I decided today was my last day.
So strange that you can make a big decision like that while doing a simple thing like starting up a dishwasher, but funnily enough - just that small thing pushed me over the edge.
It's not hard to be pushed to breaking when I feel like a rubber band pulled so tight that at any second...it will snap. That's my sanity, right now.
That's where I live - at breaking point.
Today I went into work. Work has been really tough as the Minister is away on leave and so is the Chief in Staff (2nd only to the Minister). With the two "big bosses" away - as well as "Joyce" who is the "executive officer" (as far as I understand it - it's a glorified name for an office manager) ( And - OMG - honestly - who thought it would be great to have EVERYONE in charge away at the same time???) away...NO ONE is in charge.
So Nicola and Stacee have enjoyed this to the FULLEST and have been DOING NOTHING as well as going away together on incredibly long "lunches". I think that for every hour I'm sweating it over important Parliamentary documents, answering phones, creating documents for the Minister to sign (once he gets back), responding to the Minister's email, managing the Diaries of the Policy advisors who are still in work (and they work hard - I'm actually pretty proud of them)...Nicola and Stacee are literally putting their feet up. Leaning back on their expensive executive chairs (they're apparently filling in for Joy while she's away - God help us all) and putting their feet on the expensive desks, having coffee from expensive cafes in the area, giggling, gossiping and chatting away to the guys they fancy in the office...they're driving me nuts.
In my current mental state, I can't look on this objectively. When I have 10 calls on hold - all urgent - I'm trying to manage all manner of files and important Government documentation and I see them across the hall - sharing 'a moment' where they laugh at each other's cute pictures on their phones - I feel DEEP, DEEP RESENTMENT towards them both.
And a strange new appreciation for *Joyce - because when she was here, the kitchen was an orderly place. The entire office was. I've noticed that once the person who looks after the kitchen is away - the difference is MASSIVE. Cups with mould in them because EVERYONE just shrugs and says "its not my job" when it comes to washing them and putting them away; bowls strewn everywhere with porridge crusted so deeply and so hardened it reminds me of concrete - and is just as hard to clean...rubbish all around the bin - but not IN IT because apparently, pushing the bin lid so it swings open and rubbish can fall INSIDE is just too much for everyone (I'm so angry about it!!!)...was not a problem before now - because I guess Joyce picked it all up, tidied it all away. This has gone on for about a week and I've REFUSED to clean up. Not because "it's not my job" (it isn't - it's Stacee and Nicola's because it used to be Joyce's and since they're in her position - they need to do her duties - ALL of them - including taking responsibility for the kitchen) but because I did it for the first 2 days of Joyce, the CoS and the Minister being away. I emptied and re-filled the dishwasher. I cleaned the bin that was STINKING after only a few days and I put all the rubbish IN IT that I found scattered around. I scrubbed all the dishes with dried on horrible things and I tidied everything in the kitchen - every few hours - for 2 days. I did a great job - but then I realised - I was now putting myself in a position where I was being expected to do it. I arrived on the 3rd day to empty the dishwasher before 8am (I don't start to get paid until 8:30am ffs!) and Nicola and Stacee were there, tapping their feet.
"Bit late today, Janet - we need clean bowls"
Oh you do, do you?
Instant RAGE.
"So get them" I said.
I'm at the point in my life and in my current mental and emotional state where I JUST DON'T CARE what happens anymore.
They both were gobsmacked. They're used to meek and mild Janet. The Janet I am right now has no time for bullshit.
"What?" they asked in unison
"Just FUCKING OPEN THE DOOR" and I proceeded to demonstrate "Get your dishes out - in fact, maybe empty the ENTIRE FUCKING THING so that others can have some clean dishes today" And I started banging and bashing about - throwing cutlery into drawers and slamming plates into cupboards.
"Calm down" Nicola said
"Stop freaking out...weirdo" Stacee added
I sighed. I sighed so deeply within myself I almost passed out.
The rage left and I just wanted to cry.
"Sorry" I mumbled
The girls exchanged a look. That look - the one where you raise eyebrows at each other like "this person's nuts, eh?"
And I felt a great shame about it. I felt embarrassed to be me. I felt less of a person.
They enjoyed that moment.
I hated myself and I hated them for enjoying my shame, my struggle.
That happened a week ago.
So I stopped cleaning the kitchen that day. They didn't start...and it's therefore turned into a stinky, greasy, messy pit.
Today - I decided to clean the kitchen because I don't know about you - but there is only so much filth I can stand.
I mostly did it for you, Jesus.
The Bible says to work as if you're working directly for God. And God wouldn't want to make coffee in such a disgusting place so I wanted to put everything back in place and make it sparkle again. For Him.
