How was your Friday?

I have a few things to blog about, and I figured I would start with the yucky stuff first, so that my lovely readers wouldn't be incredibly bummed by the first post they saw on the page. So here you go, blogophiles:

Yesterday was one of the worst working days I have had in a long time. I don't really know what to say about it, except that my own Type A, just-brimming-under-the-surface anxiety sometimes brims to the edge. Add my neurotic, out of control boss to the equation, and you have sheer disaster. I basically left yesterday after telling him to back off - this may be a move I regret in the near future.

I was freaked about driving home. It was raining hard, and no matter how well I put on my fearless-face, I am very far from fearless. I am rendered a scared infant in the face of driving in the rain. I know I have to get over this, but I am starting to think I need to go talk to someone about this fear.

Like usual, I placed myself in the slow lane, going 5 mph under the speedlimit. Like usual, every asshole around me was doing 10-20 over the speed limit, and climbed up on the ass of my truck in impatient disgust.

What the hell happened? I used to be the leader of the pack, the Type A speed demon who well led the line of traffic. Now, in the face of big puddles (potential hydroplaning) and unexpected downpours (the climate just prior to my wreck) I am afraid. I don't feel safe inside my car. I was told by a stress counselor that I have to get to the place where my car feels like a safety net around me, and my calm is restored simply because I am inside.

It sure doesn't feel that way. The walls of my truck feel permeable, and have the potential to be crunched/smashed/blitzed to smittereens.

Because I refused to take my last leg home on the freeway, and I took backroads for 15 miles, it ended up taking 2 hours and 15 minutes to get home. By the time I picked up my daughter, and plopped myself down on my bed, I was emotionally vapid. All of my anxiety had robbed me of any energy to be had.

I fell asleep with my clothes on, and woke up at midnight when Z threw himself on top of me and started kissing my back. After I hugged him and told him how happy I was that he was home, I fell into this huge state of panic. It was like the stress had been quenched by my sleep, and built up to the moment I popped open my eyes. I cried.

I dreamed about a new job twice last night. I just can't deal with the stress of my job - the stress of driving 45 miles one way, the stress of my neurotic, out of control supervisor who demands my attention to all of his tasks at work. (Not to mention the 2 hours per day he spends seeking my counsel about his personal problems).

I am not an administrative assistant, or an executive assistant, you see. If I were, I would have no problem being such a handholder for such a weak, petty little man. That almost seems like it is part of the job description.

I am not sure why he has placed me in this position, except for "The Shrink" role that has been squarely tatooed on my forehead. Almost all of my other jobs have landed me in such a place. Men seek it out from me, I'm afraid. The best scenario was when I worked as my dad's assistant for several years. It was a great job, with nice perks. I took 2 hour lunches and went running. As long as the work was complete, I could do what I wanted. And he required very little handholding at that time.

The last job I worked was as a Manager and a Trainer. My boss, the owner of the company, filled my days with long lunches and crying bursts, where he lamented his shitty love life. Although he was a cutie, and I contemplated nailing him just to see the transformation that may have taken place (you would be surprised what happens to a man in the face of good sex. Men who are normally beaten down, emotional wastebaskets turn into powerful, confident Gods when they get the lay they need. I call it a courtesy fuck.) this was probably the worst position I've been in professionally.

I need out. If my sleep is suffering because I am that unhappy and anxious, I need to see the light and make this happen.

After talking about it with Z last night, we decided to make an offer on a house we fell in love with at the very beginning of our househunt. It is beautiful - modest, clean and airy. The yard is filled with grass and oaks. It felt like home when we first saw it, and I hope we don't suffer from heartbreak when we don't get it.

Only after I find a house can I leave my hellhole workplace. I am not sure my sanity can be upheld for much longer. I need to get into motion, and start making it possible for me to leave.