After twenty-one straight days of hell, a moment to breathe. It has felt like one very, very long week, as I've been working seven day weeks at two different jobs, one of which had me work about eighty hours last week (including two twenty hour days!). Let's rehash: I moved house, got a stomach virus, broke up with my boyfriend, (who promptly took another girl out and f#@!!*ed her), I quit my job, started a new job, took the old job back (sort of), quit the new job again, agreed to give both places two weeks notice, came down with intense insomnia, total loss of appetite, worked 21 straight days, all culminating in one 80-hour work week and a very dizzy Lizzy.
So, yeah. Here's a little more of a window into the work side of things, which reached a crescendo on Friday with our annual gala. The entire staff of the nonprofit where I've been working essentially flaked out on me the two weeks before the one major yearly fundraiser (even as I'd told them I needed to not be working there so much). The most support I got was on the day of the event, when a staff member showed up for an hour, and then left on an errand, never to return...Yes, I was the only staff member, showing up at 6:30 am for work, and working until 1 or 2 in the morning again, no breaks. Towards the end I was so wired on adrenaline that I felt tingly almost all the time, as though I'd had too much coffee, except there was no time for coffee. My voice got deep and sexy out of fatigue. I lost a few pounds due to reduced appetite and insomnia. My eyes got that sultry sunken-in look. Va-va-va-voom.
The emotional shit really didn't help either. I was totally crushed to the point of being totally numb. You read my last post. I totally felt all of that stuff! It was bad. But being so busy and super-stressed was almost a relief from my incessant feelings of sorrow, self-loathing, disgust, grief, and rage. I occasionally felt that overwhelming nauseous grief I talked about in the last post, but I hardly let myself feel that. No time to feel! I let my voicemail box fill up. I didn't check my email. There is a mountain of laundry in my room and sour milk in the fridge, along with several other unidentifiable tupperware containers of....?
My roommate came home on Saturday night after the last loooong day to a delirious me, who burst into hysterics because we had no medium-sized plates* in the cabinet...oh my.
But today was sunny. I slept through the night with some help from ole medication, and I woke up and felt hungry, and ate, and read the Sunday Times (yeah it's Tuesday--at least it ain't Saturday!). I went to a graveyard with a good friend to cheer up. We took pictures of notable graves, including a Mr. "Ghost," a family of wishful-thinking "Guests," and a Mr. "Splatt." Oops. The "Heck" family. Oh, heck. Mr. "Gentile." Not to mention the whole "Rott" clan. And then my favorite grave in Pittsburgh, which I'll post sometime later this week. :)
Theeen I broke out in severe hives, and started sneezing and snorting and guffachoospelching because I brushed up against this shrub that apparently I was allergic to. Ho-hum no biggie.
The long/short of it is: the sun shines again. I can let it shine in now. And I am already a stronger, wiser being. Just a little bit. I can feel it. So--thanks to those who helped me, tra-la to those who didn't. I'm just going to take a little time for little me, give thanks where thanks is due, and move on in the world. Buy pre-made goodies from Trader Joe's. The works.