I scrubbed. I washed, I dried. I put everything I could into the dishwasher, loaded TWO tablets (not sure what happens when you put more than one tablet in, but omg I think it needed all the extra help it could take) into the cutlery basket inside the machine, selected "heavy duty wash" and closed the door with a satisfying 'thump' I pressed "start" with a flourish.
Look at me go :)
Doing something productive for Jesus was actually a good feeling. I get these light, happy feelings so few and far between nowadays that I have to cling to them with all I've got.
I was basking in the warm glow of knowing I did a good job when they arrived. Nicola and Stacee.
"About time" they said - nodding and looking around the kitchen.
"Paul" entered the kitchen - someone they both fancy - "Oh hey - good job girls - it looks liveable again"
And this next part is where I lost my shit.
Because the girls claimed the thanks for their own.
"No worries - we're glad to help"
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?
And that, my friends - is where I just gave up.
I live in a dark, deep, cold pit in my mind. I war with scary thoughts 24/7. I rarely sleep. I'm so wired, so anxious, so afraid, so sad and so HOPELESS - literally WITHOUT HOPE that this is all it took for me to say silently to myself:
Enough
I didn't correct the girls. I let "Paul" think it was a team effort.
They are never going to change.
They will always be like this.
This was the first domino in a series of depressed, anxious thoughts in my life. Somehow - within the space of maybe 30 seconds, my thought pattern went like this:
They've used me
They've taken credit for my hard work
They do this ALL THE TIME
They won't change
This is my life now - being a servant
Why didn't I stick up for myself?
Why didn't I say anything
because I'm worthless, that's why
I'm a coward. A fraud.
I don't want to live like this
thimgs will never change for the better
I will never get better or feel better...EVER
I will suffer for all my days
I need to die
I'm going to die
I'm going to do it today.
So right then. Right there - stood in the clean, lovely kitchen - I tapped out of life and the rest of the morning passed in a blur.
Because of yesterday's blog and my great fear that my emotions were going to overwhelm me, I knew Alun would be downstairs, waiting to take me to my Doctors appointment.
My last one, now.
MY
LAST
ONE
All because of a dishwasher and two horrible, LAZY-ASS girls.
This is how incredibly ill I am. How sick I am. How desperate I am. I wanted to end my life because of two RIDICULOUS girls.
It struck me again - the peace of it all. The peace of knowing I just wasn't going to try anymore. The strange peace of knowing everything from now on would be that last time ever and I wouldn't have to be in incredible pain anymore. I can stop this horrible, dark, painful life.
My brain ticking over, my nerves on edge, my heart racing, my palms sweating.
Peace. FEAR. Peace. FEAR.
Omg. make it stop.
Everything blurred around me.
My thoughts - all off-kilter.
I don't remember getting into the car, greeting Alun. I just remember the cold of the car seat on my back. I don't remember getting from the car into the Doctor's waiting room. Alun came with me this time. I remember how he held my hand, though. I remember marvelling at how his touch - just his hand over mine - makes me feel like I'm home.
I will miss this.
I don't remember Dr D - one of my favourite people in the whole world calling me into her office.
I remember the warmth of her office. The feeling of welcome she extends.
I don't remember much of what happened next...but I do remember I said these words:
"I'm going to die today and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me or help me. I want you to know I love you, Dr D. I really do. Your kindness has meant everything to me. You haven't charged me for an appointment in over 5 years and I can't believe you do that for me every time - even now that I earn a good wage and told you so. You always hold my hand. You have no idea how much that blesses me. You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever encountered and I will miss seeing you dear, sweet, lovely face again"
Blur.
Blurry moments.
Images of the Doctor ushering Alun in.
Alun crying hard hearing me speak.
I don't remember what I said. I don't remember speaking - all I can remember is WAILING. Wailing like a wounded animal because the pain of it all was immense. It was all too much.
Seeing Alun crying hard was too much.
How could I do this to him? Who the FUCK do I think I am???
Blur.
Hearing the words "hospital stay" wash over me, seeing relief in Alun's face and wanting so much to hold his face in my hands and whisper "you'll be ok now, darling" to him but not knowing how I'd back that up.
Blur.
Packing my gym bag at home with Alun - not knowing what to bring with me.
Was I meant to be at work today?
Looking at my gym bag and wondering what on earth to pack for hospital.
All I want to take with me...is Alun.
Remembering out of nowhere Dr D's gentle voice "This will not only give you the help you desperately need, darling - it will give Alun the rest and support he needs, too...ok?"
Okay. So I can't take Alun with me. He actually needs a rest from me.
Alun adding a phone charger to my bag.
Me putting in my favourite pjs.
Blur.
I wanted to say GOODBYE...but am now waiting to say HELLO. Hello to a fancy hospital room that is more like a VIP hotel. That's what 5 year's worth of paying top quality health care gets you, I guess.
I should feel better.
