This was my Friday...
I spent the afternoon singing show tunes and Motown and swaying my hips in a swishy wrap skirt and making bouquets, boutonnieres and nosegays to keep my boss from exploding on his employees, one-by-one who are exhausted and all ready to quit. Friday was my 12th straight day of working without a day off. Nothing smart or good comes from pushing this hard for this long. Everyone in the office is feeding off the fumes of exhaustion. As instructed, I kept him busy, things light and helped as best I could. I spent my afternoon, not doing my own work, but helping my boss because he took on a project that was too big for him to do alone, even though he said he would, but he didn't want to admit it and turn it over to the skilled staff we have. I could have left at the end of my shift, but I hung in there and stayed 2 more hours. My hours. The hours I have needed to refill my emotional bucket to get through another full day of "what the fuck is going to happen today?"
Allergies overtook my head after the hours of school on making bouquets and boutonnières. I came home with swollen itchy eyes, itchy arms, a throbbing headache and just felt my entire body shutting down. I sat in my chair, prepping to go to bed at 6 pm and then I stood up and walked next door to my neighbors. I knew I could just show up at her door and she would let me in and really expect nothing from me.
I didn't have the words for the first 10 minutes, so I collapsed into the "kitchen chair", she made me a spring roll, listened to me incoherently ramble for 20 minutes until I found some things I needed to say to another woman knowing it isn't something I am ready to fix, don't need help to fix and don't need advice, opinion, a push, guidance, a degree, or a passive aggressive real adult teach me. It is just what I am feeling.
I just needed a woman to hold space with me and my disappointment in where I am at this moment, in this knowing I am holding myself still, small, stuck, in my head, wanting to just curl up in the huge crater on my side of the bed and lay there and breathe. I am exhausted, but not really. I am anxious & edgy & bubbling with creative, juicy energy and I can literally feel the heart beat of my desire to be me, but I am exhausted mentally and physically. My body hurts from a month of intense manual labor doing set ups at work. My brain hurts that I am giving all that I can of my life to job and bringing in my children to work with me to ease my guilt of being one every fucking day, 7 days a week. And when I am home, I am depressed and just want to curl up and sleep. I feel like I am no closer to being who I am or living the life I want to live than seven years ago when I left my marriage. Today fucking sucks. I don't want to adult any more. I am hoping to be rescued and have someone to share the burden with.
Except, in the amount of time it took me tick off each bit of overwhelm, I remembered I really don't want anyone. I don't want to be rescued. Strings and compromise come attached with rescue, and I don't want to play helpless princess to the smart and mighty prince. I don't want someone to fix my life. I want to do it and feel the glory for each dragon slayed. It's just I have worked too many days in a row and have allowed things to pile up. It is difficult to think straight when you are exhausted.
So, I emptied my head and my friend just sat there and listened, without judgement or reply. She didn't try to fix me or my shit.
I am writing this in my bathroom before I head to another full day of work and drama and unnecessary bullshit, day 13. I am waiting for my tub to fill so I can get ready for work and I am hogging the only bathroom in my home while I hide to carve out a few minutes of privacy This is the only spot where I am completely alone in my home.