Today at work was really bad, like fucking horrible. I felt the panic building up from about 10:30 after my morning break, worked through it for several hours until something happened that I can’t remember what but I felt myself shift into a different mode. I slowed down to about half speed and my voice came out slurred, I kept losing concentration and customers would tell me things but the information wouldn’t go in. Then I started missing important bits of informaiton customers gave me and putting their parcels through wrong. The queue was out the door but at about 4:30 I couldn’t take it any more, I hid in the office and sat with my head down, every time I looked out the queue was still out the door like it would never end. I knew I was leaving my 2 coworkers in the lurch but I couldn’t help it, I could barely stand, I couldn’t go out there. But then it was 5pm and time to cut off the special deliveries so I dragged myself up and went out there again. The postie turned up while I was lugging bags about, not knowing whether I was coming or going. I don’t know how me did it but we got that mail out the door. But not before some woman started on at me about the queue’s too long and it’s just not good enough, I’ve been waiting 25 minutes for just one stamp, the usual. I just kept on pulling the bags into place like I hadn’t heard her because if I opened my mouth I’d just mumble or say something wrong. But she’s still staring at me like I’m about to say something that will make everything better, like no! I can’t! I can’t say anything to make you not have waited 25 minutes and I’m in such a state I can’t say anything you want to hear! I started to hyperventilate and hold my head and suddenly she stopped looking at me and turned back to the queue, which I guess was good but auururrrrgh, I’m in such a mess.
At the post office the only thing that could go so badly wrong for anyone management related to actually change anything is if the day didn’t end for some reason. But, it did. It always does, and nothing ever changes. Every day that’s horrible now is worse because of how I know it won’t get any better. And I’m expected to think up ways I can feel better at work, as long as it doesn’t include working in any conditions that aren’t absolutely the same as they are now or asking that certain colleagues take the pressure off me a little by managing their time better and not, say, engaging each customer in a 5 minute conversation that has nothing to do with any service we offer. If I can’t think of anything then well, they tried!!! What do I want?! HATE THIS PLACE.
Tomorrow is Saturday, the worst and most disorganised day of the week. I upset my boyfriend earlier by ranting on and on. I don’t know if I’ll make it through tomorrow. Every minute feels too long. I don’t know what’s wrong with me if I’m even like this while medicated.