#keepthissecretwillyou

[keepthissecretwillyou]

Don’t know what to do with the fucking. Anger and shit boiling in my chest.

My boss is unfair. She’s not a monster by any means, but she sucks in dozens and dozens of small ways that pile up and make her a massive fucking cunt to work with.

Two weeks ago she complained that whenever I get a cut on the job, I always pause my work to clean and bandage it immediately. We often work with chemical fertilizers and pesticides, and even when we don’t, there’s so much bacteria in the dirt and shit. It’s not a fucking character flaw to want open wounds covered.

Two days ago she was like “I can’t *tell* you to come in to work when you’re sick, and I guess I didn’t know *how* sick you were this year, but on days when you did come in sick and powered through it it reflected much better on your work ethic and job performance than when you took the day off” cool. So cool. SO cool.

Also she complained that I need to be more of a leader. I “apparently” step up when she’s not around, but I need to show that ability even when she is here. As if she doesn’t often and immediately override tasks I give out to people, insult me for making my own judgement calls in front of them, and then micromanage them.

Two days ago we started decorating wreaths. In particular, she emphasized that the bows need to be incredibly secure and then complained that when tags aren’t cut down enough, they can stab her hands.

So, crazy enough, I paid particular attention to that.

Today she got mad at me and told me I am often “purposeless” at work because I was spending far too long on those things. She then made an exaggerated mimicry of the way I was clipping tags and attaching bows and then redid them the way she wanted to.

So cool. So so cool.

And then told me the 145 remaining wreaths should be finished within the hour, because each should only take 30 seconds. SO cool. So so cool and reasonable and taking into account the half a dozen other things to keep track of when decorating wreaths (removing packaging from bows, getting extra material from the basement, half of the time the bows aren’t wired correctly so those need to be redone, etc).

Anyways I am fucking so furious. I wish the pay was worse and I didn’t get good benefits bc then I could leave this fucking job. But unfortunately the pay is decent and the benefits are decent and I like the work even if I fucking despise and don’t respect my boss.

And all that? All that is stuff that mostly happened in the last week. Don’t even talk to me about all of her overarching flaws and fucking annoying moments that happen all the fucking time.

[keepthissecretwillyou]

Life 2

I think my new meds are working? But I don’t know if I like it.

I’m less angry, but I’m easier to get like. Riled up in a goofy way. I worry it’s detracting from my professionalism to accidentally say things in a silly way or devolve into giggles.

I’m having a better time? But I’m much more self conscious.

[keepthissecretwillyou]

I’ve been having nightmares a lot more recently. Here is a run through of them.

11/18

I am working in a funeral home, training to be a funeral director. The offices are plain and expensive - it looks like any other funeral home. My boss/mentor is a heavyset older gentleman who falls into the image of a classic, old school director.

He has determined that, with little to no training, I should be able to handle a body preparation on my own.

He brings me a little girl. She’s maybe 7 or 8, skinny. Her skin is a mottled, sickly green, as if she’s spent some time at the bottom of a swamp and been covered and infected by the life in it. Her eyes are shut, her face is dainty. The simple white dress she wears is sleeveless and has also turned green from algae and rot.

The first step, for whatever reason, is to move her arms to access some other point in her body. I need to move her right arm, but it is cracked at the armpit, like rubber that has gone hard and brittle from age.

I try to ask the funeral director for help, but either he is insistent I do not need it or otherwise busy.

I am left with this responsibility I cannot handle, and the little girl is so small. She has not experienced any care in so long. And I do not know how to care for her.

11/19

As a child, I was sexually assaulted by this adult couple.

Now, as an adult, I am Me but with this dream trauma.

I am trying to carpool to work with K and P, but for whatever reason we are continuously running into traffic and car troubles and side quests. Eventually, we wind back in front of my apartment, and while I am waiting on the sidewalk, I am approached by police and taken in.

Apparently, the couple that victimized me in childhood has been assaulted/beaten, and for whatever reason, they cannot say who did it. I am the prime suspect. I did not do it.

