Monday, April 30, 2012

Chapter Nine

We remembered to turn off the alarm. I wake up to kisses and coffee. We have no plans for the day. At least until noon, when Sarah goes to work and Lillian is ours. I am following all of the advice that Leslie gave me. I am eating good food. I am only doing those things that make me happy. I am creating something. I will rest. Simple things. Easy enough to do here in my fortress.
I think I am doing well. I mention this to Ken. He agrees. I am making progress.

I have been researching my illness. Long term stress rewires your brain. You stop acting and reacting like yourself. You become more susceptible to anxiety and depression. You can undergo a complete personality change. Socially outgoing people become withdrawn. Optimists become pessimists. You are altered chemically. Your body has been on alert for so long it just needs to shut down for a while. Looking back over the last five years of my life I can see the decline. I actually have some stress busting skills. I have a fabulous support system. I am blessed beyond anything I ever could have imagined in my life. At work I think I just hung on and hung on and hung on. So many people kept promising things were changing. Opportunities are opening up. We will get you out of the cubicle. Hang on Tamara. You are a star. Hang in there, changes are coming and there will be opportunities. All the shuffling around and all the reorganizations and all the splitting of departments and new CEO’s and boards. It’s still the same people behaving the same ways. The more we change, the more we stay the same. We still have no voice.

Pay attention Tamara. This could kill you. I have no control over my stressors. I can only learn how to control my responses. Or at least temper them.

I take three hours working on a sarong. My technique fails spectacularly. And I’m fine with that. I wish I could find cheaper silk to experiment on, but it is what it is. I know where I went wrong. I will try again tomorrow.

Lillian spends her afternoon teaching me how to play again. We play with building blocks, we sing and we dance. She gives me butterfly kisses. We go for a walk and throw rocks. We sit on the tractor and play with all the levers. We color. Ken goes outside to mow and leaves me in charge of Lillian. I must be better.

When Sarah gets home I go work in the garden. Spread the diatomaceous earth around, water. I sprinkle some of the diatomaceous around the house too. Ken and I go for a walk. Holding hands and laughing together.

I have not taken a panic pill all day. I’ve not left my fortress. I have not thought about work all day.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Chapter Eight

Saturday morning and the dang alarm is going off at 5:00. Hit it! Crap. Back asleep again. We both snooze until 8:30. Extremely late for us. Morning lazy snuggles and kisses. Our weekend routine is not quite so rigid. On weekends we watch Lillian we have until 10:30 or so before we are on duty. Technically. Unless Lillian decides she’s done with her mommy. Or mommy said no about something that Mimi doesn’t care about. She is starting to figure out she needs to wait for mommy to leave before she gets the candy/gum/tv or whatever.

Ideas for how I want to paint the other sarong have been percolating. Oh Coffee! Yeah. Today I want a dark roast. I start a sarong in a bath of vibrant yellow. The sewing table continues to overwhelm me. But I do manage to get non-sewing related things removed. Which means I took all Sarah’s things upstairs and put them in her room. Sarah is getting ready for work and Lillian has figured out what this means. She follows mommy everywhere. If she gets out of her sight her world will be rocked. I completely understand.

I have been trying to eat good food instead of junk. What would really make me happy is strawberry cheesecake ice cream for breakfast. And Leslie DID say to only do those things that make me happy right? Ken is laughing at me. She also said to eat good things. Strawberry cheesecake ice cream IS good. So, your brain is coming alive, you are working the angles. Multi Grain toast, berries, and a slice of turkey it is.

We go walk. We hold hands and stroll around on our property. There are still bluebonnets in the lower pasture. We note the number of mesquite trees popping up. We will have to do something about those soon. We count deer. I note the turkey feeder is empty. Ding. That’s what he wanted me to pick up the other day. Ok, my brain isn’t total mush. Things are in there, I just have to figure out how to get them to come out.

Back up at the house and it is time for Sarah to leave. Lillian is devastated. Her little heart is broken and her life will never ever ever be the same again. She watches out the window in the dining room as her mommy’s van disappears around the S turn. Her crying stops and she marches over to the freezer and pats it. Mimi nom nom. We both have our bowl of ice cream and it is very good. Sarah texts and asks how long it took her to stop crying. Today was actually the longest it’s taken for her to settle down. I’d say about 10 seconds.

Lillian and I dance. Random songs on the radio. We sing twinkle twinkle little star. We ring around the rosie so many times we are dizzy. Then she wants to walk. She wants to hold my hand. She doesn’t want to hold my hand. She is going to eat this rock. Don’t eat rocks Lillian you will choke. She sneaks one in and starts to choke. I flip her upside down and hit her between the shoulder blades like Cindy Ann has taught us in CPR. The rock comes out. I put her down and she puts another rock in her mouth. I yell. Ken comes and walks with us.



I am still not myself. I have periods of ok, but I tire easily and snap quicker. I usually have infinite patience with Lillian. Now I am snappy and irritable. Ken puts us both down for a nap. Two hours later we are both in a better place. I’ve never been a napper. I just can not sleep during the day. This week it seems all I want to do is sleep. Nancy had explained that my body had been in fight or flight mode for so long that not only was my brain exhausted, so were the rest of my muscles. That rest was part of my recovery. Nap. Enjoy it. Don’t worry so much about these things. You are healing and healing takes good food, rest, a good support system, and time. Throw in some exercise too. 


Lillian and I try our walk again. This time when she picks up rocks, I distract her with throwing lessons. This kid has a wicked arm. The rest of this day is devoted to Lillian. Lillian goes with me to the feedstore. We get turkey scratch and diatomaceous earth for the garden. We read books, we go put corn in the deer feeder. Ken shows her how to bury her arms up to her shoulders in the bag. She thinks this is hilarious. I give it a whirl, and she is right. Life is simple and fun and needs exploring.

