Burnout

Washed, and over several days, dried, the sheepskins. Eleanor has missed them.

Rain. Freezing rain. Wintry mix. Mostly rain.

Dealing with foot pain, again. The shoes and assorted insoles that resolved this a while back, wore out. So I got new shoes that seemed wonderful. But over time, they weren't supportive in the right way, and gritting my teeth through relentless hours on my feet at work leaves me back at square one. Back down the snake into hell. As it were. Working on solutions.



Finding the burn-out is deeper than I thought. Still struggling to feel well, regain any energy. It seeps back, but painfully slowly. I really did leave this too long. A sense of self destruction haunts my peripheral vision like a demon. I still weep too easily. I head out to do errands, and cut it short midway.

Only working two days this week, due to the Monday holiday. That will be a recurring theme, any Monday holiday will be an extra short week for me, unless I volunteer to cover another day. I'm ok with this. I need this. I must recharge.

There are scanners for certain implants, a hand held device that reads bar codes and QR codes to specify what has gone into a patient. Last month, several of these were not working. They would only charge for a few seconds then fail. The IT guy had to replace the batteries, and they charged and are back to working properly. I wonder if he will replace my rechargeable battery...

Enjoying the competence porn of Bernadette Banner, costume historian and seamstress. I've always wondered what a corset would feel like, but I can't abide tight clothes, so I'd probably hate one. I'd love to try on, and occasionally wear, historical costume. I think this is the real reason I ever wanted to act. Yes, I could probably get into cosplay, but sewing is hard on my neck as well.

Coming around, but like Zeppo's trust, it's a painfully slow process.

And...

Yes, I hear you. I’ve been in the same place and it was SO HARD to pull back from the “good” parent who could somehow never see what was going on or protect me … but still demanded that I listen to his endless complaints about how badly HE was being treated etc. … and then so hard again when other family members who “never noticed” and were “so sorry” could just not respect that I was not going to spend time with someone who abused me. I think that people who participate in these kinds of family systems for any length of time need to take on the faulty logic of the abuser in order to rationalize their participation. It can definitely make you feel like the crazy one.

I bet you’re the nicest person in your whole family.

And

The logic of people who enable abuse to be directed at kids when they’re well aware of how their partner is treating *them* is…acrobatic, to put it mildly.

CaptainAwkward