Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Twenty fourteen; pretty, pretty, pretty good

With thanks to Curb.

So, another calender year near done and another to begin. Twenty fourteen was eventful. There was shitty stuff—health-wise for each one of the family—but there was awesome stuff too. For me, I am in a new role far from my former workplace and I'm in a position of actual influence. It's pretty awesome. As I told my psych in a recent work-asked-for-visit I am the APS equivalent of Ben Kenobi—I was struck down but made only more powerful.

I know, that talk sounds a tad nuts, even fully nuts. A mentally empowered me does come with its drawbacks; the hubris and the grandiose visions dancing like fucking sugarplums in my head. But that's cool, that's just something I'll have to learn to better manage in 2015. To keep my ego in check, set rational, achievable goals and not act like Zaphod coming out of the Total Perspective Vortex machine that said he, Zaphod, was the most important person in the universe

My psych said that checking-of-ego was a worthy goal. She also said good-bye—she's off to have a baby—so my work-ordered check-up ended as a fond parting of the ways and I got to say thanks to her for being part of my pyramid of support. 

This year was indeed the "rise and rise of Mikey". As in "risen back to my feet". I'm in a new job, I'm doing useful work and the people I work with value me.

So take that, haters, that's wellness right there.

Here's to 2015; the rise and rise (and rise) of Mikey.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Three steps forward, two steps back

I recently decided to launch my response to oldwork's bullying me from my job back in March 2013 after one of the principle offenders thought they'd be a smart arse and smugly insist they could email me in group-sent emails without my having to be weeded out of the distribution list. 

They were told, many times, they could never contact me again.

With International Disability Day in the offing I decided that was serendipity and went them for what they did to me that caused me to go—leaving me a sick person made far sicker and nearly dead. 

That redress process is running. My new boss asked I was going with it all, as she's worried I'll lapse back into an anxious pain-wracked state, and I said it was "three steps forward, two steps back". I'm glad I launched the process, it will lead to eventual catharsis and, dare I say it, closure for my brutal exit from a job I was most-awesome at. But it has caused memories of pain to return and it takes effort to drive them away—like my 30 minute fast-walk today when I strode off the anxiety that was working in my system, returning to the office in ache and sweat. 

But it is worth it and I am glad I am doing it. They cannot hurt me any more than they did and I will have my riposte.

Wellness for the win.

ThundertheBoy is go!

With thanks to The Thunderbirds.

It's been raining of late here in the nation's capital, with much downpour of oft-cold water.

We recently got chickens—chicks, actually—and they were outside in their coop when the rain came bucketing down. They were there on a try-out to see how they went in the coop, the chickens still spending nights inside with us as they were too young for outside nights.

Given the torrent of water dashing through their coop and, with theWife at the shops, it was up to theBoy and I to save the day.

I held the umbrella up to shield him as he, theBoy, slid into the coop on his tummy like a were-penguin and started upchucking chicks to me as I caught then dropped them in the re-purposed liquor box we used to shuttle them between their new coop and the inside of the house.

In order to shield him, theBoy from the rain pouring down I held the brolly out from myself, my lower back and arse hanging outside the brolly zone of protection and exposed to the storm with sheets of cold water, fat drops laced with triumph, smacking into my body then streaming into one torrent down the wet crack of my PJ-bottom-covered arse. 

The operation was over in less time than a Bin Laden put down—which took like 38 minutes ... all within in gunshot distance of the Pakistani Military Academy—and we were back in the house shortly after our frantic panicked rain-rescue dash of the chicklets. Once the chicks were safely deposited under the warmth of a lamp to dry their damp, tissue-box-pushing feathery little bodies, theBoy and I took turns showering away the muck and the cold of the rain that had so grievously assaulted us.

It was a nice moment. 

Parenting milestone

theBoy and I throwing the dead toaster into the trash-pack. He got it in on his third attempt!

Thursday, December 04, 2014

Self-fist raised in the air

In the spirit of International Day of People with Disability (IDPwD) I decided enough was enough and I rolled my biggest boulder which I'd saved for last—a giant IDPwD "Fuck You!" to bastards in my wake.

And it's a doozy (1).

 Wellness for the win. 

(1) With thanks to Community