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2003-02-12
3:35 p.m.
Today has been one of those days where it probably would’ve been a better idea to stay at home in bed. This isn’t an uncommon feeling for me to experience, I guess, but it’s definitely been a worse than average day in the overall scheme of things.
Of course, it can always be worse.
I woke up this morning with a pounding headache that I immediately attributed to the lack of sleep caused by the late class last night. It also could’ve had something to do with getting out of bed too quickly for fear that I’d sleep through my alarm for the second day in a row and end up two days behind on my workout schedule. Those head rushes have been getting more intense and more persistent, and I’m convinced that it has something to do with the medication, although it’s not bad enough that I’d want to change any of the medications.
It’s just a temporary blindness and searing pain.
In any case, the headache this morning was so bad that I thought to myself, “I should call in sick today.” That thought rarely occurs in my mind with any seriousness because my sick days are generally absolutely necessary for the more life-threatening lapses into illness. But I felt so lousy this morning that the thought occurred, and I swiftly brushed it away with the admonishment that it’s a busy time of year at the office and I’m not allowed any sick days right now. By the time I got into work, the headache had only gotten worse, despite the fact that I’d stopped at Starbucks to treat myself to a chocolate pecan scone and a caramel macchiato.
Starbucks is supposed to make me feel better.
During my relatively slow morning of relaxing with my Starbucks while trying desperately to make the headache go away, I got an e-mail from a lady to whom I’d faxed an important document the other day. She had a question that I couldn’t answer, so I had to wait for the boss to come back from a meeting. Well, when the boss returned from her meeting, I asked her the question, and she quite literally threw her pen across my desk and said, “Oh god, you didn’t.”
Quite confused by this outburst, I waited anxiously for an explanation.
It turns out that I had faxed a very important, very sensitive document to a whole bunch of people, only SOME of whom were actually supposed to receive it. My boss totally flipped out and a look of complete terror at the thought of my error and total frustration with me flashed across her face, along with the obvious attempt to suppress any sign of anger.
I’m not good in these situations.
She looked like she wanted to yell at me, but the last time she did that, I ended up crying hysterically and having a panic attack in the bathroom before coming to talk to her about how I couldn’t work in an environment like that. So, she just looked aggravated and told me she’d think about what to do about it, then she fled to the sanctity of her office.
It doesn’t matter that she didn’t really quite yell at me. It doesn’t matter that she was only frustrated with the situation and not with me. What matters is the fact that, when I realize I’ve screwed up (whether or not it was my fault), the only thing that happens is a tumult of self-flagellation and condemnation. I can’t STAND screwing up, and I blame myself for being stupid, even if it wasn’t really stupidity that caused this fatal error. And then, every screw-up I’ve ever screwed up comes back to haunt me, and my brain starts to swirl: “I can’t do anything right. I’ll never be able to do anything right. I try so fucking hard, and I just can’t get anything right. Why do I fucking bother? Why don’t I kill myself now?”
And it just goes on and on.
Shortly thereafter, I had to run an errand. Luckily, this gave me a fabulous excuse to go out into the freezing cold and walk through the snow for a little while so I could clear my head a bit. I had a nice little walk, I stopped off on a brief personal errand, and I returned to the office. As soon as I returned, my boss came into my cube and told me she’d talked to the Dean to see what should be done about this matter, and I was told to call all the people who were erroneously sent this all-important fax to explain to them the mix-up and apologize for the inconvenience.
You can imagine how much I felt like doing that.
Luckily, most of the people were very understanding. It really wasn’t all that big a deal, I guess, but it practically tore me apart. I felt like I was on the verge of tears for the rest of the morning, and my headache only continued to get worse. I had to talk to our supplies person to get her to buy more headache medication because I’d pretty much exhausted the supply, and after far too many painkillers, I started to feel really sick to my stomach and I thought I was going to puke.
So it’s been a lovely day -- really, really lovely.
I’d probably scare myself if I ran down the list of drugs I took today, so I don’t think I’ll do that. I believe I’m finally starting to calm down a bit, and I don’t feel quite so horrifically bad anymore. The fact that I didn’t cry and didn’t puke makes me feel slightly better about the control I have over my anxiety these days. But it’s still hard to live with those uncontrollable urges to blame myself for being completely worthless.
