This week has been rough for me. I’ve gotten back into full time work without realising it. I spent my Wednesday morning at work from 8am. I haven’t done that particular day – my favourite working day – that early since August last year.
I stood there, slicing bread and packing cakes, realising that I will never really be who I was before. And not just physically, I mean mentally more than anything – but that is hard to describe in just a single moment, a temporary glance. Most of all, I mean, my working life.
I used to do 39 hours a week. I am lucky if my body allows me to do over 20. It is and was a shock to my system. I was glad of the lack of hours before, when I first went back to work, but now, many months later, I feel like I can do them. However, it seems, once I go back to doing more, it is expected more of the time. It seems I may have shot myself in the foot. I have to realise that I won’t ever be able to do my current job like I used to; no matter how much I pine for my ‘old days’ to come back around again, I am not that strong anymore. I am strong in different places now, I just can’t physically keep up with the demands of a full time job at my place of employment.
I am caught in a catch 22. I love my job, I am good at it, much better than the people who were hired to ‘replace’ me are. I can do two people’s jobs in one. I am focused and I am good with customers. I multitask well and I do everything I am asked, and beyond. I always try to do my best. That being said, I know that pushing myself as far I as I do nowadays will come back and bite me painfully in the ass. I will end up pushing too far and needed some time in Good Hope, or at least some days off sick. It will be a step back from all the hard work I’ve achieved this year, and I will be most disappointed.
I can feel it today. I feel knackered. I am drained of my already non existent energy. But I still did my shift at work and it was busy before the Bank Holiday weekend. Tomorrow shall be the same. I will pick up the slack and keep the shop running smoothly. I do all that with Crohn’s Disease. What worries me the most is my anemia. I am seriously running on fumes. Before I’ve even started my day properly, I am dying for it to end. For the sweet release of sleep. But it doesn’t help. I need my upcoming iron infusion very badly.
“Denial” doesn’t even cover my daily emotions..