seventhe: (Quistis/Rydia: Yeah I Ship It)

so i've talked here a lot about fibromyalgia, and stress, and energy and chronic fatigue, and the concept of overcharging on a credit card and then having to pay the balance and interest later; it's an analogy that feels pretty close to the experience, just another way to phrase the spoon theory. I've been managing this on a microscale for the last couple years: spend all my energy at work, push off the crash until i get home, have no energy to do anything; repeat. well, it turns out this happens on the macroscale as well, as i found out last week when i finally had the first part of the breakdown i've been holding off for four years running.

i took two days off of work to manage it - yeah, i haven't even been here a month and i'm taking vacation, but they know about my health problems and are v understanding - and it was ... just ... weird

it's very overwhelming when all the bullshit you've been suppressing for four years straight decides to come due and crash down on you all at once. and it isn't over -- you can't recover from four years in ten days, you just can't.

but that's where i am, and that's what is happening, and my partner and i had an incredibly pleasant lazy weekend and he also cleaned my entire kitchen (as in, exiled me to the couch to relax while he cleaned it, which did lead to a massive meltdown on my part, but worked eventually when i fell asleep on the couch) and we went to the farmer's market and bought delicious fresh local food and veggies and fruits, so i have good motivation to eat well and take care of myself this week.

i'm very wary of what else might be behind the (cracking, breaking) dam, waiting to flood me out, but ... if i could handle those four years, i can handle whatever backlash they're gonna dish out

seventhe: (Ondore: he lies)

So over my brief microsabbatical I decided on a list of things I want to get done by the end of the year: thus, New Year's Resolutions, in reverse, ie my resolution is to have this done before the new year. See? Get it? It's like I'm clever instead of backwards and wrong!

  1. Get Healthy [metric: exercise 3+/wk; lose 10+ lb]
    Content note / Note this: being healthy and losing weight are not always the same thing! Health has a unique meaning to every individual body!
    That being said: for me getting healthy and knocking off weight go hand-in-hand at this point in time. From May-September I ate poorly, rested poorly, drank too much, drowned in stress, and had no time or motivation to work out at all. That plus medication changes has resulted in what is, for my body, unhealthy poundage.
    I miss swimming. I miss yoga. I don't miss running, fuck running, but I miss being able to run I guess? I miss punching my bag. I want to have Korra arms. And I have, quite reasonably, 10-20 lb I could lose before being even close to "danger". (Trust me, I'm a Taurus; we don't diet.)
    This is something I can make happen by 01 Jan 2016.

  2. Inhabitable basement [metric: obvious]
    Right now the basement is storage, which is part of what basements are for, but mine opens up to my patio (and grill, and fire chimney) and has a nice little area by the windows where friends could sit and drink wine and grill things. I've two drum sets in my basement and my keyboard, all of which I have been missing desperately. (I miss music! I dream about pianos.) My workout area is functional, but not at all welcoming. My laundry area could use some sprucing.
    Much of the storage is related to the above, which means I just need to sort it and work through it. A good part, however, is my grandmother's stuff. She finally passed away in August (I am not sure I even mentioned it here; I was too broken by it to do so) and I do not mind storing her things forever but need to go through them and decide which way makes sense.
    This is, also, quite doable by 2016, and having those areas back in my life will please me immensely.

  3. Shame room --> Craft room [metric: obvious]
    I want to turn my spare bedroom into a crafting room, to house sewing / knitting / beading / anything else I may start doing. Right now it's a shameful repository of clothes-to-be-donated and a few boxes from moving (not original boxes - these were empty boxes that were repacked with "shit i do not want to deal with rn" and hidden).

  4. Plan for the greatroom [metric: having an estimate / loan]
    I have plans in my head to redo my entire greatroom, which started with my neverending desire to replace the horribly stained carpet in there and grew into a really, really epic floor plan. I need to get it from my head onto the page, then find a contractor who can give me estimates on time / cost to make it happen. Why not? Houses are investments, and my cafe-bar thing will be incredible.

  5. Work-Life Balance [metric: ???]
    I need to prove to myself that I can, in fact, work the kind of job that pushes all of my success buttons without killing myself. The next 3 months will be busy, as always, but not deadly, so it's time to fucking do it. I still don't know how to make a metric for this; maybe I can use success on the other Resolution points, because they won't happen if I continue to use my energy on work.

  6. Mental Peace [metric: ???]
    I went back through some journal entries and I've been in a massive depression funk since early 2014. That's too long. It has started to severely affect my health and my job. I need to attack this. I realize depressions don't "go away" but I haven't tried anything really and I at least deserve an effort.

  7. Write Again [metric: get some word count] No real comments. I just miss writing.

I stopped there, since there are really only 3 months left in the year, and they will contain not only the major hols of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, but also the birth of my newest niece or nephew, so I'm well aware that this is a lot to do in that time frame. (Obviously they won't need to be complete, but I work better with deadlines, even self-imposed ones. Better to not let myself cheat.)

There. Public posting makes it real, right?

seventhe: (chocobo: hey bb)
I come home from work every day with the intention of working more. I realize this sounds dangerously pathetic or pathetically dangerous - choose one! - but it's the way I get myself out the door: go home, just bring this one thing, NOT EVERYTHING, just this one thing; working from home is much more comfortable and productive than being in the office anyway, you can have no pants on and cats get in your lap and there is always wine and music and more comfortable chairs and your wife the hot pad! don't you love your wife? DON'T YOU LOVE YOUR WIFE SEVENTHE DON'T YOU

it's a fine compromise that I am actually more than willing to make: the workload never stops, but it's much nicer working from home, PLUS it's much nicer to come home and be able to focus and do a much better job on something. it's nice to come home to an hour of catching up on email, or 45 minutes of pulling data into a report: I don't work all night; it's just small individual tasks I can get done in a low-key and helpful way.

