I volunteered at the Homeless Coalition again. They are short staffed and desperate for help. They have a huge fundraising event on November 10th where they need to make $120,000 in one day. They had a staff meeting going on while I was in the office and I overheard that most of the staff felt overwhelmed and needed helpers. Some volunteers work 5 days a week (with no pay, of course) because of the desperate need to get things done. Meanwhile, they have a binder of people who have contacted the agency (some as many as four times) trying to help, but have not been brought in. Additionally, as I was working the phones, yet another person called me to connect me to the event planning committee even though I am already on that committee. That makes five people who duplicated each other’s work.
I’m tempted to step up and fix all the chaos at the Homeless Coalition. It wouldn’t be much of a challenge for me, frankly. Call the wannabe volunteers, assign them tasks, lessen the load on the old-timers. (I was Student Government President.) But that was me before I suffered the Narcissist’s abuse.
Since surviving the Narcissist’s abuse, I am short-tempered, irritable, and willing to turn my back on a situation that is screaming for leadership.
I made cold calls for two hours, procured several excellent donations for the silent auction, and then I wanted to stop for the day. So I did. Two hours was all I could take. I am justifiably worried about whether I will ever be able to work an 8 hour job again, follow orders, and be an employee. Seriously, I feel disabled. I have been assuming that these problems of mine (like being irritable, unable to concentrate, and unable to sit in a cubicle) are temporary and that when I finally do find a job, I will be able to pull myself together like I always have in the past.
But what if I can’t?
On the other hand, it was only six months ago that I couldn’t get out of bed or bathe myself. At least now I can set myself a To-Do list and complete some of the tasks before I give up. I wonder if this counts as having a nervous breakdown?
I tell you what though, in many ways I am really lucky. I am certain that many women do not have the luxury of taking time to recover from trauma. Children must be fed and put on the school bus. Work deadlines must be met. Bullies must be appeased. I am living rent-free in the guest bedroom; I have some daily household chores to do; and I can borrow the car if I need it. Every day, I spend hours writing and not a single person phones me since I am a forgotten recluse now. For the most part, my time is all about me. Generally, I would not tolerate such a withdrawal from society and life, but I have a specific end date. My final court date with Driftwood is in 5 weeks and then this zombie has to rise up from her grave and be reborn. That’s all there is to it. I can’t live like this forever and I can’t die.
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