I'm working third shift at a 24 hour store, stocking. It's the easiest job I've ever had. I work my ass off every night for minimum wage. "Cutting back" isn't in my vocabulary concerning work. When there's something to do, I do it because that's my job. My feet are swollen and blistered. My hands are sore, raw, and covered in tiny cuts and abrasions. My back and legs ache. My knees are bruised and my joints throb from constantly getting up off of the floor and squatting (it ain't easy being tall and stocking). I have a huge nasty bruise on my forearm from repeatedly bumping into endcaps (those stupid shelves at the end of the aisles). I've taken out three bicycles with my jack. Ran over my feet a few times. Crushed my big toe by rolling over it.
But I'm losing my fear of people by improving my customer service. I'm super active, sweating all the time, and am losing weight. I don't mind the work, like I said, it's easy. Third shift, I don't deal with too many people. As long as I'm placed in Paint, Hardware, or Sporting Goods, I'm pretty happy. Fuck HBC (Health and Beauty Care). Actually feels like I'm getting shit done, plus being an artist, I prefer working with that material, so I know a bit about it. I get along with my co-workers and even better with my bosses.
I'm actually helping my husband with bills now; that aspect is fulfilling. No longer does either side see me as an unemployed lazy bum. Despite that fact that being a stay-at-home mom isn't an easy job either and you don't get paid for it. Well, not with cash anyways.
I keep my phone on me so I can look at pictures of my son to keep me motivated.
After working my ass off, I can't come home and relax or shower or sleep, because when I trade off with my husband, my son wakes up and stays awake, usually until hubbys gets off of work (add 8.5 hours to the 7 hours I'd already worked; my co-workers don't understand how I'm still functioning and rocking my job). Lycan power naps for 10 minutes half the time. Requires lots of attention. Gets bored easily. Plus I feel horrible if I don't use the time to interact and teach him things.
Today he actually busted my nose with a powerful kick after I changed his diaper. So it's sore and swollen.
Then when husband gets home, I'll try to sleep for five hours, but it's hard due to my natural rhythym of wanting to be awake during the day. I sleep like shit. Even with the door closed, when Lycan makes the slightest sound, I wake up.
But Lycan will sleep for daddy for at least 2 hours. He's not as fussy or attention hungry. Daddy can actually do things like nap, take a shower, or eat. Not to mention that daddy can enjoy those 8 hours of Lycan sleeping through the night.
Then when I give up on sleep, I come out to a messy kitchen and a husband who thinks that his two times of doing the dishes is enough and that it's my turn. Plus, because he worked too, I should cook dinner. Then I feel guilty because he takes out the trash and does the laundry, all on days he has to work, too. But I don't clean. I haven't the energy. It's bringing me down because I hate the clutter and grime. Our bedroom is a clusterfuck of clothes, both clean and dirty. I fuckin hate it. It stresses me out.
After eating and bullshitting with my husband, I kiss my boys goodnight and set out on another night of work. Just to come home, not be able to relax, shower, sleep, or even really eat a good meal, forced to cater to my son's commands. Turning into a zombie, trying to function, trying to sleep when the sun is shiny and warm when my husband's home. Trying to sleep and work when he's able to socialize with our friends. Give up, and start the process over again. Having to choose a hot soaking bath or shower over getting those precious z's. All for about $170 a week.
Sleep has become a myth and I'm slowly becoming a beast. A raging monster like my father. I'm ashamed of myself. I loath myself. I'm afraid of myself. These random, terrifying bursts of rage. Of becoming an abusive dick like him. Of yelling, of cursing, of hitting walls, and throwing objects. Today, I actually toppled over a small dresser.
First it's objects, then it's people, right?
Doesn't help that my happy happy joy joy, head in the clouds husband gives me a hard time about expressing my anger. Especially those times when he doesn't understand why I'm moody or pissed off. Sometimes it makes me feel like shit, like I need his permission to show any other emotion aside from being content.
I don't know what to do. I've talked to my husband, and all he can say to is "not work as hard" at work and to "sleep when Lycan sleeps". Yeah, let me get right on that, because it's so fucking easy. I can't transfer to another shift because we can't afford a baby sitter. I can't quit and go back to being a stay-at-home mom because we need the money. I have a haunting suspicion that one of the reasons why I was having a hard time finding jobs before was due to my lack of experience. This is my first non-seasonal job, aside from being a Freelance Photographer, but in the eyes of employers, that doesn't count, even though many of them are usually impressed, especially when they see that I've done weddings (Can I handle your positions stress? Please. I've done weddings, I think I've got this).
I'd hurt myself before I'd ever hurt him. I usually self-harm before ever thinking of physically lashing out at others (because I hate my father so much; I'm terrified of becoming him, I'd much rather hurt myself than others; plus the pain tends to pull me out of my episode). I'm so ashamed. I'm exhausted. I'm angry. I'm on the verge of a meltdown. I don't know what to do. I don't know that even Mountain Goat or Ram can help me.
Although Chickadee has been in my face more and more lately, and I think Hera is trying to contact me through her images of Peacocks. Then again, maybe it's not Her at all, but Peacock instead?
I think I need a good cry. To use my next day off to soak in soothing lavender bath and catch up on sleep. Maybe hubby will be up for double teaming the chores to ease my tension? I need an outlet for my anger. Maybe that's why I'm comfortable in Hardware and Painting....it's reawakening my artistic desires to express myself through multi-mediums?
I need to breathe.
Fuck that, I need sleep! A fucking moment to myself.