High Times

... and not the fun kind.

My stress levels are so high that it's redonk-u-lous. It's a rather big cliche, but there truly is no rest for the weary.

School has started, and for me that means a larger-than-normal work load at work. I deal directly with orchestra teachers in the Metroplex - they're stressed, so I'm stressed too.

If they need something, I bring it. To them, I am the face of *insert the company I work for here*. There's a lot of pressure to make them happy ... all 40 of them.

Some of them are pretty groovy people: there's the lady that had her Advanced Orchestra play a medly of Queen songs for the end-of-year concert. Or there's the one that wears pentacle earrings. Or the flamboyantly gay guy that makes me smile any time we talk.

But then there's the teachers that call me at 7:45 in the morning. Or the ones that call me at 8:00 at night. Or the ones that call on Saturdays.

Among most sentient beings, there is an understanding that there is a sanctity to The Weekend that must never be breached. Some of my teachers, however, abuse me terribly. Some believe that I am at their beck and call, that any whim of theirs, no matter how absurd (and some of them are), should receive my utmost-est attention.

I have a teacher who asked me to please check Lowe's or Home Depot for prices on their furniture touch-up markers, so she could retouch some of her school's instruments.

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I should be happy. I should be overjoyed. I got a raise this last pay-period. The shit seems to have finally finished hitting the fan. I. Am. Appreciated. They like me.

But today I considered quitting. I'm on the verge of a breakdown. I work'd over 50 hours last week, and fully expect a repeat performance this week. Labor Day weekend? Ha. I got a day. Sunday. Because I had ketchup work to do in order to have some semblance of order for the start of the week, I worked both Saturday and Monday.

Silliness.

But I was reminded today by a dear friend at work that, not too unlike fibrous substances, this too shall pass. Things will eventually even out. The crunch-time is nigh unto its end, and peace shall once again fall upon the kingdom.

I've been feeling drained. Making room for "me time" this evening has really made a difference. All I've been doing is coming home (LATE) from work at night, eating dinner, and going to bed - where I have nightmares until dawn. Then I get up, get ready, and enter the fray anew each morning.

If I create peaceful time in the evenings, instead of allowing the day to defeat me, I may just be able to squeak by ... or even come out the other side (relatively) unscathed.

We'll see.

There's nothing to fear ...

... but fear itself.

I suppose.

I'm falling behind at work. There just seems to be so much to do. I complete one task, and a million others fall on top of me like an avalanche.

My manager criticized me today. What hurts more than the criticism itself is the fact that I fear it was rightly placed. I live in the almost constant paranoia that they'll turn to me one day and say, "Kathryn, you're just not doing the kind of job we hoped you would. Goodbye."

A thought just struck me though, and it has heartened me a little:

I've been filling this particular position for about half of a school year. It was my job to pick up the pieces that two different predecessors left behind. Yes, I've let a few things slip through my fingers, but I've also created strong bonds with teachers in many school districts and fulfilled their needs admirably. My superiors see my mistakes because they aren't with me when I call on schools to see my triumphs. Per'aps I should compile a lizt of strengths I feel I have honed so that I am prepared should a meeting to criticize ever takes place.

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I don't talk about my fears often. I feel them, and keenly - but because I don't voice them, they simply fuel the fire of my general anxiety levels.

I feel a lot of pressure to perform. I'll be supporting Merry whilst she goes to school (starting Spring semester). We're moving to a slightly bigger, slightly more expensive apartment in a different city. We're strapped for money as it is. Frankly, I sometimes wonder how we're going to get by. If I lose this job, or simply get demoted, I fear there's no way we'll be able to support the lifestyle we're used to.

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Maybe I should take a leaf out of Merry's book and merely take a step back and make a small, prioritized list.

Yes. That sounds like a winner.