mess of life, stardate July 9 to present

 

Last weekend, around the fourth of July, Bodie and I watched a show that is airing on VH1, which is called the OCD Project. I love a lot of reality shows. Not the ones that turn into cat-fights over who slept with whom. Not the ones that take advantage of the tragic and public lives of celebrities, and their nasty habit of being human. But I do like a lot of these shows, because it’s freeing somehow to see other people react to situations, and to watch them display common, universal behaviors. Because too often, I tell myself that there is something wrong with me. For the whole of my life, that is what I have believed. In fact, for a long while I thought I was a curse, or a jinx, and that anyone that befriended me would suffer somehow.
Anyway, I digress. The OCD Project came at just the right time. I watched a few episodes, and saw a whole group of people struggle to do normal, average, everyday tasks that I assume a great majority of people can do without much effort. Wash a load of laundry. Drive a car at night. Turn off the lights when you get ready to go to bed. But for these people, it’s a matter of turning on and off the lights forty times. It’s synchronistic, I suppose, that I managed to squeeze three episodes of this show into my life before I too would be confronted with what they call “Exposures”. In an “Exposure”, you are forced to confront one of your issues, face to face.

So here is my Exposure.

They are moving my working area. And while this has happened before (actually, I think I’ve been relocated four times in the last year and a half) I have never had the situation provoke these emotions from me. I can’t think of a time when I’ve had such a tense work environment. First there is the negative energy that flows around the whole area I work in. Inner-department rivalry, bitterness, anger, and fairly open hostility have all gone unresolved for untold years. Complaints are abundant, and negative talk is fierce and rampant. For someone with my psychic awareness this is a difficult situation. But coupled with my trio of acronym illnesses (DID, PTSD, OCD) I’m fairly screwed. Oh sure, they all cover it up with sarcasm and passive aggressive mumblings. Still, it’s not the most supportive work environment I’ve experienced.

And now I’ve been shoved into a corner of the department that has been designated for broken objects in disrepair. I’ve been given a shitty table as my counter space, no computer for my work, and no shelving, organizational tools or anything to make my space workable or personal. While other people have private, decorated cubicles full of personal and luxury items, like coffee makers, extra furniture, tapestries and pictures of their kids, I have a busted table and boxes of shit underneath this table, so that I can’t even scoot my chair in all the way. I’ve been told we are ‘working on it’. Everyone else in the entire department – the entire FLOOR of the building has a nice unit, or at least a nice desk. Not me. They “might” be able to clear off one shelf for me, on their bookcase full of crap. If I’m nice. And good. And don’t bite anyone in the next three weeks. Which means I’m screwed again, because I’m definitely feeling a bite coming on…

But the bigger issue is the placement of the horrible table.

I look out the window, so that’s nice, but my back is to everyone that walks by. This is maybe not the worst thing in the world for some people, who would like nothing more than to turn their back on their fellow man. But for me, it’s a nightmare. Tune in tomorrow to find out why….

Advertisements

About denelle

writer. artist. ponderer.

Posted on July 14, 2010, in mess of life, MPD and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: