I hardly blogged at all last summer, and recently I ran across one of the very few journal entries I wrote during that time, so as Blog Penance, I thought I'd share. The scene: 2 1/2 months into working at VZW, almost 2 months into pregnancy, and (apparently) pretty freaking miserable. Luckily, I've managed to block most of it out. But geeeeez. The entry smacks of melodrama, and (almost) makes me want to laugh, but on the other hand, it really was kind of awful at the time. Anywho...
June 20, 2005 - Monday
One day shy of 8 weeks. Puking status: on the verge but not quite legitmate. Spent M - F last week throwing up every day. So-called medicine for nausea doesn't stay down. B6-laced vitamins give temporary energy boost, Wednesday, Thursday, then Friday feels like a Monday again. This weekend's discovered quasi-cure: sitting outside in the recliner stadium chair for a mo. Deep breaths, perfect temperature, windchimes in breeze. Remember hard what it feels like to be "summer." Lawn mowers and fresh tomatoes from the garden. Bare feet and herb gardens. It works for a little while.
Personality feel like acid. I've become a "sulker," a ball of negative vibes. Think about work timeline: in the grand scheme, there's not much longer to go [I planned on working until around December and getting the fug out]. Six months, plus a little. Four or so more weeks until Trimester 2 [and supposedly the end of morning sickness, but it wasn't, at least not right away]. Your baby is healthy, be grateful. The girl next to you at work is experiencing pre-term labor at just over 6 months, with contractions 22 minutes apart. If they fall under 20, she'll have to leave for the doctor. She has 3 kinds of cancer and rolls Chinese chimes in her hand.
We're not allowed to ask [our supervisors] questions anymore, like it matters, since I'll still be wrong. We look to each other, fudge our way through the phone calls. Even when I'm surly, I'm pretty sure I sound pleasant. I feel the sarcasm pushing through: "Thank you for calling Verizon Wireless," and I mean that. [Heh.] I'm guilty because I don't keep up enough with emails anymore. I need to remember to breathe. I read Harry Potter book 3, then 2, then 1 until book 6 comes out on July 15th. It makes me happy, there's one thing. [Good lord.] A real distraction. TV doesn't do it [well there you go--clearly this was dire straits], nor do the good things. The house. We have to start packing.
Our office appeared on the 6 o'clock news like a nightmare: there was the the third floor, home of Customer Service. I thought about my old job and wonder how I could pay the bills if I went back. It was the only reason I left. I make what I want for dinner, big bowls of pasta, and can only eat falf. I worry my friends won't love me because I'm distracted [oh geez]. Whatever happened to me? Promise not to lose your personality, not long-term... [Blah blah blah.] I'm playing the Morning Sickness Card. [Blah blah.] I'm wrapping my head around the guppy baby and pondering crib patterns and nursery paints.
I'm having a circular conversation with a man on the phone, it's half an hour long and we've each repeated our sentences 15 times - is this the 4th or 5th circle of hell and how do you tell the difference?
And then I [blah] and [wah] a little more. Whew!
And all right, by the end it does make me laugh. Have I mentioned how much I hated that job?
Happy Tuesday.
2 comments:
i remember those times. but not this blog. and hey we're suppose to be melodramatic- don't you think the very nature of melodrama is defined when you're either "buying" it or you're simply not. it's bad when you think, that's not real, that's just a put on- and it's good when you know, sympathize and identify with the main character. what makes us decide that we no longer believe what we write... discuss.
That journal entry really does seem to reflect the mood of those times. Those evil, bitter times. But hey-- at least there were no wax strips to be cut...
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