I never think about work, not even once. I don’t take even a ½ of a pill.

It’s still good when Sarah comes home. I am ready for sleep. Ken holds me until I am out. I wake up in the night and his leg is right next to mine. I rub his foot with my toes. I am blessed.

Chapter Seven

I stumble into the kitchen and Ken is standing by the coffee pot. Little black and white shorts, no shirt. He turns and smiles at me and opens his arms. There’s more than one way to stop your brain spinning. We have time if we skip the shower. Hell I can call in late. Or I can play hooky and just stay home. No, my dear sweet husband, there are things I need to face and handle in me. But not right now. Right now I am snuggled close. My feet fit perfectly on top of his feet. He is snoring softly now against my neck. I hate to wake him, but I do. He goes to shave, I make his lunch. He loves me. He really meant those vows. I am blessed.

I still watch his truck disappear. I notice I am just breathing. I am no longer having to count when Ken leaves. Baby steps. I see my list.

Laundry
Dishes
HEB?
Appt with Nancy
Eat
Sew?

I open the washer and there are the clothes from the other day. I restart the load hoping it gets the slightly musty smell off the clothing. I modify my list.

Laundry
 wash load
 dry load
 fold

I go stare blankly at my sewing mess again. I need a maid and an organizer. Evidently my brain was mushy when I hauled all this out and i’m overwhelmed with how to get it to a workable state. Jake whines in his kennel. Oh good! I know how to do this. I can water the tomatoes, and that wasn’t even on my list. I laugh at myself that I’m proud. I have a lot of ground to make up. The tomatoes are looking good. Currently we have planted 10 different varieties of heirloom in assorted colors and sizes. I can’t wait. We are planting cucumbers and some peppers too. At least that was the plan before I melted. Someone will have to add it to a list at some point. I am getting cocky about how well I am doing.

I am 10 minutes early for my doctor appointment. I wonder if this is a sign of OCD. Nancy is an hour late seeing me. Sitting in a quiet exam room with nothing to do is too close to a cubicle. ½ pill, I can pop them down dry now, and the edge is off, but I am still jumpy.

Nancy comes in and smiles her sweet reassuring smile. What a fabulous doctor I have found. We review the meds, the dosage, how often. How are you sleeping. Perhaps you should take ½ a lorazepam or a whole one as needed to get to sleep. Nightmares? Yes, but I don’t remember them. They are instantly gone when I wake up. Ok, take a whole one for a couple of days, then back off to a ½ and we can see how it goes. I will call more of those in. Are you seeing your counselor? Are you having any thoughts of hurting yourself or others. Absolutely not. I am blessed and I want to get better. I have wished a few acts of god on a few people, but nothing that I instigated or could tie back to me in any forensic way. Thank goodness she gets the joke. It feels good to make someone laugh. To not have that look of concern on a face looking at me for a moment. Strangely I get the same advice from her as I do from Mr. Attorney. Document, protect, get better, I am praying for you.

Now I have a whole day to fill. I sit in my car. I don’t want to hibernate today. I need to start being out and about with people. I’m lost.

Sarah calls. Lillian is sick at daycare, Dr. Garcia can see her now, can you take her. Absolutely, yes I can. I now have a purpose. I pick her up from daycare and head to the doctor. It was nap time when I get her and she is not happy about being awake. She sits in her carseat and glares at me. I bribe her with yogurt drops and she relents and smiles. Score two for me today. I’m on a roll.

Her tube in her right ear is blocked, here I can clear it. Yes, this drainage looks infected, what pharmacy? ValueMed, I have to go there and get my meds anyway. Dr. Garcia is an old friend of mine. He was the pediatrician for my six kids. You get to know your pediatrician when you have six kids. Three of whom are boys. He looks at me and says yes, I can see you are off your game. Please, call me if you need me. Get better. I will pray for you.

Crap. I am noticeably crazy still. I thought I was getting better. All the cocky is knocked out of me. Lillian says nom nom. That means she is hungry. Ok, we are going to try a new place. The restaurant has no highchairs. Crap, no way to trap an almost two year old. Thankfully there is another two year old there and Lillian and she become friends. First they stare blankly at each other. Then Lillian pokes the little girl, Mariquita, in the tummy. Mariquita pokes her back and they both giggle. And off they go. Lillian chattering away in her few english words, and Mariquita in her few spanish words. The baby babble sounds the same. They are fast friends in 15 seconds flat. At what age do we start complicating things? When does this human interaction become stressful and full of innuendo and jabs. When does a poke in the tummy become a threatening thing.

We eat, we go home. I lay down with Lillian for a rest and we both sleep for the next three hours. Ken comes home, I feel him softly stroke my leg, but I return to sleep.

Sarah is home early so Lillian is nursing. She glares at me from her visible eye and wrinkles her forehead. This is my warning to stay away. No tickling allowed Mimi, this is serious business here.

Ken wants to paint a sarong. I am swept up in his wake, mixing dyes, discussing strategies. What would happen if I used these spray bottles? How would these colors blend? I don’t want to end up with a brown muddled mess. We hang the silk from a line in the Monkey Hut we built for Burning Man. Ken has devised an ingenious way to weight the bottom of the sarong. He starts spraying. It’s coming out different than he expected. Ha! Welcome to my world. I warn him about how addictive silk painting is. My hands itch to take the spray bottles away from him and take over. I look at my husband and call him a tricky bastard. He just laughs. I know that tomorrow I will be dyeing silk again.

I go to bed this night and I sleep. No nightmares. No wakefulness. No moaning and sighing in my sleep. I am still crazy, but I have hope. I am safe. I am in my fortress, but it is expanding. Ken is here.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Chapter Six

Today is Thursday and Ken has let me sleep late again. But I’m not afraid when I wake up. It’s nine o’clock and I have my appointment with the lawyer at 9:30. Crap! I jump in the shower, get dressed, and go. Somehow I think to grab a banana as I run out the door. I seem to do well in crisis I think. I almost have to pull to the side of the road as that thought makes me laugh so hard I cry.

