*blows off dust* *coughs* Jeez!
Whew.
I bet you all thought I was dead, huh? It's been over a year, and yikes, what has changed! Putting all this under a cut, because I think it's gonna get crazy-long.
Last I had posted, I got a new job as a front-desk receptionist at a chiropractor's office. It started off with one of the girls that worked there (and a friend of mine) calling me to tell me that someone had quit, and I could get the job, $13-14 per hour, paid holidays, paid vacations, etc. I called and talked with the doc, said "I'm making $250 a week now, I have to at least match that, but otherwise, I'll take it!". Cool, no prob.
Only, he wanted to scale my hours back 20-24 a week, pay was $9/hour, NOT $13-14, and no, I don't get paid holidays or vacations. I can get paid for my birthday and not work it. Still, I worked through my lunches (with doc's approval, to make sure I hit my weekly amount of pay), and coped. The other girl though, just.... no. I don't know what exactly went through her brain, but the docs or the therapists or the accountant would tell me something, and 10 minutes later, the other receptionist was telling me to do the exact opposite. She kept telling me that doc was getting mad that i was working through my lunches, despite the fact he explicitly okay'd it. Closing in on Halloween, my absolute favorite holiday of the year, and I was dreading the "mandatory dress-up" and wasn't even wanting to carve pumpkins, or do ANYTHING. I finally had a breakdown when I had a migraine, and the other receptionist took it as I was pissed at her, went home to 'deal', came back in at lunch and started telling me how horrible I was being. I was a bit overwhelmed, started crying and explaining just how much I was hating all of it, and she said that I should probably look for another job.
The hotel called the next day, and begged me to come back. The auditor they hired was NOT working, and could I PLEASE come back? PLEASE?! So I turned in my 2 week notice at the chiropractor's, and the next day, neither doc would look at me, and the other receptionist started this crap of telling me to do something, then would huff and go "Nevermind, since you're not going to be here any longer!". I got fed up, and informed the doc that I was quitting that night, due to the attitudes I'd gotten since submitting my 2-week notice. Cue the other receptionist doing all this "Oh my god, is it me? Am I horrible? What's wrong? What happened?"
Fast forward to May, when the same hotel that begged me to come back fired me, because another girl at the desk got a burr up her ass and started making crap up about me. I spent the weekend at my childhood home, found some peace and relaxation, got a job 2 days later, and moved on with my life.
Until June, when I got an interview with the local post office. They hired me in as a Rural Carrier Associate, which means I work the off-day of my regular carrier, and any days she calls off, vacation, etc. Pay is $15 an hour, I get to drive around the countryside all day, and it's pretty nice so far. Don't get me wrong, it's HARD. WORK. I had NO idea how hard the postal carriers work, or just what all goes into the job. My routes are 'rated', which means the company decided that my route, from the time I walk into work in the morning, to the time I go home, should be 9.5 hours. If I go over, too bad, I don't get paid. But hey, I get done early, I still get paid the 9.5 hours! It's massive incentive to get stuff done, as quick as I can. I still take 9.5-10 hours right now, because I go slow, make sure each piece of mail I put in the box has the right information, and I still force myself to come to a complete stop, do the 'bob and weave' to check my blind spots, etc. I want it to become a habit, which means reinforcing it alot. But that's okay.
Won't lie, still kinda nervous about Christmas time, with the parcels, the greeting cards, and the road conditions. But I'll manage somehow! ^_^
I'm the bottom pup at the compound right now, but as the other carriers retire (about half of the regulars right now are due for retirement in the next 2-4 years), the older RCA's will be bumped up to new full timers, and eventually I'll get there. For now, I'm enjoying my open time, working on things, getting quilts done, and just enjoying still being a young adult.
I finally caved, went to see a therapist, and talked to him about the stuff I was going through... the disassociation, the black-outs, the sudden surges of anger, the suicidal tendencies, the fact that for the most part, I felt numb and grey and didn't care about a lot of stuff. Decided to put me on some antidepressants, and wow, what a difference. In the first 3 weeks, I felt 80% better. I think there's still room for tweaking it, and he's wanting to try weaning down in the next few months, but all in all, I feel pretty good now. Still have sad days, but I feel alive, and like things are in color, and I find humor, and laugh, and it's been pretty good.
