After months of being out of work for my mental health, I’m going back to work. Back to a position that I have strong feelings for, both positive and negative.
I’ve been a CNA since 2012. It’s something that I actually enjoy. It’s hard work, but it has its perks. You get to know people, really know people. The elderly have stories from eras that we only read about in books now, but they lived it. The veterans have their war stories, the little ladies still have their secrets. And they all still have their routines.
Ladies still go to the beauty shop to get their hair done in tight perms, men still drink their coffee while talking to other men about the weather or sports. They still sit down and eat dinner together. They play dominoes and bingo.
Being a CNA is hard, because it’s manual labor. It’s long hours on your feet. It’s showers and baths, dressing and grooming, feeding too. There’s therapy and rounds. But it’s the emotional part that will kill you.
You get attached to people. Most of the people I was friends with are passed on now, Marti and Dot, to name a couple. We became friends. We shared stories. We held each other’s hands. I was there for them when they were scared, when they cried, when they were angry, when they were sick. I saw their pain. I was there when family didn’t show up. I was there. And now, they’re gone. And you try to reason, “they’re in a better place, they’re in no more pain, it’s better this way,” But it still hurts.
Being a CNA is awesome. And I am truly grateful that I get to be one. I am nervous that I am going back. But it’s nice to be back in the saddle.
I’ve been trying to think of what to say, how to explain my disappearance from Facebook, or from work. And nothing really sounds that great. I don’t know how to explain in simple terms, because I want people to clue into what’s going on. I think that it’s important.
So, if you don’t know, I have some things to attempt to explain, provide some key details that I have kept very private. Things that are important and vital to everyone, but are kept in the shadows. So, here goes. Read the rest of this entry
So, last night, I attempted to go back to work. It did not go well.
Everyone was excited to see me, except me. I saw the old me show her sad self. The anxiety came flooding back at full force, negativity washed over me in a toxic wave. I hated who I became.
I was sick. Sick to my stomach, head aching, sweat beading on my forehead. I couldn’t take it anymore and I wanted to cut. I wanted to die. I wanted everything to disappear.
I called my husband. He was less than sympathetic. And I understand. It’s the financial issues that have always plagued us, but things have to be ok. We are almost caught up on the bills that we are behind on, plus my hospital bill… Probably not the best time to quit my job, but I had to do something.
I talked to my sister today, as well as my mom. But I told my sister more information than my mom. I told her that it’s coming down to me or my job. It comes down to, the even one more day having to suffer at my job, makes me want to crash my car. Because if I crash my car, then I don’t have to go to work. If I have to go to work one more day, then I’m going to kill myself. I got stressed out and I wanted to cut. I mean, this is crazy. No job is worth this.
I would rather live than lose my life over one crumby job.
So I called and I quit. Due to medical reasons, of course. They said that they understood and would pass me on with a good reference as long as I turn in a resignation letter stating that I’m quitting due to medical reasons.
I am looking for a new job. I have some leads and applications out there. I’ve applied for disability, to see what they say.
In the mean time, I’m going to enjoy being a happy housewife. Maybe write some books. 🙂
I’m doing better and I love life. I want to live, to be happy, and to have a life. Hopefully, things will get better.
If I haven’t told you before, I work in a nursing home. I deal with death, dying people, sick people, the crazies, and much more. I also deal with the aggressive, the ones that are very hard to deal with.
Recently, it’s getting harder and harder to deal with the aggressive ones. There is one, in particular, that I can think of right now, that it is becoming progressively harder to deal with.
I don’t deal with aggression well. I didn’t tolerate it at Rock House, and I’ve dealt with it, passively, all my life. I’ve noticed that, in the years passing, I, myself, have become more and more aggressive. Whether it’s defending a passion, or facing adversity and aggressively physical people, I have become more aggressive. My anger blossoms in my chest and the thoughts that pop in my head are sometimes uncontrollable. No amount of breathing and walking away fixes it. And most of the time, my anger is when I’m at work. Understandable, an aggressively stressful environment, it’s understandable that I would be angry. But, when I get angry at home, for no reason, it’s a problem. I digress.
The elderly, there are few types. There are the ones that are sweet, little old men and women. The ones who have basically reverted back into a childlike state, they have some tantrums, but are mostly agreeable and wouldn’t hurt a fly.
There are the ones who think that you are there only to serve them. You are their personal servant or slave. You are only there to serve them and them alone, forget about the other people that are on your hall needing your care. They are better than you. They will tell you exactly how they want things to be done, and don’t you even think about not doing it “correctly”, even if you’ve done it a million times. You are to be there when they get on the light. You are to wait on them as long as it takes and do not rush.
There are racist ones. One that think that people of different colors should NOT be allowed in their room and wonder how they ever even got into the building. Which, honestly, doesn’t make sense. I thought that it did, because that was their era. To be racist. But, really, back in the day, their slaves were colored and took care of everything. What would be the difference? Does that make sense? Like without being racist, because I’m definitely NOT trying to be racist. Honestly, I don’t know what the proper etiquette is for not being racist or saying something inappropriate. And if it helps, I got that from an agency aide, who happens to be black. She didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let her in their room just because of her skin color. I didn’t either. But she brought up the point of slavery and how the “help” raised white folks kids and did laundry and etc. You know? So why wouldn’t they allow her in there to take care of them. It made me really mad, because I don’t believe that you should be racist, period. Secondly, if you can’t take care of yourself, and you have to have someone take care of you, you should probably be thankful that someone is willing to help you. It shouldn’t matter what color their skin is.
Then, there are the stupid ones. The ones who act like they don’t have a lick of sense in their head. You have to do everything for them, even though they are perfectly capable. They are not stupid, they just really act like it.
Finally, there are the really aggressive ones. The ones that I can’t handle. And I applaud anyone who can deal with them with patience and compassion. But when you sit there and take a swing at me, try to kick me, pinch me, slap me, spit at me, or try to bite me when I am trying to help you? HELL NO! I can’t handle it. It happens all the time. I have one resident that is just aggressive and he aims to hurt you. I can’t take it. I am there to help, not to be your punching bag. And with my anxiety, it makes it worse. I start feeling the panic set in. I start trembling and tears well in my eyes. But I have to help them. I can’t just not help. I’m not that kind of person. But when they try to hurt me, I want to bad to hurt them back.
Yes, that is against state law, pretty much everywhere. And it’s against all kinds of ethics, but I’m sure you could understand the impulse to hurt someone who is hurting you. And you can understand the fight or flight system firing when you’re being swung at.
Now, explain this: what if the behavior is not provoked? Like, I have a resident who gets on my nerves, they act stupid and they aren’t. But when they act that way, I want nothing more than to smash their head into the wall. And I feel no guilt about feeling like that. I don’t act on it. But I feel the pull, the rush, the need to do it. But I resist. I’m not about to land my ass in jail. But I want to. And when I feel like that, it takes over an hour to calm down, if I do calm down. I don’t think it’s healthy.
But I need a job, and this one is good. I just need to get my thoughts under control, at least I’m controlling most of my actions.