But lately. BUT LATELY: lately, I come home and my brain just won't focus on the work. I have this report about all of the kerfuddlefuckery that has taken my plant down for four weeks already that the CEO asked me to write and I am all yes sir please let me hand-deliver this horrible news to your office, shall I seal it in my blood now or later like I actually do want to write this report and show what we are doing, what we are fixing, what we are facing - what the dumb godsbefucked people before me left to us, what I have sacrificed the last fucking six weeks to defeating which is like running a thousand goddamn marathons all at once on three hours of shitty sleep because I have been up at night worrying about my plant and my people because everything is goddamn fucked right now and -- and anyway, I want to write this report. But I get home and I open it and my brain gives this long-ass, horrible groan-sigh noise just like : reeeeeeeally, Sev, we are going to do this?

I am not going that way. No.


I'm trying, I want to, I'm in a comfy chair with the laptop on my lap right now. Come on, fucker. I just need an hour of your energy and we'll be ok.
seventhe: (Cats: I LIKE THEM)
So I've been reading about stress management, and one of the things I've seen recommended a couple times is to keep a journal. I assume it's along the same lines as let it alllll out kind of thing, which often causes more problems for me than it solves -- much like the whole "talk to someone" thing; it doesn't work for me because while talking to someone about an issue may make me feel slightly better about that one issue, that gain is utterly and completely negated by the hassle involved in telling someone about my shit: background on the situation, background on me, background on my brain, what's bothering me, why it's bothering me, what I don't want to hear, what I meant because the first explanation of something is guaranteed to be shit; plus the neverending hassle of that person then, continually, and without fail, asking me, "so how is [issue]?" at a future date, which frustrates me so much that it literally undoes any small good I may have gained from the conversation in the first place: I don't talk to people because it doesn't help me, and that isn't because I think I'm some special snowflake and no one will understand my problems; it's because it quite literally on paper does not help me.

But! Despite the derail! Keeping a journal is supposed to be helpful, and luckily I already have a journal of sorts I use for this kind of thing, so here we go. I will probably be slow with replying to comments, because it's occasionally difficult to keep up with them via mobile, but please officially note that I read them and appreciate them.

SO today sucked. I could start off every day like that: Dear Diary, Today sucked nasty fermented goat balls. Gundam Wing was good today.

At one of the management trainings I was at recently, we went over some of those "life tips" they give you in classes like that. I've decided to give a trial run to one of them: do three things every day. It appealed to me: three things is enough that you're making progress, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed. Just pick three things and do them. I figured I would start with work: Three things every day. On busy days I can pick three easy ones; on days I have no meetings I can try for one longer one. But three things a day, of my own, off of my own to-do list. Should be manageable, right?

I can hear you laughing. Shut up.

Today I came in and the first thing I did was pick three things: Finish slides for a training I have to give Thursday; print out training sheets for about 5 outstanding MOCs; compile a brief incident review on the last month that I also have to give Thursday. None of these are quite extensive.

I worked on my slides for approximately 7 minutes throughout the course of the day.

I started alright, but of course I've been out of the office for a while, so once I'm back everyone has to come in: how was the baby (cute), how was babysitting (exhausting), how was the weekend (fuck off), let me tell you this thing I did (fuck off), this happened last week (kindly fuck off), I did this thing (unkindly fuck off), did you get my email about (fuck right off with a british accent), I left you a note but (go fuck a rhino) -- you get the picture.

Had a meeting at 9:00am. Blew the entire rest of the day. Something exploded in the middle of the meeting, when E just exploded at Golem and the whole thing devolved into this weird yelling-and-cussing bit where they both snapped at each other (using stronger language than I've ever heard from E in all my days there) and then E calmly told Golem to fuck off, stood up, and walked out.

Because E is my Starbucks-and-texting friend, and because Golem is my eidolon team friend, and because this project directly affects my department, not their shit, so if something gets fucked I get directly fucked, I then spent the rest of the morning attempting to fix this shit. I took E into an abandoned conference room, let her rant, listened to what she was saying, and made sure I was picking it up right. That of course got invaded by L and L's boss, which threatened to devolve into a general wank-n-whine about this stupid godforsaken software system at which point I said nope nope noooope this ain't my problem, kindly fuck off and left to talk to Golem, who I got calmed down right in time for my 10:30 meeting on Running Chemicals In The Pilot Plant That We Aren't Electrically Classified To Run: An Exercise In Horribly Stressful Operation, By Me (Introduction written by Fuck Previous Management In This Plant And Their Complete Lack Of Oversight And Shits To Give).

Ran out for Starbucks and a Wendy's salad at 12 with E. Spent more time resolving the fight after lunch, in addition to having to deal with the fact that one of our monomer feeds is having a grand old time self-polymerizing and plugging up everything it finds up to and including an entire process area (joy; cue trumpets), and went right into the meeting I was running from 2-2:30 on the results of the alarm management workshop I did when I was in Midgar -- meeting #3 of a 4-part series -- which just infuriated me because no one understands the goddamn ANSI atandard, like, not that nobody understands the language, nobody understands why we want to align ourselves with an industry standard????????????? and they all keep insisting that the old system will be able to handle it, which is like telling someone that Internet Explorer 5.0 will be able to do your web browsing for you.

