Frustration

Play this song first, even if it's just the first thirty seconds. Heck, let it play as you read.

Got it? Good.

This morning I woke up early feeling less than great. After almost getting stuck on the depression train by finding my way into a rather transphobic comments section on Facebook - that I just as quickly got out of - I decided "Not today!" and said to myself, "Well, Sam, if you're not going to use this time for working out then you should be writing"

I pulled out my phone and my little bluetooth keyboard and found my fingers flying over the keys. I had had an idea for a post rolling around my head since Saturday. There were a few words I had typed out from the day before, but the bulk came this morning. One hour later, I was finished. I hit "Publish" then got to work at preparing myself some breakfast. When I hit a stopping point, I turned back to my phone to share the link for the new post and was met with the worst devastation a writer can find: It was all gone. All of it. Every word. Except for the few misspelled sentences I had saved from yesterday, there was nothing.

I lost it. Completely. Totally. You may as well have just killed my dog.

I have apologized many times to my partner this morning, but I'm going to add another huge thank you to Neal for being patient and wonderful. Because I am crazy sometimes. I felt crazy this morning. I couldn't even tell you why exactly this hurt so much. The best I can come up with is this:

I have been so frustrated with my lack of being able to motivate myself to write. It's my dream, my passion, and I've been ignoring it. So, I guess you can say, it's pretty devastating when you finally motivate yourself to do something then all that hard work is gone. Yes, the actual act of writing was not erased this morning. I did write. The words were only lost in the exact way they had been written. The blog could be recreated. Still, by the time I realized it was gone, it was too late to rewrite it right then, even though that's what I wanted to do. No, I had to go to work, to the next thing for my brain to focus on. Usually that is a creativity stifler and it can be hard to pick up where I left off.  I'm amazed I was able to get my keyboard back out and start writing again (albeit in a different app because I don't trust the other one anymore).

Anyway, now that that all has been said, I would like to get to the matter that the original post was about (The theme of frustration also works well with that, so… I guess I win?)

A few weeks back I made a post entitled, "It Happens, but It's Not Okay." It discussed (ranted is a better word) my struggles with doctor's offices and my shot anxiety. That was a day after my appointment with my endocrinologist in Pasadena. What I didn't mention was what had triggered the shot anxiety was the fact that my doctor had changed my shot schedule from one shot every 14 days (so, in my case, every other Wednesday) to a slightly smaller dose every 11 days (so, all over the damn place). I was already having trouble with the clinic back home with things as they were and I was worried that was going to make it worse. So, I figured I was just going to have to suck it up and start giving myself shots.

I still have all the stuff I need here. I tried it on my own and made it through two shots before I couldn't take the anxiety anymore and reached out to the clinic. Everything is still sterile. Nothing is expired. Sure, watching the videos hadn't worked before, but perhaps now that time has passed, I'm more used to getting shots, and I'm calmer in general, it will be easier. (That's what I told myself, at least).

Eleven days after the last shot I had had, I felt ready to go. I was nervous, but prepared. I had found a guide for transgender individuals on giving this kind of shot to oneself and printed it out, making sure the pages with pictures were in color. I watched a bunch of YouTube videos that other trans guys had made on the matter, so I could see it in action. I even dug out my old notes from when the nurse back at the doctor's in Pasadena had told me how. I couldn't do it alone and waited for Neal to get home from work. I had had the day off because it was a Sunday. Part of me had hoped that I would have been able to do it on my own before Neal got home, but I just couldn't do it.

There we were, in a comfortable, safe space. Everything was laid on on its own clean spot. I had plenty of room to do what I had to do. Neal was close by with an extra light to make sure I could see. I was fine all through drawing up the needle, finding the spot on my leg, cleaning it with an alcohol swab, but when that needle was mere millimeters from my leg, I lost it. Slowly at first, but worse the longer I held it, my hands quivered. My heart began to pound, and I felt sense beginning to leave me as a certain lightheadedness began to hit me. I tried to turn back to that needle, tried to will myself to just shove it in. "One. Two. Three" I counted to myself, but nothing happened. "One. Two.… Three" Nothing. "One. Two.… Three." Nothing. I out the needle down and began to panic because I couldn't do it. My hands began to shake out of control. I asked if it was terrible if I couldn't do it, to which I was assured was not true. Neal hugged me and reminded me to breathe. That it was okay. That I needed to calm down. It took a few minutes.

I don't remember if I tried again while Neal was in the room. There was a point where I did ask Neal to leave the room to see if I could will myself to try it one more time. I had no idea if that would make a difference. It didn't.

Lucky for me, I hadn't yet cancelled the appointment I still had two weeks out from my last shot. That was a whole other Anxiety Beast to face.

I arrived at the appointment at 7:45 am. It was scheduled for 8am, but they always request people to come fifteen minutes early to check in. I was already worried that it would take a long time. My endo may have changed my dosage and schedule, but she didn't write me a presciption. I had no hard copy. I had no clue how this was going to work, but it had to somehow. I think it was 8 when a nurse came out of the doors, "Samantha?" When I told her it was me, she asked me if I preferred Sam. I love it when people ask me this. I told her yes. She then went on. She may have started with "I'm sorry," but when she started her explanation, I knew what was going on. They were going to tell me that my dosage was coming through wrong thanks to the new computer system and that they'd have to wait for the Doctor to arrive at 8:30 to confirm my dosage. I was right. I hate doing it, but I had to stay. There's a reason I warn my boss on these mornings. I'm thankful he puts up with it. It is literally the only time at the clinic I can manage this with my schedule on work days. It shouldn't coincide with work going in this early. I should be out in ten minutes (not counting the getting there early thing), but that's rarely the case. It's especially funny because I'm usually the first patient there. I have no clue what I mean by funny. It doesn't make me laugh.

