I have always worked under the assumption that if you ask someone to do something, and they agree, they like DO THE THING THAT WAS REQUESTED OF THEM.
You know, ESPECIALLY when it is their motherfucking JOB to do the thing that you asked.
And it is really really REALLY hard for me to ask for help. So if I reach out and release my deep seated neeeeeed for control then you should bloody well DO IT.
They say that there are stages of grief. I have been vacillating between bargaining, depression and denial.
But last week I was in raw deadly WHITE HOT MOTHERFUCKING RAAAAAAAAAAAGE.
And, as it turns out it was perfectly timed.
I shot off an email to my work Employee Assistance Program (where they provide psychology/counselling services FOR FREE for the health and well being of staff. Perks of my job ROCK) and abused the shit out of them cause I asked for counselling in OCTOBER and I was still waiting.
Within minutes I had an apology email and a promise of a call to set up an appointment with my chosen psychologist.
Then a call full of apologies and concern and a risk assessment which made me laugh when she asked me if I had thoughts of harming myself.
‘Well, obviously, if I was SUICIDAL we wouldn’t be having this conversation FIVE MONTHS after I made the request would we?’
Then she set up an appointment with the wonderful Alexander who then called me ten minutes later to see if I was OK waiting a couple of days.
A couple of days? Try FIVE FUCKING MONTHS. OMG.
And then, feeling rather fucking AWESOME after screaming at the EAP lady, Boo’s case manager called.
And I blasted her too. Cause bitch been getting NOTHING DONE and then had the gall to offer me, when I requested respite for the first time in 6 YEARS, a worker from 4-6pm.
I lost mah shit.
Now I have an appointment with the head of the respite centre to ‘discuss our needs’ with Boo present.
When he is in screaming banshee mode.
I am expecting a full time carer and a trip to the Bahamas. 🙂
THEN she called me back and finally organised swimming lessons for Boo. (LOOOOOONG story) Cause she realised that respite and one on one swimming lessons have been on his care plan since he was 5.
HE IS FUCKING TWELVE.
I was on a ROLL!
So I made a few more calls, screamed at a few more people, got shit DONE and made myself a congratulatory latte.
Squeaky wheel gets the most grease.
Or in my case screeching crazy lady gets the most shit.
I am wondering who I need to yell at to get me some Louboutin boots…
So take my advice biatches, scream at someone today!
And then tell me all about it, cause I love a good screaming at arsehats story.
It is only a few short weeks until the Aussie Bloggers Conference, and another one of my lovelies that have helped fund my margarita hazed junket is Dee. She even chipped in MORE cash she found on the GROUND. Cause she is THAT awesome… I cannot wait to squeeze her in Sydney. She even blogged about meeting me at the conference.
And I didn’t even have to yell at her to do it. 😉
Click on her blog and give her some lovin’.