I am hoping for a better day today. The sun is shining and I slept six hours straight, so that’s already better than yesterday morning. I could do without the tantrums my toddler has been throwing this morning though..
I have to work soon, I really don’t want to. Normally, I love my job, even on the days I struggle to be there, but just lately, I’m not liking it at all.
I was in the office yesterday, listening to my colleagues discuss some of their personal problems. I nodded and I smiled and I reassured as I best I could, yet selfishly, all I could think of was me. I was angry that while I was fighting through body memories, dissociation and feeling like my heart was shattering, I had to hold it in and pretend I was OK.
I hate how taboo all this stuff is, so few would want to hear it. It’s not something you discuss, it’s not an acceptable topic.. Yet I hurt, I ache and I struggle daily, but whether I want to or not, I cannot just share it, not without caution, not without thinking clearly. While I am doing better at being me, I still feel like I have to pretend a lot, for others and for myself. Work seems to highlight that.
My employer knows about the PTSD and that I am in therapy, but he sees me as so together and level headed. He also forgets a lot. Yesterday, he asked me to do something, I had previously told him triggered my PTSD. So, I had to go through the stress and even embarrassment to remind him. I don’t expect him to remember everything I’ve said, but it’s so difficult having to remind people when they do forget.
I find myself not caring about my job; part of what I do is problem solving. I deal with the issues that crop up after each order is processed. It can be quite a pressured environment as my employer has high standards of customer service. Just lately, I couldn’t care less. I feel selfish, because all I think of is me. It’s just in the grand scheme of things, the problems at work seem so trivial, they seem like nothing. The reality of my past is hitting me daily and each time it’s a huge shock. So, I find myself thinking, “I don’t care that this order may be a day late, because, I was raped, RAPED” and then I pull myself together and get on with what I have to do. I guess this is about acceptance and probably part of the process. I don’t like it though. Not caring, isn’t me.
So, I hope today will be different, I hope work will help, I hope I can care again and think a little less of myself.