Saturday, August 01, 2015

Getting Better All the Time

This is exactly how I feel my first day without a milligram of Lamotrigine.  Technically, given the drug's half life, I still have 6 milligrams fucking up glutamate in my brain but I didn't take a pill this morning which is what counts.  I also worked today!

We had two sessions of testing and I volunteered to help the staffing department.  I get a comp day out of this which will mean another beach day for me.  The morning session was absolutely mobbed with hundreds of people - the most I've ever seen in a single testing session.  I helped check people in and proctor the test.  I really like the check in and check out process.  I think it reminds me of the time when I was the personnel manager for my college marching band, aka Band Mom.  Last month, someone was hired from an earlier testing session and they remembered me! That's the circle of life for hiring right there.  Of course there are interesting personalities who show up and varying testing abilities so that either amused, saddened, or horrified us.  By the afternoon session, we were getting a bit slap happy.  I joked that as we ask for people's testing id's, I basically hear every number in existence but the one they are saying.  Also, number rhythm is essential!  Say "twenty, one one seven" or put a pause someplace.  I had a lot of fun and met a bunch of people.  Now, I am wiped so thank goodness for new "Wet Hot American Summer"!

This work week was pretty good thanks to a fabulous co-worker who clued me in on how to show up to work without being drenched in sweat - take a bus that drops us off literally a block away.  Arriving, primped, clean, and dry every morning definitely helped set the tone for the week.  Ironically, I got to see Super Boss not pressed, clean, and dry for the first time one morning.  He was running chronically late and showed up looking like he had walked through a rain shower - poor guy!  Since I am Sweat Queen, I gave him my packets of facial cleansing cloths and body cleaning cloths.  Those, copious amounts of drinking water, and a fan will get you presentable, I guarantee.

Of course there was one day that wasn't so awesome and surprise surprise it was a Thursday.  I swear every single bad day I've had for the past four months has been a Thursday! I've been at my job for almost 11 months. I have learned a lot and if I don't know an answer, I know where to look and what questions to ask. So, I have been feeling pretty confident but there is one stupid, basic task that I always have trouble with - finding job descriptions.  There are five different places to look and dozens of different ways to look up the file. It's one of those tasks that you can't document steps, you just have to know.  So, I sent the wrong job description Thursday and Super Boss had to call me to let me know. Using his instructions, I found the correct one but the stupid critical voice in my head would not shut up.  

I have tried to nail down where that voice comes from. It isn't the usual "You're a worthless fucking bitch" voice (I call that Dad). When I make mistakes, it sounds like a scared tinier voice saying, "Oh god, you are brain damaged and dumb."  And since my emotional reserves are basically powering every waking second of my life, Tiny Scared Voice can't be dealt with so I just cried when I got home.  Tiny Scared Voice is basically every emotional beat I had in inpatient and outpatient rehab after my stroke.  I swear, all the testing they run you through does more emotional damage than help diagnostically. It's almost like I am still being tested now and after every mistake some doctor will show up with a clipboard. It's easy to fight off the Dad voice because I have a sense of humor about it. I internally roll my eyes and think, "Oh God, this guy? Seriously change your tune." Tiny Scared Voice taps into a visceral fear so crying is the only method I have to wear it out.

This has also been a stellar week of Fuck Up Analyst fallout.  I had my big reveal Wednesday.  Super Boss had his Friday.  My reveal is during a regular chat with Super Boss, I found out back in October Fuck Up Analyst told Super Boss and the other analyst guy that I did not want to work with them.  That I only wanted to work with her.  Firstly, I NEVER said that!  Secondly, keeping me under her wing made the learning curve so much more difficult for me. In Super Boss' office, my mouth was agape, I shook my fists at the sky, said "Argh!" and clarified things.  The sad thing is he thought he had done something wrong that made me not want to work with him!  You know what?  Fuck Up Analyst's name is Michelle.  I am done using aliases for this psycho.  Friday Super Boss was training me on compensation audits now that I have had HRIS audits under my belt for months. He found out Michelle did not do HRIS audits the way he had trained her (and me).  His face turned a purple-ish red, he hung his head, and his shoulders drooped.  Both of us were pissed but what can you do with someone who has left the company?  I suggested we call her She Who Will Not Be Named.

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