but I figured it out anyway. 

Please no comments telling me “just don’t worry what she says”. For a lot of us, our moms are our first bullies. You wouldn’t tell a woman with an abusive male partner to “just not care what he says.”  The end. 

Speaking of my baggie of back up plans, I’m so sick of my job. It’s eating at me for some reason and I don’t know. I like doing inventory. I like it so much, that one of the psychiatrists I tried to get gabapentin out of a few months ago said “You LIKE doing inventory?  Maybe you do have autism.”  But I never got an official autism diagnosis. Just that. If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad is the song I try to sing to myself if I get really bored or frustrated at work. Yes how bad can it be?  I worked at a shelter for abused kids with extreme tension among all staff members, had to take care of 18 kids at a time with all these motherfuckers who hated each other, and then (I suspect) someone murdered the nurse. Why would counting crap be so bad? 

 We have our own cardboard tags with our company name that say “audited” that we put on sections when we do them. The store we did today is one we do monthly. It has a big wine rack surrounded by 24 packs of bottled water and 12 packs of soda. I always do it, and I always deck the hell out of it with those tags. It doesn’t matter if something is tagged- or at other stores we put sticky notes on the sections and initial them when done (I’ve brought a sharpie for my initials) my coworker will yell-ask if I did the section. 

We do have one young lady who helps us put maybe once or twice a week because she has another job. I told her, “You see that wine rack with the water and soda 12 packs?  You see how I decked it all out with tags?  I guarantee I’m still going to get asked if I did it.” 

She laughed, but lo and behold, a couple hours later, “DID SOMEONE GET THIS WINE OVER HERE?” 

Me and the very part time girl just looked at each other and said nothing. I refused to answer. Then, “oh yeah there are tags.”  

I came home and literally fell asleep instantly. I slept two hours. I’m exhausted and burned out. My hand, wrist and thumb are all in total pain. They were doing better until today, I did something to throw out my thumb joint. I am hurting like hell. I have a wrist brace, but it’s stretched out after only a few days of use. I may need to go to cvs and get a size smaller. I’m just so miserable I want to sleep for hours and hours and wake up feeling inspired again.