As far as animals go, Josie is still a wee hellion, the smallest cat we have, but full of personality. She has a facebook page, Josie.Minion.1 if you want to friend her. ;) In January, we had 1 single stray left, all the others had passed away or been killed. So Mom said if I could get him fixed and vetted up, we'd bring him in, and then no more feeding strays. No matter how pitiful. I posted a plea for assistance on Tumblr, and a wonderful person donated the entire amount we needed to get him set up. Brought him in, took him to the vet, and he's been inside since. We've had a few rough spots (like the fact that the first 3-4 days, he didn't understand litter-boxes, so he would find hidden little spots to do his business), but he's done super since getting adjusted to indoor life. I felt terrible when we picked him up from the vet... not only was he terrified, but turns out that he has no teeth on the bottom jaw. The vet thinks he's about 10-13 years old. He took several weeks to settle in, and the first time he started to play, I almost cried. He's a super sweet cat, loves affection, will happily groom you, loves to snuggle, but at the same time, understands that sometimes, the human can't cuddle, and is okay with that. Sometimes he'll beg for his canned food, I'll say "No Tig, you get fed at bedtime", and he'll stop begging and wander off to play.
In other pets, on Black Friday, I went to Petco to pick up some scratch boards, and they had a single white male mouse, who was alone. I asked, and he had been sent down from a Columbus store, where the other mice were attacking him. I cooed over him, bought my boards, went home. My momma loves mice, so I was telling her about him. My sister was in the other room. A few minutes later, she's dressed with shoes on, and getting in the car to go get him. So we had a white mouse named Max now.
No biggie. Until the weekend I got fired, and we stopped at the petstore to peruse. And not only did they have baby pet rats, but they had baby dwarf hamsters. Little sister desperately wanted one. I joked and told Mom "She gets a hamster, I get a rat! It's only fair!" Mom laughed, agreed, we went on with life.
Until Sunday night, little sister went to the petstore, and bought herself a dwarf hamster.
Meet Moose.
So mom came in my room, said "a deal is a deal", and a week later, I brought home two girls, Pepper and Skye.
Pepper is the agouti, and Skye is the gray. And wow, Skye is a wild-child. I had a little cardboard mailbox in their cage as a hiding bolt, and she would shut the door on Pepper, trapping her in there. She will take foods and cram them in Pepper's ear, will bury Pepper under a mountain of blankets, will push Pepper off of things... she's a maniac. And Pepper tolerates it for a bit, then snap and attack Skye, who thinks it's all a fun game. So for Pepper's sake, I looked around, and found a rat rescue about 2 hours from us.
About 2 weeks later, they took in a BUNCH of rats from a hoarding situation, over 100 adults, and the females were all pregnant. Within a month, they had over 150 babies. So I put in an application, and last Sunday, picked up 4 little boys:
This is Clint, the one who cuddled with me, and fell asleep on me several times.
This is Nick, who is a bit skittish still, but the first to grab something tasty that might be offered.
This is Tony, who is a bit of a maniac, zooming everywhere and getting into everything. I think he'll make a GREAT match for Skye when they get introduced!
And this is Bruce, named because he's a Berkshire, which means he has an all-dark back, and an all-white belly. I thought it fit the Hulk/Bruce theme! ;)
They also had an adult male rat, named Elliott, who was one of the adults picked up from the hoarding situation. No idea how old he is, but he is SUPER mellow, and affectionate as all get-out. They've been having a hard time homing him, because he's an adult, not a cute baby. I said "If I had another cage, I would! But I only have the two!" . You don't just put rats together, you have to gradually introduce them, or there's massive fights that can result in dead rats. And given that one cage has my girls, the boys are in another. So I just didn't have the cage for an Elliott. He was by himself, because the other rats in his cage were attacking him, and he wasn't eating from the stress.
The next day, the founder of the rescue said "I have a spare cage, you just need to come get him!".
Now, Mom thought I was getting 2 on Sunday. I texted “The 4 boys are on their way home!” and she said “FOUR?! You said TWO!” So I was like “hehe…. okay, there’s NO WAY Mom’s going to let me pick up Elliott.”
I picked up lunch the next day, got a whole bunch of caramel treats, packaged them up in a pretty box, got home, and said “Here’s your sandwich, and I got potato cakes because I know you like those, and there’s a cherry turnover for you, and do you need some ice?” and handed her the box of treats, and she just looked at me. “You’re going to go get Elliott, aren’t you?”
My momma knows me too well. She’s not upset, she’s been a little worried about him since I got home and explained about him, and she said “It’s not like a cat or a dog, who takes up a lot of space… he’s not really taking up any more space than you already have set aside for them, and he needs a home.”
So yeah… I’mma getting Elliott this weekend. SQUISH RAT FOR THE WIN!
