Hey there old lady what's your day been like?
I've been sitting here staring at my presentation wondering what I should say on the second page.
I met with the CEO last night, after two months of rescheduling and only three hours after my first little orange happy hypertension pill.
I don't remember what I said. I vaguely remember the look on his face and it wasn't the impressed and slightly bewildered look that I get at the end of most meetings.
I stumbled over my words and last night I felt like shit for screwing up a big break but my boss/father pointed out that I'd be hard pressed to screw up everything I've done right until now.
I'm glad for the buffer. I'll need it next week as the emails pile up and the deadlines keep advancing while I sit here wallowing in the too-bright quality of light.
I'm taking pills that make me feel like dried up shit, that spin my head in circles, reminiscent of that last hour of an LSD high, just when it's getting all too much and I don't want to take it anymore.
I'm thirsty. I'm tired. I'm having trouble with the stairs because my knees are actually little ziploc baggies of lime-flavoured jell-o.
I'm complaining again.
My boss is covering for me, I'm "away from the office" today working on something too important to be disturbed.
I'm still on the front page.
I broke down when he called, there are no walls in this land of dope, and told him how stupid I felt to be the shining star for eight months and then suddenly be missing out on deadlines due to "health" issues... I'm skipping a meeting on Tuesday for a renal scan, Wednesday's lunch is three hours long for the ultrasound of my heart.
This is stupid. I'm an overachiever. I don't stop. I never stop. I don't sit down and I don't break and I don't let go and I don't give up
so of course my father's genetic structure is doing it for me.
I'm done complaining. There's got to be some space in this "remarkable" brain to focus, I'll grit my teeth like over university math problems and at least do a couple of useful hours.
Seb called today. We laughed like old times and just when I was expecting that uncomfortable silence of disparity of interest, we started sharing hopes and dreams for the future. He's planning and growing and leaping ahead with astronaut paces and suddenly we were sharing fears of parenting, and realizations we'd come and wisdoms that seem to have fallen into our hands from clouds as they broke to let light through.
There's light here. I know there is. THere always is. THis is character building. This is the time to realize that hard work pays off and I'm allowed to be fallible.
I just hate admitting that.
I guess this is the time for it to get easier.
I'll be stoned when I get to my parents' place, their arguments will be dampened.
I'm worried about the way Dave worries, but if anything that's a great bollster to get my ass in gear and heal as fast at this as I do for everything else.
I sliced the end of my finger off three weeks ago and the nail has all but grown back without a hitch.
My heart has broken a thousand times and it is stronger than it has ever been.
And these little orange pills will take some of the weakness away, eventually, and I will learn to stop hating myself (as much) for weakness, and this feeling of doing something unnatural to myself will go away as well.
It always does.
I'm doing just fine, I just needed to complain a bit so that I could start getting over being feeble.
It's time for pill #2.