make the trip

Today I would like to remember what it feels like to call out bullshit right when it happens.  And to stay calm and to stick to my guns, and to let people be accountable for their behaviour.

It would normally have been something that would keep me awake.  But instead I asked CR if I could just address the bullshit with the information he'd given me and he said he was fine with it.  People often don't want to get involved, so having an unexpected ally to support me was a good surprise, especially coming from CR.

So I called it out.  I called them out.  And let them twist with it.  And ignored the deflection.  And accepted the apology.

It was a win.

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trauma

Today was an admin directed Pro-D day in the sense that they directed me to do it for them.  It was supposed to be their responsibility to find a presenter, but they obviously left it too long and couldn't find one, which was how it ended up on my plate.  When they asked the counselling "team" if we could offer a session on mental health, I cringed at the thought of delivering a workshop with my team.

I work with people who need to be educated about trauma-informed counselling.  I do not work with people who should be educating others about these things.  

The same way that I choose not to sit next to BB in staff meetings because I do not want anyone to think that I agree with her loud sighs, eye rolling, and sarcastic mumblings, I do not want to stand next to my counselling team and have anyone confuse their idiocy with mine.  (I am confident I am an idiot about many things, and in many ways, but I do not want to be mixed into their kind of idiocy.)

So I said I would give the presentation, the whole thing, no help from them.  And none of them had a problem with that, which makes me laugh because if one of them did that, I would have a lot of questions about why.  But not one of them wonders why I don't want their help, don't want them near me, don't want to collaborate with them.... (Or perhaps they want nothing to do with me, either, and are relieved?)

I created the presentation myself, and delivered it myself, and I think it went over well.  My staff is so supportive and kind (and it helps that I drank a lot of beer with many of them on Saturday night).  Giving presentations actually makes me want to throw up, which just illustrates how awful it is that I would rather put myself through it than work with the other counsellors. 

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ID10T

Tomorrow night I am going to a work party.  Normally I avoid work parties, however, at the last staff meeting I sat beside SU who scolded me for my lack of participation in these things.  He asked me why I never show up, and I agreed with him that for the most part, I am terrible at being any fun whatsoever.  It is entirely possible that I spent an adequate amount of time drinking in my twenties, but that's hard for people to understand, people who either didn't spend an adequate amount of time drinking in their twenties, or people who have unlimited capacity for drinking and partying.

A day after promising to try harder, SU invited me to a thing.  Dammit.

And I don't want to go, which makes me wonder why I am going, and makes me wonder why I want to be invited even though I never want to go.  And I want to have gone, even when I don't want to go.  And it makes me wonder why at my age I should care about the fact that the cool kids still want me to play with them, because I don't want to play with them, but I still want them to want me.  The only possible answer is that I am an idiot.

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Yesterday afternoon Victim Services showed up at work, asked for one of my colleagues, and took her with them out of the building.  This almost certainly means someone in her immediate family has been killed and her life has changed forever.  Just minutes before that we were trying to figure out how to print student timetables so she could read them more easily, and laughing our heads off as they came out of the printer all wonky and wrong.  We were laughing while someone she loves was probably already dead or dying.  This part of real life never makes sense.

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