I just drove to work and back. Ken went with me. I got a little teary eyed about StoodieVille, but self talked my way through it. As I was turning right towards the buildings there was good old Frank and his big grin waving at me as he was trying to turn left to leave. Thank you God for that little boost. It was good to see his smile again. If it wouldn't be sexual harassment I'd say something about wishing I could have seen the wranglers too, but I can't say that.
The other day Leslie noticed that I rub my shoulder when I talk about work. I tell her there is a dull ache in it that I'm trying to rub out. But Tamara, the only time you rub it, is when you talk about work. Pay attention to that this week and see if it aches any other times.
She may be on to something. As I hit the city limits of Jacksonville my shoulder started this piercing pain. It feels like someone is stabbing me. As we circle the buildings it just gets worse. Ken mentions I complained about the same thing when we came by work last Sunday, and that I rubbed my shoulder a lot. By the time I leave the city I can hardly hold onto the steering wheel. By StoodieVille, the pain is gone. Interesting.
Ken thinks I'm going to get my first speeding ticket ever soon. Honey you are going 85. Maybe you should move over to the other lane sooner, you got awful close to that guys bumper. Honey, speed limit goes down to 55 here. Now remember, you will be working some 1/2 days so this school zone might be active when you come through here. You didn't drive this fast going to Jacksontown, but you were this aggressive. This isn't like you Tamara. Ken is starting to sound like me before I found knitting. I'm usually a horrible passenger. I flinch and squirm and hit my phantom brake pedal. I warn Ken about people braking up ahead of us and all the swerving drivers. Now that I knit I'm hardly ever looking up. Ken thinks knitting is the most fabulous invention ever.
But he's right, this isn't how I drive normally. I'm a very defensive driver. I look ahead for the billion things that can go wrong and think what would I do if? I judiciously use cruise control, I have always liked to go fast but would choose when and where. There are some roads, like the highway between StoodyVille and Jacksontown that you just don't go that fast on. I had no idea I was going 85, I didn't want to use cruise control, it felt good to fly. I don't know if this is just the medication taking some edges off, or this is part of the new brain. Time will tell. Making it to 52 without a speeding ticket ever is some kind of a record I would think.
We get home and Ken leads me to the shower. Hot steamy water, lavender scented soap, and a good back and foot rub. I am blessed.
So my return to work day is now Friday. I will only work 1/2 day from 8 -12. My immediate supervisor will not be there, she took annual leave that day. Then starting next Tuesday I start work from 7 - 11. My immediate supervisor won't be there that day either. I work part time for two weeks (I think) and then we gradually add hours until I'm back up to my regular schedule. I mention to HR that I really want to go back to 7-5:30 four days a week. That way I can do all my appointments on Friday and don't have to use leave time etc. I also mentioned that was one of the things my direct supervisor had mentioned that I would possibly be losing soon. HR doesn't seem to think that schedule will be a problem at all, especially for that reason.
Leslie has advised me to come up with something to say when people ask where I've been. Something that won't get me in trouble, but will answer the question. She says turning the question back to the asker is always a good plan. So if someone asks where I've been say something like "oh here and there, is that a new shirt? That color is so lovely!" If someone says I hear you went crazy, I can say "its not all that far from here, didn't I see you there too?" Ok, maybe not that one.
I think I'll just say I needed some time and then ask a work related question. Nothing makes co-workers scatter faster than asking them to do something for you.
I am sitting on my bed typing this. The windows are open and there is a light breeze blowing my curtains. There are a few different birds chirping at each other, and one loud one is just flat hollering, I will name him Dave after my brother in law. The sun is starting its descent and the sunlight on the grass looks like warm butter. Soft and golden. The Desert Willow outside my window is in full purple bloom.
Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Soak it in. Bury it into my memory. I can pull this moment back into my brain whenever I want and feel safe. I am my fortress, I can be safe anywhere. I am a beautiful perfect child of God.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stress management requires three elements. Think of it as a three leg stool and you are balanced on the top juggling your life. One leg is support, one leg is information, and one leg is control. If one of these legs is shorter than the other you start to wobble. Wobbling for a while is OK, but you need to work on what is lacking. Plus the effort it takes to juggle your life is increased. It becomes harder to juggle, you drop a thing or two.