When she basically told me that I was going to be stuck there, I stared to unload about the new dose and that it was good that we needed to do this anyway. I did no say it that calmly. I couldn't tell you how I worded it, but I do remember feeling uncomfortable because I was saying all this out in the waiting room. Thankfully there was no one else there. The nurse then said she's get me back into a room and we could start sorting all this out while we waited for the doctor. In the end, I was at that clinic until 9:15am. A consent form materialized that I had to fill out to authorize the clinic to get my records from my doctor is Pasadena (something I feel like should have been filled out from day one).This way they would have a copy of my prescription on file at all times. Also, I reiterated to this nurse my want to learn to do the shot myself and was able to explain my struggles with shot anxiety and the failed shot. She changed a "goal" in my file to that of education, so that the nurses would know that that was what I wanted to focus on (again, something that should have happened from day one). In the end I was able to get the shot and make the next appointment. Although I was terribly late and ahd experienced more than enough anxiety for one morning, I felt hopeful. Still, I kept my guard up. The true test would be the next appointment.

Last Saturday morning I arrived at the clinic. I had nowhere to rush to. No worries of being late. I was ready to see if all that time spent the last time had done any good. It did. I asked every question I could think of. The nurse had me draw up the dose since I said I was comfortable with that. She even had me choose the spot. At the last second, she asked it I wanted to try, but I just wasn't ready. She didn't pressure me. After she gave me the shot, she asked if I wanted to try it on some practice skin. It was a hard slab of skin-looking maybe silicone something that I was able to puncture repeatedly with the needle. The nurse explained it was what it's like for it to go into my thigh, so it's a good gauge of what it feels like. It was just what I needed. I know I'm going to get this in no time. 

You'd think that would be the end of this crazy long post (at this point I have realized that this is phenomenally better than that original lost post, just thought you should know), but it's not. It's a good thing my weekend was good because life had one more wrench to throw into the works.

Remember the traitor who left right before Christmas, abandoning my bosses and me to handle the busiest and craziest season of the year just between the three of us? She's coming back.

Dun, Dun, DUUUUUUUUUUN!

… Sorry. Couldn't resist.

As it turns out, that job that she left us for back in December is cutting back her hours this Spring. She emailed my boss a couple weeks ago to see if we needed any part time help. All of us were shocked. None of us really expected to hear from her again. Yet, here she is. We were all pretty wary of the idea, but my boss figured it wouldn't hurt to see her avilability. It's not like we've had any luck hiring anyone else.

Apparently, she is going to be able to work full 8 hour days, two to three days a week. My boss told me this yesterday. He approached me in the morning and asked how I would feel about her coming back. I guess he had had to sell my other boss (his wife) on it. She wasn't excited about the prospect and suggested he ask me my opinion. Considering I would be the one to work with her the most, I'm thankful they were willing to hear what I think on the matter.

I am caught between two sides on this. It began to roll through my mind when I was first told that she had asked about coming back.

On one hand, I still haven't forgiven her. I felt betrayed when she left. At first she was going to stay - at least back in August - but then out of nowhere she up and has gotten another job? It's not like she didn't know how busy December was going to be either. How dare she leave like that and think she can come back the minute she needs us again. No. Get the fuck out of here.

On the other hand, we need help. In the mornings, it's just my one boss and myself (His wife has another job in the mornings. She doesn't arrive until lunch). We can handle it okay even when it's busy. The problem is when he has to go to the post office. Then I'm all alone. Oftentimes he leaves and then a whole bunch of people arrive. Suddenly, I'm notarizing and packaging and shipping and getting people's packages etc, etc for a handful of people all at once. I can't take that much longer. I know it's not every day, but I don't care. I'm about to lose my mind.

My bosses are getting tired too. They don't even get to leave early. At least on the weeks I open, I get to leave a half hour early. They don't want me to have to work alone at the end of the day, so they can't do that on the weeks I close. One of them can. It sucks because they were trying to transition things. They wanted a manager and two sales associates so they could start getting away from the business more. They've been at it for 23 years, I don't blame them. They deserve it. If we had another employee even part time, they could leave early a few days a week at least.

I told my boss a very condensed version of that. In the end, I said that whatever decision he made, I would be fine. I would understand if he wanted to bring her back and would swallow any old frustration. There would be no problem.

He told me he had to think it over a little more. This morning he told me that she will be coming back. Still, he's also wary. This isn't necessarily permanent. If someone who wants to work full time comes along, he still wants a resume from them. Even when he told me, he worded it like, "We'll see if this works out. If it doesn't, it doesn't." That doesn't make me think he's excited either. I'm certianly not. Still, I'd rather swallow my pride and get some help than continue with what's been happening.

We'll see where this leads, shall we?