As an introverted sort, I prefer minimal interactions with others. It's not them, it's me. Days with lots and lots and lots of people in them drain me. I feel as if I am submerged in a swift-running stream, and the fast water won't allow me even the chance to stick my head above water to catch a breath. Lately the swift-running stream has become the Mississippi River. They call that river the Mighty Mississippi, but it is also called the Muddy Mississippi; the imaginary mud of that river flowing over me seems to obscure the banks. I can see no end in sight, and I feel drowned. I sometimes even forget that I can swim, and there's something vaguely claustrophobic about being underwater. It's panic upon panic upon stress, and it's not pretty, no matter what those Type A people tell you.
have no choice but to meet people, to sit in classrooms, to call
parents on the phone. It's my job as a school psychologist, and
normally I don't mind that; I love working with the kids. Except that lately all I seem to do is push around
mountains of paper and hold seemingly endless meetings that almost never
solve any issues. I hate that. I like problem-solving, not problem-talking.
Since I also wear the hat(more of a
beanie, actually. With a jaunty propeller.) of a systems administrator, I have
to be available to provide support for people when they have questions. When I get a phone call, someone screaming that they "can't" log in, and demanding that I drop every single thing that I am doing to immediately take care of them, I just have to grit my teeth and try to visualize my inner peace as best I can. And when the reason that they "can't" log in is because they are trying to log in to a completely different program, I must simply smile. If they are logging in using their password instead of their username, I can smirk a little, but only if I am very careful. Yes, I am so stressed out that I find minor bliss in getting to smirk.
when I wake up in the morning and find myself thinking of a reason to
call in sick, I know that I am overstretched. I need a day off. But I
can't take that day off, however, because there is no work fairy alive who would
willingly attempt to do my job, and I would never subject my coworkers
to the torture of having to do my job for me. That would be unethical,
and they would toilet paper my cubicle or glue all my testing manuals
together. And I know that it's only work, and that this too, shall pass. It's just that the Muddy Mississippi is pulling me down, and I've forgotten how to swim. So I need to focus on the happy things that happen, like my son's smile, and let go of the work when it is time to go home. It is just harder on some days than others, and today is a 'bleah' day.