The past two and a half months have been quite the struggle for me. I went from doing a job that I'm very practiced and very good at to filling in for one of our schedulers who went on maternity leave... and it's been so much harder than I expected.
For weeks I haven't told anyone but Britt how fucking awful this has been, because I worry about things getting back to my co-workers. My blog's not private, anyone can read it. Who knows who reads what I write, when I manage to write anything at all?
I haven't let myself cry until now, since I didn't want to give in, didn't want to admit how overwhelmed, imbalanced and exhausted I am.
I feel like I've fallen down a dark, deep hole. And not the good kind of dark.
For me, the darkness is usually a place of comfort. Like dark, rich earth I can bury myself in and feel safe. This kind of darkness I'm in now feels more like a huge, open, black space where I've got nothing to orient myself by. No stars, no fireflies, no deep-reaching tree roots, nothing. Just a vast void of cold blackness.
I feel nauseous at the thought of going home from work because I know that when I come back in the morning there will be a huge pile of email, vacation requests, open shift requests, time card issues, whatever that need to be dealt with. And once I'm done with those, a few hours have gone by and I'm still playing catch-up, quite unsuccessfully.
I've finally reached the point where I've realized that I'm most probably not going to catch up on everything before my co-worker comes back on the 30th.
I am, however, counting down the days until she gets back. I now feel fairly certain that while I possess the level of organization, mental agility and creativity necessary to staff the hospital, I do not have the level of organization required to schedule it a month or more in advance.
I am accepting this. Slowly. I am now almost okay with the fact that I suck at scheduling. It's okay. I'm allowed to not be good at things. Or to even be really bad at them sometimes.
I have managed to mostly keep the Childbirth center, Emergency Department and 4 South afloat in my co-worker's absence, and this is really what matters. Everything didn't go to hell in a hand basket (although sometimes I felt like we were verging on catastrophe), and when she comes back on the 30th I will have things, more or less, in some semblance of order.
It won't be perfect, and she'll probably cringe a lot, but I have done my level best to do this job well despite getting no training.
So as I wrote what I just did, I realize that it's the first time I've paused to think about the fact that all things considered, I'm doing okay. Not fabulous, but not completely horrible either, even though that's mostly how I've been feeling.
I've been trying to reclaim tiny bits of my life at home, but the threat of work hanging over my head has made this difficult. However, I've been cooking dinner again and actually hauled out my acrylic pastels and made an art journal page the other night.
I also spent a few hours spinning with my drop spindle on Saturday night. There are few things in this world that relax me the way spinning yarn does.
On Sunday I spent several hours catching up on much-neglected house work, and I can almost see my kitchen again. It's a marvelous thing.
I am trying to find ways to reclaim all the tiny bits and pieces of my life that I've dropped in my attempt to juggle more work responsibilities. I think that as long as I don't try to pick up all the pieces at once, and make sure that the ones I have picked up are firmly in place before trying to pick up any more, that I'll finally be successful in my attempt to get my shit together and get my life back, and make it better than it was before.