Work and party

Work and party

Today was my first day back at work. Luckily, it was at the PACU and not the ED. The ED would probably have been way too hard.

I was so apprehensive this morning, I took a xanax before I left for work. It helped buffer me from people talking to me, people looking at me, people expecting things of me. I felt slow and still borderline weepy, but I think it was better than it could have been.

When it wore off, however, I started feeling everything way too much. I felt irritable – not in a crabby kind of way, but in a can’t-handle-any-stimulus kind of way. I had the other half of my pill in my bag, just in case, but I did not take it. I made myself feel stuff. And by the end of the day, I felt a little more comfortable at work. Not like I am at home certainly, but I knew what to expect and my ‘safe’ bubble got a little bigger.

It was exhausting. Just the mental and emotional effort it took to ‘act normal’ took so much out of me. And when I came home, I was met by a dozen happy people wearing mustaches. We had a Mustache Birthday for Koby so everyone was there, including Michela’s mom. It was loud and happy and busy. I wanted nothing more than to lie down, but it wasn’t too bad. Ryan and Bill made dinner, we had ice cream cake, and the mustaches were a lot of fun.

When everyone left, I cleaned the kitchen, ran out to the store real quick, and put Decky to bed. This is the first quiet time I’ve had all day. Although I could fall asleep right now with no problem, I will stay up a little while just to be by myself.

Tomorrow I don’t work. There is nothing on the calendar. I will apply a second coat of burnt orange paint to the upstairs walls, and maybe attempt to paint the two-story stairway. I will stay in my jammies all morning and watch the morning news shows. I will clean. I’ll stay busy. I will be safe in the shelter of my cozy house, recovering and gearing up for my Friday shift at the PACU.

I want to go back a few weeks to my happy life with Dad in it, but I can’t. The world keeps moving forward, and it pulls me with it. But I can keep Dad in me, bring him along, think about him. Some day it might not hurt so much.

He would have loved the Mustache Party.

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