Bad days really are bad
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - If I park my car anywhere other than in the first row of either side of the GMH parking lot, my day is screwed (I have thought about this - out of all my experiences, I estimate that at least 85% of the time, this theory is correct). That's why I go to work more than an hour early - to find a good parking spot, to get my routine of prep work done. It's my habit now for almost 4 years. If my day doesn't go according to this routine, I consider my day to be already doomed - even before it has begun.
So today was an awful day. My drive going into work wasn't smooth - too much damn traffic. I didn't get the kind of bento I like from Tokyo Mart before getting to work because they ran out. At work, I could only find a spot in the third row after hunting for more than 5 minutes. My work assignment was different than in the past 4 days - I worked a different set of rooms with a whole new set of patients. I experienced an embarrassing situation in front of two shifts worth of coworkers (at the change of shift time), which I will not go into because since then I've not been able to rid the replays from my mind, thus for the rest of my shift my mind was pre-occupied with re-living said situation OVER and OVER and OVER (and because of this I was so fucking livid).
I was miserable. I kept worrying about that embarrassing situation so much that I was so irritable. I almost felt bipolar - having to keep an upbeat attitude for my patients, but when out of their sight, being so utterly irate. I was not able to control my emotions - I wasn't very social with my coworkers. I wasn't terribly busy with my patients, but I didn't offer to help my other coworkers do things. BUT, at least if they asked me to help, I didn't turn them down. I didn't jump for joy to help, but I HELPED.
And when I helped for the third time tonight, it was as if GOD was toying with me - "Oh it's your third good deed of help tonight - how about I make bodily fluids and unknown substances soil your pants?" Which is what happened - and being the end of the shift I didn't care to get a change of scrubs anymore, I resigned to the fact that SHIT already has been happening all day today, so what's a little more SHIT gonna hurt?
There were still some other little things bothering me still at the end of the shift, but I don't want to recount those. I left work in a rage. Drove home like a mad-man. First thing I did when I got home - popped two XANAX. It's starting to kick in now, so I'm at least a little more calm.
It's sad - I need medication in order to pacify myself. I'm hopeless. Condition: squalid.
This wonderful little pic found on another blogger site called Mostly Simple
So today was an awful day. My drive going into work wasn't smooth - too much damn traffic. I didn't get the kind of bento I like from Tokyo Mart before getting to work because they ran out. At work, I could only find a spot in the third row after hunting for more than 5 minutes. My work assignment was different than in the past 4 days - I worked a different set of rooms with a whole new set of patients. I experienced an embarrassing situation in front of two shifts worth of coworkers (at the change of shift time), which I will not go into because since then I've not been able to rid the replays from my mind, thus for the rest of my shift my mind was pre-occupied with re-living said situation OVER and OVER and OVER (and because of this I was so fucking livid).
I was miserable. I kept worrying about that embarrassing situation so much that I was so irritable. I almost felt bipolar - having to keep an upbeat attitude for my patients, but when out of their sight, being so utterly irate. I was not able to control my emotions - I wasn't very social with my coworkers. I wasn't terribly busy with my patients, but I didn't offer to help my other coworkers do things. BUT, at least if they asked me to help, I didn't turn them down. I didn't jump for joy to help, but I HELPED.
And when I helped for the third time tonight, it was as if GOD was toying with me - "Oh it's your third good deed of help tonight - how about I make bodily fluids and unknown substances soil your pants?" Which is what happened - and being the end of the shift I didn't care to get a change of scrubs anymore, I resigned to the fact that SHIT already has been happening all day today, so what's a little more SHIT gonna hurt?
There were still some other little things bothering me still at the end of the shift, but I don't want to recount those. I left work in a rage. Drove home like a mad-man. First thing I did when I got home - popped two XANAX. It's starting to kick in now, so I'm at least a little more calm.
It's sad - I need medication in order to pacify myself. I'm hopeless. Condition: squalid.
This wonderful little pic found on another blogger site called Mostly Simple