But still, I am brought in to the station and placed in a cell with multiple other people. I have very little recollection of what happened there, only that my phone had been taken from me and I desperately needed to text my dad to tell him what happened.

So I borrowed another inmate’s phone and sent him a message. He never responded.

And then, I used my one phone call to call work. I believe J answered the phone rather than my boss. I tried to explain what was happening, but J made it clear that she believed I had committed this crime and that my employment was essentially going to end, no matter the ruling, because I couldn’t be trusted.

I don’t recall much after that, but I know it was long. It was a slow, long couple days that I tried to explain what was happening to people and no one believed me. I do think I was released because they couldn’t hold me, but I can’t remember what happened after that.

It was a remarkably emotionally draining dream.

11/20

My siblings and I were at my dad’s house for a family night.

The evening went as usual - with plenty of bickering, not much fun, and a handful of casual cruelty thrown around that ‘everyone was joking about’ while getting progressively angrier at one another.

The next morning, I was in a mood.

I woke up angry, and started to make myself breakfast. My little brother, my favorite family member, came down and I started to feel better.

Then my dad came down. He sent my brother away and tried to get me to follow him upstairs because my little sister was unresponsive.

That’s the word he used. Unresponsive.

Somehow, I knew that she had drank herself to death this time. There was urgency, but not to any sort of realistic extent. Dad believed I could help her rather than calling an ambulance.

And I was ambivalent. I didn’t care. ‘Good riddance’. She finally did it, what I’ve been telling my family for years that she would do. (She is only 22. I have been saying this since she was 16 or 17.)

I don’t know if I feel guilty about that or not.

I don’t particularly like my sister, nor do I have any love for her in the way I do my little brother. I know I care for her, but… in the way you do someone you went to school with for years and were constant acquaintances with, but never became friends with because they were kind of an ass.

So yeah

Those were my dreams.

[keepthissecretwillyou]

I think I need to talk to my therapist about why every time I get close to someone, like a year and a half in my resentment for them becomes fucking overwhelming. Doesn’t matter who you are. Friend? Coworker? Romantic partners always hit that point around the 4-6 month mark.

I don’t know why it’s happening and I’d rather it didn’t. It’s fucking lonely.

[keepthissecretwillyou]

Had some stress dreams last night, I think. My pal said she cursed me w them bc I hung up on her like 2 minutes before she was walking into work so I could go drink wine w my neighbors lol.

Can’t remember the first, but for the second I was attending my cousin Marywade’s wedding. It was at the yacht club my mom’s side of the family attends. First I was stressed bc I wasn’t ready - I didn’t have any makeup on, have my hair done, and I wasn’t confident in my dress choice. But then I realized there was something more nefarious happening under the surface when I transformed into a squirrel to run home and get properly ready and accidentally stumbled upon the bride (Marywade) and her YouTuber brother (not one of her actual brothers) doing something nefarious? Or like chatting up a conspiracy? The brother was manipulating the bride. Anyways, they spotted squirrel-me and the brother attacked me, but the bride stopped him.

So I finished running home, super quickly got dressed and backup, and then when I returned to the wedding I revealed the conspiracy. The wedding didn’t end up happening, the brother was arrested, and I… think it was a happy ending?

[keepthissecretwillyou]

I’m your biggest cheerleader.

You asked another friend for crit on a specific piece of your art, and she started talking about other parts of it. You were getting upset about it. So I was defending your dumb honor and pride so that you wouldn’t spiral about your piece and your art generally.

And from the multiple paragraphs I sent breaking down why I think your stylistic choices were correct for the product you were looking to achieve, you picked out a *single* sentence

“You’re not doing semi-realism, you don’t need to perfectly render a single metal armband, it reads as-is.”

And now you’re throwing a fit because you’re insulted I said you don’t do semi-realism, when it’s clear we have very Different views of what constitutes that.

Fucking hell man.