So that whole meeting got me riled up and went way over - despite the presence of my boss Bahamut, who claimed he was only trying to help - and fed right into the 3:30 meeting which was on a project for improving finishing that I desperately want and have been begging for but at that point had like 0.27 fucks left to deal with.

4:30. Out of meeting. Caught twice on my way down the hall. Sit down. Write up the follow-up minutes/record from the 10:30 meeting and send them out. Write up follow-up notes from the conversations I've had regarding the 9:00am shitshow and send that out. 5:45pm. I can finally start my workday.

5:48pm one of my second shift operators shows up in my office. I had asked for him to come down, because I'm promoting two of them this year (because fuck they deserve it), so I gave him the papers and congratulated him and we chatted a bit about the year and everything and then it's 6:20pm so I decide I am just going to go home

--and Golem catches me with a question as I'm passing his office, the conversation devolves into work shit we actually have to take care of, and suddenly it's 7:15pm.

My normal work hours are 8:00am-4:30, 4:45-5:00 if I have a long lunch.

I was home and changed and making dinner by 8:00pm. Watched one episode of RPDR, drank a glass of wine, and that's it.

This is how days go in this job though. Out of the 3 things I wanted to accomplish today? Ha. And that doesn't even consider 3 things at home, as well. This is an average day in my job.

I'm so tired. I'm so, so, so tired.

[EDIT] THE WORST PART OF ALL OF THIS is that I look back and there's this sick satisfied part of me that knows I was super effective today and that I, personally, just being me, made shit better by dealing with this bullshit today, and so there's like this load of angry exhaustion and then this tiny little shit candle of fuck yeah and that, my friends, is what keeps me from walking out the door and never coming back
seventhe: (Burger King: In the butt!)
Since I use this as a medical journal / history sometimes, I figured I would drop this in: yesterday my neck locked up again.

I realized that it hasn't done that - the thing where it actually locks and I can't move my head more than a few degrees on any plane of rotation, in addition to the stabbing pain - for almost a year, I think, so maybe those cortisone shots actually did something. However, no peace lasts forever.

I had to take the day off - which sounds more exciting than it really is, since I couldn't really do much (since I can't move) and I've now got a pile of things that need doing here - but today at least I can move, so I'm back at work.
seventhe: (Cats: I LIKE THEM)
You may have noticed I seem to have vanished off of the map. This is because my new job is absolutely batshit fucking crazy. I think I've only posted like three times in all of July?, and I send far fewer text- and email- based daily communications than I used to (it's funny how long my phone battery lasts when I am not using it!), and this is because my new job is absolutely batshit fucking crazy.

There are days my employees catch me before I have even entered the building; I swear to god they're timing their smoke breaks since they know I pull in at 7:55am every morning, because they flag me down walking from my car to the door with whatever the day's update is. There are days I don't log into my own computer until 10; there are days I don't start my own actual work day until 4-5pm when everything else has calmed down. There have been evenings I am there until 6, 6:30 pm; there are nights I bring work home (tonight being one of them). There have been absolutely zero days where I leave at 4:45pm like I am supposed to. I use my mobile so much for work the company has started subsidizing it.

Did I mention things are absolutely batshit fucking crazy?

I have no time for anything anymore. I'm basically now working the same 10-hr days I was working beforehand, with added bonus 8+ days on Fridays. Becky is joking that I didn't actually get a raise, I'm now just being paid for epic overtime; it's actually truer than it should be.

It's a common joke among the management team (who I think I shall nickname after summons, because it pleases me to think of us all as a team of eidolons), because on those days where shit has been flying off the fan at intense and disastrous rates and we don't sit down at our own desks actually alone until 4:30pm it's actually nice to stay until 6:00pm because we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow but it's quiet now and we can focus. Ditto on Fridays; Fridays have become a blessing, the one day a week I know I will be minimally interrupted and can make a reasonable attempt to churn through all of the work I meant to do during the week and was pulled away from: 40 hours in one 8hr day, that's doable, right. Siren (the manager focused more on products and projects) and I mourn the loss of our ability to tell everyone to fuck off (Siren is also new to her position) and complain about the intense upkeep we need to do to stay targeted on our underperformers; Golem (the manager focused more on mechanical aspects) and I are already planning late-night office pizza parties as we are forced into a software update we weren't consulted on and weren't a part of but are still expected to launch into our maintenance program by some ridiculously unwieldy date like September. I am lucky to be surrounded by amazing people who understand and desperately want me to succeed (although in Golem's case I think that is mainly so that he can stop working on Saturdays); I adore them immensely, even as we all joke about using and abusing each other. (I, as Operations, am the cross-sectional point where Siren's research & development & troubleshooting projects intersect with Golem's preventative maintenance & plant improvement work; this makes my life difficult but also means that they both have to be nice to me, ha.)

I am overwhelmingly, bizzarely, incomprehensibly in love with this job.