Mr. Lawyer is very soft spoken. He has kind eyes. I am shaking. I take a ½ a pill. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Repeat. Repeat as many times as necessary. He makes small talk. How many years have you lived here? What is your husband’s name? He slowly works into why we are here. I tell him my story. Very slowly. We start and stop a lot. He reads my written reprimand and I am embarrassed and ashamed. He reads my last two annual reviews. He shows me applicable case laws. He has taken the time before our appointment to review case law, copy it, and highlight bits and pieces for me to review. I am oddly touched. I can’t look him in the eye. I know I am crazy. It shames me. This is the first time I have met this person and so all he knows about me is I am crazy. He talks slowly and softly. I have to really pay attention to hear him. This forces me to look into his eyes. His kind eyes. I can include him in my fortress. I am safe here with him discussing these hurtful things. We discuss my going into short term disability. He asks why this is not being handled by Workers Compensation. I don’t know.

If you had been fired you would have a very strong wrongful termination case. However, since you have not been fired, it is time to document. Write notes about every meeting. Buy a recorder. Tape any meeting with your supervisor and your manager. We review the legalities of recording in Texas. I think the best thing I can do is just put the recorder on the table. I will not be sneaky. I have to build my burden of proof. The thought of this makes me ill. Physically ill. I just want to work and pay my mortgage.

Unfortunately Tamara, you are a non-political person working in a very politically charged environment. I will not be billing you for this appointment. If you have questions or need advice on how to handle a situation, call. Immediately. Here are a few of my cards. I don’t have a problem with it if your job asks you to sign anything for you to hand them my card and tell them to send me a copy of it first. But most of all, get better. Listen to your doctor. Take your time and get better. I will be praying for you.

And I am out the door and standing in the sun. I call Ken and tell him what Mr. Lawyer had to say. I can remember most of it. My brain is not so mushy today. I am relieved. I look around me and realize I am not in my fortress. I take another ½ a pill and go for a walk. There are people around me. No one knows I’m crazy so it’s ok. I go into a couple of shops on Main Street. Pretty things. My heart is beating way too fast. This was enough for today and I head home.

Ann from HR calls. I take another ½ a pill. My skin starts turning red and I itch all over. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Concentrate. Ann tells me that the investigation is over and it has been decided that I was ill and needed to leave work. There will be no personnel action taken due to my leaving work. I will be moved to short term disability. Once all my existing leave is exhausted they will ask my co-workers to donate leave to me so I am not short money while I get better. This is good news, but it is also shattering. Even if they move the go-live date, I will not be going to Burning Man. I won’t have any leave. I curl up in bed and sleep.

When I awake, the house is still and silent. I stand at my dining room table with my sewing equipment scattered around on it and feel overwhelmed. I decide to cook supper. Ken will be picking Lillian up from daycare and I can have supper ready. Something healthy and creative. Fish tacos. With peas in butter sauce.

Lillian is glad to be home and she wants my attention. Ken distracts her with books and watching videos of herself on my phone. She loves her videos. I put the food on the plates, strap Lillian into her highchair and she goes to town. Ken takes a bite and says this is great. I take a bite and it is awful. The taco shells are stale. The fish is bland. I tell Ken he does not have to be this careful. I’m not that fragile. I am crazy, not an imbecile. It’s edible if you dump salsa on it. Lillian eats two helpings. She is mastering her fork and her spoon. Ken is hovering around Lillian and I. Usually he does chores, lawn work or out on the tractor doing something in the pastures. Today he just hangs around with us. I am grateful. I am having a hard time keeping up with Lillian. Sarah gets home from class and I go to bed. I have made it through a day. Ken comes into our room and holds me close. You are precious to me. You are not crazy. You are working hard and you are getting better every day and I am so proud to be your husband.  I am safe.

Chapter Five

Today is Wednesday. I have things to do. I woke up with Ken. He has hidden my lunchbox. I make his sandwich and we drink our coffee. He is wearing his little white and black shorts that really serve no purpose other than he can say he is not naked. The shorts make me happy. I drag my feet getting his lunch ready and in the shower. The quicker he is ready the quicker he will be gone. There is a new bar of soap and it is lovely. French milled and the lather is thick and sweet smelling. I watch Ken shave and put on his deodorant. He smells like morning glories, colgate shaving cream, and Old Spice. I try to fill my nostrils with him so I can have him with me all day. But he has made me a list. I have a list of things to do and I am relieved.

I am sitting on the bed watching him get dressed when he hands me my list. Here, don’t feel like you need to cross everything off. Just some suggestions.

Laundry
Dishes
Feed the dogs
Water the tomatoes
Eat good food
Leslie appointment

Ken has already sorted all the clothes. I’m grateful as that would have been too many decisions. Baby steps.

I have an appointment with Leslie. I have not done my homework. I was to do something creative. Crap.

Ken leaves. I stand at the window again and watch his truck go around the S turn. I am not mad he is leaving. Just lonely. I start a load of laundry and go feed the dogs. I catch myself laughing that I’m multi-tasking. Good for me. Today the dogs get four milkbones. Boy is more interested in snuggling my knees than in eating his milkbones. They are both getting too fat and their milkbone days are numbered. I have decided that even if I can’t go to Burning Man, Ken needs to go. We have too many people relying on us and he is so much at home there. Now I have to figure out a way to make that happen. I walk up and down our road. Fast walk, get my heart pumping. Feels really really good.

Sarah and Lillian are awake when I return from my walk. Dance and sing with Lillian. Shake shake shake your sillies out, shake shake shake your sillies out, wiggle your woggles away. I realize I am happy. Here in my fortress, even with Ken at work. I am at peace and my brain is not replaying my last day at work over and over. I am safe. I eat a bowl of berries. I am blessed.

