|
navigation
current
archives
links page
profile
|
|
bee to the itch
August 14, 2015
I have had it thoroughly up to here (gestures at a point two feet above head) with that toxic waste dump of a co-worker. Even when she doesn't bother to show UP till thursday, she can still have me tearing my hair out by thursday!
Nothing sucks me dry faster than P-A narcissism. And she's not the only back-stabber; I work in an office full of tricky co-workers, so I have to deal with a lot of them. But at least most of them can present a fairly professional veneer. I can deal with that. I can do the same, regardless if I like you--or if you drive me crazy on a regular basis. But there is simply no good way to handle a big, screeching ball o' crazy. I had 50 years to try and come up with a comprehensive plan for that, and believe me: it can't be done.
Did I mention I got my glasses again?
Yeah, they still suck. I'm actually wearing my old ones right now, because I still can't see clearly at every distance. And I think the new ones actually make my crossed eye worse! But I give up. I just can't keep fighting it. I think I will go to a different eye doctor, get a decent effing prescription, and just see if that makes any difference. If it does, I have grounds for a refund from Costco. And if it doesn't--well, I guess I'm going blind.
If I seem a little stressed--well, I am. I got a call yesterday while I was at lunch; it was my dad. He left a message that I should call him back when I got home from work, because he "had a message to give me--nothing too urgent or important." I called back, figuring it was about my great-niece's upcoming christening or something.
Nope: he was calling to tell me that he was in the hospital. And that he had been since Monday morning! Some complications following what was supposed to be a routine minor surgery.
So my 78-year-old, lives alone dad decided to have surgery without telling any of his kids, and then when--FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE, he has to spend the night (FOUR and COUNTING nights!) in the hospital--he still doesn't think he needs to contact his kids.
His internet ladyfriend insisted on calling my oldest brother (bless her), and he, in turn called my other brother...but, as usual, nobody felt any compunction about not calling me.
Have I mentioned how complicated my relationship with my family is? Have I mentioned how bloody EFFED UP my family is?! I don't even know who pisses me off the most. Dad, who decides this isn't something any of us need to know? My stinkin' brothers, to whom it doesn't even occur keep me informed? Or my SILs, who don't even have the excuse of being raised in a cold and unloving environment, but didn't pick up the goddam phone and tell me?
I do keep relatively low contact, but apparently they've gone NO Contact with me, and (like everything else, ever) didn't bother to inform me.
Do you have any idea what this kind of crap can do to one's mind, if one has depression issues? Short answer: it can kill you. (It certainly contributed significantly to my brother's death.) It's a gigantic boost to the power of negative self talk. When your brain never shuts up about what a worthless, meaningless nothing your life is, and how there's no reason to be alive, nobody loves you, nobody would miss you if you were gone...there's nothing quite like getting that validated by your entire family.
|
|