This is what I was made for. I have already, after a month-and-change: dealt with a problem underperforming employee in a way that promises to either make progress or GTFO after basically 20 years of experience and 5+ years of not seeming able to do the job; sent nastygram after nastygram until the two worst communicators in the plant specifically come to me to let me know what they are doing before anyone else even knows; solved scheduling mishaps; yelled at the EPA; called our safety director's work stupid and dumb in the same meeting (although that was inadvertant and accidental), to her face (which I realize is tactless; here's the fucks I give, because incompetence is the match that lights this stubborn Taurean fire); defended my own employees against attacks and slander and bullshit they shouldn't have to put up with from other people and been specifically thanked for doing so; learnt how to buy things within our online file management system and promptly spent $300 on hard hats to play with; improved the attitude of a supervisor who has been a negative vendetta-hound for 8+ years; redone the old lab where I used to sit into what will be usable office cubicles (although I can't take full credit for that one); made my boss say the phrase "you are right, he/she/that is fucking clueless" half a dozen times; made my boss either grin maniacally or put his head down when I walk into his office; made my boss regret his decision to hire me probably four hundred times; made people actually run from me; made changes, made improvements, made an impact. I've revamped systems and redone OPSs and made demands of our alarm management system that no one has made until now. I've let out my inner asshole, my inner control freak, my inner perfectionist: they're all running around rampant making decisions and giving orders and frightening bystanders everywhere. I'm not sorry; I was not hired into this position to be good and play along.

I am absolutely loving it which is good because right now this is my only life, my highest priority, the shit I eat and breathe.

It will not last forever. I will not last forever in this: canceling PT because I have to stay until 6 because there's work due tomorrow, not scheduling doctor appointments because I don't have the time, not working on my thesis because fuck more work; this level of intensity will eventually fade as all of the plant becomes used to this position's existence and my presence. I will burn out, the initial activation energy will be met, the workload will become manageable even if I have to light half of it on fire. It's not forever.

But right now all things Sev are absolutely batshit fucking crazy, so please forgive me if I take a while to reply to an email or respond to a comment or do anything I have told you I would do because I am running on fumes and adrenaline and caffeine and stubbornness at the mo.



HOW ARE YOU ALL
seventhe: trowasfacewhen.com (Trowa: OH NO)
  • I am still in love with my sleeping pills. I've discovered through some trial and error that trazodone has a very narrow window of sleeping -- so my usual "get in bed and read/play games/whatever for 45 minutes" method does not work. Once I take that pill I've got 5-10 mins tops and if I get caught up and read through that drowsy couple minutes, I'm back to my usual looonnnnn-n-ngg-g-ggg ass falling-asleep time. Trazodone is apparently a picky mistress. I forgive it its quirks because it is so good to me.

  • I have solved my shorts dilemma - a shorts dilemma I may not have mentioned here; I hate shorts. Absolutely despise them. All ladies shorts I've tried - and I have tried quite a few - just don't fit right, don't look right on my body, make me feel many levels of uncomfortable: it isn't just an issue of how I look and feel while wearing them, uncomfortable in the sense ofoh god I look ridiculous, most are actually legitimately uncomfortable -- like help I cannot bend over, also when I sit down my thighs bulge at angles I didn't think skin could do and my ass sticks to what I am sitting on and also did I mention I cannot really move at all and I feel sweaty and sticky?. The problem is mainly that shorts are tight, and my thighs are ungracefully still built as if I'm running half marathons - even if that muscle has been replaced with pudding - and no matter what length the shorts feel like they are as tight as saran wrap and my legs look like sausages. I swear to god I have tried every style out there in the stores and I just went to wearing maxi skirts made out of the kind of fabric that feels like you're just wearing pajama bottoms even though you look ~fancy~.

    --- BUT THEN I FOUND THE ANSWER, and it is: DUDE SHORTS. They are comfortable as legitimate fuck, exactly the feel and convenience I was wanting, and since my "sense of style" is already kind of like "hobo bum that can't match things" anyway, they go with everything I have. I am legit so happy about these shorts I am blogging about them. Don't make fun. THEY ARE SO COMFORTABLE. I AM SO HAPPY. Today I was actually a normal temperature in the summer because I wasn't wearing jeans. HOW DID I NOT FIND THIS SOONER.

  • I have a lot to say about the new job but it would take up so much time. I have been there late 2/4 nights this week. I had to take Friday off because I was just so fucking behind on everything that I needed a day to lie in bed and then do four loads of laundry. (This is not a joke.) On Wednesday we had a massive storm front move through that flooded out a giant portion of the tank farm - complete with tornado warnings! We evacuated! - this is seriously the kind of thing that makes old hands at the job stress and die, and I had been there all of ten fucking days.

    I am exhausted. But I freaking love the job so far. It is -- it is a breath of fresh air to be actually doing things that will help people, even if they are so far the small things - "low hanging fruit" - and I'm probably going to feel underwater for the next three months before I get the hang of it all. I love the job; and I hate that I love it, because it is very tiring and all-encompassing. I get emails at 1am -- and sometimes I answer them when I get up to pee. But so far this was the right decision. I will not say a GOOD decision because I am so tired and burnt out on people I had to take a vacation day to wash my unmentionables -- but it was the right decision.

  • I'm now out of energy on this entry. Whoops. More later, then.
seventhe: (Rosa/Rydia: duality)
  • Apparently my new sleeping pills work so well that this week I've managed to pull my flat sheet out of the bed/mattress entirely; it sort of flops out from under my blanket and comforter (neither of which I need in Ohio's quest to become Louisiana) like a sad detached piece of fabric, drooping towards the floor and doing me absolutely no good at all. I am not complaining; I am not sure I have ever slept this well in my life. Is this how everyone sleeps? I am so envious - and so happy to be getting there via drug :D

  • My first three days in the new job have been... incredible. I mean that in a good way and a bad way. Each day has actually been packed with the feeling of being productive: being useful, being effective, being efficient; I'm already making small changes and contributing to things in a way I think we've needed for a very long time. I love that part. That being said: I've already got two HR issues - one being one of my guys; one being someone not technically under me but as it relates to something I need to sign off on, it's also mine - and I've spent the past three days literally not having more than 15 mins uninterrupted at my desk (in my new! office!!!!!!) between phone calls and visitors and meetings, oh god the meetings, and shit I have to take care of and deal with and uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.
    I get the feeling that this job will be much more exhausting and much more fulfilling than my old job. Thank the lord I have sleeping pills. I cannot imagine taking this shit on with insomnia.