Leslie calls and needs to be ten minutes late. I am already on my way so I treat myself to a caramel frappe. I have this thing with punctuality and I am glad she called to tell me of the delay. I am one of those people who gets to work 15 or 20 minutes early. I can make my coffee, chit chat with Dirk and the other early birds, and be at my desk working at 7:00. I also work right up to 5:30 or later if needed to complete a task or a call. Then I log out of the phones, reboot the computer. The ones who fly in at 7 then go get coffee and then log out five or ten minutes before they are to leave and sit with their purses in their laps really annoy me. To me it’s like cheating the time clock.

Leslie and I discuss stress and its effect on the brain. Serotonin, other brain chemicals. Over abundance vs. depletion. My medications are replacing my depleted chemicals. Giving my brain and chemical producing machines a break. We try to determine when my stress started. Our mutual thought is, way back when I was no longer a trainer. But I have a lot of coping skills that got me through. I could survive the day. But my chemical producing machine was having to work harder than normal. And it had to work hard for a very long time. And then it couldn’t keep up anymore and I ended up in the fetal position on the floor. Lesley suggests I read about long term stress and its effect on a body. She mentions a compromised immune system, pain, heart problems, mental problems including anxiety, problems with digestion. Check, check, and check. Leslie notes I am talking about work without stuttering, but my breathing is still a little shaky. I still have to count my inhales and exhales or I breathe too fast, or I don’t breathe at all. Progress. Baby steps. Do only things I enjoy. Do only things that nurture me. When I start worrying redirect my thoughts to things that make me happy. She will see me Monday at noon. Oh, and do something creative. Get your brain working in a different way. You are only seeing black and white. You need to open your brain up to possibilities. Being creative on anything will kickstart creative thinking on other issues too. Have you ever thought of journaling?

So I go home and read. I start trying to write down my thoughts and what is happening to me. Google is my friend.
http://www.ehow.com/about_5075242_signs-symptoms-longterm-stress.html
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/stress-symptoms/SR00008_D
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/stress/SR00001

This is serious. Being mentally ill is not my only concern. This could kill me. I need to pay attention.

I go for another walk. Exercise doesn’t exactly make me happy, but it does motivate me to do something happy. After my walk I start fixing my serger so I can start sewing again. I go through my t-shirt stash to see what I have to create with. Start simple. I make a necklace. I look at my dye books and see what I have that I can play with. The dye and painting silk is bittersweet as it reminds me I am probably not going to Burning Man, but watching how the fabric reacts to the technique fascinates me and is worth the risk. I take some time to read some posts on Eplaya and laugh at the antics of some of these crazy internet friends. I am laughing freely again. And it feels so good. It is safe to laugh at internet friends while I am in my fortress.

About two months ago a friend at work mentioned that he missed my laugh and my smile. I have a big, booming laugh that carries. I smile easily and am usually warm and friendly. He mentions that he hasn’t seen me smile in a long time. I asked him to please not tell me that kind of thing at work. That it is not a safe thing to point out that I am not my usual self. Any kind of comment like that seems to be taken as I have a bad attitude and puts my job in jeopardy.

From all my reading and research I realize this little brain snap has been cooking for a long time. This has been building and I have been mentally ill due to long term stress for longer than I want to think about. I have no control over the stressors in my life. At this point I don’t even have control over how I respond to those stressors, I can’t breathe, I stutter, I cry, I am afraid. All I can do is try and learn how to counter my fight or flight response with things that won’t kill me. I would prefer to not take medication for the rest of my life. I need to learn how to deal.

I need to somehow expand my fortress. Today, being able to take a walk by myself is enough.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Chapter Four

I wake up and I am alone. I am completely disoriented in my aloneness. Ken’s side of the bed is cold, he has been gone for a while. I lay in bed wondering where he went. The sun is up. He must have gone to work? Why didn’t I hear the alarm? Who made his lunch? Now I am completely lost on how to start my day. My routine is disrupted. I start to cry and I go back to sleep. Ken calls around 9:00 and says good morning. You were sleeping so hard I just let you sleep. I think you needed it. I don’t tell him I don’t know what to do now, that I am lost. I just say ok. Ken asks me if I am going into town later. Can you pick some stuff up for me. Sure I tell him, I can do that. He wants to know if I am ok. I am ok. We hang up and I know I am not ok. For the first time I think I understand I have had some sort of a break down and the words mentally ill slip into my brain. I am ill. Mentally ill. Evidently I didn’t crack up so much that I am locked away. Just mentally ill enough that work is investigating me and my husband is whispering on the phone to my mother. No, don’t come. Her doctor says she needs to rest and concentrate on herself right now. I know, I know. I will let her know you love her. Ken has built a moat and is guarding my fortress. My safe place.

Jake whines in his cage. Oh good. I know how to feed the dogs. Today they get three milkbones. Boy looks at me like I am the saviour of the world. After he eats his bones he puts his soft snout against my leg and snorts. I rub his ears and he licks my hands.

Coffee. Yes. Ken has left it all ready, all I have to do is press the GO button. What is it Ken needs in town again? Crap. I just can’t pull it up. My brain is mush. I can’t get it to focus on anything. I can not remember. I am too embarrassed to call Ken and ask. I don’t want him to know how bad my brain is gone. I am ashamed. Ok, maybe if I drive into town I will remember. I get my purse and go to the car. My rearview mirror tells me my hair is sticking straight up all over my head, I have sleep in my eyes, I don’t have my glasses on, and I am still in my pajamas. I am mortified. What is wrong with me. I go back to bed.

