The 12 Days of Kissass

On the first day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

a big pile of agony.

 

On the second day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

two paranoid co-workers

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the third day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the fourth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the fifth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the sixth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the seventh day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the eight day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the ninth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the tenth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

ten copiers a-copying,

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the eleventh day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

eleven beepers beeping,

ten copiers a-copying,

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

On the twelfth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

twelve tattlers tattling,

eleven beepers beeping,

ten copiers a-copying,

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

 

 

 

Featured Image Snowbow from Jenny Downing’s Flickr

The Best Gift for Your Co-Worker

Yesterday, my office had our annual holiday party. Now don’t get too excited, this just means for three hours during the work day (over lunch) you’re allowed to socialize and eat the food you provided. Then when you’re all full of Midwestern goodies you have to go back to work immediately afterwards. I had been waiting eagerly for this day so I could present the Campaign Coordinator her Christmas gift. The concept turned out to be quite timely since she had to miss the holiday party due to her own Horrible Boss.

I hereby present you with the best gift to give your co-worker:

The Horrible Bosses Gift Pack:

Horrible Bosses DVD

Chapstick: For all the ass kissing

Hand Sanitizer: For all the hand holding

Starbucks Gift Card: To stay awake in meetings

Excedrin Migraine: After all the stupid questions

Godiva Truffles:  To eat away the pain

Beer*: To not remember the day

Needless to say she actually had to pop two Excedrin during the day. I patted myself on the back for this thoughtful and creative gift.

*Original Concept was wine, but she doesn’t drink wine so I adapted.

 

I also received an absolutely astounding gift from my dear friend, E. Inspired by my creativity he went all out for my present putting my season 1 of West Wing to shame.

The Breaking Bad Gift Pack

Awesome handmade gift wrap with my elemental initials

Seasons 1 & 2 of Breaking Bad

Bag of Blue (M&Ms)

Spoon, Lighter, and snorter

Prescription bottle of M&Ms

Pill of the Day container of M&Ms

 

I loved it.

 

So what great creative gifts did you give/receive this holiday season?

I Will Not Be Defeated

I’m so tired of crying. So fucking sick of these tears. These mother fucking droplets of salty water that are dripping down my face, cascading down my cheeks and pooling on my lips. I’m so tired. So exhausted and drained and heartbroken. Unable to sleep. I am beaten down. I doubt everything.

No one is in control of your happiness but you; therefore, you have the power to change anything about yourself or your life you want to change.

This holiday weekend has been excellent. Jovial, filled with love and laughter and I finally thought I had a brief respite from all this. Then it happened again this morning. Again. It keeps happening to me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. What possesses another person to treat another human this way? It would never occur to me to so blatantly mistreat another individual, it’s not in my nature. But I feel the sting of it, the poison seeping through me. I can not, I should not, have to go on like this.

Your regrets aren’t what you did, but what you didn’t do.

I’m so angry. So unbelievably livid at the injustice of it all. I am not one to sit back and take it. I can’t stand feeling so trapped so utterly stuck without any chance to leave. I hate that I can’t write this. That I have so many feelings compounding and I can’t fucking share them. This is such unbelievable bullshit.

It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not.”

I want to be strong. I want to be brave. I want to be the kind of person I tell my children to be. The kind of person that stands up to bully. The kind of person that fights. I don’t want to be the kind of mother whose child asks her “why are you always crying mommy?” Do you know how much it breaks my heart that Bear asked me that? Do you have any idea the torture of having to tell your five year old its because you’re too weak to stand up for yourself?

If you don’t go after what you want, you’ll never have it. If you don’t ask, the answer is always no. If you don’t step forward, you’re always in the same place.

I’m brought back to a general confusion at what I did to deserve these things to happen to me. What does my boss gain from torturing me? Does he sleep better at night knowing he hurt me? Does he feel better about himself that he can do this? And when I leave either because they fire me or because I quit what will happen then? Does he think someone will do a better job than me? Because I assure you they will not. Does he think someone institutionally knows the database better than me? Because they do not. Does he think that my co-worker who puts in 50 hour weeks already can add it to her plate? Because I think not. Will the new assistant who’s only four months old take it on? I think not. So what is the end game?

