This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. It is a place where I can be honest and I appreciate that. Here, I splurge. No one comes out looking good. It is a selfish place written by a pretty selfish person. It is a place of ranting and I am, ultimately, an unreliable narrator. Bear that in mind. I attempt to be honest, but things are very much from my point of view.
Highly subjective views of people in my life proliferate. It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the "Story So Far" Page above. I can also heartily recommend that Dysphoria link if you're questioning or interested. Thank you!
Looking more closely, this has nothing to do with me. My stack is to the right... Oh well, it's my mistake now.
Admitting to mistakes that you were party to, but did not originate, is probably a bad plan. Alas, it's a core part of who I am - admit to the whole mistake to shield others, even if you don't know who the others are. That way I can control some of the variables, assuage my guilt and foresee some of the narrative. I suspect that, outside of teaching, there is less of a 'blameless culture' and rather more of a points system whereby I end up being sacked as the newb who had too many mistakes. Doesn't mean I won't keep going as I always do though. In this case it was some stacked stuff that fell over - stacked in the wrong place, the wrong way and too high. I took part, sure, but did not originate said stack nor complete it. Doesn't matter, it is my mistake now.
I have not had this gin yet. I bought in some strawberry and vanilla stuff from Aldi on the cheap, having saved with my weekly shop. Nearly finished that bottle. Still, cost the same as a single can of decent stout (well, less actually).
I bought gin with some money from my Mum over the last week, I was feeling a bit loose with the cash, and joined it with a take-out. I have marked many papers, gained far more money than I was anticipating and had even won a prize draw to get £100 in vouchers for doing marking. I do not believe it to be real, and I shall continue to believe there are no vouchers until such time as they are delivered to my grubby little mitts. I suspect a BS inducement to mark more, with well-meaning middle management who will find out that they cannot promise such things as they cannot be delivered. Anyway, the day yesterday was busy - Smallest and Tilly in the morning and then Bigs in the afternoon into the evening. I drank gin with lunch, then again in the evening. I enjoyed it, it was something I have not done since the Ladies' Night back in February and I had meant to repeat the gin experiment of that night - I have done so, it was nice. It meant that I got up late this morning for my early shift and was super tired (hence the stacking I did).
Chams was on Thursday, it was good. But I got excited, having had a coffee that morning to power through the early shift, which I then split to help out with a later-than-expected delivery, and I was speed-talking. I ended up in full teacher-mode and filling silences with words, explanations and references as though I could control the room, like I did when I taught, and... I hate it when I do that. I know that I am doing it in the moment, I do, and I continue on anyway - making references, subtle puns, linking disparate pieces of information in a manner that amuses me and only me, jokes that make sense only if you live in my head and so on and so forth. I continue because I cannot stop. Afterwards, when I come down a little, I realise that I have done that which I hate about myself: dominating conversation, robbing others of their own jokes and anecdotes and experiences - I have been insufferable and self-absorbed. The worst kind of introverted extrovert (or vice versa? I don't know) and that person with ASD that is the jerk.
We, my first boss and I, created a whole rant around why Eeyore was depressed - because of his friends who bothered him and were happy in his direction and fixed his tail with a freaking thumb-tack. I forget why.
Anyway, yes, I am being significantly Eeyore like.
Still, I wore a new LBD I picked up for a pound from a charity shop, over a Debenhams blouse with a lovely collar (lace effect pointy bits) and some old white stockings I got in during my flirtation with stuff online (TMI, only click the link if you don't mind that) held up with a garter belt that actually fits when you wear it on your waist properly. Who would have thought? Nearly wore my stiletto effect heels but went sensible and wore my black ankle boots instead.
Pronoun troubles too. It's a 70-30 split now at work: with the 70 using 'he/him' of me. It's heading ever more toward 90-10 that way. It is interesting and, honestly, whatever. But I also noticed that the Smallest has reverted entirely to he/him and kept saying he wanted my beard back. Tilly has had to dig out and show him photos of me with a beard because he was crying that I no longer had one (when I've not been there). Tilly has been limiting to 'they/them' because Middlest is at that point, but lapses to 'he/him' for the Smallest, who will correct her to that if she uses anything else. Indeed, the only person Smallest won't correct is me, but he did tell me he was upset that I didn't have a beard and asked me to grow it back. Before I left home I had a beard. I think I see the connection, even if Tilly does not, she believes it is confusing and hard for Smallest. It is as well. My selfishness knows few bounds. Read enough entries here and you'll see what I mean.