  • I went to PT today and then went for a 30min run/walk at the gym. Spoiler alert: That is too much activity when your body ain't used to doing anything. My neck and back hurt from PT; my legs hurt from running and I am tired as hell. (my body is crying, druuuuuuuuuuuuuug me) I am so fucking goddamn out of shape. :( I love the fact that I can get in the pool and swim for 30 mins and get out of the pool raring for more, saying to myself, "You shouldn't overdo it, ~1300 yards in 30mins is a good workout, don't break yourself further, take it easy" -- and I cannot run more than, like, 5 mins without needing a walking break. I now run like an 80-year-old woman. Hello, I would like to return this body and upgrade to a newer model, please.

  • Have I mentioned I love my night pills? I love my night pills.

  • In the last ~month I have been both home and home on time less than 50% of the days: it's more like 33%. I am so sick of people. Next weekend I may lock myself in the basement and not come out.

  • Happy 4th of July, American yos. Enjoy some awesome fucking fireworks.
seventhe: (Ashe: Good to be queen)
If I had a dollar for every post I thought about starting out saying "I'm not dead (yet)", I wouldn't have to work anymore.

I really don't know what else I have to say other than a ripping chain of profanity so long it would make string theory look pedestrian and quaint.

I'm tired. I'm on a new drug (anxiety drug scribed for insomnia - cross your fingers) and I have a new doctor (rheumatologist), increasing my army of medical specialists to a whopping 5. I hate Midgar and its humid soggy heat. I start my new job on Monday. I don't get a "break" for three weeks. My car needs an oil change, I need a haircut, my lawn needs mowed. My life needs a live-in secretary/google/organizer. I am not going to finish FFVI this month, although I am actually trying my damndest to get close.

I am. so tired.

I think I need a vacation
seventhe: (Ondore: he lies)
This has been a particularly busy and interesting day. I had one simple checkup this morning but it blossomed into an all-day medical ~extravaganza~ ( /rupaul voice) that I'm simultaneously hopeful about, exhausted from, and dreading the slew of medical bills.

Today I had a checkup and discussion with my pain doctor, went to get a slew of x-rays on my lumbar spine and sacroiliac joint, went to my general doctor, got a major new prescription, and am having like a dozen blood tests done tomorrow. Anything worth doing is worth overdoing. When I do something I do it thoroughly. I hope today results in some answers.

cut for medical talk )
seventhe: (FFEX: In the shadows)
  • Had my last surgical injection on Thursday. Turns out that it's pretty easy to forget that just because these things aren't hella invasive does not mean they aren't a big deal; I spent Friday attempting to do a bunch of physical-labor-type stuff around the house and was reminded that my system is still full of anesthetic aftermath at about ~3:00 when I seriously just... burnt out, like my body crapped out, like literally just stopped functioning, like someone had repeatedly punched me in the everything and left me for dead. Whooooooops. Lost a lot of the weekend recovering from that too; turns out overproductivity results in less productivity when your body sucks like mine does!

  • greeted with a 3-hour 3-meeting back-to-back boredom extravaganza this morning at work (boredom being relative; two of the three meetings were informative and the third gave me a platform to complain loudly about stuff so it wasn't really a waste of time; just not the way I like starting off my Mondays)

  • tired

  • Finishing up FFIV for [community profile] moogle_university; have been reminded why this game is special to me. It isn't that it's the "best" of the FFs or the best game I've ever played; it's just the correct combination of [nostalgia points] + [characters and plot points highly relevant to my interests] and will probably always be my favorite, which just proves that I have horrible taste in life.

  • HAS ANYONE / EVERYONE STARTED THEIR DOINK FIC/ART/WORK??? Every year I swear I'm going to blog more about the exchange and then every year I'm like, I'm just too tired. I have so many thoughts and they are all living in giant apartment complexes on the corner of "You can't talk about that in public Sev" and "no1currr" and so I look at that and go back to my fic and monitoring of our inbox and sigh, heavily.

  • I'm finally living in my own room...? I have my new carpet and the paint job is done and it's set up in a way that makes me feel happy and comfortable, and ... I like it? I've felt and been transient for years and I'm not sure I have words for how comfortable and safe I feel finally putting down roots in a place that is mine, that I own, where I am the one who gets to have final say on everything, where I have my own space and my own dominion and all things I've needed for years but haven't prioritized, where I can do whatever the hell I want. Including paint my study leaffire-orange and yellow, because I am dumb. Not having to answer to anyone is apparently the space where I am the most comfortable with myself; it is also a completely appropriate adult goal. don't question me.

  • where am I

  • oh yeah lunch
seventhe: (Life: stress out and die)
I am moved.

I am exhausted.

--this is a post that was supposed to go up yesterday but I had "one of those days" at work yesterday where people come down from Research to do things and I have to assist / chaperone (I am the highest-paid babysitter in the world some days) meaning I was on my feet manual labor from 7am-3pm minus lunch, which meant basically nothing else got done. I was so tired yesterday I had that grey ring of fuzz around my vision. Cool.

