Saturday, October 27, 2012

Cowardice

I am sometimes, often, disgusted at my own cowardice. My inability to say what I'm really thinking, or feeling, about a matter to the person involved.

If I could, I would say to the company doctor treating my locking fingers...seriously, it's been almost a month, they're not getting better in fact it's been getting worse since I started getting treatment and therapy; you have not taken me off my job, so my fingers aren't getting the break they need. And the medicine you've prescribed, which is supposed to be better than ibuprofen...SUCKS! I am in more pain since starting it and experience more swelling.

To my red hat (supervisor), who isn't really my red hat and only a substitute, who wants me to bring in a doctors note to verify that I'm actually going to the doctors Monday afternoon...even though I'm not leaving until last break, so a note really isn't required: seriously man, not all doctors appointments can be scheduled in advance. Some things can only be done while the conditions are right and given how unpredictable my body is at the moment, it's best to do things as quickly as possible before I start bleeding again.

To my friend, who can't go to the store by herself, what is there to say? Grow up! Yes you've done a lot for me, and I'm grateful beyond words...but I get so tired of feeling like I'm holding your hand just so you can go to the store. And your boyfriend isn't committed to you if he can't move back in and share expenses...he's only there for booty. I don't care that he's co-owner of a farm, if he loved you and was committed to you, he would be doing something more than 'date night' three times a week. And don't ever tell me what to have for dinner when I've already told you what I was eating...already fixed and simmering in the slow cooker...

I am so disgusted that I let her do that..."I'm going to eat a bowl of chili and be over," I said to her. She only lives across the yard; got to love trailer parks. It would have been maybe ten, fifteen minutes. "No, you know what, I've got leftover spaghetti in the fridge. Come on over now and you can have that." Really? And yellow belly me just said, after looking longingly at my chili, sighing only in my head, "Ok."

I don't know. Like I said, I'm so disgusted with myself recently. Maybe I'll grow a spine someday.