Marking is now finished. Have to ring on Monday to find out what has happened to some of the payments I am owed, which should have been paid ten days ago now, so that's fun to come. Missed a job going at Royal Mail (slightly higher pay per hour, six hours a day, five days a week, regular hours, chance of advancement, only 5 grand off my aim point) - it went up and was filled in two days (I was marking for bonus money). The Bigs were up again after work today, it being Saturday, and it was nice but time consuming. I guess I'm feeling a bit down still. Always said gin was bottled female tears (well, no, I stole that from Dylan Moran's stand-up routine) and it seems to largely hold true.
So, speak it softly, but there is maybe some good news.
See that flag there? I bought it Moscow in 2001, it has been in every classroom in which I have taught ever since. Sad to think it's likely been lifted by a student. It is literally irreplaceable.
The photo is not from where I most recently worked, this classroom no longer even exists.
I was in school today to pick my stuff up. My lovely colleagues had packaged 18 boxes(!) worth of stuff, including resources for lessons that I know are still in use (for my next teaching job). Of course, I left those, I shan't ever have another teaching job. At least, if I ever do, it'll be so far in the future that my resources would be out of date. Besides, I have all the electronic versions anyway. Missing was my 'Keep calm and stay autistic' mug and my USSR flag from Moscow - likely lifted by student souvenir hunters which is... well, par for the course, frankly. I've lost a fair amount of stuff over the years at that place, lifted by students and never the right ones that I don't mind having it.
I digress. My friend was there to supervise (I can't be more specific) and revealed that a mistake had been made: I shall be paid for the next two months. My friend had noted the mistake, ensured it was going ahead, and then ensured that the school would not be asking for the 'mistaken' pay back from me. Which they informed me of very carefully. This is why one treats everyone with respect, one never knows when it will be repaid in full. I am very grateful, of course. Sad, still, that this is how it ends, but grateful.
Yes, here.
Yesterday another friend from work met me out at a local pub and bought me beer like a proper gentleman. It felt very strange being bought drinks, let me tell you, and brought a 'sorry you're leaving' card from colleagues at work who were frustrated that no mention has been made of me there for the last five months. It was a genuine tear-jerk reading the messages in there, somehow I managed only to have to be careful and not smudge the mascara. Some days this last week I have ended up having to reapply thinking about how it's all gone and how I shan't ever be back in the classroom. No full on sobs or tears yet, still powered by examination adrenaline at the moment.
Is this the lesson I needed to learn anew? Is that what all this was about?
I didn't realise it was an SNL skit! I just thought it a figure of speech. Still, yes, the reason I have gone radio silent (apart from here, which functions as a kind of therapy I guess) is that I really don't want to be a Debbie Downer - which I know I can do.
Friends. People offering help, in small ways and big, in subtle ways and without even realising that's what they were doing. Friends gathering round, offering ears and more, and just... being friends. Hugs online, messages just checking in over WhatsApp and social media, e-mails offering the kind of things one would be too embarrassed to ask for, asking questions about the children in person, saying I looked 'beautiful' or buying me beer.
I said it was one of the big themes of the last five months, maybe I needed to really feel that again. And so I am going to try and parse all that goodwill, that genuine love, from friends and actually feel it. Most of my life I have batted it away, not in a nasty way (I hope) but trying to fade away from it all as though I didn't deserve it and couldn't rely on it: if only they knew the real me, kind of deal. Well, turns out I didn't know the real me, no one did, until very recently. I'm still learning about the real me, but my friends probably saw more hints of the real me than I did. New and old. In the past and still today.
Crouching cupboard, hidden shop-girl selfie - third day of work, I think? Not one of my better shots, to be sure, but I look happy.
Deep in the examination mines the air is close and the light small - it is dark and oppressive. Record-breaking climate-anxiety-inducing temperatures did not help. Having a new job inamongst my usual exam stresses was at once helpful - somewhere to go and get out of the house, a mental break from examining, people to talk to, friends to make - but also stressful - I make more in thirty minutes' worth of marking than I do in three hours' worth of work. Yesterday, for example, I earned more in bonus (extra paid for marking a certain number of scripts a day) than I do in a week at work now. These bonuses were always nice, always enticing, but in my old life they never equated to quite that grand a scale - my job, my pay, was always enough to take care of most bills.
Nevertheless, I was happy. Genuinely. I enjoy marking. I enjoy my new job as a shop-girl. Because, well, look at the damn' title! There's a 70-30 split of customers referring to me as 'female' versus 'male', with most of the 30% being males themselves (interesting) but I'll take the affirmation of the 70% and run with it. 100% of my colleagues, who only know me as Joanna. Several regular customers (also in the 30% interestingly) have praised me to others whom they know as a 'keeper' and a positive to their experience. All in my hearing, but only one knowingly so. It's nice, I like that. I've had some screw-ups but I've mostly weathered those without too much dark soul-searching (I take things way too seriously, it's part of- wait, do you even read this blog?).