When two are out kilter you are in some trouble. It requires more effort to balance, and you are more likely to start dropping more important things. You drop some of your support system, you just don't have time to give them right now, you drop that book club as it's just too much pressure to read and show up. As you drop things the stressors in your life tend to become larger and even more difficult to handle. You stress about more things, all those things you are dropping, and the activities you are missing that fed your soul. The last and final leg tends to start splintering. And then you fall.
My control leg is what failed completely first. I was maintaining. Just survive this little rough patch, improvements are coming, new management is in place, give us a little time. I had a plan. Keep doing my job, self teach myself as much as I could about the systems we were putting in place, just hang on. Then go for the training position that should be opening up any day. The more things changed, the more our little section was blocked out of participating. The implementation team is screaming for help, but we aren't allowed to even be trained. Pretty clear message about how unimportant we are. I had one on one conversations with management that were supposedly confidential. The contents of those meetings were hurled at me in anger during my written reprimand. Do not trust them when they say "you can talk to me about anything. If you have concerns my door is open." That is a complete lie. Paranoia becomes a strong part of your persona. Some people shut down, turn inward. I did that for a while. Others start lashing out. Sarcasm becomes second nature. I did this for a while too. As my control leg failed, my information leg started wobbling.
My information leg was adequate to begin with. I knew I was under stress. I tried to find ways of relieving it. We have wellness/safety classes at work and we did a little test about stress. If you scored over a certain number you were at high risk. I scored double whatever that number was. However, by the time I took the test I had been too far down the long term stress road for too long to be able to self help. I actually maintained pretty well for a long time. Years even. I had the basics down. Eat good food, exercise, create. However I was suppressing instead of managing. You can only suppress for so long. The thing about suppression is it's not selective. You can't say "I'm going to suppress this frustration" when you suppress, everything is suppressed, even the joy and delight and happy of life gets suppressed. Things you would normally cherish become unimportant. This also feeds into the control leg. It just starts to snowball.
You lose your good judgment. You become suspicious of everything and question every motive. Even good things are look at with scepticism. Once upon a time I was a cheerleader for management at work. I bought into it all. That change was coming, that employees would have a voice, that management really was listening. Once I lost that faith it was harder and harder to juggle. I stopped participating in things.
My support system is my strong leg. Ken, my faith, my kids, family, friends. I have people in my life who love and support me. However, as I was spiraling down the loss of control and information path, I was isolating myself from my support. I knew I wasn't myself. I knew I was crazy, and I was ashamed. I was holding onto my sanity by the tips of my fingers and I didn't want anyone to know how bad it was.
I was sick a lot. I could not stay healthy through fall and winter. I caught every bug that came through the office. Since I was sick, I couldn't go visit family, or help Ken with constructing our Burning Man equipment, or keep up with the house work. Snowball after snowball.
I was showing every single symptom of long term stress and possibly PTSD. And then on April 11th my brain gave up.
My support leg is recovering. I am learning about the new me and look forward to more of the old me coming back. My information leg has had to be rebuilt from scratch. I am devouring information about long term stress, techniques for getting through a panic attack, healthy eating, dieting, and these newly found creative opportunities I've found. Writing, fabric, and knitting. The control leg is still my big problem. I have no control over my work environment and I am working hard on getting to a place in my life where I can have more control.
I'm exploring becoming a full time student and finish my degree. I am going to explore how to build a business plan. I have an idea about a business that I would like to start. I have to research small business loans, backers, etc. and come up with a plan. Pay down debt. Take the power this company has over me away. So that if it continues to be this toxic for me, I can walk away without losing my house.
Step by step, baby steps some days, other days big giant steps. I go to my doctor on Tuesday to get my return to work release signed. I am due to start work Thursday part time. Two weeks of part time, then slowly had an hour at a time until I'm back up to full speed. If I have a panic attack it's an automatic three day break.
Yes, I am scared. No, I don't think anything at work has changed. I am going right back into the same situation that wore me down. Yes, I know, I'm crazy. I have a mortgage on a house that I love. But, we have a few plans, and I'm seeing color mixed into my life. On April 11th all I saw was black.
I am my own fortress. I am strong, I am loved. I am a beautiful, perfect child of God.
