I used to start of my journals with stories about my past to help “the journal” or “the reader” know me better as a person. I don’t think I will this time. I don’t really think anyone will read this anyway, but enough of the insecure jibber-jabber. Moving on to the meat.
I had them all lined up, this lady is at the end because she’s in a geri chair, and the others are in wheelchairs. I get them outside, and my coworker and I were both about to go get her. I was like “oh ok” and Caitlyn, the coworker, went over. This male resident was pointing at the previously mentioned resident as if to say “come get her” and Caitlyn grabbed her chair and pulled her out. The resident started going off about how we had forgotten her. And at first I was so confused. “When??” Anyway, she said we forgot her and had to be reminded by a resident. No….that guy is always bossing everyone around about what to do, even as they’re doing it. I tried to explain that we were coming, “as long as this door is open and buzzing, we haven’t forgotten you yet.” I mean, don’t assume we have until the door shuts and the alarm goes off. She said “bullshit”. So yeah. That was a thing. That was hard to explain, maybe I should make up some aliases.
After that a coworker decided to be a twat. Peggy has been this way with me before. Let’s talk about that first. A resident said he wanted to go to bed, and it was about 9:30 pm. I forgot Peggy was even there. I thought my best friend, Christina, was assigned to him. So I was going to do her a solid and help, because you know. You have to lift him, so she’s going to need it. And I had the nurse page for Christina to go to his room. Well, Peggy comes out in the hall and I say, “oh I forgot you were here. I was going to help-” and she cuts me off and tells me just to put him in the room, being all pissy about it. I was being sweet and said something along the lines of, “I know he never wants to go to bed so you have to jump on it right when he’s ready” and she says, “I know what I’m doing I do this every damn day,” and slams the door. 0.0 My fucking bad. Jesus, and it wasn’t just left at that. I was walking by later and heard her bitching about it to her friend. I step through the door and say, “Look, I was just trying to help.” and she said….what was it. Basically the same thing as before, maybe worded differently. I was pissed by now, and I was doing what is apparently my default angry hand gesture. The fist to palm. And I said, “I was just trying to be nice. But its ok” I’m smiling. “it’s ok. Because I won’t do it again.” I turn and walk away and she says something along the lines of “you better not”, make it as colorful as you want, or not. I can’t remember, I was mad. And I said, “Oh, believe me I won’t make the mistake of helping ever again.” Now my words written down are fine. But I said all of that with some ‘tude.
Well, today (technically yesterday now. I got off work at 11.) she decided to be a twat again. We have a hall cart that comes out with supper trays on it, and another cart that comes out for the feeding room, where we assist. Then trays come out on the line for the other residents in the main dining area. Well, one resident’s tray came out on the hall cart, and he was in the feeding room. WE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SERVE A TRAY EARLY. We have to serve them as a group. We are required to put trays like that on the line, and when the feeding room cart comes out, then you bring it in. So, as that is what I was told by my superiors, I put it on the line. She starts asking about it, and I said I did this because of this. I’m looking through the hall cart, in the middle of passing trays, and she is barking off about “No, he’s eating in here.” meh meh meh meh meh on and on. I’m not getting the tray, bitch, if you want it, you go fucking get it. Never does she ever pass out trays on the hall cart. EVER. It’s supposed to be a joint effort. At least sometimes. Sometimes shit happens, we’re taking care of old folks and things happen. But anyway, I digress. I said in a very terse, fuck you, I don’t give a shit tone “I am perfectly aware, Peggy.” She asked another coworker, Val, what I said. Val repeated, imitating my tone, and I pulled the hall cart down. Peggy went and got the tray. That’s what I fuckin’ thought. I should have said, “I promised to never help you again, if you recall”. Or “I’m following the nurse’s orders, if you are above those rules, then go right on ahead and get it yourself.” For fuck’s sake, it’s right around the corner, I’m passing out trays, you’re WAITING.
You see, some of these motherfuckers at work think I’m too soft. Yes, I cry. When I fucking care. I have cried when a nurse yelled at me, for no reason, or for a reason not worth the over reaction… but that’s because I’m a CNA and sometimes you get a little scared that you’re really in trouble and “but I didn’t! I what?” and then you realize, no….they’re just being bitchy and they need me, and they aren’t even going to write me up, and sometimes they apologize later. Because we’re a bunch of women working together, and apparently that means we have to treat each other like shit instead of lifting each other up.