I really need to tidy my bedroom...
Wednesday was a day off. I decided that I would go for a walk to IKEA, first time in ages, and just enjoy my morning before embarking on another round of marking. The heat of Monday and Tuesday was mostly past, I seemed to be coming down with a cold, and, well, I felt like some 'me time'. I did my usual conversation with Him Upstairs as I walked, it's a feature, and I was thanking Him because, for once, financially - well, I looked like I might actually come out ahead if I got a job that paid the bills before December. I never made it to IKEA. Not long after that I got a phonecall from a courier, they had a letter from my old place - I knew what this was. I ran home, literally ran, and was not wrong. I have been summarily dismissed. My Union had failed me. I had not had anything to sign, for some reason they had delayed, and the school had acted accordingly. I rang, my friend in HR was sympathetic, of course they would sort it. It took a while to get hold of my Union. Later in the day, unable to check in with my Union, I called my friend again - the school were firm, they were sorry for my issues with my Union, but that sounded like a me problem. Eventually the Union forwarded me a form to print out to apply for hardship funding in the meantime, protesting that they had done what they usually do and were perplexed as to the school's actions. Last update, yesterday, was that they were investigating any legal avenues.
This means I do not have the financial cushion I thought I had. More generally, I now, legally, must disclose to any new employment that I was dismissed from my last job and give the reason: gross misconduct. No one will listen after those two words. A job that pays the bills is now... well, probably out. I will not likely end up ahead. I may not even break even.
Losing my job was one nightmare. Losing access to my Youngest another. They both came hard on the heels of losing my marriage, losing a couple of teeth to crumbling, losing my savings to a leak in the loft that still isn't properly fixed and leaks in the bathroom that are bodged for now. My Eldest has said that she doesn't want to stay over again. Her choice, can't say I'm happy, but I shall support her as best as I can. She wants to go to Pride, I can't take her - my job. It doesn't pay well, but £36 is better than no money and visiting Pride.
I thought that I had run out of nightmares. But I also know that there is nothing bad that I cannot make worse through my own ineptitude. My Dad's wife had recommended I tell school that I would sign the agreement back before their deadline as my Union were being strange. I did not. Had I been quicker in taking Smallest home I wouldn't be denied access without supervision (he's been much better since not coming over, Tilly informs me, much happier and less angry). Had I waited until this summer to transition I may still have a job (they were willing to deal with things quickly and mostly positively until I changed my name officially with work - I did say that would force their hand one way or another). Had I not got a diagnosis for autism I may still have a marriage. Had I been able to control my urges to cross-dress I may still have a relationship. Had I been able to better deal with my stresses of new children I may still have a loving relationship. Had I been able to better deal with my stress I may still be working at the place I was when I started all this, I may have paid off more of my mortgage, not lost £30k+ on my first house.
There is nothing I cannot make worse by my own actions.
I have a rip-snorting cold, I am not sleeping well, and there is more marking to do.
0800 - a case in points: I told Tilly about my cold. I am not now seeing any of my children this weekend as a consequence - can't risk it being COVID this close to Eldest's dance intensive. Cutting my nails I ended up slipping three times, now I have painful fingers and worrying buried sharp points. Taking a shower meant I missed the opportunity to take on some extra hours at work as well. There is nothing I cannot make worse by my own actions.
ADDENDUM - Bought in some tests, at least it's not COVID.
Out on my walk to IKEA in the bright sunshine and with a vixen necklace glinting in the light. It was lovely.
Today I did the training at the Shop I have a job in. Because they got back to me on Saturday, whilst I was out with Middlest and playing games with Tilly and Smallest (still not allowed to see him without Tilly in tow, extending to using the car and being in public apparently), and I got a job. I have some issues with this, but that's because I am genuinely excited about having the sort of entry level retail job that students get outside of school (and mucking up the training tonight, but that's a story for another time). I have three shifts this week (one doesn't get paid for training) and... well. It'll be an 0540 start on Wednesday (eek) but there it is.
I met up with a friend too today whilst out at IKEA (taking a break from the examination mines) and was reminded that museum jobs exist so that was nice. And I had my free hot drinks and a nice walk out before the day got too hot. Sunday was a good day catching up with the examining too, meaning that I am mostly on track and/or finished. My day tomorrow shall be looking into signing up for benefits and finishing extra marking (for extra monies) so that'll be nice.
In a wood, attempting to pose walking, but it was Sunday and I love that dress.
