Fact of Life

I was beginning to write a glowingly bitter diatribe about the laziness and negativity of my co-workers...how they fail to find a single positive thing to say over the twelve hours that they work...how they seem to believe that I have am working in my job position to personally service each and every single one of them, as they are unable to place a sticker on their patient flow sheets all by themselves...how they predict doom and gloom about our workplace ("You just wait and see...things aren't going to get better...they're just going to get worse and worse, like everything in life!")...how they gossip and natter about each other behind their backs, but pretend to be best friends face to face... I have pleasantly surprised myself by managing to cope with working among them for the past three years. Admittedly, I do find myself altered, which was unavoidable, I suppose. I cuss like a sailor, engage in rants about the failings of our manager, and discuss the oddities of some nurses I work with. However, I do all those things at home or at certain co-workers houses. Unlike the ones who sit in the break room and discuss the personal lives of other co-workers while on lunch, I save those chats for moments when I'm laying on my co-workers living room floor, dangerously close to the fireplace, drunkenly expounding on the fucked up mannerisms and behaviour of those I work with.
And so that is what I love about getting drunk. It knocks all those irritations from my brain and makes me feel calm and centered. All the useless thoughts are eradicated, and the most pressing need is the bathroom, or the desire to make out with someone. There is this strange clarity when drunk...that I'm not that bad looking, that someone might find me desirable, that the things I worry about aren't really worth fretting over, and that things will just somehow work out, regardless of what the current situation is. The current situation isn't good--who knows how long I have until I am financially destitute, but this morning when I woke up from my troubled and restless sleep (again), I felt that something had clicked overnight, and I feel much better than I have this entire week. I feel like Marcia has woken up, and I'm walking around in my body that is MINE, not a body that I am temporarily possessing.
So even though my co-workers hear about my drunken stories and call me a lush or a weekend alcoholic, they have no idea that they're one of the reasons we (myself and a selective group of co-workers) indulge in spirits so frequently. They probably have no idea, because they are so self-centered and selfish. It doesn't matter though...what matters is that we find a way to deal with work and with life, and sometimes that does unfortunately mean avoidance...avoidance to give oneself a mental break from the realities of life. I have no idea what this is all about. I guess I'm trying to reason why I've become a drinker, but when it comes down to it, I don't feel I need to explain it...I drink because I like to. I drink because it makes me feel brave and beautiful. I drink because I have a good time. I drink because I can forget about all the shit that people dump on me through the work week. So in the words of P!nk:

Raise your glass if you are wrong, in all the right ways
All my underdogs, we will never be, never be anything but loud,
and nitty gritty dirty little freaks won't you come on, and come on, and raise your glass

It's Halloween this weekend, so I plan on raising my glass at a wild costume party, during which I will be completely sloshed and hopefully enjoying myself among friends. Let the wild partying and temporary break from sanity commence. The co-workers can bitch and complain all they want about the crazy ways of the young kids they work with...but whatever. You can't please everyone, and that's an important lesson that I am still learning from life.

Oh the other lesson---words of my brother echoed in my head today. No matter how much you change your body (whether in an effort to live healthier or to look more aesthetically pleasing), you'll never be 100% content with how you look. You'll always find some flaw in your body that you wish could be changed. I'm not sure how those words of wisdom make me feel. A little happy that I can relax and try to appreciate my body for what it is, in whatever stage it currently dwells in. A little sad that I'll always struggle with self esteem and self worth. A lot relieved that I'm not the only person who avoids mirrors.

(Note: this entry is from Oct. 30/10)