A couple days ago, I posted an incredibly raw bit of word vomit.
Let’s just say my weekend hasn’t gotten much better.
The situation at work hasn’t gotten better, and I still can’t talk about it. I wish I could; instead I’ll talk about how I’ve dealt with it.
When I wrote on Friday, I was already in bed. I purged my thoughts here, and curled up and went to sleep. I was exhausted from not sleeping well the night before, anxiety about the work situation keeping me up. I’d had to go through a year’s worth of someone else’s infractions, including some pretty nasty mental abuse thrown my way as well as at my associates. I had to relive the time last year I was called names for being queer. All of this in hope that the situation would be resolved on Friday.
The person in question is still there. Being given one more chance, after a year’s worth of one more chances.
And I just fucking broke.
Master had told me to wear my collar on Friday. First thing on, last thing off, photo proof. A normal protocol for us and a good way to keep the Ds side of things fresh during a 5000-mile separation. I put it on Friday morning, took my selfie to send to him, wore it happily through my shift, wore it to bed Friday afternoon and kept it on while I wrote.
And then my anxiety blossomed and I couldn’t keep it on and I couldn’t breath and my skin was crawling and I took it off and put it on my stuffed bunny from Tokyo Disney and I laid in bed and sobbed. And I spiraled.
I made it out of bed because kids needed to be fed and then I got back into bed and played Bubble Witch and finally texted Master to tell him I’d failed. He was bicycling in rural Japan at the time, so it took forever to finally get the words I needed to hear from him.
And your personal health and safety is tantamount in Ds. That’s why we have a safeword. That’s why I check in. That’s why I try to be ahead of things.
Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I disappointed in you? No, not at all.
I am disappointed that we didn’t have a good day together, but life will always come first. It has a way of doing that whether we like it or not
And that doesn’t make it your failure, or anything like that
Then I found out that the abusive coworker was being given another one last chance, and I took an Ativan and Jas held me while I cried. I decided to take the weekend off.
Words have been exchanged between myself and a supervisor, and I’ll have to deal with that on Monday. But I’m so glad I spoke up. I stayed in bed late on Saturday and then went to the gym. I knew I needed to burn off the extra adrenaline, so I blasted through an hour of weight training. I pushed myself to exhaustion, came home to shower, and then took Daph to the library and grocery shopping with me.
Then I came home and went back to bed. I read a while, and mostly slept the afternoon and evening away. Jason and his fiancée made sure I ate, and we had a movie night with the kids.
Then I went back to sleep and slept almost 10 hours.
Anxiety is exhausting.
Today I’m polishing my resume and looking for new work. I’m not quitting my store yet, but I need to know I have the option. I want to be there for my team if I can. But I won’t force myself to stay in an unhealthy place if I cannot.
Found out my old store in Beaverton is hiring… I’m tempted to apply except then I might actually get the job.