I don't feel anything.
So strange that you can make a big decision like that while doing a simple thing like starting up a dishwasher, but funnily enough - just that small thing pushed me over the edge.
It's not hard to be pushed to breaking when I feel like a rubber band pulled so tight that at any second...it will snap. That's my sanity, right now.
That's where I live - at breaking point.
Today I went into work. Work has been really tough as the Minister is away on leave and so is the Chief in Staff (2nd only to the Minister). With the two "big bosses" away - as well as "Joyce" who is the "executive officer" (as far as I understand it - it's a glorified name for an office manager) ( And - OMG - honestly - who thought it would be great to have EVERYONE in charge away at the same time???) away...NO ONE is in charge.
So Nicola and Stacee have enjoyed this to the FULLEST and have been DOING NOTHING as well as going away together on incredibly long "lunches". I think that for every hour I'm sweating it over important Parliamentary documents, answering phones, creating documents for the Minister to sign (once he gets back), responding to the Minister's email, managing the Diaries of the Policy advisors who are still in work (and they work hard - I'm actually pretty proud of them)...Nicola and Stacee are literally putting their feet up. Leaning back on their expensive executive chairs (they're apparently filling in for Joy while she's away - God help us all) and putting their feet on the expensive desks, having coffee from expensive cafes in the area, giggling, gossiping and chatting away to the guys they fancy in the office...they're driving me nuts.
In my current mental state, I can't look on this objectively. When I have 10 calls on hold - all urgent - I'm trying to manage all manner of files and important Government documentation and I see them across the hall - sharing 'a moment' where they laugh at each other's cute pictures on their phones - I feel DEEP, DEEP RESENTMENT towards them both.
And a strange new appreciation for *Joyce - because when she was here, the kitchen was an orderly place. The entire office was. I've noticed that once the person who looks after the kitchen is away - the difference is MASSIVE. Cups with mould in them because EVERYONE just shrugs and says "its not my job" when it comes to washing them and putting them away; bowls strewn everywhere with porridge crusted so deeply and so hardened it reminds me of concrete - and is just as hard to clean...rubbish all around the bin - but not IN IT because apparently, pushing the bin lid so it swings open and rubbish can fall INSIDE is just too much for everyone (I'm so angry about it!!!)...was not a problem before now - because I guess Joyce picked it all up, tidied it all away. This has gone on for about a week and I've REFUSED to clean up. Not because "it's not my job" (it isn't - it's Stacee and Nicola's because it used to be Joyce's and since they're in her position - they need to do her duties - ALL of them - including taking responsibility for the kitchen) but because I did it for the first 2 days of Joyce, the CoS and the Minister being away. I emptied and re-filled the dishwasher. I cleaned the bin that was STINKING after only a few days and I put all the rubbish IN IT that I found scattered around. I scrubbed all the dishes with dried on horrible things and I tidied everything in the kitchen - every few hours - for 2 days. I did a great job - but then I realised - I was now putting myself in a position where I was being expected to do it. I arrived on the 3rd day to empty the dishwasher before 8am (I don't start to get paid until 8:30am ffs!) and Nicola and Stacee were there, tapping their feet.
"Bit late today, Janet - we need clean bowls"
Oh you do, do you?
Instant RAGE.
"So get them" I said.
I'm at the point in my life and in my current mental and emotional state where I JUST DON'T CARE what happens anymore.
They both were gobsmacked. They're used to meek and mild Janet. The Janet I am right now has no time for bullshit.
"What?" they asked in unison
"Just FUCKING OPEN THE DOOR" and I proceeded to demonstrate "Get your dishes out - in fact, maybe empty the ENTIRE FUCKING THING so that others can have some clean dishes today" And I started banging and bashing about - throwing cutlery into drawers and slamming plates into cupboards.
"Calm down" Nicola said
"Stop freaking out...weirdo" Stacee added
I sighed. I sighed so deeply within myself I almost passed out.
The rage left and I just wanted to cry.
"Sorry" I mumbled
The girls exchanged a look. That look - the one where you raise eyebrows at each other like "this person's nuts, eh?"
And I felt a great shame about it. I felt embarrassed to be me. I felt less of a person.
They enjoyed that moment.
I hated myself and I hated them for enjoying my shame, my struggle.
That happened a week ago.
So I stopped cleaning the kitchen that day. They didn't start...and it's therefore turned into a stinky, greasy, messy pit.
Today - I decided to clean the kitchen because I don't know about you - but there is only so much filth I can stand.
I mostly did it for you, Jesus.
The Bible says to work as if you're working directly for God. And God wouldn't want to make coffee in such a disgusting place so I wanted to put everything back in place and make it sparkle again. For Him.