When two are out kilter you are in some trouble. It requires more effort to balance, and you are more likely to start dropping more important things. You drop some of your support system, you just don't have time to give them right now, you drop that book club as it's just too much pressure to read and show up. As you drop things the stressors in your life tend to become larger and even more difficult to handle. You stress about more things, all those things you are dropping, and the activities you are missing that fed your soul. The last and final leg tends to start splintering. And then you fall.
My control leg is what failed completely first. I was maintaining. Just survive this little rough patch, improvements are coming, new management is in place, give us a little time. I had a plan. Keep doing my job, self teach myself as much as I could about the systems we were putting in place, just hang on. Then go for the training position that should be opening up any day. The more things changed, the more our little section was blocked out of participating. The implementation team is screaming for help, but we aren't allowed to even be trained. Pretty clear message about how unimportant we are. I had one on one conversations with management that were supposedly confidential. The contents of those meetings were hurled at me in anger during my written reprimand. Do not trust them when they say "you can talk to me about anything. If you have concerns my door is open." That is a complete lie. Paranoia becomes a strong part of your persona. Some people shut down, turn inward. I did that for a while. Others start lashing out. Sarcasm becomes second nature. I did this for a while too. As my control leg failed, my information leg started wobbling.
My information leg was adequate to begin with. I knew I was under stress. I tried to find ways of relieving it. We have wellness/safety classes at work and we did a little test about stress. If you scored over a certain number you were at high risk. I scored double whatever that number was. However, by the time I took the test I had been too far down the long term stress road for too long to be able to self help. I actually maintained pretty well for a long time. Years even. I had the basics down. Eat good food, exercise, create. However I was suppressing instead of managing. You can only suppress for so long. The thing about suppression is it's not selective. You can't say "I'm going to suppress this frustration" when you suppress, everything is suppressed, even the joy and delight and happy of life gets suppressed. Things you would normally cherish become unimportant. This also feeds into the control leg. It just starts to snowball.
You lose your good judgment. You become suspicious of everything and question every motive. Even good things are look at with scepticism. Once upon a time I was a cheerleader for management at work. I bought into it all. That change was coming, that employees would have a voice, that management really was listening. Once I lost that faith it was harder and harder to juggle. I stopped participating in things.
My support system is my strong leg. Ken, my faith, my kids, family, friends. I have people in my life who love and support me. However, as I was spiraling down the loss of control and information path, I was isolating myself from my support. I knew I wasn't myself. I knew I was crazy, and I was ashamed. I was holding onto my sanity by the tips of my fingers and I didn't want anyone to know how bad it was.
I was sick a lot. I could not stay healthy through fall and winter. I caught every bug that came through the office. Since I was sick, I couldn't go visit family, or help Ken with constructing our Burning Man equipment, or keep up with the house work. Snowball after snowball.
I was showing every single symptom of long term stress and possibly PTSD. And then on April 11th my brain gave up.
My support leg is recovering. I am learning about the new me and look forward to more of the old me coming back. My information leg has had to be rebuilt from scratch. I am devouring information about long term stress, techniques for getting through a panic attack, healthy eating, dieting, and these newly found creative opportunities I've found. Writing, fabric, and knitting. The control leg is still my big problem. I have no control over my work environment and I am working hard on getting to a place in my life where I can have more control.
I'm exploring becoming a full time student and finish my degree. I am going to explore how to build a business plan. I have an idea about a business that I would like to start. I have to research small business loans, backers, etc. and come up with a plan. Pay down debt. Take the power this company has over me away. So that if it continues to be this toxic for me, I can walk away without losing my house.
Step by step, baby steps some days, other days big giant steps. I go to my doctor on Tuesday to get my return to work release signed. I am due to start work Thursday part time. Two weeks of part time, then slowly had an hour at a time until I'm back up to full speed. If I have a panic attack it's an automatic three day break.
Yes, I am scared. No, I don't think anything at work has changed. I am going right back into the same situation that wore me down. Yes, I know, I'm crazy. I have a mortgage on a house that I love. But, we have a few plans, and I'm seeing color mixed into my life. On April 11th all I saw was black.
I am my own fortress. I am strong, I am loved. I am a beautiful, perfect child of God.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Chapter Twenty-Five
Traveling always stresses Ken. He was not born with any sort of internal compass and gets turned around easily. I wake up to an already jumpy husband. Plus, all the hotels in Lubbock are full so we will be sleeping on an air mattress on our nieces floor. Full on immersion into the crazy world of the Barnes'. We are both a little nervous about that. We have been fairly isolated out here in the home fortress. However our niece is graduating from Texas Tech and this is one of those I wouldn't miss it for the world moments. Ken is working until 11:00 and then we are eating lunch and heading out.
