Back at work.
There are new people everywhere and I am sitting, essentially, in a hallway.
Every ten point five seconds someone stops to welcome me back, over cheerful as if to pretend the events of last year never occurred and old happy haveachatlookatmyprettyshoes Kelley is back again.
I am introduced to the new people and in the next breath they are informed about my shoe collection.
Not the chick that lost her shit last year.
Or the one that is barely holding on by the skin of her bleeding gums (what the fuck is with THAT?!).
The more blunt of my colleagues mention my weight gain. Joking about having a holiday full of fun and, obviously, food.
Others ask about my kids or if I am ready for Christmas or how is this crazy weather?
Don’t mention the war.
I am given SO MUCH work to do. None of what I used to do.
The boring, mundane tasks that someone has to do.
And that someone, it seems, is me.
Brain damaged girl is liable to paint the walls with her own shit, lets not give her the important stuff.
Today as I sat at my temporary desk – the promise of a pretty shiny new one overlooking a park and the water in the new year dangled before me – there are people everywhere.
All around me there are flashes of suits and colours and my brain is trying to make sense of it all along with the bright fluorescent light (is it flickering? I swear it is flickering. Does anyone else notice the flickering?) and the work that I KNOW. I KNOW I KNOW IT WHY IS IT SO FUCKING HARD and nothing is set up and apparently I should just know how to do it.
And maybe I should. But right now, in this moment full of people and lights and people and lets pretend everything is fine and it is 1999, I just don’t.
I am drowning.
They changed the way we print and use the photocopier. Someone explained to me why but memory fails me (how weird…*sarcasm font*) but suffice to say we need to scan our security passes to get them to work, and guess who has a useless temporary security pass to go along with her temporary desk and temporary status as a normal person?
Did I ask for a pass? I am sure I asked. I wrote it down and everything. Did I?
Upper management are wary of me. Or overly friendly. Or, as is the case with one who I have been friends with for over 20 years and was my person at work, pretend I don’t exist.
Tight smile when eye contact made. Ouch.
I am holding it together, barely, and stare at the screen and try to control my breathing and remember what I was doing just minutes before.
Until another person approaches to welcome me back and we do the dance and pretend that it is 1999.