The greatest revenge is to accomplish what others say you cannot do.

I cannot wait for the day I get to leave that place. Because I assure you it will be in a blaze of motherfucking glory.

Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

I have restrained myself from indulging in these posts. I haven’t written not just because I haven’t had time, or energy, but because of the darkness that is there. The darkness that I have spent so many years running away from. My friends from high school are all too familiar with it. They knew me when I was depressed, when suicide wasn’t out of the question but an ever present thought.

Depression isn’t something that really goes away. It’s always within you slowly gaining momentum, the tide rising. The waves subside and you think all is right again. Then it happens, the shift in the weather and you feel the water run from your feet and then pull and pull you in as the wave gains height above you. Then you wait for that crash. For the weight on your shoulders to catapult you down, for the gasps of air as water fills your lungs, then you flail. Then you push and push for the surface or you let go and float. Then it happens over and over again. That’s what depression is. It’s reaching the surface and getting pulled back down.

I don’t want to go to bed. Its 12:14 and I don’t want to go to bed. If I go to bed I will wake up again. It will be another day. I don’t want another day. I don’t want to go to bed and wake up again. I would go to bed if I didn’t have to wake up again.

Too many people have seen me cry. It’s a leaky faucet I can’t fix. I don’t cry. I do not cry. But now, my tears are becoming commonplace. I cried as I drove to Happy Hour today. I cried because I couldn’t hold them in anymore. I pressed my nails in my palms until they bled when I met with the Prof today. I have to have weekly meetings with him now and every other week we have to meet twice a week. If I go to sleep it will be tomorrow, then it will be the next day and I will have to sit in a room with him again and have him tell me how I’m wrong and he’s right. I will have to listen and be convinced that somehow these terrible things that happen to me are deserved and that in fact there is something wrong with me that I don’t see it that way.

I can’t keep doing this. This suffocating. I have worked too hard to taste this life without always wondering when it will be taken away from me. Without wanting it to be taken away. No I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because I will wake up again.

When I wake there will be salt crusted tears on my cheek. I will momentarily forget and then remember again. When I remember I will feel the air be pushed out of my lungs and a hollow foreboding fill my insides. I will either cry or gasp.  The anxiety will twist up my insides until I’m ill. Then I will have to get up. I will brush my teeth, put in my contacts and dress. I will fill my cup with tea and I will leave for the day. Amongst the way I may help little feet get into shoes, or zip up coats, or place mittens on my daughter’s hands that make her moo. Then the little joy I had will be gone. I will go to my prison for the next 10 hours and weep inside. I will laugh and tell jokes and smile with my friends and inside I will splinter and crack. Then I will come home and beg for the numbness begin. Then I will lay in bed with tears streaming down my face and not want to fall asleep. I can’t sleep because then I will wake up again.

Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

 

 

 

 

 

Linked with Heather of the E.O’s Just Write

Humbled

I haven’t been present lately. Not writing, not commenting, not reading. I have spent most days crying. Sometimes so much so that I’ve made myself sick. I’m not ready yet to go into detail about what is happening, but needless to say its work related. 

I am having a horrendous time separating work from home. My family feels the outcome of that. I have to field questions from Bear why his mother is crying all the time. I have to overhear my 4.5 year old son say to his father “I’ve had a tough time” emits sobs. A phrase that hears frequently from his mother. Things that once brought me joy (hosting Thanksgiving for my friends) no longer do. I had to force myself to get out of bed and begin preparations. 

My tears come sporadically uncontrollably often even when I don’t want them to like in front of my mother in law as she picks up my kids to babysit. 

I am humbled because last week I asked on twitter and personally via email to every contact I have. Former colleagues, friends, ex-boyfriends, everyone if they know of a position in the Twin Cities. It no longer matters to me what I do, but for my health and sanity and the well being of myself and my family I have to leave my current job. And so many responded. So many people offerred to help or offerred sympathy. 

After being so beaten down I no longer have faith in myself. To see so many people that I know in various ways offer assistance was beyond humbling. So I ask you now, dear readers, if you would please look in your networks and see if there are any available jobs in the Twin Cities that you know of. My background is in fundraising, IT, customer service and admin. 

Thank you so much.