The Bloody Doors Off

Today was not a red banner day.

I was up before dawn. I know, most of you probably do that every day. And I don’t envy you. I am normally getting up at 7am to spend a little time with a cup of coffee, talk radio and a bagel before hopping into the shower and jetting off to work. Today I was up at 6:15 because I had an appointment with my psychiatrist beforehand. I was sure I was running ahead of schedule and it turned out I was. Good thing, as I hadn’t eaten and was able to grab a bite in the building’s canteen.

The paperwork came in from both the stress test and the specialist at CAMH, just acknowledging what they’d already told me. My doc gave me a two-week sample of Abilify to replace the Divalproex, but he doesn’t want me to start it right away because of the new job and being unsure of how it might affect me. That, and I won’t get to see him again until the beginning of May. (Which blows.)

Timed it perfectly and got into the office at 10am. Spent most of the day crunching and juggling jobs. In the late afternoon I had a sit down with my supervisor to discuss my progress.

Which wasn’t all wine and roses. Basically, I need to be more focused, be more precise, give them exactly what they asked for. (Which is always a tough call; in some cases it took me years to get to know an Associate’s quirks and needs, and be able to read between the lines. Two weeks? You’ve gotta be Superman. But I digress.)

I feel ancient. My bones and my brain creaks. There’s so much and I’m trying my damnedest not to get frustrated.

Now to the important bit:

She asked about the stress levels, and how I’d handle the pressure cooker of the job. Nothing was said overtly, but I got the distinct impression she knows about my self-commitment, and my short-term disability in 2007. Neither of which is common knowledge. (And before you say it, my Facebook is set to private and I don’t advertise my identity in this blog; besides, it’s take an act of Level 10 espionage to figure it out.) It didn’t stick at the time, but on my way home. And now I can’t shake the feeling of unease.