Today will be a complete role reversal. Today I am the comforting spouse and the one that should be the nurturer. Clearly he is better at this role than I am. We haven't even made it through coffee yet and I'm glaring at him. By the time I've loaded his lunchbox with fruit and snacks we aren't even talking. I wonder how in the world he has put up with me these last few weeks. I apologize to him for being so needy and not supporting him as I should today. He asks what the hell I'm talking about. So, to the shower.
Today I spend extra time on his feet and his shoulders. I use my forearm to massage the small of his back. As we are drying off he asks me to stop apologizing. It makes me feel bad when you think you have to apologize to me for all this. OK, no more apologies. Can you make sure the GPS is working and take a look at google maps, see if there is a way to go that doesn't have a lot of traffic? Sure, sure I can. Try and find a hotel again. OK, i'll look some more.
Hotels have been booked in Lubbock for this weekend since last year. That and the surge in oil production in west Texas has hotels and campgrounds packed. I have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a hotel room in Lubbock or any of the surrounding cities.
I find a route that I think will work and figure out how to trick the GPS into thinking that is the best route ever.
The route I found is beautiful. The Texas Hill Country in full on spring mode is breathtaking. Miraculously we have left the house ahead of schedule and can just take our time. Ken counts the cars that pass us. In one 10 mile stretch we only had one car pass. For all the angst of the morning, this drive has turned into a peaceful, restful event. I pull out my knitting and we chit chat and laugh our way to Lubbock.
I come from a very LOUD family. We very much like to be heard. The competition for the floor is very fierce. I gave up trying to hold the floor years ago and just throw out random one liners when possible. Someone standing outside might think there was a brawl going on inside, but it's just the Barnes clan having a conversation. The telling and retelling of stories, the booming laughter, the pure intensity of our emotions usually leaves Ken as a wallflower just wanting to blend into the background. For some reason this time he's jumping in. Telling stories, making jokes. Telling our brother in law about the Naked Bike Ride and Pub Crawl at Burning Man, about some of the art, about what it means to him. He empowers me.
I am wearing a long orange dress with one of the sarongs I dyed tied into a jacket. Different attire for me around my family. Usually I stick to jeans and a nice shirt. My sisters put in orders for their own sarongs. I take a deep breathe and jump into the conversation. I tell them about watching Ken bloom at the Burn. About how it's Ken's goal in life to make Sarah cover her ears and run screaming from the room and various ways he's achieved that goal. Why is it that kids think old farts like us don't have sex? About how Sarah has started calling before she comes home now. Is everybody clothed? Ken's other two goals are to walk 10,000 steps a day and to get an all over tan before this year's Burn. I made him a soft belt out of a red t-shirt so he can wear his step counter and tan at the same time. It's very convenient to have a home and land that can't be seen from any road or by any neighbors. I show them the picture of what I was wearing when the Jehovah's Witnesses came calling. Me in my purple corset and tutu, Ken in his red string. We are pretty sure the witnesses marked our fence in some way as they haven't been back since.
Most of the group is heading out to continue the party at a bar, Ken and I stay at the house and crash. The traveling and the time spent with this crazy bunch of people has exhausted both of us.
As I'm falling asleep I realize I haven't thought about workers compensation, short term disability, or anything work related at all. Throwing yourself fully into what is in front of you, loving hard and laughing loud. I wish they could bottle this stuff.
Courtney Myers becomes a Texas Tech Alumni on Saturday morning at the 9:00 ceremony. Despite the requests from the university to leave air horns and whistles at home "to preserve the dignity of this occasion", when Courtney's name is announced multiple air horns, whistles and loud, boisterous cheers express the Barnes clan's own idea of what the occasion means to us.
Today will be a complete role reversal. Today I am the comforting spouse and the one that should be the nurturer. Clearly he is better at this role than I am. We haven't even made it through coffee yet and I'm glaring at him. By the time I've loaded his lunchbox with fruit and snacks we aren't even talking. I wonder how in the world he has put up with me these last few weeks. I apologize to him for being so needy and not supporting him as I should today. He asks what the hell I'm talking about. So, to the shower.
