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I found a great talking spot tonight when I went to the shops with M. It’s on a top level carpark overlooking cannington/kewdale/welshpool up to kelmscott. We had a huge screaming match today about money, before we realised that someone hadn’t paid M for some work he’s done, and that right now, we have to carry the can for it. I thought he was accusing me of taking it, he thought someone was stealing it, and then thought I was accusing him. After the irrational screaming match both on the phone as I got off work and in the house, we had a look at receipts and banking statements and voila! Sums added up, and there we had it.
Now I wanna nail the bitch to the wall since she’s one of M’s co-workers and the one I spent all that time fixing her virus ridden computer, and she hasn’t fucking paid him for the upgrade. I can count the times M and I have had a fight and screamed at eachother on one hand. We never yell at eachother as a rule, and i think four times in 11 years is pretty good. Twice in 2 weeks at the moment.
My teamleader knows me far too well. We’re friends outside of work, and he took me aside to talk to me about stuff.
“how are ya lori” he asks as we wander down the hall
“just fine thanks” is my standard reply
He leads me into a meeting room and closes the door.
“lori, stop the bullshitting. To alot of people, you’re fine, but to those who know you, that spark in your eye isn’t there. There’s no laughter.” Yipes. He knows he’s got me nailed to the wall on this one.
So I given in. I tell him I am barely coping. That I am afraid of this affecting my work, I am so used to hiding how I really feel, I don’t know what’s normal anymore. I tell him I am seeking some counselling.
“lori, as your boss, I can tell you it’s not affecting your work, but you need to talk more to me about it if you need help”
Nice to know he cares. I left a comment on someone’s blog, that I was jealous of a moment she had when someone she cared for sent her an SMS. It’s the saddest thing right now for me. I don’t want this to be a moany blog, or a bitter blog, or some tragic blog. I’m not getting what I need (affection, hugs, snuggles) and I haven’t for ages, and when I do get something, I cling and squeeze the life out of it until there’s nothing more. I want the real thing. The e-hugs, e-cuddles and kisses however, are a good substitute.
I have set aside a grieving period. One month for every year I was together with him. I should be fully recovered by November this year. I have good and bad weeks. This is definitely a bad week.