...been feeling the strain lately. More than lately - since the start of baby season, and all the way back to winter for the paying job, actually. Seems like a never-ending conflict between wherever I am, whatever I should have done, what I'm late for now, the babies I've failed. The ones that I am letting down now because if I don't take them, they are the unloved anyway. The unwanted. Maybe just euthanasing them without a second thought would be the right thing to do, but I can't. If I limit what I do to them, maybe I could cope - but it's not only the calls redirected from the rehab centre; there are dozens of vets and others all over town who have my number and pass it on. For all kinds of birds and everything else too. And in between, it's all-night standby and callout for IT-job. It's rush-hour on the stuff they f**ked around over for all of last year. It's political games and shifting blame time, and my name is way up on the list.
It hit me today at about lunchtime that I can't do it all right now. Can't do most of it, actually. And that was before I found out about a few more things that some unknown idiot had said that I would be doing but had somehow forgotten to mention to me. I'm trying to fit in the personal trainer too, who has his own non-stop crises. And the non-negotiables, seeing pdoc and tdoc. Something has to break. Think it's me.
I did seven pick-ups today, of which only one was for illegals. So maybe I can cope if it is limited to only those. I have about 300 hours of IT work, which should be done already. And I can't even make myself sign on to the system. I'm smoking about two packs a day, irritable as all hell, and way too close to panic attacks for big chunks of the day - not to mention the speeding fines I'm racking up while I race to be wherever I am already late for.
So today I asked rehab-boss and my receptionist-buddy to take me off the call list for everything except the illegals. I'm going to have to field the ones who call me directly. Hopefully give the parrots back in the next day or two, send the mynahs and pigeons to their new homes, and maybe weasel a few hours of online work to get the idiots off my neck. Try to stop beating myself up over everything else that I am failing at. If it doesn't involve something dying - me included - it can probably wait, even if the people involved don't think so. Stop sleeping in the bath, and staying up half the night playing on the net because I am just too tense to go to bed early, and when I do I don't sleep properly anyway. Take more than 1/3 of the allowed sedatives, and live with the crap if I sleep through a callout. Maybe take my folks up on the visit whenever they are next in the country, or pdoc on the timeout option. Or myself on the end-game one.
Something has to break, and I think maybe it's happened already....