I'm leaving on a jet plane, and I really don't know when I'll be back again...
Well, that all changed so fast.
The short and long of it is that Momma came home on Monday. I received a phone call Monday night at 2345 hours that the fire department was in the house because Momma had already fallen, forgetting she needed to use her walker and bouncing all over her room. My father, continuing to possibly suffer from dementia and losing track of things, screamed into the phone about needing more help after coming off an unintentional opiate and benzo binge I put him on. I immediately sent an email to my manager about a leave of absence.
Tuesday, we met for supervision. While my clinical skills are still working, I am decompensating rapidly. I apparently no longer want to play with my peers; I'm becoming bitchy to others. The constant pull between Florida and Maryland is too much. I can't play nice when a housekeeper in Florida is sending me pictures of pills my father has taken and he's so disoriented, he doesn't know what month it is or his mother-in-law's name. I'm sorry I can't ask you how your wife is doing right now, Coworker. I'm sorry I didn't ask you about your Thanksgiving, Coworker. I'm sorry I don't really give a shit about you, Coworker. When I have to orient my father and keep secrets from my mother, or how a housekeeper has called me because she's worried about his legs, or when podiatrists are calling me about antidepressants, I really can't give two shits about playing nice, Coworker.
Then Momma calls while I'm at work. I've already received a phone call from my father's pain management doctor and his podiatrist, but I had a serious conversation with Fidget about my needing to leave. So I thought we were to talk money and arrangements. Instead, Momma tells me her feeding tube came out in her nurse's hand like a turkey thermometer. Which, you know, doesn't really work like that.
I really can't.
So, I'm leaving. After a three-hour supervision where we discussed my home life with Fidget crumbling, my house in shambles, my ADLs faltering, and weekly tardiness, we then talked about how I'm becoming more militant and orderly, how I can be seen as a bitch, how I am not doing my own job well.
Those phone calls came Monday night and I sat on my stoop, looking at my partner, the love of my life, my sun and stars, and just collapsed. "I just wanted three days off."
And now, I have them. We had last night where we ordered delivery, something we haven't done in awhile, and watched a movie where we both thought about our own relationship as circumstances creepily mirrored our own (Gone Girl). We snuggled up on the couch, my legs over his, a blanket over that, and Sadie in my lap. I napped before dinner, he napped afterward. And that was the first night we had that kind of experience in months.
I'm not elaborating. It's been months when I stopped really living here. We had arguments about Fidget going away for awhile since I needed my own damned space. I have no space; he's literally always in. I can't deal. I can't have my own space as he always has his own space and I became to resent that. Four nights in Florida, three nights in Maryland, no space of my own. Sure, I have "my" room in Florida but it's decorated in Florida-type things with my belongings having not been there in years. And it doesn't smell like me. Or him. Or us.
And this sense of discombobulation. How I can take a two-hour plane flight and be in a different life every four days. How I wear the same four sets of clothes because all I do is rinse, wash, repeat, not anywhere long enough in order to make any serious adjustment.
This is what my life looked like for five weeks:
Instead, my body put me down. Granted, I'm not sick, thankfully. But I'm been unwillingly napping. I came home yesterday morning after dropping off Fidget before 0800 for his final set of finals with the full intention of collaging a lion for our project at work and instead slept until 1218 where I launched off the couch to go to my doctor. Where she writes more scripts (thankfully, my shoulder has improved greatly, but that's another post), says I possibly have a slipped disc and always have had one and this was exacerbated, and to not get addicted to the narcotics she's written me. Sure, lady, thanks for that.
I come home, I cancel my PT, I pick up Fidget and we celebrate with delivery I haven't had in months. We plan what the next few months will look like. I've been dealing with my mother; there's a few possible issues with all of this:
- My job has become unmanageable, not necessarily because of the clients (I've never had a problem with clients), but my "militant" thinking and intolerance of coworkers makes me look like an asshole. I've been complaining to my mother more often; I don't believe the company's mantra, and am somewhat repulsed by some of the programs. I should have my manager's job with my experience and education, but without that license, I have no choice to do what I do.