However, sociology and internalised misogyny. In that, I am genuinely pleased to have a shop-girl position on minimum wage because it seems affirming and valid. Which is awful for someone who considers herself a feminist, right? I was hit, on Sunday, with the memory of working in a religious bookshop when I was doing my MA and referring to myself, as a joke you understand, as the 'Saturday Girl'. This was a running joke between an actual girl working there and myself, I was the Saturday Girl and she was the Shift Leader. And... yeah, makes sense in retrospect. I digress, the point is that I worry that my genuine joy here is probably partly down to internalised misogyny and is, at least, Sociologically interesting that I assumed (correctly) that most of the minimum wage staff working irregular hours and with no holiday pay etc would be female.
Did end up buying a pair of trousers though in a charity shop (£2.50) that are lovely for black trousers - the people said I could wear a skirt if I preferred, which was nice of them - and that's nice. Very affirming because the trousers are a size 12 and they fit perfectly.
Skirt of the dress goes spinny.
I had assumed I had a lot more to say and in depth too, but apparently I do not and I am too tired. I have been wearing eye-shadow and even put on some nail varnish (the Euphoria) for the last couple of days. I have legitimately missed wearing it - I was letting my nails recover after the damage I did staying in bed for 40+ hours that time - and wearing it recently reminded me how much of a mood-lifter it can be! Am I turning into a girly-girl? I mean, I have been accused of this, and... huh.
It's Chams this week, and I am looking forward to it. It will be nice to see people again, been a bit on my own-some this last week, it feels like. However, I'm not complaining, Miss Warrington has been in touch today and that was lovely, She seems well and happy. Shiona was in touch being brilliant (she called it bossy, I think it's the same thing). And I got some nice feedback both as a Team Leader and from a Team Leader - all today - and that has been welcome indeed. I hope I can get a job that pays enough that I can start buying special beers again rather than worrying about the expense and weighing it against having an extra month of budget. Hmm. I really am tired, all of this is terribly disjointed. Time, I think, to retire to bed.
Yes, I took this late in the evening, actually especially for the blog, as I had forgotten to take any other photos since Tuesday...
No, those aren't the correct lyrics (I'm pretty certain) but it'll do for now. Gone are the days when I'd play that to the Smallest to get him to sleep on an evening - well, not that long gone, it must have been 2018 and 2019 actually. I digress, it's been a few days, what news?
Had my interview at One Stop today and, like at IKEA, the interviewers seemed warm and genuine when they said that they'd enjoyed my interview; they laughed at my comments (I laughed at theirs too) designed for a laugh and it all seemed very positive. I have yet to hear back from IKEA, these people said they would try to sort it before the end of the weekend - if I were successful it would be a phone call and an e-mail if not. Sad to think that the best outcome of all this is 12 hours at £10ph or 15 hours at £9.90ph. It's... not enough to live on for me.
Smallest was over with Tilly this morning and it was largely as I expected. Tilly got no time to herself, Smallest played up a lot and struggled the entire time. He was distraught he wouldn't be coming for tea, preventing him from enjoying what time we did have for very long before being all grumpy and shouty. I suspect Tilly will see this as further evidence that our attachment is broken and that I must seek psychotherapy. Toward the end of their time here I got a phonecall from my Union - no I am not still being paid and that was because I was on the back foot (I noted that my Rep did not use 'we') here, the school could just dismiss - so I had to jump when they asked. My Rep has the draft settlement, she would send it on to me "by Tuesday at the latest" and I would need to "get it back quickly as [school] has demanded it all be settled by the end of next week" and the Union needs time after I have agreed to check it. Good, great. No e-mail today, she's not in til Tuesday again, so I guess I see it on Tuesday. And shall have to agree it that day too. After the extra ten days taken to get this far by the school. But, as I was again reminded, one makes mistakes and then one has to live with the consequences. I honestly, and perhaps naively, thought that the Union was supposed to be on my side.
A walk in August 2020. How much has changed? Everything.
Examining continues apace. That's been a thing over the last couple of days - but I have taken time out to walk each day and that has rather stymied my ability to get ahead. Honestly, I probably got more done when I was squeezing it into my normal work back in the day. That'll never happen again. Hmm. There's a thought. You know, apparently there's a skills shortage. But I have no idea where to look for the sorts of jobs that would pay what I need with the skillset I have. Everyone assures me that, as a teacher, I have the right skills - but for what? Where does one look? I've looked at Uni jobs and I'm either not qualified or they're temporary jobs around £18k a year (but for three months or somesuch). I'm being ridiculous and needy, and no one has that kind of time or patience.
