MixMan and Miss Diva woke me up this morning at 0730. They'd been up for an hour already (why is it that during the week I have to drag them out of bed at 0700, but on the weekends they're raring to go all bright and shiny? I need my blasted beauty sleep.) They're downstairs, watching Saturday morning cartoons in their pajamas, MixMan with his cochlear implant brochures tucked under his arm. I'm upstairs in the work room, studying a couple of canvases, some emails, and contemplating another pot of coffee.
A friend of mine and I were discussing some rather personal things last night. I may have mentioned in a previous post or two that night shift has made me a little crazy, and I'm finding my Bell Jar moments are becoming more frequent; so much so that at least one of my friends is starting to refer to me as Miss Sylvia. But I was trying to figure out how it was that I became so impenetrable to emotion. And it's not that I don't feel it, I do. And I honestly feel like I show it a lot, too. . . but that's apparently not the case. During ACLS classes, a couple of the veteran night shift nurses were talking about how tough the testing used to be, how they'd throw up before "mega-codes." And I said, "me, too! I hate testing, I get so nervous I can't breathe." And one of them looked at me, and said, "yeah, right, FFG. Whatever. Nothing gets to you." And I've had ex-boyfriends tell me that they get so petrified of doing anything wrong because if they do, they get "the look" that makes them feel like they just killed someone's puppy. And yes, that's a quote.
When did that happen? What jacked up bull crap kind of coping mechanism is this, that pushes everyone away when I need them the most? Sheesh. Night shift and lack of sleep certainly haven't helped. In this profession, too, it's necessary to maintain a very delicate balance of compassion and cynicism, and frankly, the compassion index is usually a little low. But (Blow-Sunshine-Up-Your-Ass)istant Manager posted two new medic positions for noon to 2200, and when I mentioned that I was interested, he told me to go ahead and make my schedule. So I handed it over to Rock Star, because he's better at these things than I am. And he came up with a schedule that gives us lots of time together, and time with the kids, and time for sleep and real life. (isn't he amazing? I think so.) Now to pass it by BSUYAM. . . keep your fingers crossed for me. And that light you see at the end of the tunnel? I'm running as fast as I can toward it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I have noticed something similar in my life. People think I am mad or grumpy or critical when I think I am just being my normal self. So these days I try to work at being as pleasant as I can. I try to smile, and not pick arguments in fun. Even though the argument is in fun, it still stresses people out. Maybe I don't get enough combat in my life. Take care of yourself.
Post a Comment