Goodbye for now

For anyone who might’ve been looking forward to another darkly humoured rant about my workplace, you may be waiting for a while. Three weeks ago, I was put on stress leave for a number of reasons. Apparently, Predator Cub wanting to fight every customer that looked at me wrong was not a great sign. Also, the constantly raised heart rate and a little too frequent break downs made for a very concerned OB.

But aren’t break downs a normal part of pregnancy?

Well technically yes, they are. We’ve all heard the stories of pregnant women who cry over cute baby animals or really sad rom coms, however that’s not how I’ve been functioning. I have four adorable pets that are constantly doing cute shit. Mazikeen (our 2-year-old rottie) has become very attached and protective of me. Every morning when Matt goes to work, she claims his spot on the bed and doesn’t settle down until he leaves the house. I’ve woken up to find her and the two cats curled around me.

Despite how much this warms my cold dead heart, I haven’t teared up over it.

You know what has sent me over the edge? Wondering how much abuse I’m going to cop the second I clock on at work. Wondering whether or not I’m going to have some ass wipe throw something at me because they had to wait an extra thirty seconds to be served.

I think Matt was getting a little concerned with how many times he’s come home from work to have me crying in his arms.

You know what the worst part of all of it was though?

How much I blamed myself.

The thought that ran through my head the most was, “You should be handling this better. You’ve been copping abuse for the past 10 years but now you’re having meltdowns?”

I felt useless. My body had already been running at half speed for months and now my brain was simultaneously telling me that I wasn’t coping and needed to make a change while also telling me that I was at fault for not coping.

I couldn’t even look my OB in the eye when I was explaining how badly I’d been doing. That’s how ashamed I was.

The question he asked next wasn’t if I wanted to take stress leave, it was how much time did I want, followed up with a suggestion of starting me maternity leave early. He said to me that while I’m very funny he could see how stressed I was. Mum and I just laughed together and said, “coping mechanism”. Humour is how I deal with a lot of things and it’s gotten me this far in life.

Unfortunately I couldn’t joke my way out of this one. There were only so many humorous spins I could put on the abuse and threats before it all became too much. And while there have been studies that show that increased stress levels during pregnancy can result in the baby developing fine motor skills ahead of schedule, that’s not really a bragging point.

“Hey, Predator, just so you know, you hit some arbitrary milestones early because I put myself through more stress than I needed to while I was carrying you. You’re welcome.”

So here we are now, three weeks after my last shift at work, which wasn’t even a full shift because I ended up having a panic attack. I’ve finally stopped feeling guilty that I’ve finished up at work early and left my team struggling. I feel bad that they’re all in such a tough spot but it’s not my fault. My starting leave early should not have such an insane impact on the department. There should’ve been enough back up in the wings to be able to step up when I left.

I’ve felt guilty over the fact that I’m essentially getting paid by my work to build an Aloy cosplay with my friend for ComicCon. I’ve felt guilty that Matt is working 50+ hour weeks while I get to spend time with the dogs and do things that make me happy.

To a degree I still feel a little bit guilty, then my spine decides to spasm or I have trouble getting up from the ground and I feel less guilty because the Predator Cub growing in my womb is the reason I’ve put on 12kgs already.

Matt has made it pretty clear as well that I don’t need to feel guilty. When I expressed guilt over not being at work and taking extra hours to help put money away for the baby, he said something that had me forgiving him for any stress he’d contributed for the past year. He said to me that what I was doing, growing a baby was something that was more important than money. You could be a billionaire and still not be able to do what I am doing.

I know.

Even now whenever I start feeling bad, he reminds me that he prefers me not being at work. I’m doing something that makes me happy and keeps me calm. I suppose it’s a little selfish on his part as well. The happier I am and less stress that I’m dealing with means he gets away with more shit.

So yes, unfortunately there won’t be many if anymore installments of Retail Rants for at least another year. I guess I’ll just have to entertain you all with the antics of my family and pregnancy and actually work on my book.

After ComicCon.

So far, I’ve put in something like fifty hours into this costume and it’s so weird how calming it is to adhere foam together with superglue.

You’d be amazed to know how much foam goes into these cosplay costumes. I sure as shit was.

While I won’t be dressing up for ComicCon myself this year I will be following my friend around passing her diet coke and snacks whenever she needs them. I myself will have a little pop out chair to sit my ass down in while she’s being bombarded by people who want to take photos with her. It’s going to be great. And exhausting. And so so worth it.

Matt will be home with the dogs learning how to do things to his car and I get to go to Perth’s version of Nerdvana and not feel guilty about it.

I think one of the most important things that I’m taking away from all of this is that it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to put your own physical, mental and emotional needs above the needs of a workplace that doesn’t care as much as they claim to. I don’t mean the people I work with don’t care, they do, they’ve been amazing actually.

The company as a whole though. I’m not the first one to go through this and I doubt that I will be the last. We’ve needed more team members for months, but nothing has been done beyond hiring more juniors. Juniors are great and all, they’re cheap and for the most part eager to learn. Unfortunately, we need adults. Team old enough to sell cigarettes and responsible enough to be trusted to actually ask for ID or run a shift.

We should have enough senior team members that one isn’t forced to miss out on their breaks until an hour before they finish.

These are things that make me glad I’m not at work. These are things that make me relieved every time my reminders come up for a shift, because I haven’t taken them out of my calendar on my phone yet.

The other really important thing that I’ve come to realise is that I needed to stop making my workplace my priority. I’m don’t mean that work isn’t important. Hard work is very important to get where you want to be. My brother wouldn’t have a thriving business if he didn’t work hard. But weekends, they’re for his family. Nights, they’re for his family.

I’ve spent so much time away from Matt and the things that I want to do, the things that make me happy for a place that takes more than it gives. For shits sake, I was going through the self serves with my shopping and I got asked by a senior team member (not old senior just position senior) where something was in another department. For starters she should’ve been able to figure that one out for herself. Secondly, as my friend who was with me very eloquently pointed out, I was on stress leave and still couldn’t be left the fuck alone.

Predator needs me to take care of me so that they can grow in the way they’re meant to. I need to take care of myself. Predator is my priority. Even if they’re the reason that I can’t walk without waddling and has prompted a slew of penguin jokes.