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Jun. 21st, 2006 11:17 amIt took an hour and a half to crash today! Score! I am on the mend!
(And it's true: it's half an hour more than I got out of yesterday.)
Edit: So here's the thing. My dad's a workaholic. He always has been. To the point he doesn't understand why anyone would choose a balanced life. It's one of the many, many disagreing philosophies we hold on life, the universe and everything. My chest feels like it's caved in. My core strength is at its lowest since March, though it hasn't managed to dip quite that low yet, thank god. Trouble is, he will never understand that. I don't look sick. Part of him gets that I have limits, but I'm supposed to be a good little workaholic too and sacrifice everything for work. If I say "Can't do it" and go to the Solstice Dance tonight, he won't get it. If I go to work this afternoon, I'm not only going to be forced to skip the dance (or if I do go, it will be such a bad idea), I'll probably have to take more time off tommorow. AND HE WON'T FUCKING GET IT. To him, my illness is an inconvenience, something I should just endure until the weekend and then I can rest. He's tired too, so I should just buck up. Much as I'm having trouble finding a balance between resting and helping with my mother, at least she understands the need for a middle ground. So goddamned frustrating!
(And it's true: it's half an hour more than I got out of yesterday.)
Edit: So here's the thing. My dad's a workaholic. He always has been. To the point he doesn't understand why anyone would choose a balanced life. It's one of the many, many disagreing philosophies we hold on life, the universe and everything. My chest feels like it's caved in. My core strength is at its lowest since March, though it hasn't managed to dip quite that low yet, thank god. Trouble is, he will never understand that. I don't look sick. Part of him gets that I have limits, but I'm supposed to be a good little workaholic too and sacrifice everything for work. If I say "Can't do it" and go to the Solstice Dance tonight, he won't get it. If I go to work this afternoon, I'm not only going to be forced to skip the dance (or if I do go, it will be such a bad idea), I'll probably have to take more time off tommorow. AND HE WON'T FUCKING GET IT. To him, my illness is an inconvenience, something I should just endure until the weekend and then I can rest. He's tired too, so I should just buck up. Much as I'm having trouble finding a balance between resting and helping with my mother, at least she understands the need for a middle ground. So goddamned frustrating!