I am operating entirely out of my phone too because although I know where the computer is amidst the 31209487 boxes in my house, my dad packed up all my cords separately and neatly... somewhere in the third dimension apparently. Hopefully I will find them before it is August. This is a very helpful thing when you are running an exchange! >.>

I already love the house and being in the house. Even though my bedroom isn't ready and I won't have actually "moved in" to my own fucking room until this Sunday... I'm not entirely surprised to find that a partial but major source of all of the awful anxiety and depression I've been fighting lately is the should-be-familiar feeling of upcoming change, of not having an actual home, loss of foundation and safe place. Now that I've got that back, even though it's a fucking disaster world that doesn't look at all like "my place" and I'm not even in my own bed, I already feel more stable.

My everything hurts. Literally. The disc in my neck is sending spasming pain down my right shoulderblade; my lower back pinched nerve is sending electric shocks down my right ass cheek into my right hamstring like a glorified final boss. I have eleven bruises on my left leg, my knees hurt (???), I've gotten more headaches in the past three days than in the past entire year... I am apparently too fragile to move. good thing I will never do it again

I-- I swear I had more things to say but well this is what you get


edit: REPLYING TO COMMENTS VIA EMAIL IS FUCKING BOSS AS FUCK. DREAMWIDTH WINS

interim

Mar. 25th, 2013 07:53 am
seventhe: (Ondore: he lies)
It's that weird overlap time where you are moving and you know you are moving, but you haven't yet; the place you're in now becomes less home by default, just a feeling, but there's nothing yet to take its place. For a Taurus like me - grounded by the places I feel safe - this is a very strange and uncomfortable feeling.

I'm working on making the place feel like my home in my head though, so that once I get there, I will feel settled. Took the cats and had a sleepover party on Friday (Marzy had an absolute blast; Porter was pretty terrified and spent the first ~15min hiding under the laundry tub, but eventually warmed up to it. Rydia, showing once again that she truly is my familiar, somehow felt out which room was the master bedroom and spent most of her time lounging under my window); spent all yesterday afternoon putting up a first coat of paint in Becky's room. Going to spend time this week taking vacation from work to paint the other bedrooms, tear up the master BD carpet, fix a leaky sink etc.

I'm calling it the Feymarch. Although it also goes by Castle Gaylord (which is actually a more fitting name when you realize what an absolute dork I am for interior decorating. My dining room is going to be straight out of fucking Rivendell, you may all defriend me immediately.), but the Feymarch is fitting for a place that feels like it's out in the middle of nowhere.

Hard to believe I'm going to be living there in less than a month. When in the absolute fuck am I going to pack?

My moods are still, honestly, all over the goddamn place. I'm excited about it, but then I reach a point where I'm preemptively overwhelmed and just don't want to think about it - and then I start bouncing off all the other angles: I want credit for doing something this awesome all by myself; I don't want anybody else knowing or talking or helping because this is mine; I want to have a million parties; I want to be there alone forever. I swear my depression-brain is a manic depressive these days. I could deal with it when it was straightforward depression brain. I seriously don't know how to operate with manic depressive headbees.

But it's mine. If you're an address person and you'd like my new address, fire me an email -- I'd love to get some cute moving-in mail. :D
seventhe: (Rosa: pray)
  • in 10 days I get the keys to my house. I am sort of in disbelief-land still.

  • talked to the dr about my neck on Thursday. Turns out the news is better than I'd thought; the dr said that any kind of improvement is a good sign (I had been evaluating a 50%-75% improvement as "not 100% and therefore failure"; he said that 50%-75% is actually very promising), that he wants me to have a series of three shots with additional focused PT following the second shot, that whatever activity I can give it without pain will be good for it, and that he also wants me to stay on the painkillers until it is 100%.
    So the forward plan right now becomes using gentle exercise to remind my neck/shoulders/back what it's like to not be all fucked up, then to have another shot ~end of March/early Apr and a third ~end of Apr. He seems really hopeful that since it did respond to the first shot that subsequent ones will be even better. I'm trying to take hope from his optimism.

  • I'm very happy to have been "cleared" to get back to working out, and am trying really hard to take it slow and gentle rather than just diving right in (and probably hurting myself again because my body is a jackass). I've been feeling very broken and lumpy lately - a very complex and complicated feeling, but generally not a good one - and I think this will help.

  • meetings this week with the Japanese Overlords. I have my project review this morning; at the advice of a few of the managers I've added a slide pretty boldly and blatantly requesting the targets and direction we still lack in two main areas; I am not sure how this will go over. send help

  • I've been playing FFIII. For now - until I make an official post - you can watch me here on tumblr. Basically this game:

    Yup.

  • I still really want to write.

  • DOINK! Final Fantasy Exchange 2013 is coming up. That's right, stay tuned for your yearly dose of "Sev has officially lost it". Timing this round: impeccable; sign-ups open the day I get the keys. clearly I am a professional

  • what else do I even do anymore?

seventhe: (SAZH)
A quick update while I've got a few seconds'-worth of a breather here at lunch.

(edit) QUICK UPDATE ACTUAL LOL i have managed to turn "quick lunch update" into gigantic emotional tl;dr diatribe god I am the best/worst blogger in the history of the internet

general
I've been excessively shitty lately. My workload - not just job but life, because apparently the amount of general bullshittery around me increases directly proportional to my stress load due to specific work bullshittery - has been godawful. I actually started typing out a list of the many things I'm trying to handle right now but deleted it because a) it was depressing me and b) it sounded like I'm playing Stress And Workload I Am The Busiest Ever Olympics which isn't ever really what I want to sound like. Suffice to say I was up to item 12 before I stopped, and that hadn't even covered work; if you'd like to play Olympics with me I guarantee I will win, which actually means I lose, I think.

additional rambles that got long )
seventhe: (Rydia: power)
I've been awake since 2:30am.

