Monday, January 15, 2018

Rolling with the Punches

They weren't kidding about this flu season!  I have been sick twice in the past month. It was all head and upper respiratory grossness.  After the congestion and cough cleared up, my ears are still plugged up and achy. I tried to rally/push through. I've used a month's worth of sick time in 2017 so I'm a little worried that will get me flagged by management.

My new therapist is pretty good and has introduced me to something I had never considered - making my own boundaries as self-care.  I've been going to family get togethers with no planned out for years and have been miserable but at least I kept up appearances. Guess what? I don't have to do that! I can show up and stay until things go south then take out a prepared excuse to leave.  My brother helped me with Christmas, figuring out the smallest amount of time I needed to be around my parents. Perfection!

My father has recovered pretty well from his heart attack and broken hip. He's still nasty to my mother, turns off his hearing aid so he doesn't have to interact with others, and has his recommended daily ounces of booze.  Over the last couple of years my dad has become a functional alcoholic. After the heart attack, he made sure he could still drink. On Christmas, his one task he assigned himself was getting glasses of Riesling ready for the family. His pants fell off as he was shuffling around the house with his walker. His nastiness found me as a new target. Prepared exit excuse deployed.

I'm still sad about Rasputin's death but it's like an undercurrent to my life. My sensory memories of him are fading. I can't remember his meow, his smell, or how it felt when he laid on me. Occasionally, I get sideswiped by remembering putting him to sleep. This is the fun side effect of PTSD - how upsetting memories affect me. I don't just have a hazy memory of something happening, I am back in my own skin while its happening having the same emotions coursing through my body. I'm pretty sure that's why I have developed panic attacks.  My body can't go from mundane daily routine to being flooded with crisis brain chemicals and back to mundane. My doctor has prescribed me Lorazepam to take occasionally.

Work has been not as frustrating lately. My group has gotten into a good groove. I have developed expertise in some key analysis/reporting which we jokingly call "job security".  The biggest annoyance is dealing with other work groups where we wonder how they are able to tie their shoes. When that happens, I have three other analysts and a great boss who I can go to and ask in disbelief "How can they not know this information?"

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