I’ll be opening this blog post up with a bit of TMI, so if you’re not in the mood for that kinda shit, then keep reading.
TL;DR – This post has been sitting in my drafts for several weeks… I had every intention of posting it only a couple hours after I started writing it until it started turning into a novel. For those who’d like the short and sweet of it, I’ve been promoted at the job I’ve come to love and truly appreciate for the first time in my life. You’re looking at the new front office manager. Er, actually, front office supervisor. I’m basically the manager, only without being salary and whatever other perks come with it. If you’d like to read the rest of my drivel… keep scrolling!
Continue reading “BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY!”
The last two days have not been good for me in a mental capacity. My thoughts, especially, have been like a thicket. I hate brain fog with a passion. There’s so much I want to write about (and it’s a good thing I have a list to put my post ideas on), but when I sit down to smash it out on the keyboard, nothing happens and my ADHD kicks in and all of a sudden I’ve been trawling youtube for 18 hours.
I think Sunday will be a random thoughts kinda day. For those little things that don’t really require a post of their own, ya know? So… I’ll just ramble here for today and get back next week with a spectacularly uninspiring blog post about something inconsequential to wow and amaze my friends. Have I mentioned that this blog is legit trash? Hey, you’re the one who decided I was worth following, so you get to deal with the fallout.
1. I realized I need a meat hammer. I could have cut down my cooking time on the giant chicken boobs from dinner a few nights ago if I had only had a meat hammer. But I’m strangely resistant to using things that normal adults would use. I distinctly remember the times my mom would use her meat hammer and it was loud af. Every time I think of it, I think about how she was such a better adult then than I am now. But mostly, I remember that it was loud.
For those of you who don’t know, hubs and I share a house with his mother and the sound carries very well. Also, we keep weird time since I work third shift. It would have woken her up for sure. If you’re curious about the house set up, the house itself is a cottage type and we live in the very back in an addition that was built on in the early 70s. We pretty much live in a small studio. Back to the meat hammer… guess I’ll pull up my big girl bloomers and put it on my list of shit I need to buy soon. *sigh*
2. Maintaining friendships on social media is tiring af. It’s also, apparently, a one way street. In August last year, I decided I needed to unfollow some people and limit my timeline to a very select few friends and family and videos of cute animals, crafts, recipes and shit. It was a desperate attempt to block out all the negativity I’d been seeing on Facebook for a long time. I even posted on there that I needed to take a break from Facebook but that I could always be contacted via Messenger.
A few weeks ago, I decided to go back through my friend list and re-follow everyone because I was in a good place where I felt I could handle all the talk of politics and every other Debbie Downer conversation that takes place on social media (but shouldn’t). So as I’m scrolling through my list of people, I notice that someone deleted me. And not just on Facebook, but on all of my other platforms as well.
This someone, I had thought, was good enough friends with me, that she’d at least message me to talk it, whatever IT was, out, before just haring off and deleting me. She’s a good online friend of the hubs, has been since before he and I met. He messaged her to find out what happened and she came back with some cockamamie excuse about we hadn’t spoken to each other in a while. *blink blink*
To be quite honest, it fucking hurt my feelings. Hubs told her so and she came back with the lame suggestion of, “Well, I could re-add her?” No. That ship sailed and you’re not allowed back on it. I didn’t realize a friendship of ten years had suddenly required talking to each other on a regular basis and that, my loves, is why maintaining friendships on social media is exhausting.
3. There is no number three that I can think of and I’m now realizing that number two really could have been a post of its own, but… it’s here now and you’ll just have to deal with my longwindedness. Actually, there is a #3… Back to my mental capacity and perpetual brain fog… Poor hubby has had to explain super simple things to me the last couple of days. It bothers tf out of me because I’m usually a really sharp tack. Three separate times he’s tried to talk to me about something and I argued with him about how it didn’t make any sense to me. Wow. Really need this brain fog to gtfo.
So, those are a few of my rambles and rants for now. I know I’ll have a heap more by next Sunday. Hope everyone had a lovely weekend. Pray for me that I make it unscathed to next Sunday, lol.
For those who haven’t picked up on it yet, I work at a hotel as a night auditor. By the time I get to work at 11pm, it’s usually a ghost town and I have the place to myself.
The last hotel I worked at was more of a resort, you may have even heard of it. I’m talking about the Great Wolf Lodge. I did two stints there. If you’re thinking me saying “stints” sounds like jail, then you would be correct and you get a brownie.
That place… It really was hell. I was there for about two years the first time and it was a real eye-opener and a shitty introduction to the hospitality industry. You would think a thousand+ screaming and laughing children would have been the downside but I honestly loved that. The kids were the absolute best part about working for that hellhole.
(Side note: I am SHOCKED that “hellhole” is an actual word in the dictionary, lol.)
My second stint there lasted almost five years until I was wrongfully fired on Thanksgiving of 2015. (More on that in another blog post.) Both times were hell because my coworkers and management, bar a very select few, were terrible individuals. Catty, petty, gossipy. I hated it there but I loved the money I was making and that I had achieved 7 almost solid years at a workplace.
