stress

I will be glad when this is over.

This has been a two-week span in which it felt like nothing went right, in which events would seem to fall into place only to spin out, away from my hands, out of my control yet again. Repeat ad infinitum, two weeks and counting.

I thought meltdowns were supposed to be teary, sobbing water fountains.  Instead, it was the hollowness of sitting on my spot on the couch on a Sunday morning and realizing I felt out of my depth, overwhelmed, and unable to exert any kind of control over the situation.

A situation which, Jeff has reminded me, I couldn’t have fixed from the start.

* * * * *

It’s been a long week.Without lapsing into a sea of complaints, I’ll say this: right now, I’m overwhelmed and mentally exhausted. I knew going in to this job that there would be periods in which I simply wouldn’t be able to cope with the tide of work, no matter how intelligently I planned my time or how many hours of overtime I put in. I’m sliding—fast—into one of those periods. I guessed rightly that it would be coming at the end of January, but I misjudged its strength and ferocity.

Can I write here about what I see at work?

An oddity that’s not really worth mentioning: I develop muscle tics when I’m under some kind of stress. Sometimes it’s an uncontrollable finger twitch, but most of the time it’s an eyelid twitch.

My right upper eyelid’s been twitching for about 48 hours straight now. I wish it would stop.

I wish Mom would let me know how Dad’s liver biopsy went. Sometimes the waiting is the worst.