Weddings and work zombies

"I'm hell on heels
Baby, I'm coming for you."
~Pistol Annies

I am exhausted these days.
A new job, the first time doing night
shifts turns me into a zombie, a tired angry zombie
and my words are coming out slowly and
I have to spell everything twice for it to look
the way I want it to.
The shifts are starting to get easier,
kind of.
Eight hours of running back and forth
and intense cleaning and chemicals
and barking dogs all night
is more than enough to make my ears ring and
my feet ache by the time hour 6 rolls around
but there are sweet sweet dogs that want nothing
more than you to love them
and cats that purr when I walk by them.
I can listen to my music when I work
which helps the time fly and makes me dance
randomly, which I'm sure the security cameras appreciate.
So while I'm desperately tired and not coping quite as well
as I'd hoped with staying up for more than 24 hours at a time
there are animals that need me and coworkers
that seem okay with my personal brand of crazy
which involves never stopping talking
and screaming loudly if I am surprised.

I danced at a wedding reception a few days ago
and it was hilarious and awkward
because I was one of maybe four people at
any given time dancing
and it was a little odd
because I have years and years of seeing these people
as teachers and adults
and now we are relative equals
and they don't remember me as an almost-child
but I remember them as almost-authority figures
and it gets a little strange in my head
but I laughed and met and talked
with truly kind funny women
and an old enemy
who made me laugh hysterically throughout
the entire wedding
and we had to explain to people the nature
of our relationship
which was so many years as hostile
that in the now, when we are friendly,
we still mess with each other
but it is kinder
because we have known each other
and seen each other in ugly ugly places.
Going to a bar with people
feels so odd in my head
like I'm playing grown up
with the real adults.
But they gave me a drink when I ordered one
and only smiled a little
and all the real grown-ups
let me play with them sometimes
so it all works out in the long run.

Stop driving on the walls! (stuff I yell at my kids....)

I remember being shamed into dancing with one such guy. My parents used to help chaperon every dance I went to in high school. At my first high school dance (ever), my dad met one such guy while all of the people were congregated out on the dance floor. I had seen the guy for the last few weeks and I was not friends with him. He was extremely invasive and didn't seem to pick up on any of the boundaries that I was rapidly throwing his way.

After about half an hour of dancing and keeping my dad in the corner of my eye, he eventually gestured for me to come over. In typical fashion, I was horribly embarrassed, but I wasn't about to ignore him and have it get problematic after the dance for me ignoring him. I came over, and he told me that the young man he had been talking to was really nice and I should probably go dance with him.

To this day, I have no idea what came over me, but I'm glad it did. The music was loud at the moment and I felt a red haze descend. I loudly, screamingly told my dad that there was no way. He got pretty mad and we stood there on the gym floor while everyone was dancing, and screamed at each other for at least 5 minutes, from what I can remember. Eventually, I was so irritated that I just walked off.

It makes me laugh retrospectively, because I was such a pushover with my parents. I still am. It is very very hard for me to ever say no to anything they ask. I am working on it, however. I hate saying no to people, still. I would rather lie and say yes, than have to say no to someone. That can be problematic for a number of reasons. Most of which come from, now people think that when I'm saying no, I'm screwing around. Meep.

Writing today has been very difficult. I'm trying to clean and take care of kids and I HATE THIS JOB. The only gratifying part of it is when my kids can run around and play downstairs. Then it is just funny. Even so, I am utterly exhausted by the end of the evening, which hits between 5 and 6 pm (day starts at 8), and many times after that, I go do some second shift at my parents house (maybe about twice a week).

I will be so glad when we have our own place. I don't care whether it is an apartment or a house, as long as there is a second room for the kids and that it is my own.  I feel like I've written and spoken these words a million times, but I'll keep saying it until I have it. I mean it!

Love,
Hellkitten