It's really seriously disconcerting to walk into work having been awake for >4 hours prior. It feels very strange, like I'm coming in on a day off, even though it's my usual schedule. I imagine it will feel even stranger this afternoon.

The thing about insomnia for me isn't that it happens - I've more or less come to terms with the fact that I'm shit at sleep and I've figured out ways to deal with it, like sleeping in on weekends and taking naps whenever I can. I don't like it, but I can deal with it - I can manage. I can make my life work around that.

The thing about insomnia that I really hate is how it strikes at exactly the time in your life that you really need your sleep the most.

I'm exhausted - physically, emotionally, interpersonally - and I'm being pulled in 20 different directions right now. I'm going to the plant next week, which I can't avoid; I'm training my minion, who will be worse than useless to me until he is trained; I'm coordinating a million other things that won't move without my attention; I've got a lot on my mind outside of work (I'm waiting for the phone call today to know whether or not I am going to talk about it); my back/neck/shoulders herniated disc old friend is killing me. What I need most right now is sleep. Which, of course, means this is the perfect time for insomnia to hit.

My poor stupid body.

Sooooo I guess I'll mainline some coffee and try to hit today running. After 3 hours of lying in bed staring and reading and trying not to think.


(on an unrelated side note: I've decided to call this minion Rubicante, because [livejournal.com profile] salarta suggested my professional goal should be to become Lady Golbez. I like this plan. I thought about naming him Scarmiglione since he's the first one, but he's a permanent hire, and I hope he'll be a little more effective than Milon was. Thus, Rubicante. If/When I get a co-op, that one can be Scarmiglione.)
seventhe: (SAZH)
Yesterday I had an appointment for an evaluation at a Pain Management Clinic. This is the third doctor I've seen for the problem in my neck/back/shoulders: the first being my GP, who is the one that sent me for the X-Rays and MRI (and PT) and found the herniated disc; the second being the neurologist I went to see about the bulging/herniated disc and the MRI results, who was a super asshole that I actually flipped a proverbial table at and cussed out for being dismissive and spending too much time playing up his jokey mannerisms and not enough time listening to me; the third is this Pain Management Clinic specialist to which Doc #2 referred me to be evaluated for cortisone shots in my spine. (For the record, I will not be going back to Doc #2. I will eat nails first.) Keep in mind that there have been 2-3 week waiting periods to even get an appointment at these specialist places; my MRI was in October. The pain started in June. Just yesterday I actually spoke to a doctor who has an actual plan to help me.

Doc #3 was pretty great. He was a little slow - the whole clinic was - but it was the methodical, I'm-actually-thinking slow, which is okay when you're a doctor. But he listened to me, and actually evaluated me there (making me move around, looking at where the pain was, feeling around for trigger points) instead of just reading the notes from the nurse and the previous doctors. And we have a plan.

So, what Doc #3 told me was that basically, after listening to my descriptions/symptoms and feeling my actual neck/back/shoulders, he isn't sure if my muscles are jacked because my spine is fucked, or my spine is jacked because the muscles around it are fucked. He's taking me very seriously in terms of wanting significant pain relief: I'm scheduled for a cortisone epidural (steroid shots into my actual spine places) at the end of February. But since A) there's a long wait time for the epidurals anyway; B) shooting shit into one's spine is a fairly significant procedure; and C) there's a chance the muscles are the cause, not the disc; he suggested that we try something less invasive in the meantime to see whether it provides any level of relief. I have to say, I like this logic: I love a doctor who is cautious and tries the less dangerous stuff first, while I simultaneously love that he hasn't taken the more drastic option off the books (other doctors have done so, and I'm like no, dude, give me the big shit, I fucking need it). It's a good progression plan in my opinion.

So next week Tuesday morning I'm going in to have a steroid concoction injected into the trigger points in my muscles. At best, this will calm the inflamed muscles, relieving the stress on my spine and (maybe after multiple treatments, admittedly) solving the problem entirely. At worst, it will provide temporary relief until the end of February when I get the epidural injections.

I'm also on a sweet new cocktail of epic maintenance drugs to help me make it through the days on as little pain as possible:
- Super Advils (800mg; I have 90 of them) for general off-the-top relief
- a less-drowsy opiate for during the day that I can take at work, hopefully allowing me to not have stabbing pain while at my desk and on the job
- Vicodin to take at night, to help me actually sleep (Vicodin is at the top of the very short list of "things that actually help relieve this pain"), at a higher dosage than I had before
- a new muscle relaxer to take at night; previous ones didn't work well on me, but last night I was seriously in bed by 9:30pm so maybe there's hope for this one

I realize this is my first day on the new cocktail and it might just be a coincidental "good day" at random, but I do have to say the overall level of pain has already decreased. I don't feel like I'm being stabbed in the neck with a red-hot knitting needle at the moment, for once.

So I will get injections next Tuesday and then work with that and the new drug cocktail for ~2 weeks, at which point I go in for a check-up/eval with the doctor again to report back. From there we can do another round of the muscle injections, up/change the drugs, and/or reevaluate the need for the spinal injections. Thankfully, that checkup is before my next trip to the plant, so hopefully I'll be able to have some kind of relief before going back down to work those physically demanding 14-hour shifts.