- Straight pay has us $500 in the hole every month, pulling off savings to pay mortgage. We've vetoing Christmas this year, so eff it. Even with working 44 hours overtime in one check, I was only able to make one mortgage payment with actual money earned instead of dipping into savings every month.
- I had, before my parents' situation worsened in the past four days, been considering finding other employment to fill the gap until I'm fully licensed.
- My manager would make a good friend, but I can't work under her crisis mode very much longer. Everything is not always a crisis, everything is not always horrible. (Maybe this is why I'm always Navy and Marines, and not Army, I don't know.)
- My home life has suffered. My house is in a period of disarray and confusion and bullshit, and I feel hypocritical to go after my clients when I live like this.
- My relationship with Fidget is tenuous. While we laughed REALLY, REALLY HARD TODAY and the man I love has come back to me, it hasn't been fun these past couple of weeks. But you know, I don't really live here, so can't blame him?
Every sphere in my life is problematic. I can't be everything to everybody. Why not remove the sphere that is removable? So, I'm going to do the best thing I can do: Plan.
+ Take the leave of absence from work. Work is problematic and no longer can I be of that toxic environment. Thankfully (?) my parents are providing me with a way out of that, versus me just dropping a mic and walking out.
+ My parents are compensating me for my time to keep the Circle House afloat. Momma said something along the lines of, "Well, tell (Fidget) to get a job!" and I replied, "That was my our agreement. He paid for our bills while I finished schooling, I said I would pay the bills and keep him out of work. That needs to be honored or no deal." And she took the deal.
+ Sadie's coming with me. We made the pet reservation today. I need something from home to keep me in the frame of mind that we're still coming back. The plane ride causes so much disassociation where I call Fidget and ask if he's really real, do I own land in Maryland, do I still have a cat?
+ We're in limbo anyway with the Board. Since the Board has cashed my check but hasn't told me what the next step is, we're waiting.
++ I can study for my test while I'm in Florida. Apparently, I can't take the test in FL and I doubt I could get fingerprinted down there, so that would be more flying, but whatev.
+ I'm planning on flying home for a few days around New Year's to spend time with Fidget. If our friends show up, if we go out, if we travel to someone's party, great, but I'm coming home to kiss my walrus when that ball drops. I've never been a holly jolly Thanksgiving/Christmas person. But I'll be damned if anyone take my New Year's away from me.
So, I'm leaving. I'm taking my damned cat. We're going to go to Florida and get my parents situated, give them some sort of semblance of functioning. I might be gone a month, maybe two. I know when the Board finally gets back to me, I'll get fingerprinted, then wait to take my exam, then get that license. And I'll come home. Maybe I won't start working right away, maybe only picking up shifts here or there at the Kangaroo Hut for some extra money before I start my Big Job. But my goal when I get home is to get this house in order.
I've made some progress. The kitchen stuff has been organized for another friend of mine, I swiped down the microwave and got rid of some coffee mugs. My shoulder is at least 50% better than it was a month ago. I'm now sleeping through the night and no longer yelp in pain when I move; maybe it'll heal totally. I continue to surprise my physical therapist with my strength and range of motion. Maybe my body hasn't forgotten all of the kickboxing and other classes I used to take. I totally planked today and it surprised both of us. I'm hoping to tie up the crisis house tomorrow; if I have to turn in my keys, I'll do so. I know I need to sign some things, turn back in some crafty things I had brought home for the lion I never finished. We'll mail off books to try and make a little money before the new semester comes in.