NO! No. no. I will not be this crazy lady who buries herself under the covers. Shower. That is what I need. A shower. And clothing that matches. And maybe some food. I am not hungry, but I know I need to eat. I walk toward the kitchen, but I stop in the hallway. Should I shower first, or eat first. I don’t know. I sit down in the hallway and cry. Crap. Take it down to basics Tamara. Do one thing, concentrate on that one thing. Pick any one thing. I will shower. The hot water wakes me up and clears my thoughts a little. I still can not remember what Ken wants. Dry off. I concentrate on being dry. Eat. A piece of toast and some fruit. The toaster is not where I thought it belongs. Who would take a toaster? Bread is good enough. And some berries. Jeans and a shirt. I guess I need a bra, start over, jeans, bra, shirt, flip flops. Easier than socks and shoes.

Town is busy. There is traffic to concentrate on. I go to HEB and walk around. Nothing triggers. What did he want? Walmart? I go there. Nothing. I don’t know. He can’t know that I don’t remember. He will think I’m crazy. I see a friend down the aisle. I turn and run out of the store. I don’t want her to know I’m crazy. I am not me. I could not bear to see that pity in her eyes. I am ashamed. I sit in my car and breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. I give up and decide to go home. I drive by West End Pizza. Nothing sounds so good to me as a calzone. I can’t get the cheese and sauce out of my brain. So I circle the block and go in. Good, I don’t know this waitress, I could just be any old tourist. She doesn’t know I’m not me anymore. I order a Calzone and a lemonaid. My phone rings and it’s my mother. She, my Father, my cousin Kathy and her husband have been out driving around looking at wildflowers and just happened to end up in Fredericksburg. Can they come out. No, I am not there. She just wants to give me a hug and see that I am ok. I am ok I say. I am eating lunch and tell them where. We will be right there. I call Ken in a panic. They have breached the moat! Stormed my fortress! Do you have your pills with you? Can you take one? Yes, yes I do and I can. I do. I am ashamed. I have not seen my cousin Kathy in over ten years. I’ve never met her husband. And they will know I am mentally ill. I am crazy and I am ashamed. I want me back, but I am not here. This crazy person with a mush brain is here and she is not to be trusted in polite society. I want to run to my car and leave before they get here. But I am too late.

Here they are. All big smiles and hugs. How are you? I hate that question. I try to be an honest person, but right now it’s really not a good question to ask me. How are you? Fine. I am fine. I wonder if I take two pills will I be able to drive home. How can I take a pill without them knowing, they are all around me. We sit, the waitress brings my calzone. No, no they just ate, they just want to visit, well maybe a cup of coffee. So they all sit. My father sits next to me in the booth. I am trapped. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. It is all I can do to not lay my head on my daddy’s shoulder and sob. Mom tries not to talk about work, but she can’t help it. It somehow keeps coming up and I start to not be able to breathe. Kathy and her husband suddenly get interested in all the artwork hanging around the restaurant and go look at them closer. My father changes the subject and my breathing gets back to normal. I can’t eat. The calzone is huge and I don’t know why I wanted it. It looks like a huge slab of dead food. I pick at the corner of it. The waitress takes my plate and brings it all back in a bag so I can take it home. In a blur I am outside, I am being hugged. I am in my car. I think I am driving too fast. Someone honks at me. I keep going and I am home. I curl up in bed and I sleep. Today it is ok to be that crazy person who can’t get out of bed. Today I will just sleep. I am ashamed.

Ken is home, shoring up our defenses. I tell him I slept all day. He says it’s ok. He does not mention that I didn’t get him whatever it was he wanted. He feeds me something and I go back to bed. I don’t want Ken to see me crying. I am ashamed.

Chapter Three

I have made it through the weekend. Monday morning and I get up with Ken. He is going back to work. We have a morning routine. He makes coffee, I get the lunch boxes out, I make sandwiches, he does the side dishes, bananas, other fruit, clif bars. Then we shower, then we get dressed. I usually leave first, he turns off all the lights, takes out the trash, and he goes to work. On this monday I go into the kitchen, put the lunchboxes on the island and start making our sandwiches. Crap. I stand there and start to cry and shake. I don’t need a lunchbox.  I tell Ken I’m sorry again. He very sternly tells me to stop saying that. I go take my pills. I go back into the kitchen and make his sandwich. The routine is comforting. I am worried about him leaving me. I am worried about being alone with all this fear. I don’t tell him. This is my battle. I have an appointment with Lesley at noon. Ken starts talking about where do I think we can cut back. I say we can survive without TV. Maybe the cell phones. I need the internet to job hunt. That stops my brain cold. How can I job hunt in this condition? Self loathing takes over. I hate being weak. Self loathing gives way to self pity. Ken is watching my face and tells me it’s time to shower. Again, our routine grounds me. Ken washes my entire body from head to toe and he touches me like I am a precious thing. He kisses the tip of my nose and I know I will recover. This will be hard and there will be some pain, but this man and this life are sweet things and I am meant to enjoy them. He is right. She does not deserve time in my brain. Anger feels good. I stand at the window and watch Ken drive away. I am mad at him for leaving me. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Repeat. I don’t know how many times. A hummingbird comes to the feeder and pulls my eyes from where Ken’s truck disappeared around the s turn on our little road. Jake whines in his kennel. Oh, good. I can feed the dogs.

I realize I’ve not only lost my wits, i’ve lost my brain. There is no toilet paper on the roll. I am paralyzed with confusion. I take a shower so I can pee.

I see Lesley at noon. By then all my newfound bravado has fled. I am pinballing between self pity, anger, self loathing, disgust, fear, panic, and exhaustion. ½ a pill should do it huh?  Yes, I answer myself, that would be a good start. I have been sober since 2/3/88. This dependence on pills is not bothering me. Good.