So yeah, I'm picking him up this Sunday, and then firmly no more rats. I'll get him introduced to the boys, and a month after their neuter, I'll start introducing them to the girls. The final cage for them is 60" tall, 36" deep, and 48" wide. It's got 3 plastic shelves, and I've added several hammocks, nests, boxes, etc. Supposedly I can house 25 rats in it, but we'll stick with just our 7! ;)
In addition to all this, as my depression was treated, I started to feel a bit ashamed about my room.
I am almost too ashamed of the “before” to post this. But I’m hella proud. I was taking pictures Christmas Eve, and, okay, my room has always been a mess. As a toddler, I’d trash it, Mom and family would clean it. I never really learned how to clean, if that makes sense. “cleaning” was synonymous with “fill trash bags as full as possible”. I have problems with hoarding, and a few times my grandmothers would stop by and just clean my room while I was gone at school, which didn’t help. At all.
Anyway, Christmas Eve, I see these pics, and realize “Yeah, I got a problem here now.” Still, didn’t know how to fix it. Then my therapist suggested Unfuck Your Habitat, a webpage and a Tumblr blog that encourages 'breaks' of cleaning, most commonly 20/10s, which is 20 minutes of cleaning, and a 10 minute break, or 45/15s, which is the same, just 45 instead of 20, and 15 instead of 10. They are super good about reminding people to listen to your body. "Can't do 20 minutes? Do 10. Can't do 10? Try 5. 30 seconds of cleaning is better than nothing!". They also randomly post 'challenges', both weekly and random. This week's weekly challenge is 'invisible spots', where stuff stacks up, and you don't really even see it anymore. There's also popup random challenges, like "Find 10 things that need thrown away. Throw them away. Continue surfing the web."
This was a long, steady project. I wouldn’t do less than 20 minutes, but I also wasn’t allowed to do more than 3 20/10’s a day. There’s still room for improvement, but this has been a blessing to me. On really bad days, physically, my 20 minutes was a game of “what all can I pick up with a grabby stick from my bed?” (Turns out, you CAN pick up a ping-pong ball with a grabby stick if you try hard enough! XD)
As far as fandom goes, I've pretty solidly gotten out of Supernatural, to say the least. The series just devolved past my tolerances, and I just phased out of it. I'm much more active in the Marvel Avengers, and Pacific Rim.
So, how's everything been with you?!
This entry originally posted at (http://silverblaze85.dreamwidth.org/91089.html), where there are
comments on it. :)
I bet you all thought I was dead, huh? It's been over a year, and yikes, what has changed! Putting all this under a cut, because I think it's gonna get crazy-long.
Last I had posted, I got a new job as a front-desk receptionist at a chiropractor's office. It started off with one of the girls that worked there (and a friend of mine) calling me to tell me that someone had quit, and I could get the job, $13-14 per hour, paid holidays, paid vacations, etc. I called and talked with the doc, said "I'm making $250 a week now, I have to at least match that, but otherwise, I'll take it!". Cool, no prob.
Only, he wanted to scale my hours back 20-24 a week, pay was $9/hour, NOT $13-14, and no, I don't get paid holidays or vacations. I can get paid for my birthday and not work it. Still, I worked through my lunches (with doc's approval, to make sure I hit my weekly amount of pay), and coped. The other girl though, just.... no. I don't know what exactly went through her brain, but the docs or the therapists or the accountant would tell me something, and 10 minutes later, the other receptionist was telling me to do the exact opposite. She kept telling me that doc was getting mad that i was working through my lunches, despite the fact he explicitly okay'd it. Closing in on Halloween, my absolute favorite holiday of the year, and I was dreading the "mandatory dress-up" and wasn't even wanting to carve pumpkins, or do ANYTHING. I finally had a breakdown when I had a migraine, and the other receptionist took it as I was pissed at her, went home to 'deal', came back in at lunch and started telling me how horrible I was being. I was a bit overwhelmed, started crying and explaining just how much I was hating all of it, and she said that I should probably look for another job.
The hotel called the next day, and begged me to come back. The auditor they hired was NOT working, and could I PLEASE come back? PLEASE?! So I turned in my 2 week notice at the chiropractor's, and the next day, neither doc would look at me, and the other receptionist started this crap of telling me to do something, then would huff and go "Nevermind, since you're not going to be here any longer!". I got fed up, and informed the doc that I was quitting that night, due to the attitudes I'd gotten since submitting my 2-week notice. Cue the other receptionist doing all this "Oh my god, is it me? Am I horrible? What's wrong? What happened?"
Fast forward to May, when the same hotel that begged me to come back fired me, because another girl at the desk got a burr up her ass and started making crap up about me. I spent the weekend at my childhood home, found some peace and relaxation, got a job 2 days later, and moved on with my life.
