Friday, July 18, 2014

On Fucking All The Self Righteous Pricks

There are very few instances where I wish I was crazy enough to just set someplace on fire.  But unfortunately, I have this thing called morality and a general fear of being someone's bitch in prison.

I work a very boring job as a personal assistant at a travel agency. I took it to escape another boring job at a real estate agency.  At least my employees weren't fucking assholes there (although, pretty sure one of the boss' there tried to ask me out on a date. Awkward.).  Case in point:

1. They rarely involve me in conversation, barely even saying hi. Ironically, the one who comes off the friendliest is the most dangerous to trust.

2. They are petty. They will CC my boss on correcting my spelling mistakes on emails that hold no importance.

3.SOMEONE or some SOMEONES has been reporting me coming in late. And fuck them, because I have very little do anyway and spend most of the time reading random articles on the interwebs. And I do EVERYTHING they ask, so what the FUCK do they care?

4. I technically don't even take money away from the business. I'm paid through my boss' husband's company I guess to save on workers comp or something.

5.  Instead of throwing out/recycling things themselves, they'll actually put it on my desk and wait for me to come into the office before it gets taken care of. The recycling bin is right next to the bathroom. Oh, the poor things might break a nail.


I'm also slightly disgusted by them because it is obvious to me that none of them have ever gone through any economic hardship, either through watching their parents struggle or struggled themselves.  I've been pretty lucky, but I always finish my plate; I know the value behind putting food on the table.  One of the reasons I don't have a driver's license is because my parents told me they couldn't yet afford a tombstone for my sister and I though "Meh, driver's ed isn't THAT important".

Anyway, I'm cranky and saddened by the fact that I am not only working with a bunch of jerks, but I actually felt like I owed them something. My boss sat me down a couple months ago and expressed that she was afraid I would just leave as the summer came after she invested so much money and time in me. That I should invest in her and she'll invest in me.

A part time job that is leading me no where is not "investing" in me, you stupid twat.  I admire my boss for her business skills and organization and general savvy, but this means she's a master manipulator as well. I just happen to be nice enough to be steered.

Well fuck them, as soon as I find something better, I'm out.

*Drops Mic*

-Grace #Adulting

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Panic, palpitations, and bears. Oh my!

My head is currently more condimented than a salad. Oh, the things I do for beauty. Or at least to tell myself I'm even making a difference. Genetics, thou art a bitch. 

Today I went to the gym, for the first time in about a week. Understandably, I knew it was going to suck. What I didn't know was that elevating my heart rate would cause me almost having a panic attack. I had to leave after my squats.

The first time I can remember ever having a panic attack was in junior high. I was in my science class and we had a substitute teacher. Back then, I was a very different kind of person. *cough cpugh* goody two shoes *cough cough*. This was the year before I told my parents I was a satanist. So, big year of changes for me. 

Anyhoo, we had a sun and the class was going insane because of this. I noticed across the hallway a very annoyed looking teacher gazing into our room and yelled out as an aside "guys, shut up, she's looking at us!" 

Fast forward ten minutes, and I'm being pulled into the principal's office. Of course, I'm freaking out (I've always been neurotic) and the teacher who had looked into our room has accused me of telling her to "shut up and stop looking at us". 

First thing I say is "but, she wasn't saying anything. Why would I tell her to shut up?" Apparently this means I was a smart aleck. 

Second thing that happens, is that I'm threatened with suspension. Next thing I know I feel my hands tingling and my face seizing up. I can't breathe, I'm hyperventilating. The teacher is looking at me like a freak. I'm ashamed. 

My mom used to tell me stories about how she was so crippled by anxiety even a train would cause a panic attack and my dad would get angry with her. I can only empathize the shame that comes with that experience. Because it's happened to me multiple times. 

It's hard to be in that place again and feeling like not even those closest to me understand. I don't like talking about my anxiety, I figure if I don't acknowledge it out ooud it will just go away and no one will think any less of me. I've accepted that this is something I'll always have to deal with and come to terms with, but will anyone else ever will?

-grace #adulting

Monday, July 14, 2014

To be or not to Hepatitis B?

You may have a medical degree, but this doesn't mean you're not an idiot.  Case in point: My weekend.

So I got a physical done for the first time in who knows how long, and of course this includes blood work.  I should have known I wasn't dealing the highest caliber of medical professionals when it took them 3 tries to find a vein, and they had to use the one in my hand and the assistant says "Well let's hope it doesn't burst" to the OTHER assistant while I AM RIGHT THERE. SITTING WITH A NEEDLE POKING OUT OF ME. TRYING NOT TO HYPERVENTILATE. I AM NOT A ROBOT.

This was last week, so this weekend I am dog sitting and I suddenly get a call "The doctor needs you to come in to discuss your blood work results". Um, what? So of course, my inner hypochondriac starts to imagine all the worst things, from cancer to Super Aids.  So I go in, and right away they hand my my lab results on a paper that has a whole lot of red on it.  I ask if I'll get to talk to someone, and am told to wait for the doctor.  2 and a half hours later I am no closer to seeing the doctor, so I leave with a test that states I am positive for Hepatitis A and B to race back to a dog that might poop itself if it waits any longer.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, after waking up at the ass crack of dawn to be the first person there, the assistant speaks to me and tells me I have Hepatitis B.  Understandably, I start to hyperventilate and inquire about the future of my liver and the possibility of cancer.  Also, I'm confused, because I don't use dirty needles or have sex with homeless people. This is what he said, VERBATIM.

"Well, since you're asymptomatic there's no need to concern yourself with liver disease just yet.  While half of liver cancer patients have Hep B, that doesn't necessarily mean Hep B causes liver cancer.  It's just that most people with liver cancer have Hep B."


An hour later, I finally get to talk to the ACTUAL doctor.  Who says I don't have Hep B, I just have antibodies from the vaccine.  I do have a hyperactive thyroid which would explain why I'm neurotic as fuck, though.  I'd like to think that if this get's fixed, most of my problems will be gone.  I know that's not the case though, because my brain is also broken. But not my spirit!

Ok maybe it is a little broken.  It's hard to feel hopeful when even going to the doctor is so difficult.  I'm trying to be healthy, trying to make positive changes and then I just flip out. It makes NO sense.  And I worry it will ruin everything.

So here's pictures of the doggie I took care of, because fuck doctors.

-Grace #Adulting