Today I spend extra time on his feet and his shoulders. I use my forearm to massage the small of his back. As we are drying off he asks me to stop apologizing. It makes me feel bad when you think you have to apologize to me for all this. OK, no more apologies. Can you make sure the GPS is working and take a look at google maps, see if there is a way to go that doesn't have a lot of traffic? Sure, sure I can. Try and find a hotel again. OK, i'll look some more.
Hotels have been booked in Lubbock for this weekend since last year. That and the surge in oil production in west Texas has hotels and campgrounds packed. I have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a hotel room in Lubbock or any of the surrounding cities.
I find a route that I think will work and figure out how to trick the GPS into thinking that is the best route ever.
The route I found is beautiful. The Texas Hill Country in full on spring mode is breathtaking. Miraculously we have left the house ahead of schedule and can just take our time. Ken counts the cars that pass us. In one 10 mile stretch we only had one car pass. For all the angst of the morning, this drive has turned into a peaceful, restful event. I pull out my knitting and we chit chat and laugh our way to Lubbock.
I come from a very LOUD family. We very much like to be heard. The competition for the floor is very fierce. I gave up trying to hold the floor years ago and just throw out random one liners when possible. Someone standing outside might think there was a brawl going on inside, but it's just the Barnes clan having a conversation. The telling and retelling of stories, the booming laughter, the pure intensity of our emotions usually leaves Ken as a wallflower just wanting to blend into the background. For some reason this time he's jumping in. Telling stories, making jokes. Telling our brother in law about the Naked Bike Ride and Pub Crawl at Burning Man, about some of the art, about what it means to him. He empowers me.
I am wearing a long orange dress with one of the sarongs I dyed tied into a jacket. Different attire for me around my family. Usually I stick to jeans and a nice shirt. My sisters put in orders for their own sarongs. I take a deep breathe and jump into the conversation. I tell them about watching Ken bloom at the Burn. About how it's Ken's goal in life to make Sarah cover her ears and run screaming from the room and various ways he's achieved that goal. Why is it that kids think old farts like us don't have sex? About how Sarah has started calling before she comes home now. Is everybody clothed? Ken's other two goals are to walk 10,000 steps a day and to get an all over tan before this year's Burn. I made him a soft belt out of a red t-shirt so he can wear his step counter and tan at the same time. It's very convenient to have a home and land that can't be seen from any road or by any neighbors. I show them the picture of what I was wearing when the Jehovah's Witnesses came calling. Me in my purple corset and tutu, Ken in his red string. We are pretty sure the witnesses marked our fence in some way as they haven't been back since.
Most of the group is heading out to continue the party at a bar, Ken and I stay at the house and crash. The traveling and the time spent with this crazy bunch of people has exhausted both of us.
As I'm falling asleep I realize I haven't thought about workers compensation, short term disability, or anything work related at all. Throwing yourself fully into what is in front of you, loving hard and laughing loud. I wish they could bottle this stuff.
Courtney Myers becomes a Texas Tech Alumni on Saturday morning at the 9:00 ceremony. Despite the requests from the university to leave air horns and whistles at home "to preserve the dignity of this occasion", when Courtney's name is announced multiple air horns, whistles and loud, boisterous cheers express the Barnes clan's own idea of what the occasion means to us.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
How to Dye a Parachute
The first step in tie-dyeing a parachute is to acquire a parachute. Ken bought our pink parachute last year when we were playing around with building our own shade structure for Burning Man. We ended up not using it, but we both keep trying to figure out something fun to do with it. This year we are going to put it underneath the shade cloth of the Dye Shop's monkeyhut.
Next fold your parachute in 1/2, then 1/2 again. Now simply bunch it up and tie with ropes.
We used RIT dye for this project. To mix the dye follow the instructions on the bottle for tub dyeing. I didn't start taking pictures until we had already done the red and the purple.
Next fold your parachute in 1/2, then 1/2 again. Now simply bunch it up and tie with ropes.
We used RIT dye for this project. To mix the dye follow the instructions on the bottle for tub dyeing. I didn't start taking pictures until we had already done the red and the purple.
We used a big tote for the large end of the parachute and as we started getting to the top we switched over to an old ice chest.