My friend came over tonight. I wanted to see her as I'm trying to more firmly establish local friends versus those that have known me for 15+ years. She's going through a situation and I told her to put a time frame on it; whether it be three months or a year, it's pertinent to put a time frame on it. I did with working the House and the Floor, knowing I'd put in two years, then come to Maryland. Maybe that was my problem with the Starship- there was no time frame, and I thought I was a lifer. Maybe that's my problem with the Kangaroo Hut as I'm dependent on someone else's time frame before I can make my next plan. But the time frame with my parents is contingent on my license. Once that license is in, I'm out, with them or not.
Fidget's concerned, which is totally warranted. He's worried this situation with my parents will be ongoing, that we won't be able to float out of this, that it'll be a year-long struggle. And I told him my parents will never threaten our jobs (or in his case, his education). My mother didn't even want me to come down for her surgery in June because I was in graduate school. The only reason this is viable is because I'm in a deadbeat job and waiting for licensure. I have a job offer once that license is, uh, licensed? License-ized? And I hope he knows that. I might not see him for his first day of school (though I might make it home for a few days here and there), but he'll finish and we'll be better educated, and hopefully, my parents will be back together enough to be closer. Personally, I'm shooting for his spring break. Figure he can fly down (and whoever else is willing and able), we can pack, drive, and get Florida closed out piece by piece.
I've even been debating if I should bring Socks back with me, but I have no idea where I would put him in this house. There's only really room for one litter box, and he would also try to eat all of our food since he's a trash cat. Sadie is not impressed with human food and Does Not Care. But I definitely don't want to bring him back here until this house is a bit more organized; he would eat EVERYTHING.
In short, 2015 can suck it. 2016 is going to start on the rough side, but we'll get through it. I'm Jess! I know I'll get through this. I just need the two halves of my life to come together and be more congruent than this disorganized chaos I've been living in for the past year. I'm tried of waiting until the Next Best Thing. I never used to be that kind of person, and I feel as though graduate school made me that person. I want to finally settle into my therapy practice and have a routine that works for us: I work, he goes to school, we enjoy our lives together. On days when I'm in the practice closer to my parents, maybe I go over and check on food and meds and the cat. They'll be fifteen minutes away versus a two-hour plane ride. They can be assimilated into "our" life seamlessly once we get them up here.
I just have such high hopes: a job that'll pay me what I'm "worth," money to play with instead of pulling out of savings, a happier partner whose education gives him fulfillment and purpose, local parents that though ailing, will slowly ease their own depression and negative mind sets. Our house will be in order, we'll run more, I'll be more active, and all in all, I'll be healthier.
These could be all wishful thoughts, but in truth, I had that before, which makes me know it's possible again. While my parents haven't lived up here in over 20 years, the rest of my life ran pretty seamless and they were stable. We were a happier couple. We were healthier, both mentally and physically. We could afford a snazzy dinner or a bottle of wine here and there. I wasn't in semi-constant pain. We were still messy, but you could see the carpet in our living room. We walked more, did more outings to museums, took public transportation, saw a show in D.C. This cloud over us has to pass eventually.
My time frame? Three months. I'm putting it from the time I leave on Saturday. I expect to be back "permanently" no later than February 19th regarding my parents' rehabilitation, as I'm assuming licenses or fingerprinting or tests should be coming my way soon. We'll go down for his spring break, maybe drive back up a truck, maybe fly some parents. But I'm giving it three months. March 19th is the last Saturday of Fidget's Spring Break...
... I expect some serious changes by then.
The short and long of it is that Momma came home on Monday. I received a phone call Monday night at 2345 hours that the fire department was in the house because Momma had already fallen, forgetting she needed to use her walker and bouncing all over her room. My father, continuing to possibly suffer from dementia and losing track of things, screamed into the phone about needing more help after coming off an unintentional opiate and benzo binge I put him on. I immediately sent an email to my manager about a leave of absence.