Until June, when I got an interview with the local post office. They hired me in as a Rural Carrier Associate, which means I work the off-day of my regular carrier, and any days she calls off, vacation, etc. Pay is $15 an hour, I get to drive around the countryside all day, and it's pretty nice so far. Don't get me wrong, it's HARD. WORK. I had NO idea how hard the postal carriers work, or just what all goes into the job. My routes are 'rated', which means the company decided that my route, from the time I walk into work in the morning, to the time I go home, should be 9.5 hours. If I go over, too bad, I don't get paid. But hey, I get done early, I still get paid the 9.5 hours! It's massive incentive to get stuff done, as quick as I can. I still take 9.5-10 hours right now, because I go slow, make sure each piece of mail I put in the box has the right information, and I still force myself to come to a complete stop, do the 'bob and weave' to check my blind spots, etc. I want it to become a habit, which means reinforcing it alot. But that's okay.
Won't lie, still kinda nervous about Christmas time, with the parcels, the greeting cards, and the road conditions. But I'll manage somehow! ^_^
I'm the bottom pup at the compound right now, but as the other carriers retire (about half of the regulars right now are due for retirement in the next 2-4 years), the older RCA's will be bumped up to new full timers, and eventually I'll get there. For now, I'm enjoying my open time, working on things, getting quilts done, and just enjoying still being a young adult.
I finally caved, went to see a therapist, and talked to him about the stuff I was going through... the disassociation, the black-outs, the sudden surges of anger, the suicidal tendencies, the fact that for the most part, I felt numb and grey and didn't care about a lot of stuff. Decided to put me on some antidepressants, and wow, what a difference. In the first 3 weeks, I felt 80% better. I think there's still room for tweaking it, and he's wanting to try weaning down in the next few months, but all in all, I feel pretty good now. Still have sad days, but I feel alive, and like things are in color, and I find humor, and laugh, and it's been pretty good.
As far as animals go, Josie is still a wee hellion, the smallest cat we have, but full of personality. She has a facebook page, Josie.Minion.1 if you want to friend her. ;) In January, we had 1 single stray left, all the others had passed away or been killed. So Mom said if I could get him fixed and vetted up, we'd bring him in, and then no more feeding strays. No matter how pitiful. I posted a plea for assistance on Tumblr, and a wonderful person donated the entire amount we needed to get him set up. Brought him in, took him to the vet, and he's been inside since. We've had a few rough spots (like the fact that the first 3-4 days, he didn't understand litter-boxes, so he would find hidden little spots to do his business), but he's done super since getting adjusted to indoor life. I felt terrible when we picked him up from the vet... not only was he terrified, but turns out that he has no teeth on the bottom jaw. The vet thinks he's about 10-13 years old. He took several weeks to settle in, and the first time he started to play, I almost cried. He's a super sweet cat, loves affection, will happily groom you, loves to snuggle, but at the same time, understands that sometimes, the human can't cuddle, and is okay with that. Sometimes he'll beg for his canned food, I'll say "No Tig, you get fed at bedtime", and he'll stop begging and wander off to play.
In other pets, on Black Friday, I went to Petco to pick up some scratch boards, and they had a single white male mouse, who was alone. I asked, and he had been sent down from a Columbus store, where the other mice were attacking him. I cooed over him, bought my boards, went home. My momma loves mice, so I was telling her about him. My sister was in the other room. A few minutes later, she's dressed with shoes on, and getting in the car to go get him. So we had a white mouse named Max now.
No biggie. Until the weekend I got fired, and we stopped at the petstore to peruse. And not only did they have baby pet rats, but they had baby dwarf hamsters. Little sister desperately wanted one. I joked and told Mom "She gets a hamster, I get a rat! It's only fair!" Mom laughed, agreed, we went on with life.
Until Sunday night, little sister went to the petstore, and bought herself a dwarf hamster.
Meet Moose.
So mom came in my room, said "a deal is a deal", and a week later, I brought home two girls, Pepper and Skye.
Pepper is the agouti, and Skye is the gray. And wow, Skye is a wild-child. I had a little cardboard mailbox in their cage as a hiding bolt, and she would shut the door on Pepper, trapping her in there. She will take foods and cram them in Pepper's ear, will bury Pepper under a mountain of blankets, will push Pepper off of things... she's a maniac. And Pepper tolerates it for a bit, then snap and attack Skye, who thinks it's all a fun game. So for Pepper's sake, I looked around, and found a rat rescue about 2 hours from us.
