And there's a small niggling concern that someone is going to get the promotion that I would like to have, but that's yet to be seen. For now, I guess I'm happy to have a job. And what will be, will be.
Other, more personal issues exist. My mother is getting older and more frail every day. She's much shorter and quite a lot thinner than I ever remember her being. Her nose seems too big for her face. She complains about not being able to stand at the sink very long to do her dishes, and of course, her home is to her what the ring is to Gollum in Lord of the Rings. Her precious.
She very much wants to live out the rest of her days in peace and quiet. To be able to rest at night without my son in the other room, giggling and talking to himself while he plays all night long on the internet. Quite honestly, she's been hoping for that most of her life, and there have only been a few brief episodes of it. I worry about her being alone. I think that for all that, my son is an active presence most of the time, and at her age, she kind of needs that. If not for the social end of it, then for the "something to give a hoot about" side.
But my son is probably not the best choice for all that she might need in the near future. He has no training in nursing of any sort. It's not that she needs a nurse, but should she have a stroke, he wouldn't know the first thing to do beyond call 911. And a lot can go quite wrong in that first hour. He's been fired from his job, and stays up all night playing on the computer, so he sleeps all day and doesn't hunt for any new employment. She is paying his bills. I don't know how she can afford it. I work full time, and I can't afford to pay his bills. I think she goes without a lot, and he doesn't appreciate it or understand it. I'm really angry with my son. He's really angry at me, although he would never admit it to my face. In fact, he is rarely honest with me, but when he is, it's always with this dramatic, vehement, corrosive, explosive FURY, and I just shut down and let him rant. Apparently, he never learned how to express himself without rage and righteous indignation. Maybe that's my fault. Maybe I shut him down too much when he was little. I suppose I can own some of that. Everyone needs to be heard. I was pretty worried about everyone back then, including myself, and making sure that there was a roof and food and heat in the winter, warm clothing to wear, and I got very little help along the way. When I asked for help, I did get it, but I rarely asked, because I didn't want to impose on people who really didn't own the responsibility.
My son is a very angry person. There are several factors, not the least of which involve a chemical depression that has surfaced and been exacerbated by the use of pot and other illicit drugs. He has basically undone himself this way, because I have NEVER been a pill taker--and never so much as took a drag on a cigarette. The wine of choice was Pepsi cola or Coke, whatever was at hand where ever I might be eating, and detest gambling with the one-armed bandits. I've had friends ask me to go with, and I always turn them down, finding some excuse not to go. The bandits don't interest me. When you only get 79% back on your investment on a good day--that's not doing very well. In other words, you put in $100, you may win $79? Just not my ideal odds. But my son is angry at me. There are a number of reasons why, I'm sure. Not the least of which that he believes that I abandoned him, and that I drove away any male that might have a good impression on him. He is also angry with me over my ex-husband--that I married him in the first place. But to be fair to the man I married, he and I were fine together. It was only when my son came into the mix that things blew up...and all due to my son's anger. My son claims I'm addicted to yarn. Actually, that's only partly true. I'm addicted to anything craft/fiber. However, I am also a prolific creator, and I am always on the go. There's not much that I cannot do, and that which I can do, well, let's just say it's a long list. My son, on the other hand, while he has a fair number of talents, he is greatly limited by his lack of wages--but he is a very excellent writer--in fact he has written many poems. The sad part is that they are all VERY dark and gloomy, and prove the extent of his depression. He is apparently good at playing games on Facebook. I don't do that at all.
His anger has bought him a lot of trouble over the years. I believe his drug use is a scheme to "get even" with me, believing me to be the source of all of his pain and hurt. In fact, I've pointed out to him that it was his choice to go down this or that road, and that's when I get this "talk to the hand" mentality. He is also very impulsive. Well, for that matter, so am I. But there are times, when faced with a fork in the road, I will try to choose the correct one. Sometimes, those choices aren't always the most "choice" of choices. If you know what I mean.
And so, having all this personal CRAP on my mind, my boss tells me that my job is going to change dramatically. Well, what next? A flood? A fire? Why not just burn down the building? I feel anxious and worried and fearful, and woeful and grieving all at the same time. It's not fair that "when it rains, it pours", because I don't mind the occasional sprinkle, but it seems like I end up feet up in the pool sometimes no matter what I do. And so they tell me that I can't share it with anybody...at least not until the dust settles, and the circus becomes a well oiled machine again. The process will be revisited again in the future. I can't post this until the changes go into effect, and I can't talk about it with anybody, except my husband, who really thinks I'm being stupid for worrying so much--I mean, why would I think this supervisor would have my best interests at heart, when all the others have taken advantage of my skills? So I took the issue to my therapist. Who, admittedly, is a very upbeat person. I walked in all gloomy Gus, and walked out feeling more positive, but talked myself right back into gloomy Gus on the way home to the point where I needed a reassuring hug from my practical husband who said "You are fretting about nothing! It sounds like a GREAT opportunity to prove yourself." Well, yes, that is true. But I continue to fret and stew. I knit to forget it for a while. I knit to sort through it all. It grounds me.
And so you won't see this post until the changes take place. At that time, I will likely have WAY more to say--right now, I'm most worried about training and teaching how to do my job to people who may or may not be up to the challenge--because splitting my job between 5 people---can you imagine? I do the work of 5 people? And they say that government needs to cut back. Oh, that's another story for another day. How they can hire full time employees at a higher wage than I've even dreamed of, give them all the same benefits, and let me drift off into obscurity because I'm a union employee? You want to talk about angry feelings. Well, I won't go there. I've got enough on my plate right now that I'm considering taking tomorrow off. Or maybe Friday so I can have another 3 day weekend. Alright. I'm back to anxious again.
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