Tuesday, we met for supervision. While my clinical skills are still working, I am decompensating rapidly. I apparently no longer want to play with my peers; I'm becoming bitchy to others. The constant pull between Florida and Maryland is too much. I can't play nice when a housekeeper in Florida is sending me pictures of pills my father has taken and he's so disoriented, he doesn't know what month it is or his mother-in-law's name. I'm sorry I can't ask you how your wife is doing right now, Coworker. I'm sorry I didn't ask you about your Thanksgiving, Coworker. I'm sorry I don't really give a shit about you, Coworker. When I have to orient my father and keep secrets from my mother, or how a housekeeper has called me because she's worried about his legs, or when podiatrists are calling me about antidepressants, I really can't give two shits about playing nice, Coworker.
Then Momma calls while I'm at work. I've already received a phone call from my father's pain management doctor and his podiatrist, but I had a serious conversation with Fidget about my needing to leave. So I thought we were to talk money and arrangements. Instead, Momma tells me her feeding tube came out in her nurse's hand like a turkey thermometer. Which, you know, doesn't really work like that.
I really can't.
So, I'm leaving. After a three-hour supervision where we discussed my home life with Fidget crumbling, my house in shambles, my ADLs faltering, and weekly tardiness, we then talked about how I'm becoming more militant and orderly, how I can be seen as a bitch, how I am not doing my own job well.
Those phone calls came Monday night and I sat on my stoop, looking at my partner, the love of my life, my sun and stars, and just collapsed. "I just wanted three days off."
And now, I have them. We had last night where we ordered delivery, something we haven't done in awhile, and watched a movie where we both thought about our own relationship as circumstances creepily mirrored our own (Gone Girl). We snuggled up on the couch, my legs over his, a blanket over that, and Sadie in my lap. I napped before dinner, he napped afterward. And that was the first night we had that kind of experience in months.
I'm not elaborating. It's been months when I stopped really living here. We had arguments about Fidget going away for awhile since I needed my own damned space. I have no space; he's literally always in. I can't deal. I can't have my own space as he always has his own space and I became to resent that. Four nights in Florida, three nights in Maryland, no space of my own. Sure, I have "my" room in Florida but it's decorated in Florida-type things with my belongings having not been there in years. And it doesn't smell like me. Or him. Or us.
And this sense of discombobulation. How I can take a two-hour plane flight and be in a different life every four days. How I wear the same four sets of clothes because all I do is rinse, wash, repeat, not anywhere long enough in order to make any serious adjustment.
This is what my life looked like for five weeks:
- Week of 11/8 - work 1230-2230 Sunday, 0930-1930 on Monday and Tuesday, catch flight out of BWI at 2140, land in Jacksonville around 2345 Tuesday night. Da-ee has surgery on the 11th, Momma's in the same hospital, we visit, I get calls from her nurse's station like I'm working again. Stay in town through Sunday morning.
- Week of 11/15 - Flight out of Jacksonville around 0645, arrive in BWI around 0900, nap, work-1115-2230 on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday 0930-2030, go to doctor's on Wednesday with my Big Day Off, but end up sleeping again. Fly out of BWI that night, back in Jacksonville at midnight. Wednesday through Sunday morning in Jacksonville, back to work on Sunday morning.
- Week of Thanksgiving (my week off) - Work Sunday-Wednesday, but people call out. So I'm working 0930-2230 Monday through Wednesday. Work four hours on Thanksgiving. Pick up overtime on Black Friday for another eight hours. We go out of town on Saturday for Trips and Caterpillar's Friendsgiving. I'm back at work by 1730 on Sunday.
- Week of 11/29- Work Sunday evening through Tuesday evening, another flight out of BWI, Florida Wednesday through Saturday morning, back to work Saturday by 1230.
- Week of 12/6- Same as last week.
Instead, my body put me down. Granted, I'm not sick, thankfully. But I'm been unwillingly napping. I came home yesterday morning after dropping off Fidget before 0800 for his final set of finals with the full intention of collaging a lion for our project at work and instead slept until 1218 where I launched off the couch to go to my doctor. Where she writes more scripts (thankfully, my shoulder has improved greatly, but that's another post), says I possibly have a slipped disc and always have had one and this was exacerbated, and to not get addicted to the narcotics she's written me. Sure, lady, thanks for that.