This is dyeing the blue part. We had to let it soak a really long time to get it past just being a different shade of purple. The base color of the parachute is pink. Any color you dye it will interact with your base color. While it soaked I knit 8 rows on Jett's baby blanket.
Green took a while too. Really think about your base color when you pick your RIT colors. I guess we could have bleached the material first, but we didn't think about it. I knit another 8 rows while this set up.
Next is yellow, but combined with the pink and some red we had experimented with earlier we achieved some interesting mix of color. Yes, we stuck rope in with some of the colors. I mean, if you have a tie dyed parachute you HAVE to have colored rope, right?
We added some orange to the already mixed yellow and put 1/2 original end of the parachute that we had dyed red back in. I think that turned out to be my favorite section.
Squirt with a hose till the color stops coming out. Then spread it out over something and spray it some more.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ken paid special attention to my feet in this morning's shower and I almost fell asleep leaning against the shower wall. Glorious foot rub to start my day. Our coffee is good and strong and the mood is light and easy. Ken actually does the boogie woogie around the kitchen island and I fall in love all over again. I am the luckiest woman in the world.
Ken has given quite a list of things to do today. Top on the list is finding out where some missing paperwork is for my FMLA leave. CIGNA requested yet another form from my doctor and as yet have not received it. My work can't request donated leave hours until CIGNA gets that form. So, first on my list is to physically go to the doctors office and wait for the form to be signed, then fax it to CIGNA. No form, no paycheck. Or only 1/2 a paycheck.
At this time CIGNA has denied my short term disability as they feel this is a work related injury. Workers Compensation (or rather the insurance company that processes workers comp for my company) has denied my claim as they don't consider mental stress a work issue. If I had witnessed someone being shot and had PTSD, then it would be covered. But anxiety and panic attacks due to long term stress is not considered to be a work related injury. I can appeal both decisions.
To appeal Workers Comp I have three options.
1. Do it myself.
2. Hire a lawyer.
3. Have a state agency assign me an ombudsman to process the appeal for me.
To appeal the short term disability denial I have to write up a statement, attach a copy of my denial letter from Workers Comp, and get copies of all my records of doctor visits etc (that they already have, but I have to send them again). My case manager said Of course you can appeal! But you won't get anywhere. This is a work related injury. That's how we see it. But, send all that in. Good luck.
So I'm stuck between two insurance companies that won't pay and both say the other should. What a system.
I find out the delay with getting the paperwork from my doctor is she is out of town. Has been for a while and won't be back until next Tuesday. I leave messages for everyone I can think of with CIGNA, HR, and Workers Compensation.
I am oddly calm. I am more upset about this stupid stockinette stitch that is loose and wanky on the baby blanket i'm knitting for my grandson. How's that for some redirection? I am sitting at the tire place, waiting on my car. It is getting rotated and balanced and I am knitting the second thing I've ever knitted in my life. I feel so normal. Hallelujah! I laugh out loud and the little old man sitting next to me grins. He tells me his wife was a knitter and we are off into a wonderful, warm conversation. We are both a little disappointed when the technician tells me my car is ready. I hug my little old man goodbye and next on my list is the grocery store. But a funny thing happens. My car takes me home. I had every intention of going to the store and am confused about how I got home. So, ok, still healing. I really want my brain back, I miss it.
The HR department from work calls and thinks that my therapist can fill out the form and CIGNA will be satisfied with that. If I can make that happen by Tuesday before payroll closes then maybe I can get a paycheck. I immediately call Leslie and of course she can. Forms are left in mailboxes and I go home and add to tomorrow's list to call and check things with Leslie, CIGNA, and HR. Look at me. Taking care of business.
I might never be "cured." Leslie thinks I might be dealing with some sort of anxiety for the rest of my life. I have to pay special attention to stressors, learn to recognize the signals my body is sending my brain, and try and deflect, redirect, calm, and move forward. I have definite short term memory issues. And these weird basic personality changes. I am learning about the new me.
As my friend Dave says "Keep moving towards the light." I am my fortress. I can be safe anywhere with some practice.
Ken has given quite a list of things to do today. Top on the list is finding out where some missing paperwork is for my FMLA leave. CIGNA requested yet another form from my doctor and as yet have not received it. My work can't request donated leave hours until CIGNA gets that form. So, first on my list is to physically go to the doctors office and wait for the form to be signed, then fax it to CIGNA. No form, no paycheck. Or only 1/2 a paycheck.