I'm... I've been hopeful so many times and things haven't worked out. So this time I'm trying to be reasonably hopeful -- this is all new stuff we're trying, and so far I think the plan is good and the drugs are (as a VERY early judgment) working well.

We'll see.
seventhe: (Rydia: reversed)
Lots of people have already posted up their "2012 in Review" and "2013 Resolutions" posts yet. Look, I am 7 days late! It is because I'm awesome. Or, it is because I am busy. Either way, I'm going to do mine now. Seven days into January seems a fine time for someone named Seventhe P. Dragomire to post up some summary lists of memories and goals.

2012 was the year when… )

and 2013 will be the year… )Resolutions are hard. And interesting; it's easy to throw out a bunch of things at the beginning of a new calendar year and let that changing number signify a lot of changes, but I still maintain these things could be done whenever somebody feels like they're important. I also feel like doing them in large swathes can be hard: small changes are also good. So I've picked a couple things to try for January. We'll see how I do.

Overall my goal for 2013 is to have more fun. I have a pretty fun life in general, but I also work really hard for it -- I just want to keep on keeping on and be more happy. :D
seventhe: (FFEX: In the shadows)
I don't know what it is about being alone that makes me want to clean -- not just clean, I guess, but organize: re-organize, re-do. Unfuck. I really don't know why this mood can't hit me more often, and what it is about somebody else in the house that just mental-blocks me from having the motivation to go through the year's bills and sort them -- which is what I'm doing, with assistance from the world's floofiest and "most unloved" cat -- but there's something there. Who knows! I've got Ellie Goulding on and I'm sorting through things in my room and on my desk and feeling awesomely productive. My goal is to have my desk totally revamped and my computer set up by the time Becky gets back. We'll see.

solitude... and no plans... makes a Sev very happy.

The snap, crackle, and pop is brought to you by my lungs: that's the noise they're making every time I breathe in and breathe out. It's quite foul. And scary. Enough people have told me that I look/sound horrible and that I'm going to end up in the hospital soon that... I think I'm deluding myself as to how sick I actually am, just because other parts of me feel "okay".

I'm spending this entire weekend inside, and will be spending much of it in bed or otherwise resting -- today's spurt of activity surely won't last, and I really, really, really want to be over this by Monday.

So I'm spending a weekend alone in my apartment, being productive and resting in equal measure.

This is awesome. Yay introvert's happiness level.
seventhe: (Rydia: calls the monsters)
Turns out I've got a herniated disc in my neck. My C5-C6 has been janked out of alignment with the rest of my spine. Because it's herniated/bulged, it's pinching the nerves around it, which accounts for the pain radiating out of the spot (into my neck/back/shoulders).

I'm oddly--- relieved? about the whole thing. It's not that a herniated C5-C6 is great - it's not - especially when you're 30 and arthritic it's really not - but it's an actual diagnosis. Based on data, rather than "I think it's this" or "from the way you describe the pain, this" (who knows if I'm saying the right things?). Based on data. I'm a research engineer to the core.

I actually don't have a lot more information than that. I've been referred to a neurosurgeon who will take a look at the MRI and give me some more detail (my GP basically said the neuro could give me far more understanding of what was going on than he could) (also, of course, there's some kind of weirdness in the MRI (can anything about me ever be normal please), because the report said "herniated disc versus a bulged disc", which will need to be clarified with a neurosurgeon specifically). After that I'll have more details and the beginnings of a path forward.

Also I fucking passed out in the doctor's office because I don't know why. This has already kind of been an emotionally stressful week (month) (year) due to some assorted 'other stuff' and maybe I'm just more worked up about my body than I realized? Or just general stress/relief/shock...? I don't even fucking know. I felt totally fine. Then I was standing at the check out station waiting for my referral and I started to feel all flushed and skitty, started to feel that awful head rush coming on like I do when I black out (this has, unfortunately, happened enough that I'm 'used to it' and can recognize the signs); so I said to the nurse, I need to sit down like right now and she gave me her chair and I sort of made my way into it (had blacked out at this point but fumbled my way over there with some help) and apparently just passed out in her chair? Came up a couple [moments?] later, and of course when you KO in the doctor's office, holy shit. They took me over to another room to lie down and I had a blood sugar test and an EKG and a bunch of other shit and they gave me a lollipop and eventually pronounced I was fine (I kept saying, this happens enough that I'm pretty sure I'm okay, and the looks the nurses gave me like, uh, what? were awful and hilarious).

I don't even fucking know; I took the rest of the day off too and sulked in bed and accidentally a 2 hour nap with Marzy to ward off the splitting headaches I usually get when I pass out.

I. D. E. F. K.

So yeah, that's that. It's really gross right now in my head -- usually I do a ton of research on medical stuff (when I am on a prescription I always look it up in detail, even if it's a fucking antibiotic) but I can't even bring myself to read a lot of the stuff about herniated discs because I'm just like, ew, oh god that's in my neck. I swear I feel it more - like, it hurts more - now that I know what it is, which is great. Vicodin already doesn't really work; just what I need, more body weirdness. I'm so fucking depressed I'm at the point where it's easy to pretend I'm not depressed because I don't have any feelings right now, I'm a big blank empty sack, so it's pretty easy to fill it up with fake "I'm okay"s. askdja;lsdk;alskd;alsk;;;;;;;;;

So we'll go from there. The doctor said I don't have to limit any of my activity - he basically said, "The damage is already done; activity is up to your discretion; if it doesn't hurt, and you feel okay, you can do it" - so maybe I can just move forward here.

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 07:32 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags