There’s, like, three things going on in my life at the moment that are cause of heaps of running around, with hardly any satisfaction.
Moving house is dragging on and on, and is eating most of my weekends. Saturday was spent at the old place cleaning and getting the place ready to be shown to gulible members of the public willing to pay $320 for a place that was barely worth the $290 we were paying. Keys are handed back on tuesday morning, which means I’ll be late for work, and then we’ll have to go through the rigmarole of getting our bond back. I like the new place, but its difficult to get used to,
Work is incredibly frustrating. I injured my wrist over two months ago and still have recurring pain. Which means I can’t do my job properly, and have to do heaps of running around to get enough evidence of my injury and ongoing problems to satisfy Comcare. Not to mention that I’m on a "graduated return to work plan" which plays hell with my roster and often leaves managers running around to office trying to find me and ask why I’m not on the phones. And I’m supposed to get this new equipment which is taking forever to arrive, and I have to chase up everything to do with it. Last friday when I spoke to my Occupational Therapist about it all I almost broke down crying on the phone from the sheer frustration of it all, even though I learned a long time ago that crying at work is just not a good look on me. And yes, I know its a shit job, but I’d rather be able to do it than not. And I could really just go on and on about every little detail of it, but it shits me to tears.
On top of that I have to get a new security clearence, which would be really helpful with the whole "career" thing, but the fuckin thing is so frickin involved, and I have to provide evidence of everywhere I’ve lived in the past 5 years, which appearently is 7 different places, and do you know how hard it to provide evidence of a place you’ve lived that you moved out of because your flatmate became a raving drug addict? And I’ve got to do this by friday.
And my mum told me yesterday that my 5 month old nephew, fresh out of hospital after having an E.Coli infection, will most likely have to have surgery on his skull in a month’s time as two of the plates in his skull have fused together and left untreated it can cause brain damage as his brain tries to grow.
So yeah, apart from that, everything’s fine.
You know, one good thing I’ve learnt at this job, is how to just separate parts of my life and not think of them unless they’re right in front of me. I mean, the work stuff doesn’t really bother me unless I’m actually at work. But it’s like the issues are bleeding into each other. My wrist problem, which is mainly something to worry about at work, but it totally affecting the rest of my life. And the house moving stuff is just eating into work, with trying to find the time to do everything, not just taking time off to go do things like hand our keys back, but how to find the time to do things like call the phone company and wait on hold for 20 minutes when every minute of my day is rostered. I just feel so incredibly time poor. I don’t have the time to go to three different doctors. I can’t really afford to have time off to deal with house stuff. There is no time at all to go see my nephew, or go stay at my parent’s house and help out my mum since she hurt her back (which I’m totally taking advantage of instead, by keeping her car, which is saving my life at the moment in that it’s allowing me to get things done, but leaves me with a big pile of the catholic guilt thing). Oh, and I’m feeling incredibly lonely as well, because I’ve been too busy to make time for my friends so they’ve all made other plans, and our new place is further from everything, and my flatmate is taking every opportunity to go spend time with her girlfriend cuz she’s also dealing with similar crisises of crap.
My new best friend is Fbi, the radio station, who has been providing me with hours of company when there is no one else around.
My nephew needing surgery is totally scaring the shit out of me. In my head I keep thinking "It’s not brain surgery, it’s skull surgery, but christ it’s close," and "fuck, he’s just a baby, fuck." fuck.
fuck. fuck. fuck.