My Aunt rang. Spoke to her over lunch. She's struggling. Stuff happened a few years ago, pretty horrific stuff, and it's coming up to the anniversary of that. I found out earlier in the year when I came out to her and she felt she could talk to me about anything as a result. It's harrowing. I did what I could. Which isn't much. Also, Dad's [redacted] so that's been difficult. Means I can't really chat with his wife becuase [redacted] and they don't need my neediness on top of all of that! Mum's been in touch but, again, there's only so much she can deal with before I end up making her sad and worried.
Eldest two were over this evening - Eldest and I had a chat in the kitchen, then they both watched videos on YouTube whilst we ate, then the Eldest went home. Middlest and I went for a walk then he played on his Switch. Way to feel a tad lonely, I guess. At least there wasn't a stropping Smallest - not that he always strops, to be fair, but he would at the moment. Tomorrow we hit the cafe favourite vegan gaming local for one of the last times - there's a Nintendo club on - and I may have to spring for a meal out, which I have not budgeted for. Again, one of the last times I shall be able to do that for a while I suppose. Inflation: the price of everything has been going up and up, and the price of being me is not immune to such pressures.
Tilly believes I have not grasped the enormoity of the situation. Something fundamental needs to change, she tells me. No, she couldn't say what. Have I thought of going to a psychiatrist? There's no shame in asking for help.
It's an old rut. I am broken, I need to be fixed. New topic, not relationship with Tilly but with the Smallest. The attachment is toxic, broken, awful. What will I do to fix me in order to fix things?
A bad workman blames his tools. Joanna simply blames a lack of tools. Today I managed to take the Middlest out to get some paintbrushes and not ruin his day. Also got in some elf foundation that hopefully matches my skin tone. I shall see. £9 is better than £34.50 - certainly now I have no job. Joined the family to watch an awards ceremony and see Smallest and Eldest dance. Originally, it had been decided that I would look after Middlest whilst the family went to the ceremony - I did offer to do whatever was most helpful. As it was, I got to go, but had a late tea. Now feeling ill.
Smallest tried to spend all his time on my knee. He is worried I shan't see him. He's right, but he doesn't know that. Tilly said without fundamental change then there would never be a time I would be allowed alone with Smallest. So be it. I cannot see how to make a fundamental change. So that's it.
What's left that I can ruin? What nightmares lie unrealised?
Interview at one place, proof of right to work requested in another, but no response from my Union about whether I can accept a job. Still employed, officially, you see. No word on when that may end. It will, but things drag ever onward.
I might be able to look in a mirror, stand seeing me in a photo - it doesn't make the subject any better of a person.
Had planned for the Eldest to come over and watch Encanto together, got it as a late Father's Day gift and Eldest demanded we watch it together the first time. Tilly ended up sending Smallest round as well, despite misgivings, and sure enough he couldn't cope. Cue very disappointed Eldest and a Smallest desperately trying to escalate everything he could. He won, I lost my cool, and he learned I was jobless. I took him home, gained a Middlest, and then returned to finish the film. It was a good film, made me cry properly, smudged mascara and everything. Middlest went painting upstairs and enjoyed himself, Eldest got to squee about Bruno and the evening was sort of saved. Maybe.
Got some work done today, got passed for my third contract, not complaining, going to need the pay! Spent the day in professional garb because I'd taken the time to shave my legs (an hour!!) and thought I could. Again, not complaining, a shame I can't wear it all for the purpose I acquired it, but it can't be helped. So I have felt like a real professional working woman for a bit. Skirt from Shiona, so thanks again! I managed to avoid the usual exclamation of how professional I felt! I just thought it.
Sometimes, someone gets upset. Doesn't hear the laughter, takes it as a threat. But it's different after. After the event.
Yesterday I managed to wander out for a walk on the evening and break my new umbrella. I needed to get out though. Both yesterday and the day before I got out for free tea at IKEA too, which was good for my mental state and exercise. I shall miss that I suppose if I'm lucky enough to get enough hours to live off in work. Looks like I'll need to work more hours than I did already to get the pay I need at £1k less.
Ah, no, see... I missed out the part in the tale of the Smallest above where I ended up smacking him. He told Tilly and now I shan't see him unsupervised. How soon til that ends up as a reported crime? How long until I face the consequences there too? O woe is me? Ha. Ha ha. Ha fucking ha. It's as well the car goes back, I'm back to thinking about the truck. No death in service payout now though, so only five years' worth of income for the family if I find it. But, you know, may be better than what I am able to pull in otherwise.
It doesn't let up. I am to blame. I always have been. I remain so. No defence, no anything. Thirty-one days to find the truck.
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