About 2 weeks later, they took in a BUNCH of rats from a hoarding situation, over 100 adults, and the females were all pregnant. Within a month, they had over 150 babies. So I put in an application, and last Sunday, picked up 4 little boys:
This is Clint, the one who cuddled with me, and fell asleep on me several times.
This is Nick, who is a bit skittish still, but the first to grab something tasty that might be offered.
This is Tony, who is a bit of a maniac, zooming everywhere and getting into everything. I think he'll make a GREAT match for Skye when they get introduced!
And this is Bruce, named because he's a Berkshire, which means he has an all-dark back, and an all-white belly. I thought it fit the Hulk/Bruce theme! ;)
They also had an adult male rat, named Elliott, who was one of the adults picked up from the hoarding situation. No idea how old he is, but he is SUPER mellow, and affectionate as all get-out. They've been having a hard time homing him, because he's an adult, not a cute baby. I said "If I had another cage, I would! But I only have the two!" . You don't just put rats together, you have to gradually introduce them, or there's massive fights that can result in dead rats. And given that one cage has my girls, the boys are in another. So I just didn't have the cage for an Elliott. He was by himself, because the other rats in his cage were attacking him, and he wasn't eating from the stress.
The next day, the founder of the rescue said "I have a spare cage, you just need to come get him!".
Now, Mom thought I was getting 2 on Sunday. I texted “The 4 boys are on their way home!” and she said “FOUR?! You said TWO!” So I was like “hehe…. okay, there’s NO WAY Mom’s going to let me pick up Elliott.”
I picked up lunch the next day, got a whole bunch of caramel treats, packaged them up in a pretty box, got home, and said “Here’s your sandwich, and I got potato cakes because I know you like those, and there’s a cherry turnover for you, and do you need some ice?” and handed her the box of treats, and she just looked at me. “You’re going to go get Elliott, aren’t you?”
My momma knows me too well. She’s not upset, she’s been a little worried about him since I got home and explained about him, and she said “It’s not like a cat or a dog, who takes up a lot of space… he’s not really taking up any more space than you already have set aside for them, and he needs a home.”
So yeah… I’mma getting Elliott this weekend. SQUISH RAT FOR THE WIN!
So yeah, I'm picking him up this Sunday, and then firmly no more rats. I'll get him introduced to the boys, and a month after their neuter, I'll start introducing them to the girls. The final cage for them is 60" tall, 36" deep, and 48" wide. It's got 3 plastic shelves, and I've added several hammocks, nests, boxes, etc. Supposedly I can house 25 rats in it, but we'll stick with just our 7! ;)
In addition to all this, as my depression was treated, I started to feel a bit ashamed about my room.
I am almost too ashamed of the “before” to post this. But I’m hella proud. I was taking pictures Christmas Eve, and, okay, my room has always been a mess. As a toddler, I’d trash it, Mom and family would clean it. I never really learned how to clean, if that makes sense. “cleaning” was synonymous with “fill trash bags as full as possible”. I have problems with hoarding, and a few times my grandmothers would stop by and just clean my room while I was gone at school, which didn’t help. At all.
Anyway, Christmas Eve, I see these pics, and realize “Yeah, I got a problem here now.” Still, didn’t know how to fix it. Then my therapist suggested Unfuck Your Habitat, a webpage and a Tumblr blog that encourages 'breaks' of cleaning, most commonly 20/10s, which is 20 minutes of cleaning, and a 10 minute break, or 45/15s, which is the same, just 45 instead of 20, and 15 instead of 10. They are super good about reminding people to listen to your body. "Can't do 20 minutes? Do 10. Can't do 10? Try 5. 30 seconds of cleaning is better than nothing!". They also randomly post 'challenges', both weekly and random. This week's weekly challenge is 'invisible spots', where stuff stacks up, and you don't really even see it anymore. There's also popup random challenges, like "Find 10 things that need thrown away. Throw them away. Continue surfing the web."
This was a long, steady project. I wouldn’t do less than 20 minutes, but I also wasn’t allowed to do more than 3 20/10’s a day. There’s still room for improvement, but this has been a blessing to me. On really bad days, physically, my 20 minutes was a game of “what all can I pick up with a grabby stick from my bed?” (Turns out, you CAN pick up a ping-pong ball with a grabby stick if you try hard enough! XD)
As far as fandom goes, I've pretty solidly gotten out of Supernatural, to say the least. The series just devolved past my tolerances, and I just phased out of it. I'm much more active in the Marvel Avengers, and Pacific Rim.
So, how's everything been with you?!
This entry originally posted at (http://silverblaze85.dreamwidth.org/91089.html), where there are
comments on it. :)