At this time CIGNA has denied my short term disability as they feel this is a work related injury. Workers Compensation (or rather the insurance company that processes workers comp for my company) has denied my claim as they don't consider mental stress a work issue. If I had witnessed someone being shot and had PTSD, then it would be covered. But anxiety and panic attacks due to long term stress is not considered to be a work related injury. I can appeal both decisions.
To appeal Workers Comp I have three options.
1. Do it myself.
2. Hire a lawyer.
3. Have a state agency assign me an ombudsman to process the appeal for me.
To appeal the short term disability denial I have to write up a statement, attach a copy of my denial letter from Workers Comp, and get copies of all my records of doctor visits etc (that they already have, but I have to send them again). My case manager said Of course you can appeal! But you won't get anywhere. This is a work related injury. That's how we see it. But, send all that in. Good luck.
So I'm stuck between two insurance companies that won't pay and both say the other should. What a system.
I find out the delay with getting the paperwork from my doctor is she is out of town. Has been for a while and won't be back until next Tuesday. I leave messages for everyone I can think of with CIGNA, HR, and Workers Compensation.
I am oddly calm. I am more upset about this stupid stockinette stitch that is loose and wanky on the baby blanket i'm knitting for my grandson. How's that for some redirection? I am sitting at the tire place, waiting on my car. It is getting rotated and balanced and I am knitting the second thing I've ever knitted in my life. I feel so normal. Hallelujah! I laugh out loud and the little old man sitting next to me grins. He tells me his wife was a knitter and we are off into a wonderful, warm conversation. We are both a little disappointed when the technician tells me my car is ready. I hug my little old man goodbye and next on my list is the grocery store. But a funny thing happens. My car takes me home. I had every intention of going to the store and am confused about how I got home. So, ok, still healing. I really want my brain back, I miss it.
The HR department from work calls and thinks that my therapist can fill out the form and CIGNA will be satisfied with that. If I can make that happen by Tuesday before payroll closes then maybe I can get a paycheck. I immediately call Leslie and of course she can. Forms are left in mailboxes and I go home and add to tomorrow's list to call and check things with Leslie, CIGNA, and HR. Look at me. Taking care of business.
I might never be "cured." Leslie thinks I might be dealing with some sort of anxiety for the rest of my life. I have to pay special attention to stressors, learn to recognize the signals my body is sending my brain, and try and deflect, redirect, calm, and move forward. I have definite short term memory issues. And these weird basic personality changes. I am learning about the new me.
As my friend Dave says "Keep moving towards the light." I am my fortress. I can be safe anywhere with some practice.
Chapter Twenty-Three
This week is dedicated to coming up with strategies to return me to work with minimal chances of another meltdown. Leslie suggests talking to Dr. Thompson about doubling up my meds. Just nuke my brain with happy pills until it figures out no one is actually trying to kill my body. Suppress the fight or flight instincts. I'm concerned about that option on several levels.
1. Evidently I need to be alert and guarded about who I talk to and what I say. Particularly my opinions are not wanted or welcome, plus the rules that apply to me are very different than the rules that apply to my co-workers. I need to not get lulled back into that false team feeling again. It's ok for the rest of the "team" to complain about things or have opinions about decisions, not me. Even one on one meetings with assurances of confidentiality and Please come talk to me when you have concerns, are not to be trusted. Ever. On second thought maybe more happy pills will make it more possible to just not care. I still have no idea about the "communicate more professionally" issue. To this day I've not been given any examples of when I didn't.
2. I am a recovering alcoholic. 24 years sober. Dependence on any chemical bothers me. I know, I know, this isn't drug abuse, not even close. I really do need these meds right now, my natural body chemistry was completely deleted and exhausted. I think that without the meds and Ken's support there would have been some hospital time involved here. But, the impulse to double down on happy pills does need a hard look at necessity vs. convenience. I still have the panic pills as back up if I get into a bind. Right?
3. It is a 40 minute drive. That's a lot of happy to be driving around with. Not really something I want to play with. I would never forgive myself if I hurt someone.
Leslie suggests asking for a transfer. I laughed out loud on that one. That's part of the original issue. I've been begging to get out of that cubicle and back out with people for over five years now. All those hang in theres, we are working on it, wow its just bad timing, we have these envision people we need to work into our group, oh we forgot to put ", or 4 years work experience in related field" in that job description, we will get that fixed. Next time Tamara. Opportunities are going to open up here. All words, no action.
