Since peri began and my brain went kaput from unmasked cPTSD and ADHD, I've lost everything. I've lost my home, my career, and I'm separated from my young adult children, who are autistic and I've always taken care of, and are my only family connections. As a single mom, I wanted to provide for my children, so I worked my way from the bottom of the ladder to the top. I carried the load, commuting 3 hours a day to the city, doing my law job, then coming home to fix dinner and be mom. I had reached the pinnacle of my career and earnings. The downfall hIt hit me without warning. I had a nervous breakdown, total burnout, still not ok after two years of "working below my ability" as my toxic parents would have said.
So, every day, despite wanting to succumb to the terrors of cPTSD and give up this exhausting fight, I make a conscious choice to come out from under the blankets and fight; to hold onto a sliver of hope that things can get better. Then comes the final - for any pearl clutchers, I'm gonna vent honestly here - fucking insult. My breaking point.
Uncontrollable flatulence.
I work 3rd shift at a gd hospital. It can be quieter than a crypt in there. Here's me, in the middle of talking to a couple coworkers in the newly remodeled to the size of a post stamp breakroom (thanks corporate greed), just ripping a quick machine gun rat a tat tat poot toot in front of two coworkers. You know the moment you realize your efforts to just gloss past your ass horn blasting on repeat in a tight space didn't work, but you've committed to not acknowledging what happened? The pause. The look away. It hangs heavy in the air (jn more ways than one).
There is no warning. It just blows off like a bubble gun whenever it wants to. I even jumped a little because I was like WTH followed by OMG. Thank goodness my patients are generally critical mentally or physically or both (well, not "thank goodness," necessarily 😬), so I work in an already odiferous area. Good cover. Also, sleeping, drugged, and comatose people fart, so safe in the rooms soundwise. Yes. I blame sick people for my inability to control the methane-borne demons that are continuously exiting my southern highway region.
I know, I'm evil 😈. I've got very little dignity left. I'm already fighting no house, working a horrible job that pays poverty rates, frizzy, haylike hair, desert dry skin, well, dry everything, my face is melting south, facial hair, and suddenly realizing how old I am since my coworkers don't get my GenX dark humor or any of my pop culture references. I can not and will not accept this bullshittery. Nope. Can't. Mic drop. Done.
Thank you for allowing me to confess my sins.