Santo Year 3

September 27th = 3 years clean and sober.

Uh, hooray?

Sure why not. Honestly, I don’t really care. I want to care, I want to think I’ve accomplished something but honestly, with everything out there to reach for and achieve this is small potatoes.

Anyone can throw it all away and pull himself or herself back together. That’s what all the storybooks tell us. So this is nothing spectacular, noting original, nothing worth gabbing about, so let’s move on shall we.

I’m in the middle of a five day weekend. I was forced to take a break. I didn’t want to. I want it made clear that I wasn’t suspended, I was told to take a few days off because I’ve been overworked and need the rest.

All of it happened when I tried t find out about seeking therapy. I thought things like this were supposed to be kept confident. I thought that discussing an employee who asks about seeking help is not to be shared. As a matter of fact I believe it’s illegal. Oh, right it is! Mutha Fucka, I been screwed!

So I asked about EAP to find out about seeing a therapist. I’m tired, burned out and feeling angry, so I figured talking to a licensed professional about it would come in handy. Not a bad idea, right. So I’m asking to get a phone number and within ten minutes I’m being pulled into an office by the head honcho and I’m being asked about what’s going on.

I get it they’re being concerned. They’re being kind and caring and want to help. But it’s not their fucking problem. All I wanted was a phone number. It’s not that tough.

So I’m told to take the rest of the week off and do what I need to do to take care of myself. Now I’m bored shitless and trying to figure out what to do. I don’t want to veg, but that seems to be all I can do right now.

I don’t want to spend money, but there is very little to do in this town if you don’t’.

Blah, Blah, blah….

I'm not even checking the spelling or grammar on this crap. Oh wait, do I ever?