I still can’t talk about work and breathe. My eyes start to dim, my skin turns red, and I start to stutter. Lesley asks me to think about some good times at my job. I tell her about when I was hired. I loved being a trainer. I loved the crusty old farts the most. The lineman who said “the day you hand me a laptop is the day I retire.”  By the time I was done with him you couldn’t pry that laptop out of his hands. When the hard drive failed he whined every day until we got another one set up. Teaching Excel was my favorite. To have 15 students in a class that had never touched Excel, and then show them the magic.  I got to ride around with a couple of crews. Right of way guys, construction guys. I sat in a business office and took payments. I sat with call center people and listened and learned. Then I got to help them figure out how to use software to make their jobs easier. Streamline some processes. I was the training lead for our JD Edwards and GIS system implementations. Giddy days. Then our company did one of its weird reorganizations. Managers were moved, departments split up, people reassigned. The trainers went off to HR, but for some reason I was left in I.T. with no assigned job duties. They left my title the same, but no more training. Since I have no degree or certifications, I am not a programmer and don’t seem to have the mind for that skill, but I did have an affinity for figuring out what went wrong, I was put on Helpdesk. It looked, felt, and smelled like a demotion to me. My boss at the time assured me it wasn’t. He thought I’d be happier in I.T. No one asked me. I was put in a cubicle and that was it. I’m very good at what I do. People are relieved when I answer the phone. I fix things. But I can’t see their faces. It feels like my soul is dying.

Various bosses have tried to fix it for me over the years. When the trainers were moved their job descriptions were rewritten and they left out the “or five years work experience” so when training jobs opened, I was not even allowed to apply. So sorry, complete oversight, we will get that fixed. But they didn’t. Until last year. My reviews are all glowing. I rock, I am a star, I am a rockstar helpdesk technician. A valuable member of the team. But no, you are too valuable where you are, we can’t move you. My soul is dying.

We recently completed the implementation of part of the SAP system at work. Helpdesk was not given any training. After all, all we have to do is answer the phone and enter issues. Someone else will figure out the problem. Just copy and paste the emails into Helpstar and answer the phone. I figure I must have really pissed someone off, but I don’t know who or how. But, they had always just left me alone in my little piece of cubicle hell. Until last month. Now it appears they want me gone. And here is where I start stuttering and my breathing goes all to hell.

Lesley and I change course and discuss options. I see none. I will have to get my wits and brains back, and I will return to cubicle hell. Hopefully with some tools to get me through the long hours of nothingness. Usually when people talk about stress it’s because they have too much going on. There is too much to do, with too little time. My stress is different. It is being trapped in a cubicle with nothing to do. With endless hours of nothingness stretching before me. And when the phone rings, it’s nothing I can do really. Reset a password or two, but really just relay. And people are pissed. They were inadequately trained in SAP. They can’t do their jobs. And all I can say is I’m sorry. I don’t know. I will enter a Helpstar, someone will call you. I don’t know who. I don’t know when. I don’t know. And then they say I remember when you were helpful Tamara. Or a manager calls and says Who in the Fuck over there knows their head from their ass! Who in the Fuck can I call and get some god damned help. And I don’t know. And my soul dies a little more. I give myself a verbal pep talk all the way to work each morning. I walk hard on each break. I paper the walls of my cubicle with pictures of my kids and my grandbabies. Reminders of why i’m here. I have the picture of Ken and I taken at Texas Motor Speedway right in front of me. We are kissing. And he would never ever call me a fucking idiot.

The only other jobs in two hours any direction from my house are a fry cook at Dairy Queen, or the night clerk at several different hotel chains. Or I could wait tables. The other jobs require skill sets. Nurses, degreed teachers. There are a couple secretary jobs that pay just over minimum wage. I am our primary bread winner. There currently are no options.  I compliment Lesley on helping me sneak up on my work problems. She said we weren’t too what has me scared yet. This was all still background. She will see me Wednesday at 2:00. Be kind to myself. Do only things that relax me. Create something. Here’s my cell phone number if you get into a crisis. Call me immediately. Lean on my support system. I remind her that I’m usually the one that people lean on. She said it’s time to learn a new skill. This woman is gently brutal. We verify I did my homework from our last appointment. I made an appointment with an attorney. It’s Thursday at 9:30.

And I am adrift. What do you do when you don’t work and your brain can’t remember how to put toilet paper on a roll? You go poop at Dairy Queen, and then you get a cherry blizzard. You watch the cooks and wonder if you could even do that really. You go home and walk down your little dirt road and throw rocks until your arm hurts. And you take another ½ a pill.

And then Ken is home. And you grab him and kiss and hold him and make him take you to bed.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Chapter Two

The weekend is a blur. Sleep. Wake up. Ken says eat this, drink this, here’s a pill. Sleep, wake up, drink this, go potty, let’s go outside. It’s so bright. Sarah doesn’t work this weekend so she is watching Lillian. But Lillian wants me. Book, up! Mimi read. I read Left Foot Left foot,  Right Foot Right, Feet in the Day, Feet in the Night. And we count toes, Mimi’s toes and Lillian’s toes. And her hair has the sharp tangy smell of sweat. She has been playing hard. And she looks at me like she knows something is wrong, but doesn’t know what. I’m not really me and she can tell. She goes back to her mommy.

Saturday Ken and I go to the Farmer’s Market in Austin. Ken says we should go through Llano so you can see the wildflowers. I say no, it’s too late. If we go that way the market will close before we get there. So we go through Jacksontown, where I work. There is no air in the car, my palms start to sweat, I take a ½ a pill without being prompted by Ken. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four, I am in my car, Ken is here, and I am safe. Then we are out of Jacksontown and I can breathe without counting. At the market I buy carrots, pepper cheese, onions, and a bar of handmade soap. Ken and I have a thing for soap. We shower together every morning and wash each others backs and feet. Every day. It is the happiest moment of my life, every morning.
Good soap is important.