And of course, after this little meltdown, there isn't another manager there who would touch me. So I am going right back into the same situation that melted me down in the first place. Of course I am no longer the same person. I am learning to not care so much. The extrovert in me has been beaten into submission. Work is a place. It is not a family. Work does not care about me. I get money and they get someone to answer the phone.
I am aware of what to look for in myself. All those needs I have to create and nurture will have to be done elsewhere. My time away from work will be dedicated to creativity, health, and self improvement. At work I can turn that part of me off.
I wish quitting were an option. We were already working on downsizing before all this happened. Ken and I are one year into a three year plan. Even at three years it was an aggressive plan, not sure how we can modify it to make it happen faster. Well, besides selling the house. I'd rather save that for plan Z, not plan A.
So, basically I'm left with suck it up. Albeit on happy pills, but suck it up. Continue to eat good foods, exercise, weekly Leslie and Dr. Thompson visits for a while, create beautiful things, and play. I am not ready to give up on my Burning Man plans. We have invested so much of ourselves and have so many people depending on us. At this point Leave Without Pay is my only option. And that certainly won't make anyone at work happy.
Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. My work environment does not define me. I know my truth. I know my value.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Chapter Twenty-Two
I have spent a good amount of time this week identifying feelings associated with my work timeline. This has been an intense week for me emotionally, but essential. I have had some incredible highs in my personal life and these have helped to carry me through. Katelyn's graduation, Jett's birth, Christine's lovely visit. I've spent time looking for and paying attention to the little things that make my life so wonderful. Showers with Ken, the smell of Lillian's hair, the feel of Ken's hands on mine when he hands me my morning coffee, a new blue flower I've never seen before in the pasture. These small moments too have carried me. I delight in my life. I am so blessed to have these gifts.
This week I have to start preparing for a return to my office. Sunday on the way home from East Texas, Ken and I stopped at my office complex. I sat in the car and focused my brain on Ken and on breathing. Do you think you can get out of the car, or is this enough for today? I can get out.
Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Again I send my brain to burning man. This time we are riding our bikes out to the deep playa. The dust is blowing and I have my scarf wrapped around my face. I feel like the Queen of Sheba.
Ken holds my hand and we walk around the main building. I keep my eyes straight ahead and just walk and breathe. Ken doesn't try to have a conversation, just gently holds my hand. We circle the building and arrive back at the car. I think we need to keep walking straight, walk past the building I work in, then across the street and by the annex. Ok, whenever you are ready honey, I am so proud of you. I think how ridiculous it is that Ken has to be proud of me for walking around some buildings. As we walk past my building I realize I am gripping Ken's hand so tightly my hand is numb. I can't seem to relax my grip and I feel dizzy.
Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. We are past it, and cross the street. The dizziness is gone, I can look around. We walk back to the car and get in. Ken keeps his hand on my leg as we drive away. I think I might get sick, but I keep breathing and send my brain back to holding Jett and the smell of his sweet baby body. We make it to the rest area 1/2 way home and I make Ken stop and I run into the bathroom. Are you ok? Can I get you a cold towel? No, I'm fine, I'm fine. I must have eaten something bad. Do you want me to get your husband? I think he's outside, there is a man out there looking worried. No, thank you. I'm fine. I think it's all out now.
Thank God for Juicy Fruit.
The next step is I have to drive myself to Jacksonville, and I need to call a few friends and see about maybe meeting for lunch. Ken is worried about me driving there. Maybe we can just take a drive one evening together with me behind the wheel and see how that goes first. Baby steps, but my return to work date is quickly approaching and I do still have a mortgage. Worker's Compensation has denied my claim and now I have to decide how to proceed. I can appeal the Workers Comp decision and I can appeal the short term disability decision. I have made the appropriate phone calls and am waiting for call backs. I take it as a sign of progress that the Workers Comp denial hasn't sent me into a tailspin. It seems I am beginning to regain my ability to deal. That's good, I will need that skill.
For now, I am the proud parent of a Baylor alumni. I have a new grandson, Jett who is perfect. I get to snuggle with Ken every night and shower with him every morning. And I am learning how to knit. I am blessed.
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