I come home, I cancel my PT, I pick up Fidget and we celebrate with delivery I haven't had in months. We plan what the next few months will look like. I've been dealing with my mother; there's a few possible issues with all of this:
- My job has become unmanageable, not necessarily because of the clients (I've never had a problem with clients), but my "militant" thinking and intolerance of coworkers makes me look like an asshole. I've been complaining to my mother more often; I don't believe the company's mantra, and am somewhat repulsed by some of the programs. I should have my manager's job with my experience and education, but without that license, I have no choice to do what I do.
- Straight pay has us $500 in the hole every month, pulling off savings to pay mortgage. We've vetoing Christmas this year, so eff it. Even with working 44 hours overtime in one check, I was only able to make one mortgage payment with actual money earned instead of dipping into savings every month.
- I had, before my parents' situation worsened in the past four days, been considering finding other employment to fill the gap until I'm fully licensed.
- My manager would make a good friend, but I can't work under her crisis mode very much longer. Everything is not always a crisis, everything is not always horrible. (Maybe this is why I'm always Navy and Marines, and not Army, I don't know.)
- My home life has suffered. My house is in a period of disarray and confusion and bullshit, and I feel hypocritical to go after my clients when I live like this.
- My relationship with Fidget is tenuous. While we laughed REALLY, REALLY HARD TODAY and the man I love has come back to me, it hasn't been fun these past couple of weeks. But you know, I don't really live here, so can't blame him?
Every sphere in my life is problematic. I can't be everything to everybody. Why not remove the sphere that is removable? So, I'm going to do the best thing I can do: Plan.
+ Take the leave of absence from work. Work is problematic and no longer can I be of that toxic environment. Thankfully (?) my parents are providing me with a way out of that, versus me just dropping a mic and walking out.
+ My parents are compensating me for my time to keep the Circle House afloat. Momma said something along the lines of, "Well, tell (Fidget) to get a job!" and I replied, "That was my our agreement. He paid for our bills while I finished schooling, I said I would pay the bills and keep him out of work. That needs to be honored or no deal." And she took the deal.
+ Sadie's coming with me. We made the pet reservation today. I need something from home to keep me in the frame of mind that we're still coming back. The plane ride causes so much disassociation where I call Fidget and ask if he's really real, do I own land in Maryland, do I still have a cat?
+ We're in limbo anyway with the Board. Since the Board has cashed my check but hasn't told me what the next step is, we're waiting.
++ I can study for my test while I'm in Florida. Apparently, I can't take the test in FL and I doubt I could get fingerprinted down there, so that would be more flying, but whatev.
+ I'm planning on flying home for a few days around New Year's to spend time with Fidget. If our friends show up, if we go out, if we travel to someone's party, great, but I'm coming home to kiss my walrus when that ball drops. I've never been a holly jolly Thanksgiving/Christmas person. But I'll be damned if anyone take my New Year's away from me.
So, I'm leaving. I'm taking my damned cat. We're going to go to Florida and get my parents situated, give them some sort of semblance of functioning. I might be gone a month, maybe two. I know when the Board finally gets back to me, I'll get fingerprinted, then wait to take my exam, then get that license. And I'll come home. Maybe I won't start working right away, maybe only picking up shifts here or there at the Kangaroo Hut for some extra money before I start my Big Job. But my goal when I get home is to get this house in order.
