I’m not feeling it: Less than 13 reasons why

Yesterday, I asked the groomer to give my toy poodle a low hair cut. She got the cut all right, and all the hair on her tail was gone too. That’s not cool. My lil’ girl Princess looked at me and looked at her tail as if to say, “What the heck did you let them do to me?” I look like I have a white miniature pinscher with fluffy ears. I keep saying to myself, “It’s hair; it will grow back.” I give my baby love as usual and I move on, but I’m not feeling it. What can I do? What’s done is done.

It’s now 3:30 a.m. and my Princess climbs on top of my chest. I know what that means, and it’s not good. I try to ignore, but she won’t go away. She moans. Sighs… okay, this nighttime excursion is really going to happen. The medication I recently started turns up full blast during the night. I know this because if I have to get up for any reason, I feel heavily drugged. My body feels incredibly heavy, sluggish, and drained. It feels a lot like depression. Okay, we are going for a potty break because I’m not having an accident in my bed. If that happened I would probably lose it because clean up would take away valuable sleep time. So, I suit up and go outside looking a hot mess. Just wait until the neighbors see this on their security cameras. Smile for the cameras! Dive back in bed.

I’ve got about an hour and a half left to sleep. Wake up, check my phone. It’s 5:00 a.m. Oh, can I get a little more sleep? Thirty more minutes! Thirty more minutes. Wake up 45 minutes later! Oh s**t, do I really want to do this? No, I don’t. I should text in (not call in) to say I’m sick. At this moment, I’m not lying. I feel like I got run over by a Mack truck. Can’t focus. It hurts to even think about getting ready. I just want to stay down.

I debate going to work. Debate over and go to work wins again. I drag myself out of bed. Do what I gotta do. Ugh I only have 30 minutes to prepare. Thank God the dress code is casual, as in jeans and t-shirt everyday. I can look as rough as I feel and nobody notices or cares. Heading out the door I say my goodbyes to the kids, and I hear a cheery, “Bye, Mom” from my daughter. Eye roll. Is she for real?

In my truck, I hear Charlamagne tha God telling somebody he is a grown ass man. Why this is the only thing I remember about the drive – I do not know. I’m doing 60 MPH in a 40 MPH zone. Now, I’m at the job and I throw myself out of my truck and deactivate the security alarm. One of my greatest fears is that I will forget the code and the alarm will go off. The cops will come a few hours later. Just in time for some stale coffee.

I plop down in my chair and stare at the computer. Ugh I have to remember my password, yay. I keep telling myself I should write it down. It changes every few months. I can’t keep up. Um did I change it to ‘$’ or ‘!’? I struggle with possible passwords, and finally, I’m in.

I’ve been at work for two hours. It’s 8:30 and why is my co-worker-wannabe-my-boss rolling up on me with backup? The answer I gave her in person (and by email) hasn’t changed. She asked the same question three times. I gave the same answer, three times. I didn’t stutter. Now, she goes to her boss and he puts me on email blast. I’m anxious. I’m pissed. I clap back. My response has not changed.

“Tell ‘em what you gonna tell ‘em. Then tell ‘em what you done told ‘em,” as my teacher used to say.

I’m ready to let her have it, but I don’t. Instead, I vent to someone in the office. I calm down and try to let it all go.