Saturday, June 27, 2009

Cry, Crybaby.

Wow, what a week. I went to work all week with my mom (to do work on a side project she's got goin) which was a good thing for me. Everyday I was up, showered and out of the house by 8 o'clock (okay, maybe not 8 but y'know in the "morning") (my mom is salary, sometimes she doesn't get to work til 10:30! or even later...) I basically just sat at a desk all day doing work that is comparable to Slap Jack (without the "slapping". The fun part.), drinking coffee (love, love, love that coffee is limitless at the office!), listened to my iPod and did my best to avoid "office treats" (cheesecake, chocolate cake, donuts....oh my.) and managed fairly well (I had a danish.) (and even though I wanted to chop off my hand for the insufferable crime it was good).

It was nice getting my mind off....well, whatever it is that is was on. And everyday after work we had something to do and kept busy. (No, this is not the norm.) (I'm lame.) So basically, the week went by in a slap jackin' flash.

I only purged once.

(It's all about the small victories)

It's not that I didn't want to or wouldn't it's that I didn't have the opportunity and let's face it my bank doesn't want any part in it either. Speaking of which. I caved. After this whole EDD cutting me off thing festering in me for what feels like an eternity Friday towards the end of the day my mom came down and was telling me what she wanted me to do and she may as well have been speaking Eugoslavian because I wasn't comprehending a damn thing (and my face is expressive).

She asked me if I was okay, if I was hungry or something (which was the case for my slowness on Wednesday) I said no, she continued explaining and tears started flowing. Even after she walked away I just couldn't stop and I was trying to be all super quiet (snot and sniffles) plus I was at my mom's work. The last thing she needs are rumors that she made her daughter cry when I was working for her. She already is a Human Resources/Payroll/Benefits Director at a construction company and if you anything about either that position already warrants you the "office police".

What the hell was I crying for?
Answer: I have no idea. Everything. Nothing. I don't know.

It was so bizarre. I would stop crying and then as soon as a thought (ex: that stapler is black.) I would start crying again. Until finally I tried to stop thinking and just work, like a zombie. I felt all light headed (like I'm in a bubble floating on a cloud), a little dizzy and a faint headache coming but never actually "getting there" (I don't know any other way to describe it). This is exactly how I feel after I've purged. Weird, right?

My mom felt bad (really bad) (which I feel bad for) and apologized later on when I went up to her office so we could get going. She said she was just anxious and letting me know what to do and didn't realize if she was being rude or mean or what. I told her it was fine, I'm just emotion and muttered something about starting my period or something.

That night she was asking me how I wanted to be "compensated" for my work. She didn't want to put me on the payroll or use my SS# at all because she didn't want it to affect my EDD. And I said, it's fine just put me on the payroll, it won't effect my EDD (*gulp*) because (*choke*) they dropped (*tears flowing like the Hoover Dam just cracked open*) me.  There were more uncontrollable sobs, chokes, sniffles and enough tears to fill the Atlantic ocean.

My mom took sympathy and felt horribly that I'd been holding this in (which I'm notorious for) and hurt that I didn't feel comfortable to tell her (scared that she would be disappointed in me for such a stupid mistake) and I should have told her because THIS IS WHAT SHE DOES(!). Which I know, of course, but the look of disappointment that I thought she'd give me (preceding her help) just was frightening to me. (Umm....yea, so I'm no winning any "Smart/Brave Girl" awards anytime soon). It was a long night. Very emotional. Puffy eyes.

I do this every. time. When I get to the point of hating my job I tend to cry on the way home from work (I hold back all day so I don't run my mascara, waterproof is blasphemy!) and lie when she asks me how work is going until finally I do exactly what I did last night burst out into uncontrollably sobs crying mountains of tears. 

Will I ever learn? 

My name means "wisdom". What is that sarcasm? 
I'm thinking yes.

(I can't wait to read all your posts! I've missed out on so much blogging in just a week!)

1 comment:

  1. I hate it when people bash out healthy food.
    Finally, someone who thinks like I do.


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