We go to my old stomping grounds. South Austin. I point out the house where the twins were born, well, I point out the street the house is on. We drive down South Congress and I have a feeling of coming home. We eat at Magnolia Cafe. I feel comforted in the familiar ebb and flow. I do not think about work, not even once. Ken mentions that this would not be a bad place to live if it came to having to sell our place. I realize Ken probably needs someone to talk to also. But I don’t know how to help him. On the way home I am ready for Jacksontown. I breathe in two three four and breathe out two three four. And it is gone. I didn’t take a pill.  And we are home, Ken is here, and I am safe.

Sarah wants to go out to eat with a date. Can we watch Lillian. Ken wants to say no, but I say yes. Lillian gives me joy and Lesley said to do things that give me joy. Sarah leaves and Lillian is all mine. 18 months old and whip smart. I am still not me. Lillian is unsettled by my not really being me. We are both unsettled. Ken does not say I told you so. He just takes over. I follow along. We take a walk. Eat this, drink that, sit here. His phone rings off and on, but he takes the calls in the other room. I can hear him. She’s fine. OK, maybe not fine, but no, she really doesn’t need any visitors right now, just quiet. I know, but try not to worry, no, i don’t think she will be up to talking just yet. My mom, maybe some of the kids. I lose track of how many calls. These pills just make it all not matter. Ken calls Sarah and tells her not to dawdle.

Sunday we stay home most of the day. I water the tomatoes. I tell Ken like it’s some big major accomplishment. He hugs me like I have indeed saved the world. A small part of my brain knows I have lost my mind and has started to tell me to snap the hell out of it. The rest of my brain just can’t seem to care. More phone calls, more whispered conversations. That small part of my brain knows that this would usually irritate the crap out of me. The rest of me is so grateful that Ken is dealing with it and I don’t have too. I hug him, as he has indeed saved me.

I go back to sleep. Nightmare. I sit on the porch and watch Ken work. I love watching Ken work. He wears this big straw hat, old jeans and an old blue work shirt that is almost bleached out white with sun and too many washings. He looks so virile and handsome. And he loves me. He waves. I wave back and mouth I’m sorry. But he doesn’t see me.

My back yard is full of construction projects for our Burning Man trip. It hurts me to see them. I don’t want to think about it, but I have too. It’s not just my camp, other people are counting on this stuff. I tell my group that I can ship the stuff to Nevada and one of them agrees to pick it all up. They just want me to get better and not worry. They don’t know how I can’t help but worry about getting this gear to Nevada. I will feel better if I have a plan. So I keep planning. My mom sends me a facebook message that I am worrying about too many things and to concentrate on getting better. I tell her I will. But I know I have to have a plan, and planning makes me feel better. I just won’t post it on Facebook anymore so Mom won’t worry. But, I can’t stay in the backyard, it makes me cry.

I tell Ken I’m going to the grocery store. He decides the lawn doesn’t really need mowing and goes to HEB with me. I’m not really interested in food. I’ve only been able to eat very small bits of stuff for a long time.  I just realize that while standing in front of the fish display at HEB. All that dead fish is making me sick to my stomach. Everything in the store looks and smells awful, except the fruit. We buy a lot of fruit and some coffee. I start to cry and Ken puts his arm around me. I tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I did. He tells me that I didn’t do anything and my boss is a cunt. I laugh because it is so startling to hear that word come out of Ken’s mouth. He loves women. He doesn’t not call anyone cunt, ever. He looks at me very sternly and says he means it, she is not worthy of the time in my brain. I feel calm and his words hit me as solid truth. She is not worthy of the time in my brain.

Trying to go to bed at night. I can’t not think about work. What did I do? What did I say? Who all saw me on the floor? Did I yell at anyone? If I yelled Bianca will fire me. I have embarrassed myself and my department. No matter what, my days of employment there are limited. I know that. They will find something and we will lose the house. I tell Ken how sorry I am. He hands me a pill and I sleep.

Chapter One

I’m not entirely sure what happened. I remember sitting in my little piece of cubicle hell and starting to cry. I knew that was not a safe thing to do, so I gulped that back and went over to the workbench. I tried some slow breathing, deep in, slow out, deep in, slow out, with my mantra going over in my head. Mortgage, mortgage, mortgage, three kids in college, three kids in college, mortgage, mortgage, mortgage. Three, two, three. Then adding, two plus two is four. Four plus four is eight. Eight plus eight is sixteen. And the next thing I remember is being on the floor.

Chris, at least I think it was Chris, was next to me saying Tamara, let’s go outside. Come on, you don’t want to stay in here. Then I was gone again. Then Frank was sitting next to me telling me to breathe, breathe. Breathe with me Tamara, it’s ok. Don’t think about anything just listen to my voice and breathe. I remember thinking, Bianca is going to be so mad. Then I was gone again.

Then I was outside. The air was cool, a sweet spring breeze blowing and there was a black beetle crawling on my foot. Frank is still by my side re-teaching me how to breathe. Chris is gone, but Dirk is there. All these men trying to help me. They start telling me jokes. Really bad jokes. A grasshopper walks into a bar... Frank and Dirk are guaranteed to get you to laugh whether you think you ever will again in your life or not. When I would start breathing right or seemed calm, one of them would ask me what happened, and I’d be gone again. Cindy Ann from Safety showed up. Smoking her cigarette, watching me breathe, calming just by being. More jokes. These three should take it on the road. It was decided I should go home and that I absolutely could not drive. No argument from me. I was sitting there wondering if they knew I had wet my pants. Not a flood, just a little. Then I was gone again.

Then I was in Frank’s car. Good old Frank. Sweet, steady, stoic Frank. Who I can trust. And then I was home and my Ken was there. Holding me close, letting me cry. And then I slept.

