Burnout

A cartoon of me, a green-eyed,
fair-skinned person, encased
in a burned-out candle stub.

No, it's not burnout from work; honestly, work is the least stressful thing in my life right now. 

September is not a lot better than August this year: the world is a mess (even more than usual), acquaintances are doing/saying the most ridiculous B.S. about things like Covid and masks and mandates and vaccines (not to mention packing high school football stadiums unmasked), I finally finished a project after asking for two extensions and feeling guilty and beating myself up about that, two of the three people I love most in the world are currently at loggerheads with me in the middle, the financial and other issues from last week's post are not yet resolved, yesterday was September 11th and my Facebook feed was full of never-forgets (which is fine as long as your never-forgets don't include abusing people who look different, but it's still stressful af), Liz is having a crisis of ADHD/ASD/adolescence/anger (complete with meltdown at school and at home the same day) and the school wants a behavior plan (we're looking into getting her treated finally (she was not willing before partly because her late father was against it; he was afraid they'd "medicate her into oblivion") but getting an appointment for that takes time... more below), Abby is starting college at the end of the month (assuming our 529 people and the college can work out the payment process... and their Accounts Receivable department is evidently still on summer break), Liz hurt herself yesterday (she's okay but needs these antibiotic eyedrops and ibuprofen), and my therapist is out of office.

So, yeah, a little stressed out, burned out, whatever.

Feeling like a failure as a parent, daughter, envelope-stuffer, citizen of the world, homeowner, social justice bard, gamer geek, writer, etc., ad nauseum (yeah, yeah, I know I'm not; but it feels that way).

So... Lizzy's injury: Between the crisis at school and the same-day issue with other people, we're looking into getting her treated ("as long as you make sure they don't turn me into an uncreative zombie, Mom") and if it works the way it's supposed to, medication will make it easier for her to self-regulate and make good choices. I made an appointment with her pediatrician for a well-teen check, to discuss medication, and for a flu shot if they're available by her appointment on October 7th. I also signed her up for a recurring D&D session for teens through Outschool (with a teacher Abby has had there before; they are particularly experienced with 'at-risk' teens). It starts in late November, and so in her Lizzy- way, she wants to be creative and give a nod to her late gamer-nerd father, and make a covered dice holder out of a wooden cup he owned. She has the tools and the safety gear, so cool, kid, have at it.

A pair of eyes, one swollen and bloodshot

Yeah, she's had a rough week (see above re: crises) already and so it did not occur to her to wear the safety goggles while blowing sawdust out of the drill hole. Sawdust goes everywhere, including her left eye, and we don't know for sure whether there are bits of old varnish mixed in there, and we can't get it out ourselves, so off we go to urgent care (I try to avoid the ER even pre-covid, and now a mere minor eye injury would likely take hours to get seen because of all the anti-vax covid patients). So we are at urgent care and we get all that done with minimal help from assorted items in my purse, thank the deity of your choice. Urgent care closes at five on weekends and we are locked in until we can find someone to unlock the door and let us out. Then I get Liz home and go to get her Rx eyedrops.

Pharmacy closes at six on weekends, it's 6:07, and I'm ready to cry (for the third or fourth time this week) and just drop spoons everywhere until the pharmacist (on his way out) hears me talking to the cashier and says, "Oh! Elizabeth Kirkland? That just came through; let me get it for you." 

Thank goodness for conscientious pharmacists!

During checkout, he notes that some of the ADHD meds come in liquid form and that they have these at their pharmacy, so that's a good data point for the doctor visit in October. And now Liz & Abby are off to get the medication aid that Liz needs to swallow pills (applesauce in a pouch) and possibly an eye patch so she stops rubbing it unconsciously.

So... was it all bad? No, of course not - we have some hope for behavioral strategies, medications, and other Things to Help. The financial and other resolutions are still in process, the injury is minimal and treatable (and she can do it herself), the safety gear lesson learned, and the project I fretted about so much is complete. And the therapist is out of the office, so I'm writing it out here.

But the burnout is real.