When I first started there I was bright eyed and bushy tailed. I’d help everyone all the time, page on the headsets to let me know if you needed help. Now..ohhhh I need a punching bag. I do my best most days. Some days you do the minimum when your spirit isn’t in it. I don’t mean you, in particular, but more like a generalized…You as in people… I don’t feel like hurting anyone, I just need to hit a bag. I feel frustrated and want to cuss some people out, but you can’t always do that. You cuss on your journal and wish you could hit inanimate objects. And you smoke cigarettes and maybe pot.. Depending on if it’s legal. ^_^
Well, that was the most recent plethora of bullshit.
I decided I might need to start doing the journal thing again because I don’t really have anyone to talk to. I have lots of friends… Christina is my best friend, but we only hang out outside of work maybe once a month. And recently she’s gotten with someone new and she’ll be on the phone with him, wearing earphones to hear him. I already don’t like him… I don’t know, I mean, we’re at work… can you get off your phone? You talk to him when you’re not at work, I’m fucking certain, do you have to during these 8 hours? Maybe I’m just resentful because I’m feeling neglected. But whatever. She knows how I feel, I even told her I didn’t really like him already. 1) He’s leaving his wife and kids for her. While I understand that he’s saying they’ve been having hard times for years, they were doing counseling and it wasn’t working, but it should have been a work in progress as to end the marriage the right way. They were talking for a couple of weeks when he decided. And his wife only knows because she found some stuff on his phone, and then he confessed. I mean. Just. Anyway, it wasn’t done right. They fell in love, I hope it’s true and he’s not going to do the same to her. Because I mean, he lives 9 hours away. You can say whatever you want over the phone. Maybe that didn’t require a number. The minor times, she would have him on speaker and I would hear something that rubbed me the wrong way. Him badgering her to drink more water, less soda. She lit a cigarette and he sighs, frustrated and says, “every time you light up you’re killing yourself. Ugh”. Look, she knows that. It’s a fucking addiction at this point and acting like that is not the reinforcement we need to quit. It’s irritating! I don’t know about others, but it makes me want to light up again! We all have flaws, and some are worse than others, and I don’t think that sort of reaction is helpful. Say it playfully or with love, frustration is only allowed when you can’t tolerate it anymore. You fell for a smoker, hon, now you have to nourish and love her and help her want to quit. Not get irritated at her.
There is a possibility that I’m biased. She just got out of a 12 year long abusive relationship, and I’ve been in one as well. And I’m concerned. I’m trying not to badger her about how I feel, you know…I’ve let her know, sometimes I joke. Then I get onto myself for joking about her being on the phone or whatever, and feel like I’m risking losing her if I annoy her.
I’ve lost enough best friends. After a while you wonder if it’s you, them, timing. I don’t know. Each loss hurts though. I love my friends. I’m scared of losing all of them. *nervous laugh*
Now, it’s funny and kind of sad, I’ve finally reached the point in this long ass entry that I wanted to write about in the first place, that made me open an account.
I’ve noticed recently that my friendships are very different than they used to be. I used to have friends that I knew the ins and outs of, and they me. Now, I have the same amount of love and caring for these friends, but they don’t know me like that. They know how I react in situations, they know how much I care and see great things in me, that I don’t necessarily always feel I’m allowed to say about myself. But they don’t know about my past, not really. They know I dated a guy who used to be abusive, and I stopped talking to him recently. They don’t know details, they don’t know details about my new relationship. I’ve found myself telling everyone one liners. Example: “How are you and Adam?” “Good.” And that’s a recent thing. Ok, with one group of friends… There’s Casey, Carson, Alexa, and a few of their people that come and go, but those are my main people. They, as a group, are my best friends. I love being around them. We went to a music festival for four days, and camped out there, it was the best experience of my life. I see them at least once a week. There’s this wonderful feeling of camaraderie, fellowship, love all that jazz. But, and drunk Carson mentioned this a week or so ago, they don’t really know much about me. He was pointing out, he doesn’t know my favorite color, he doesn’t know my favorite food, games, movies, other people outside of the group he knows my one liners. And that’s the case for all my friends now. My work buddies know how I feel about things at work, and they know I bust my ass, and I love them, and I care, and I’ll always be there to support them or make them laugh. But other than that.. my friends know I got out of a bad relationship. I’m with a guy named Adam, it’s going alright. I have a black lab, live with my mom out of mutual lonliness…and that’s about it. Oh, and they know I can be artsy, but usually don’t have the gumption.
I guess I’ve gotten to the point where I feel like.. the more people know about me, the less they like me. I don’t know if that’s true, I mean, each circumstance was different. But I have all these insecurities. Maybe other people dislike me as much as I dislike myself. Other times I feel like a boss. I don’t know. I guess I should end this here. I have one friend from “back in the day”, who is the only person I really talk to about details like this, and he wanted to read it.