Not Dealing

I’ve had a really rough week and I’m not dealing with it very well, at all.

My sister passed away last February. I reached out to her best friend and sisters-in-law to see if they wanted to get together for dinner. I guess it hit me harder than I thought. The best friend brought her mother ~ someone else I no longer have. The sisters have each other. That was Monday.

One of our beloved cats had been declining since the summer. Turns out she had hyperthyroidism and bladder issues. We attempted treatment, but she declined further. My husband and I took her to the emergency vet to learn that there was something in her bladder ~ either a stone or a tumour and she was in pain. Her behaviours were off ~ indicating some neurological decline as well. We chose to ease her suffering and have her put to sleep. That decision absolutely terrifies me. I hope she can forgive me. I loved her so, for fourteen years. That was Tuesday.

This is my seven-day stretch at work, which is hard on me mentally and physically. Work is stressful this time of year. As only retail can be at Christmas time. Customers are rude and demanding and it’s your fault that they left the shopping to the last minute and cannot find what they are looking for. There are so many of them, it triggers my agoraphobia.

Then I get to walk the flyer. I have to physically locate every item in the flyer and ensure that it’s priced correctly. Christmas flyers are huge. It takes, at minimum, four hours to complete this task. My boss tells me it should take two, and lumps some other unrealistic expectations into my lap, which I cannot complete and thus feel like a failure. This was Wednesday.

I’m also in the midst of a university course. Which requires a good chunk of my time and brainpower. I had a discussion due and two comments to make before Sunday. Discussion posts are due, mid-week to allow other students the chance to read and comment. I was definitely not in the right frame of mind and my post was misconstrued by another classmate. I’m still grieving and miserable. This was Thursday.

Friday was a blur of misery and fake smiles. I was internalizing everything. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth. My lips are irritated from pressing them together for long periods. My back is one solid knot, and my shoulders may as well have been earrings for as high as I was holding them.

Saturday I received a call from my father. Unusual, because we are not close. He left when I was seven and we have both come to terms that he is a horrible father. He was and never will be the person I needed him to be. I have grieved that loss my whole life. He is who he is, and we touch base every now and then. This time, however, he has called to tell me that he’s in the ICU at the hospital for Covid and pneumonia. He’s 75 and this does not bode well. He’s been there for four days – before he decides to tell me. Should the worst happen? I know nothing. I don’t even know the address of his apartment, because I’ve never been there. I don’t know if he has a will. I don’t know the name of his lawyer. I don’t know if this is even something I need to worry about? Maybe, he’s made his sister the executor and I’m to receive nothing if and when the time comes. These are important issues that I may or may not need to know about. Does this make me sound like a bad daughter as well? Maybe. I feel like one. But traffic flows both ways.

Sunday. Day seven of seven at work. I’m still miserable. They are still putting too much on my plate. I’m exhausted. The fake smile comes more slowly. I’m sick of myself and being miserable. I had to work until 9:30pm. Home by 10, and still had to reply to my class discussion. 

Monday. A day off. A chance to sleep in. Nap. Do as little or as much as I want to. I’m still not great. I still burst into tears about the cat. I’m worrying about my Dad; he’s not allowed visitors.. I have the house to myself and haven’t even gotten dressed. Tomorrow will be for errands. Now, I may go smoke cleanse my room and have another nap.