This week I was euphoric.
Did it actually start hitting me on Wednesday morning? Trying to figure that out.
Yeah, Wednesday morning. Surrounded by people who had little or no coping skills. I had this string of thoughts that started with: I will not get pulled down by the election of that creepazoid bastard. Not after all this.
And then watching other people about whom my boss said,"Everyone grieves differently" but I could clearly see coping skills were not factory installed and I could say I felt bad for them-that's what a good lapsed Lutheran does, right? Goes around 'feeling bad' for other people? But I actually didn't and here's why: I cannot get gloom on me.
Not now. I'm still recovering. And maybe I'm even kinda surfing on my personal rage that I had become so complacent. (Insert mad frowny face here.)
And then, even weirder, I came to understand something my sainted mother did to me post-divorce when I moved back in with them and she yelled at me to: PRODUCE and I thought she was being evil and mean, but now, finally grasping the idea that work is a privilege-especially on days like Trump Day-where if you're extremely fortunate and I am-you get to be in a situation where you don't have to look for the helpers-like Mr. Rodgers said, you get to be one.
Worst cancer thing of the week. There's a woman who I see once a week. Her daughter died from cancer. She has cancer. And she will not be ignored.
And she did a whole routine with me that went something like this:
HER: Is everything really okay with you?
ME: Well yeah. I have a few more things I have to get done this year but...(here I'm thinking: I know this 'outfit' isn't all that flattering, but it's all I got at the moment, ya know? Jeez.)
HER: But are you sure you're really okay? Because you don't look like you're sure.
ME: (Now I'm thinking, okay, what does she see that I'm not seeing? Am I really okay? Holy Mutha of Jayzuz.)
Somehow I ran far far away from her and went to an in-house library class where they taught us how to find key words AND action verbs for resumes(how cool is that?)and later, when I rehashed it with my Supervisor of Maximum Fabulosity, she explained that HER was probably saying that stuff to ME because things are not okay with her.
So she was projecting.
Never do that to somebody else. It's an awful thing.But there's a thing where, if someone else appears to be doing worse than you? It makes you feel better. This could be that. I don't hate her. Cancer can make you into a mess.
Later, she offered to get me a job as a receptionist at a dentist office. Two people thought I look like I'd be a good dentist receptionist. Oh, I thought to myself. I'd look good in a Mister Floss cartoon scrub top? It made me want to jump off a bridge.
Lucky thing I was euphoric.
I was going to try and ride November out in terms of appointments but I got captured. I was trying to make a couple of inconsequential appointments for regular stuff-things are booking up like CRAZY in case you need to..oh ya know....get your colonoscopy done or whatever. And the appointment maker said, And, did you want to make your appointment for your next colonoscopy?
Uggggggh. I had it completely removed from my head. Compartmentalizing Delight.
And the jug of gunk had been waiting for me at the pharmacy since August(oops)so I went over there and tried to re-up all the prescriptions and I got busted by the blood lady. (The Hematologist.) She wouldn't re-up my prescription without a visit and PS: Couldja come an hour early for some blood work?
Euphoria Part Three. I started drawing again.