Withdrawal

Withdrawal from caffeine wasn't as bad as I thought it would be; although I did have one hell of a day. By lunch time, I had a splitting headache and felt like I was moving through a dense fog--the kind where you can't see the tail lights of the car in front of you or the line dividing the lanes. This would have been all right except for the fact that I ended up having to train a new employee. Had I known about this before I came to work, I wouldn't have chosen this day to make such a radical change in my morning routine, but there I was barely holding it together, when "Mona" walked in. I had been told she was coming to observe and check out the office, but in fact, she had already been hired.

Before I go any further I should explain that I have only held my current job for a month; only work two days a week, and am doing the job to help out a friend who was desperate for assistance in his medical office. It was understood from the onset that I was temporary. I was between writing projects and thought it would be good for me to get away from my computer and see what it's like out in the real world. Generally, Mondays are slow, so I didn't anticipate any problems, but suddenly in the midst of stabbing pain and thick fog, I found myself face-to-face with one of the most annoying people I have ever met. Leave it to the universe to send in a messenger when I am in pain and vulnerable. Perhaps, if I had known she had already been hired to replace me, her behavior would have made more sense, but in less than five minutes, this woman was hovering over me demanding detailed information about every move I made. The pain in my head increased and spread down my neck like hot syrup. Every muscle in my body constricted with tension. I felt like a five year old with a hangover. After an hour of Mona, I was about to snap.

"Excuse me for a minute," I said. "Why don't you answer the phones while I take care of some personal business." Which was my polite way of saying excuse me while I step into the bathroom and scream. On the way there I spied a tin of fudge, which some grateful patient brought in for Christmas. My five year old self picked up the tin and carried it into the bathroom where she promptly picked out the biggest piece and inhaled it. By the time the second piece was gone, some of my pain had subsided and although my adult self was out of order, I managed to get through the rest of the day. I showed Mona what I could, and suggested she wait until the next day to get more comprehensive training from the real, i.e. experienced office person. At home my five year old self was still in charge. By the time I went to bed I had comforted myself with half a loaf of French bread, an enormous bowl of pasta, and way too many cookies.

Because I do other work for this doctor, yesterday afternoon, I was back at the office. The mere sight of Mona made me bristle. This time I knew it had nothing to do with her, and since I didn't have a headache, nothing to do with my withdrawal. She was definitely a messenger, but what was the message?

This morning I realized that Mona reminded me of my mother, who was often demanding and controlling. In my mother's presence, I never felt capable, respected, or appreciated. Mona's demands triggered me into feeling like I did when I was a child. Fortunately, I had enough presence of mind to contain my feelings and not project them on to Mona, who in short order will undoubtedly become the penultimate medical secretary; although because I was going through withdrawals, I might have gotten away with spewing my emotional debris as far as it would go. Of course, then I would have had to apologize, and no child likes to do that.

After I had a cup of licorice tea, my inner-child and I had a little talk about Mona, and then we went to a dance class and cleaned the house. Tonight we're going out for Mexican food.

Peace in the New Year.