The Ink Jacket Massacre

" Now can I drink heavily and cry myself to sleep?"

Truama brain I am thoroughly fed up. Why you gotta be so mean to me? Seriously thinking about removing you and the more I try to the harder you hold onto me.

Today was a great day. I had the morning off. I went to work. I did a great job at work staying connected. You did a good job at not making me panic and dissociated. I spent the day aware of myself in my enviroment. Congratulations us! So what did I do to celebrate? I got us Water For Elephants I heard it was great and sad needed some time for himself instead of spending all of our time with trauma. To make it even better the movie box had Horrible Bosses as well. Two movies in hand I drove us all home. It was laid on my heart while driving that we had 25lbs of turkey that I cooked over the weekend just sitting in the fridge. It also occured to me that we haven't yet met our neighbors. The Lord nudged me to go over there. I NEVER DO THIS. I WOULD NEVER DO THIS. Why would I ever in my trauma mind think of going to meet someone I've never met before, alone, at night, after work, in my scrubs, AT NIGHT. Gasp* I already said at night this was just to reiterate the fact that it is fucking DARK. I knocked, a 3 foot tall girl answered the door with a green lolly pop in her mouth. She was missing her front teeth. Harmless.

"Is mom or dad home?"

From the kitchen I hear,

"Dad's home who is it?"

I said,

"Um your neighbor to the left".

I kind of sort of chucked the hunk of turkey at him and said we have a lot and I thought we could share. Then, I sort of ran away. He hollered that maybe we should all get together for dinner. He had a black hoodie with soap and water on his hands from doing dishes. He was heavily tattooed from wrist to who knows where. I got inside the safety of my own home. Popped in Water For Elephants and low and behold it said, "NO DISC". I blew on it old school Nintendo 64 style. "NO DISC" ARGGG I tried and tried. Then, I picked up my phone to call my Husby who fixes things sometimes. I noticed a text message on my cell. It was from the Boss lady.

"Who used pink sticky notes today?"

I am one for telling the truth always even if it means I get in trouble. Why? Because God is watching us. I wrote back, "Me, What's up?"

Then, Trauma brain woke up. Panic. Chaos. Panic. The thoughts began. Trauma started slowly but violently.

"You stupid fuck you know they've had problems with items going through the wash"
No trauma I checked my pockets. "
Not good enough obviously you suck".
No I checked, besides the machine is still tore up because of the pen incident which wasn't my fault.
"Totally was your fault".
No it wasn't truama I didn't do the laundry that day.
"Yeah you put them in the dryer though".
So, that doesn't mean anything.
"Does to, you ruined everything."
How does this having anything to do with sticky notes?
"You must have done something horrible they are texting an hour after work"
Shit, where did I put them all? I threw that one away...um I left one for the other assistant...I swear I have a record of every last sticky note and where it ended up.
"You aren't good enough you can't remember"
Yes I can, I did put them on the table at the end of the day by the phone maybe they dislike them there?
"Maybe your sorry ass got confused and side tracked and you put them in the wash"
Fuck. Maybe I did. How am I supposed to know?
"They are taking their time texting you back because they are furious with you"

I got a reply text message after my trauma had stiffled my ability to figure out a way to watch this movie that was supposed to be a treat to myself for doing a good job today.

The text reads:

"pink sticky notes, two pens, and Rebecca's name tag were put into the laundry while ***** was literally completing the $300 ink repair on the dryer(including jacket orders)"

I wrote back some stupid response. One, because I'm functioning in trauma brain mode and this is all I could come up with through the tears.

"Seriously? Dang, I swore I checked. Thank goodness we didn't start the laundry without checking."

My sane mind is telling me that I made a mistake by putting my lab jacket in the hamper without checking my pockets. The second thing my sane mind is telling me, is the protocol is to check the pockets while you are putting them in the wash. When I do laundry, I pull all sorts of things out from pockets. I even pulled a pen from *gasp Dr's jackets before. Do I say anything, NO. HELL NO. I just make it right and wash the laundry. Dr. is angry because someone made a mistake and ended up with a big mess. #1 I know we didn't buy a new dryer. #2 we cleaned out the dryer. #3 we had someone related to the Dr. come in for FREE to open it up and fix it. During the fixing time there was a strange man in the break room. My trauma and I don't do well with a new strange men appearing suddenly blocking my path to do what I routinely do. My routine was busted up and I couldn't remember where I put my shit. Apparently I freaked out and tossed it all in the laundry. Low and behold NOW I'm getting ripped a new one via text message.

Truama brain says I'm going to get fired for damn sure. However, sane mind tells me that nothing bad happened and especially nothing will happen because we will all check our coats now. I can see why she is angry but there was a lot of angry there that shouldn't have been at me. Why are they doing laundry anyways? I thought that was below them? "That's an assistant's job" is usually said at these moments.

Anyways, my evening is fucked and I don't think I'll find sleep tonight. I'm feeling very drawn to drinking the rest of my Christmas vodka and taking a long bath of tears.

I sent one last text message:

"I'm sorry I was lax on my removing items. I know the damage and stress involved in the pen incident and don't mean to create more of that for you."

Sometimes I wish I wasn't okay to be in society and I did spend my life huddled up in a black hole of disrepair and self loathing. Drat. I'm still here. I still have a job, I still have a DVD player telling me I can't watch my treat. My Husby isn't here yet. These are not happy moments to be alone.

PS: I got written up official style and everyone in the office now has to have their very own sticky pad color. My pen now has a label maker name on it. The write up said "If it weren't for ____ standing at the washer you would have just thrown in your jacket with all these items in it." Right like you can predict the future!?