I should be happy, crazy happy, ridiculously happy – instead I’m sat in hospital (via two visits to a&e) having spent most of the past 10 days struggling to breathe, before near collapse due to total breathing clog on Tuesday night. I leave the country in a week and my plan to work extra hours and earn extra cash has collapsed, along with what feels like my lungs.
Apparently my lungs are still functioning – the chest x-rays have all been clear and both the a&e staff and myself have put it down to allergies, however i was low enough on Oxygen for them to panic, and move to me recuss. As evidenced in recent months i seem to be pushing my body to it’s limit and then some major medical disaster happens which forces me to stop before I carry on again. Well, that is OVER.
Although it’s not. My persistence to drive through the pain; to come to go to work despite feeling breathless because I’m a casual on a zero hours contract which means no pay, no sick pay. I was due up finish tomorrow but after calling in sick 3 days in a row I was kindly offered the rest of the week to prepare for the next stage of my life by a colleague who I genuinely believe thought I ‘just couldn’t be bothered to wake up early on a Saturday’ because having less oxygen on my body than a terminally ill ninety year old would be insane, wouldn’t it?
So why the happiness? Well those plans i’ve been muttering about have come off, so as well as struggling to breathe I have also completed house move one of three, been granted a visa, booked a flight and half packed… That break i needed? It’s happening and it couldn’t be happening sooner.
The last months i’ve pushed my body to the max when it’s coming to slogging away in a role which I essentially lost passion for last christmas; i’ve been biding my time, waiting and battling allergies that have been worse than ever (I blame my age) and turned into raging colds on numerous occasion. I swear the last time I could breathe like a normal human was back in February when i was out of the country.
The last few weeks career wise have been vile and i think trying to hold back my emotions utter despair and stay strong alongside the visa anxiety is what’s caused this minor implode. No longer do I have to ‘stay strong’ work a million hours on a zero hours contract or deal with the crap i’vc had to recently. I mean yes there will be different crap, different people with their different negative and belittling outpourings but… that’s life and now i’m gone? Well I have rules, boundaries, base lines, a change in priorities, a minimum. And one of those is to sleep way more. i mean i must be the only person over 25 that can still happily sleep for 15 hours on a day off; probably because those have come around on average every 6 weeks.
As much as this is all very exciting; it’s as always terrifying, scary and anxiety inducing – mostly the ‘what the fuck am I going to do when I get back’ bit. But i have atleast six months to work that one out and to be fair; i have some plans in my bra for that one.