I've made some progress. The kitchen stuff has been organized for another friend of mine, I swiped down the microwave and got rid of some coffee mugs. My shoulder is at least 50% better than it was a month ago. I'm now sleeping through the night and no longer yelp in pain when I move; maybe it'll heal totally. I continue to surprise my physical therapist with my strength and range of motion. Maybe my body hasn't forgotten all of the kickboxing and other classes I used to take. I totally planked today and it surprised both of us. I'm hoping to tie up the crisis house tomorrow; if I have to turn in my keys, I'll do so. I know I need to sign some things, turn back in some crafty things I had brought home for the lion I never finished. We'll mail off books to try and make a little money before the new semester comes in.
My friend came over tonight. I wanted to see her as I'm trying to more firmly establish local friends versus those that have known me for 15+ years. She's going through a situation and I told her to put a time frame on it; whether it be three months or a year, it's pertinent to put a time frame on it. I did with working the House and the Floor, knowing I'd put in two years, then come to Maryland. Maybe that was my problem with the Starship- there was no time frame, and I thought I was a lifer. Maybe that's my problem with the Kangaroo Hut as I'm dependent on someone else's time frame before I can make my next plan. But the time frame with my parents is contingent on my license. Once that license is in, I'm out, with them or not.
Fidget's concerned, which is totally warranted. He's worried this situation with my parents will be ongoing, that we won't be able to float out of this, that it'll be a year-long struggle. And I told him my parents will never threaten our jobs (or in his case, his education). My mother didn't even want me to come down for her surgery in June because I was in graduate school. The only reason this is viable is because I'm in a deadbeat job and waiting for licensure. I have a job offer once that license is, uh, licensed? License-ized? And I hope he knows that. I might not see him for his first day of school (though I might make it home for a few days here and there), but he'll finish and we'll be better educated, and hopefully, my parents will be back together enough to be closer. Personally, I'm shooting for his spring break. Figure he can fly down (and whoever else is willing and able), we can pack, drive, and get Florida closed out piece by piece.
I've even been debating if I should bring Socks back with me, but I have no idea where I would put him in this house. There's only really room for one litter box, and he would also try to eat all of our food since he's a trash cat. Sadie is not impressed with human food and Does Not Care. But I definitely don't want to bring him back here until this house is a bit more organized; he would eat EVERYTHING.
In short, 2015 can suck it. 2016 is going to start on the rough side, but we'll get through it. I'm Jess! I know I'll get through this. I just need the two halves of my life to come together and be more congruent than this disorganized chaos I've been living in for the past year. I'm tried of waiting until the Next Best Thing. I never used to be that kind of person, and I feel as though graduate school made me that person. I want to finally settle into my therapy practice and have a routine that works for us: I work, he goes to school, we enjoy our lives together. On days when I'm in the practice closer to my parents, maybe I go over and check on food and meds and the cat. They'll be fifteen minutes away versus a two-hour plane ride. They can be assimilated into "our" life seamlessly once we get them up here.
I just have such high hopes: a job that'll pay me what I'm "worth," money to play with instead of pulling out of savings, a happier partner whose education gives him fulfillment and purpose, local parents that though ailing, will slowly ease their own depression and negative mind sets. Our house will be in order, we'll run more, I'll be more active, and all in all, I'll be healthier.
These could be all wishful thoughts, but in truth, I had that before, which makes me know it's possible again. While my parents haven't lived up here in over 20 years, the rest of my life ran pretty seamless and they were stable. We were a happier couple. We were healthier, both mentally and physically. We could afford a snazzy dinner or a bottle of wine here and there. I wasn't in semi-constant pain. We were still messy, but you could see the carpet in our living room. We walked more, did more outings to museums, took public transportation, saw a show in D.C. This cloud over us has to pass eventually.
My time frame? Three months. I'm putting it from the time I leave on Saturday. I expect to be back "permanently" no later than February 19th regarding my parents' rehabilitation, as I'm assuming licenses or fingerprinting or tests should be coming my way soon. We'll go down for his spring break, maybe drive back up a truck, maybe fly some parents. But I'm giving it three months. March 19th is the last Saturday of Fidget's Spring Break...
... I expect some serious changes by then.