The older I get…

The older I get the more I whine.

I’m not sure why that is, but it’s truer than I like to admit.  Fair warning, this is not a funny post.  In fact it may be a complete downer so feel free to skip it entirely.  I just need to get this out of my head and put it down somewhere and my Facebook feed is not a safe place to do that.

Yes, Janey is indeed on the Facebook now.  Still incognito and not linked to this blog but with grandchildren growing so fast and some of them living far away it seemed a reasonable risk to be able to keep up with them.  I’ve felt FB’s soft, seductive lure to let go, sink in and waste hours there, but so far I’m able to keep it down to a few minutes a few times a day.  I follow a Facebook group which makes me happy with animals, geekiness, cosplay and lots of positivity.  This can’t be posted there either.  That’s one of the rules – keep it uplifting.  I appreciate that because it’s my go-to happy place and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who is feeling out of sorts but my perspective, my feelings are all I can address accurately.  So while I sympathize with those of you who have had difficulties this year, and I would never minimize whatever suffering you’ve experienced, I’ll be focused on my own dismal world. Isn’t that the point of it being my blog after all?

I think I’ve led up to the griping, poor-mes portion of the program long enough that if you don’t want to be subjected to this you have had time to turn away.  TURN AWAY NOW!  Or forever hold your peace.

In January this year, only days before her (88th I think) birthday, my mother in law passed away.  I think I wrote about this here before so I won’t re-hash the whole experience.  I just miss her.  I miss her a lot, even though she could be a real pain the backside on occasion.  What I don’t miss:  the weekly trip to the nursing home to visit; the feelings of helplessness; the guilt about hating the weekly visits; the disconnect which grew between my husband and his mother; the fact he still holds onto bad memories from more than 45 years ago.  Oh wait, I can’t miss that because he still does it.  Not that he doesn’t also remember the good times.  It’s just that he verbalizes more negativity than positivity.  I’d like to think that if he was like that when we first met I wouldn’t have gone out with him a second time, so I guess he hasn’t always moaned and groaned about how bad life is.  It just feels like it.

Work rambles on.  You may recall I was moved up to lead a team of administrative assistants/legal secretaries in supporting 40-some odd attorneys.  A new crop of first year associates joined the firm a few months back and just this week 2 lateral attorneys started work so I think we’re nearing 50 people we support.  That doesn’t include covering when other secretaries are absent.

In June or July we lost one of the team to law school and we finally gave up on another returning from disability so we hired two new people.  The team was back at 5 members and I thought it was going well.  Then one of the team got blasted for a boo boo on an electronic court filing.  Usually mistakes can be corrected with little to no repercussions, but this time I think co-counsel was involved and the attorney was embarrassed.  The team member took responsibility and corrected the mistake but the damage was done and it was going to badly impact her evaluation.  The new secretarial manager and I tried to work with her but that effort was taken the wrong way, and she claimed she felt like she was being picked on and watched all the time for further mistakes.  About two weeks ago she gave her notice.  We tried to figure out a way to resolve it so she would stay but couldn’t make it work.  I’m going to miss her a lot; she makes me laugh and is generally dependable.  The real problem is the attorney in this case.  Everyone else loves the secretary.

Almost two weeks ago my dog had to be put to sleep and it breaks my heart whenever I see his photo on my desk.  If your vet ever tells you that something bothers you more than it bothers your dog get a new vet.  I can’t talk more about that now.  I choke up just thinking about it.

Exhaustion is something we all have experience with.  Pulling all-nighters before a big test; partying with roommates in college; soothing a colicky baby; nursing a sick child or a spouse.  We’ve all felt tired to some degree or another.  There is no way to describe the bone deep fatigue I feel almost constantly.  I long for enough sleep, but what exactly is enough?  Even on the weekends when no alarm is set I wake feeling tired.

Beyond the weariness, I can’t remember the last time I was not in pain.  Of course some days are better than others just like with anything else.  Some of the worse days are relieved with CBD products, other times the CBD doesn’t begin to touch the pain.  (I am extremely grateful I live in one of the states where CBD is easily obtainable, if pricey.  It makes my life more comfortable a lot of the time.)

With pain as a constant companion is it any wonder I’m whining more and more?  Probably not.  But I hate it anyway.  I never thought of myself as a complainer but I hear that tone, that inflection in my voice — you know the one I mean — and I cringe.  What happened to me?  What happened to the young woman who delivered 3 babies without any anesthetic?  Where’d she go and how can I get her back?

Some days I just want so badly for the pain to stop that I contemplate the possibility of everything stopping, pain included.  Yes, the “S” word enters my thoughts.  So far that’s all its done, it flits across my consciousness and I shoo it away.  Been there, tried that, failed, thankfully.  As awful as I feel at least I DO feel.  Feeling confirms I’m alive, even if it hurts.  A little relief would be nice though.  Would it upset some grand plan if I had a day (or more) of no pain?

Now I’ve gone and done it; I’m feeling sorry for myself.  Poor me.  But I don’t have time for this.  Work won’t stand still and let me mope; time has to be entered; letters revised and printed; spreadsheets completed.  Time to pull up the big girl panties and get on with it.

Sigh.