Then work called. Bianca was indeed mad, and I was being placed on administrative leave pending an investigation into why I left my assigned workstation without informing my supervisor. I’m talking to Ann, trying to explain what happened, and then I’m gone again. Then my boss calls to tell me that Ann from HR will be calling. I wet myself when I hear her voice. And I am gone.

Ken is with me in the examining room. Dr. Johnson, Nancy, has the kindest face and a sweet gentle voice. She smiles at me and asks what’s happening? I try to tell her. I don’t go away, I stay, but I stutter, and cry, and I can’t breathe. There just isn’t any air left in the room for me. Somehow Ken is stealing it all and there isn’t any for me. I turn to look at him and he looks so sad. And I’m gone again.

Nancy is saying something about taking one of the pills right away, the other I can take when I start feeling like I’m afraid. I can’t remember not feeling afraid. She asks me if I want to hurt myself. I don’t understand the question. Why would I want to hurt myself? Then she wants to know if I want to hurt anyone else. What? Ok, take both of the pills right away. Pills? Ken says he will take care of it. Take care of what? He smiles and hugs me. He still looks sad, despite the smile.

Pharmacy, home, sleep.

Ken is introducing me to Lesley. She is going to help me not feel like this anymore. It seems the women have taken over my care. I want to wish her luck, but I’m still stuttering. She asks me about the pills. I know I took something, not sure what or when. Ken answers and hands her the bottles. Lexipro, she took one, and Lorazepam, she took one of those too. Lesley suggests another ½ of one of those. Ok with me, just a ½? Yes, just a ½. I have to stay awake to talk to her. Damn.

I get through it. I tell her about sitting at my desk needing to type an email. But unsure of how to say what I need to say. It’s important that I get it right and be professional. I always thought I had been professional, but my boss says I am not. She does not tell me how I’m not, or give me examples, but my job is on the line if I am not. Worse, I have to professionally correct my boss’s documentation. How to professionally tell your boss that in fact we do that process an entire different way than she thinks it’s done. Without making her look bad, or feel stupid. Professionally.

I look up at Lesley and she is breathing funny. Real exaggerated. I get it. Breathe like me. Watch my face and breathe like me. I lock eyes with her and I feel like maybe I’m not drowning anymore.

I can start again. Suzanna telling me about the email. That my paranoia might actually be based on real events. The email was left on the printer and was mixed up in her things. She was looking at it as she walked back to her desk, then saw what it was. An email exchange between my boss and my manager. About me. In all uppercase and exclamation marks. They are mad at you Tamara. Be careful. And I think, so...it is just me. They just don’t like...me. But I have a mortgage, and three kids in college, and I live in the middle of nowhere. I will not find a job that pays ½ this much without moving. And they know it. Golden handcuffs and they can pretty much do anything they want. Suzanna puts the email back on the printer. It sits there for three hours she says. Other people print, pick it up, put it back. More people know my bosses hate me.

My eyes are still locked with Lesley’s. If I break eye contact I will be gone. I know it, she knows it. Ken is holding my hand. No, I have a death grip on his hand. I wonder if he can feel his fingers, but I don’t let go. I can’t. He is holding me down, but he doesn’t know it. Lesley smiles and says, it’s ok, let’s continue.

We have a staff meeting. One co-worker does a double fisted flip off about the decision makers in our company. Another calls some other people in our company assholes. Katie says God Damn It, are we going over this again? Then there is another double fisted flip off. I wonder why they can curse, but according to HR my manager and supervisor reported that one of my co-workers complained that I cussed them out. I absolutely know that didn’t happen. And I wonder which one of them hates me as much as my boss hates me. But I don’t really have to wonder, I know. She always has. I’ve never known why and what is really sad is, I like her. 


My boss says, stay after the staff meeting Tamara, I need to talk to you. My co-workers leave, all flashing me sympathetic looks, except that one.  My boss says since we moved the go-live date to Labor Day I’m not going to approve your leave request for Burning Man. I just look at her. We have invested so much time, energy, and love into getting ready for this year’s burn. I have four newbies counting on me. My little Dye Shop dream is coming together, and they won’t let me go. They really are trying to make me so miserable that I quit. But I can’t. I have a mortgage, I live in the middle of nowhere. And we built our house on property Ken inherited from his Dad. Oh God. If I lose this job, we lose the house. And it will be all my fault. Because I can’t get them to like me. I don’t know what I’ve done to make them all so angry.

Katie says God Damn It, i’ve gone to get coffee three times and I keep getting distracted.

And then I start to cry in my cubicle.

Lesley says it’s ok, it’s ok. Ken is holding my hand. He is crying. He does not know what to do with me like this. I am a strong, independent, smart woman. Really. People tell me that all the time. Current condition does not count. What continues to surprise me is how much Ken just loves me. He just does. Always. And I know it. And it kills me that I am making him cry.

Lesley says to think about things that relax me. Do only those things. Do nothing that requires me to think or stress. I tell her I have to give a statement to work about leaving. She says to take another pill 15 minutes before my appointment time. Lesley talks some more. She sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher and I can’t figure out what she means, but Ken is there and he is nodding so I nod with him. Lesley hands me a piece of paper with three names and phone numbers on it. She says these are three lawyers that people tell her are good. Pick one, or pick one out of the phone book, but make an appointment. It’s homework.

Then we go home and I call HR. Thank god it’s her voicemail. I tell her voicemail I don’t think I can do this yet. Maybe I need to take these pills for a few days. I sleep. HR calls back. All the air is gone from the room again. Ann says it’s ok. Is anyone home with me? I don’t want you to be alone and I want you to get better. We can do this statement thing Monday or Tuesday. Rest, please Tamara, I want you to take care of only you for right now.

And I sleep, and then there is the nightmare. And I am not alone, Ken is here. And he loves me. And I am safe as long as I am here and he is here and I don’t have to talk about work. Sleep.