I drink alone

Friday was the worst day of my work life thus far. It involved claims of suicidal tendancies, a very long wait at the emergency room, and a feeling of complete and utter helplessness. And it all happened in not just eight hours, but twelve. I actually cried when I was done. (No matter how upsetting or frustrating things get, I rarely cry at work.)

I left work at 8 p.m., having been too busy to eat lunch or dinner, and drove through wet streets that shone during flashes of lightning. (It was a dark and stormy night.) I didn't know what to do, where to go, how to process my day, and how to work up strength to return to work on Monday. I just knew I couldn't think about it.

I ended up at my favorite burrito lounge. Busy on a Friday night, there was only room at the bar, which is where I wanted to be.

I'm not entirely at ease--not at all, in fact--being alone at a bar. But I absolutely couldn't be with anyone at the moment, nor could I face going home.

I ordered a Corona, and hunched over the bar. It was awkward. For me, anyway. No doubt no one else in the bar and restaurant even gave a second thought to me, but I felt out of place and uneasy in my position. It helped to keep a hand on my beer, and soon I drained it. My brain slowed down and emptied. I started to feel blessedly numb. I stopped worrying about how I looked to others, and what they thought. I stopped worrying if I looked too exhausted or worried or upset.

The bartender was inept, but he finally noticed my empty bottle, and gave me another. I ordered food. I ate slowly, and memorized the labels on the bottles behind the bar. I tried not to stare at the people in conversation to either side of me. I got drunkish.

I was ready to leave when the bartender set down another beer, and said it was from a guy in the kitchen. I think he was a little runty guy, and I was far too old for him. But I felt it would be poor form to turn down the drink, and besides, it was only the second time a stranger had ever bought me a drink (the first was at a club in college, when the waitress pointed out a skeevy guy who offered a drink and suggested I turn him down. I got a water instead.). He didn't bother me. In fact, he didn't even approach me. He was probably the type who just likes to be able to say he's gotten a woman's drink before.

I drank it slowly, for I still had to drive. And then I was ready, and my mind was softer and clearer and more peaceful, and I was able to put work behind me and go home.

It's not something I can do easily or often, but in the end, I was glad I did. I like being able to do things alone.

I Shall Not Walk Alone

I don't know what made me think of it, but I decided to surprise Tim by learning Ben Harper's "I Shall Not Walk Alone," the song his mom sang at our wedding. The first step (for me, anyway) in that endeavor is to find the sheet music. I need to go to a music store, because I couldn't find it anywhere online. Tablature and chords, yes, but no access to piano music, even though it sounds tailor-made for piano.

Tonight, mellow after a few glasses of wine, I decided to experiment. I put the song in a walkman, and sat down at the keyboard. I played the first second or two of the song, then tried to locate it on the keyboard. It wasn't working to a frustrating degree. Then I closed my eyes, started the song again, and listened. After a few bars, my fingers hit the right key. I played the song over and over, and I had it. But only with my eyes closed; when I opened them to see what key I was playing in (several sharps!), I lost it.

It was the coolest thing. I've never been in tune with music like that before. I'm usually strictly a sight-reader.

Drowning

I feel like I'm drowning. I don't know if knowing what I'm drowning in makes it better or worse.

I sat in on a teleconference on compassion fatigue yesterday. The ironic part is that I couldn't focus on the topic at hand because I was feeling guilty from taking an hour from my day to discuss something I very much am suffering from. My mind kept wandering to one particular client, over whose problems and their possible solutions I had been mulling for a few days.

It's a grandiloquent term for something I had always considered burn-out. I thought I had always been successful at listening and helping without getting too burdened myself. Compassion fatigue is vicarious trauma, and I can't detect how I personally feel trauma just by empathizing. But I know that since I do enjoy the actual tasks of my job, the overwhelming feeling of being pulled under and smothered has to come from the hopelessness I feel with some of the situations I encounter.

I thought I preferred working with adults because at least with them, you can pretend they have some control over their destiny, and autonomy over their actions. But I sometimes feel like I'm working with my hands tied behind my back with the lack of resources and options in the city where I live.

What made me finally break down last night, though, was realizing how little support I have. There are one or two co-workers who I will occasionally bitch with, but it's usually conveyed with an eye roll and complaint about work politics. I don't ever take anything else to them. And my boss is even less supportive. I think she's probably burnt out as well, but she has always felt more like a co-worker than a supervisor. And it's not even something I could address with her, because she just wouldn't get it. As it is, I have to repeat every question, statement, and request to her about three times because she's just not present. In the height of my rant about her, my sister pointed out that you don't always get lucky at work. And I realize that, but it's incredibly detrimental to not have an emotional outlet at a job like this.

I never needed anyone to emotionally check with me when I was an editor. I just needed someone who I could occasionally ask, "what's your opinion about allowing this comma splice to be printed?" and who would assign me my next task.

But I can't tell if being alone in my job is actually making me good at working alone. I wish it would make me a better decision-maker, but instead I constantly long to go to someone more knowledgeable than me, because I feel like I'm struggling blindly.