I scrubbed. I washed, I dried. I put everything I could into the dishwasher, loaded TWO tablets (not sure what happens when you put more than one tablet in, but omg I think it needed all the extra help it could take) into the cutlery basket inside the machine, selected "heavy duty wash" and closed the door with a satisfying 'thump' I pressed "start" with a flourish.
Look at me go :)
Doing something productive for Jesus was actually a good feeling. I get these light, happy feelings so few and far between nowadays that I have to cling to them with all I've got.
I was basking in the warm glow of knowing I did a good job when they arrived. Nicola and Stacee.
"About time" they said - nodding and looking around the kitchen.
"Paul" entered the kitchen - someone they both fancy - "Oh hey - good job girls - it looks liveable again"
And this next part is where I lost my shit.
Because the girls claimed the thanks for their own.
"No worries - we're glad to help"
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?
And that, my friends - is where I just gave up.
I live in a dark, deep, cold pit in my mind. I war with scary thoughts 24/7. I rarely sleep. I'm so wired, so anxious, so afraid, so sad and so HOPELESS - literally WITHOUT HOPE that this is all it took for me to say silently to myself:
Enough
I didn't correct the girls. I let "Paul" think it was a team effort.
They are never going to change.
They will always be like this.
This was the first domino in a series of depressed, anxious thoughts in my life. Somehow - within the space of maybe 30 seconds, my thought pattern went like this:
They've used me
They've taken credit for my hard work
They do this ALL THE TIME
They won't change
This is my life now - being a servant
Why didn't I stick up for myself?
Why didn't I say anything
because I'm worthless, that's why
I'm a coward. A fraud.
I don't want to live like this
thimgs will never change for the better
I will never get better or feel better...EVER
I will suffer for all my days
I need to die
I'm going to die
I'm going to do it today.
So right then. Right there - stood in the clean, lovely kitchen - I tapped out of life and the rest of the morning passed in a blur.
Because of yesterday's blog and my great fear that my emotions were going to overwhelm me, I knew Alun would be downstairs, waiting to take me to my Doctors appointment.
My last one, now.
MY
LAST
ONE
All because of a dishwasher and two horrible, LAZY-ASS girls.
This is how incredibly ill I am. How sick I am. How desperate I am. I wanted to end my life because of two RIDICULOUS girls.
It struck me again - the peace of it all. The peace of knowing I just wasn't going to try anymore. The strange peace of knowing everything from now on would be that last time ever and I wouldn't have to be in incredible pain anymore. I can stop this horrible, dark, painful life.
My brain ticking over, my nerves on edge, my heart racing, my palms sweating.
Peace. FEAR. Peace. FEAR.
Omg. make it stop.
Everything blurred around me.
My thoughts - all off-kilter.
I don't remember getting into the car, greeting Alun. I just remember the cold of the car seat on my back. I don't remember getting from the car into the Doctor's waiting room. Alun came with me this time. I remember how he held my hand, though. I remember marvelling at how his touch - just his hand over mine - makes me feel like I'm home.
I will miss this.
I don't remember Dr D - one of my favourite people in the whole world calling me into her office.
I remember the warmth of her office. The feeling of welcome she extends.
I don't remember much of what happened next...but I do remember I said these words:
"I'm going to die today and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me or help me. I want you to know I love you, Dr D. I really do. Your kindness has meant everything to me. You haven't charged me for an appointment in over 5 years and I can't believe you do that for me every time - even now that I earn a good wage and told you so. You always hold my hand. You have no idea how much that blesses me. You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever encountered and I will miss seeing you dear, sweet, lovely face again"
Blur.
Blurry moments.
Images of the Doctor ushering Alun in.
Alun crying hard hearing me speak.
I don't remember what I said. I don't remember speaking - all I can remember is WAILING. Wailing like a wounded animal because the pain of it all was immense. It was all too much.
Seeing Alun crying hard was too much.
How could I do this to him? Who the FUCK do I think I am???
Blur.
Hearing the words "hospital stay" wash over me, seeing relief in Alun's face and wanting so much to hold his face in my hands and whisper "you'll be ok now, darling" to him but not knowing how I'd back that up.
Blur.
Packing my gym bag at home with Alun - not knowing what to bring with me.
Was I meant to be at work today?
Looking at my gym bag and wondering what on earth to pack for hospital.
All I want to take with me...is Alun.
Remembering out of nowhere Dr D's gentle voice "This will not only give you the help you desperately need, darling - it will give Alun the rest and support he needs, too...ok?"
Okay. So I can't take Alun with me. He actually needs a rest from me.
Alun adding a phone charger to my bag.
Me putting in my favourite pjs.
Blur.
I wanted to say GOODBYE...but am now waiting to say HELLO. Hello to a fancy hospital room that is more like a VIP hotel. That's what 5 year's worth of paying top quality health care gets you, I guess.
I should feel better.
I don't feel anything.
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