It wasn’t until I started working for the hotel I’m at now that I truly understood that the only good thing to come of my 7 years at the GWL was that I cut my teeth on almost every possible terrible situation that could happen in a hotel.
It prepared me to be able to handle anything that crops up at the new hotel, which is still, frankly, a breath of fresh air to me. For the first couple of months at the new place I was a very tightly wound wire and my boss had to take me aside and explain that they weren’t going to bite my head off and that I could relax. That they understood how shitty the GWL is. I wanted to cry. Seriously…
Almost a year and a half later and I’m still so happy. I love everyone I work with, management has my back in every situation, the hotel is beautifully designed. I have zero complaints. Sort of.
My one complaint shouldn’t be a complaint, but it is. As a night auditor at the GWL, the work required spanned about 5 or so hours over the 8 hour shift. Not to mention it had to contend with the myriad of angry guests, hundreds of room requests, millions of phone calls and various other unpleasant shit that went on in any given night.
As a night auditor for the new hotel, my work is completed in an hour, guests are typically asleep before I come in at 11 and the phone rarely rings, and when it does, it’s usually a guest asking for a wake-up call.
The rest of my time is typically devoted to reading a book or scrolling tumblr or facebook on my phone until about 6 and then I hang out at the front desk to greet guests as they come down in the morning for breakfast or whatever they happen to need.
It gets boring af. And when I get bored, I get bitchy and antsy and anxious and all that downtime that my brain is not engaged in a book, it’s battling with memories from like fifteen years ago when I did something and now I wonder if that person from back then still thinks about what I did and are they still angry and omg, anxiety!!! Stupid brain.
The boredom is the only thing I have to complain about. Usually. Some nights, like last night, was hectic AF. Sold out, certain room types overbooked, had to change guests original booking to smaller rooms, unhappy guests, make them happy within reason.
We’re sold out again tonight and I’m not looking forward to the potential mess that I’ll be traipsing in to. Since I left work this morning I’ve been dreading going in tonight. As of right now it’s about 9:30 at night and I’ve been watching the clock since until I just slapped myself an hour or so ago when I reminded myself that this hotel isn’t the GWL and that I’m grateful AF for the lessons it taught me and that I can more than handle anything that crops up with a grace and dignity that I never had while working for the GWL.
I have it so good. I legit love my job. It literally takes one moment to remember how bad I had it at the last place to remember those two facts and then all is right in my little trashy world.
So… lemme pull on my big girl panties, put on some fucking makeup and give the GWL a middle finger. (Not gonna lie. If we ever have to drive by, I stick both middle fingers out of my window at them. Childish? You fucking bet!)
With all of that in mind, it’s easy to say, “Not today, Satan, not today.”
*Trigger Warning: Talk of Depression, Anxiety and Suicide.*
Woke up a couple hours ago feeling pretty chipper. I’ve learned from a young age to not trust myself when I’m feeling this happy because I usually spiral into a rotten mood and bitter tears.
Ahhh, gotta love depression and bouts of shitty mania.
Pretty sure I’ve been depressed since I was a young child. Can’t really remember though because I’ve blocked a giant portion of my past memories. I tried to see a therapist once, but she looked like she was my age and I just couldn’t handle talking to someone who didn’t seem like she’d understand where I was coming from. I felt like I needed someone much older, who had lived through some shit and lived to tell the tale.
So I passed up on the therapy which led to skipping on the option for medication and spiraled through years of suicidal thoughts until I finally took the plunge and downed twenty prescription sleeping pills and woke up in a pile of vomit. I think I was fifteen when that happened. I remember crawling to the toilet and then waking up later that day in bed. I know someone found the evidence of what had happened and yet nothing was ever said about it. Ever. No trip to the hospital, nothing.
I thank God every day that I survived.
I really didn’t mean to tumble down into this pit of darkness and despair. I mean, realistically, this blog can’t be all sunshine and kittens. Even as I’m typing this, it feels like this happened to someone else and I know I’ve dissociated hard from the girl who’s been through so much that she felt the need to kill herself. I know it isn’t healthy to ignore it all. And yet I do.
I am a veritable pro at ignoring things that make me uncomfortable and unhappy. Into the NOPE box it goes to never again see the light of day.
In the last year, in my effort to maintain my self-care, I went through Facebook and unfollowed (and some unfriended) nearly every one of my 90 friends and family until I was left with a timeline of cute animal videos, recipes and the posts of maybe five people. I just did not want to see anything negative at a time when I was feeling incredibly vulnerable.
Self-Care can be dangerous. Because I’d went through and blocked everyone’s posts, it’s helped me lose touch with my friends and family. And because I work third shift and sleep during the day, it’s been made worse in that I’m losing touch with the outside world.
I think all the time that I’m getting cabin fever and make plans and then when it creeps up to actually going out for said plans… I break out in a cold sweat and my anxiety soars and I eventually cancel going anywhere. The thought of being around anyone besides my hubs just makes me tremble and want to cry.
My anxiety has gotten so bad that I’m finally ready to throw in the towel and get some help. I don’t know if I’m ready to rehash every terrible thing that has happened in my life but I think I’m more than ready for the sweet relief of depression medication.