the doldrums... or what's really bothering me!

I am neither here nor there.
I really am having a hard time keeping up with reading and commenting on blogs and writing on my own. I feel bad about it. Over the holidays I was doing it  an obsessive amount
I feel a little numb and cotton woolly and tunnel visiony.
I don't know if I can write a whole paragraph.
It might have to be just lines on the page.
This is me going into the Lupron stage of our FET. Really it's exciting. I am almost off the BCPs and about to start shooting up.
I even get to schedule the procedure for a Friday so my doc can do it and I can take the weekend to relax and not be off work. And there's the rub.
I think that what is really going on  is that I am furious and fed up of the amount of work I feel compelled to do in my job.
I feel like I am running fast and breathless on a crazy treadmill and even when I lurch off  I still feel it moving. I don't sleep well, I have to get up at the crack ass of dawn to go to doctor appointments so I don't miss work ( god forbid I'm not there to deal with a crisis) more than I should.
I had two weeks off ( not consecutively) in December. One for the transfer and one for ( shock, horror) Christmas.  This is all paid vacation to which I am entitled. My new boss, who appears to be mostly fairly reasonable seems disturbed by this. Never mind that I cover for my staff while they take off one and two week vacations. To which they are also entitled and to whom I say, bon voyage! Never mind that I bust my fucking butt for this thankless job. Never mind that I am doing the work of three people.  Unpaid overtime. Never mind. Because god dammit, we have to be doing "best practice". The problem with that is if the "best practice" is all being done by me ( i.e. extra work) then the best practice will crash and fricking burn in about a week.
I had a melt down in her office on Monday because one of our  dogs was sick and I was so worried that I had to take more time off to take him to the vet that I could barely sleep the night before. I told her I was sorry that I had been off so much, and I had truly been working very hard, and I was trying my best. Blah blah blah!!! And she was fairly understanding, while stressing that it's very important for me to be there as much as possible. But when we  finally get sent home "early" today because it's like the antarctic outside, I don't get to go home, because I have to call someone who's sons are about to be homeless. etc etc.  And more and more and more. But you know, I am pissed. Because I may be one of the bosses, but I am just as entitled to take vacation as anyone else. And I shouldn't feel guilty about it. But I do.
This whole thing is triggering some bad ass PTSD for me. Just over two years ago before most of you knew me, I had just started this job, was pretty clueless ( no-one to train me, do it yourself orientation) and the new interim director  ( my second boss in a row of six so far) turned out to be a psychopath whose one goal was to fire me because she thought that I was the problem.  She  had a hatchet type of leadership - and yes, that's not an oxymoron!  And very little humanity. She looked for others' weaknesses when she didn't want to look at her own. The shit hit the fan about one month after she arrived, when I asked her for some advice on what to do with a client and I was feeling so overwhelmed and vulnerable that when she snapped at me and tried to blame me for not knowing how to solve the problem I lost it in a teary way. At that moment, everything changed. She became my enemy. She looked for any little thing I did wrong. She made no allowances for my newness. She rolled her eyes at me in meetings in full view of board members and I was still  the scapegoat.  Her goal was to belittle my ideas and surprise me with last minute extra work. And to give me impossible goals that could never be reached by any non-android. Because I was new, it was hard for the powers that be above her ( the Board) to believe that I wasn't the problem. It was a horrible experience. For someone who is conscientious and worries about work and tries so hard to do her best it was awful to be labeled as the rotten egg. And to shake in my boots every time I thought about work. Or saw her. Or saw a car like the one she drives. To this day, I cannot stand Jeep Cherokee's - especially dark colored ones with vanity plates!) We finally got her fired after  the whole staff wrote a letter of complaint to the board  ( after  I had gotten  lambasted for my complaints and  my pleas for help  had been virtually ignored ) and they finally got it.
So you see, when I lost it in my bosses office on Monday I started to wonder what she was going to do to get rid of me. I know, it's called paranoia.
I am trying to figure out a way to tell her that I can't be the "best practice" for the whole agency. That everything on the to do list is not going to get done. That I need to say no. That it's killing me. That my adrenal glands are  wrung out and shivering in protest.
I was reading "Waiting for Daisy" by Peggy Orenstein on the train home after Christmas ( which I found among a pile of trashy reads at a tiny little news-stand in St Louis - and got for half price - score!) It's a great book by the way - you should read it. She was talking about what we resort to in order to stay  on the TTC train. She mentioned an IF friend of hers who had been in the same job that she hated for two years just so that she could keep her health  insurance. And I thought, that's me. I don't hate my job, but I resent it, and it overwhelms me, and it's really really bad for my mental health. If it wasn't for my mostly fantastic co-workers and my need to pay the bills I wish I could say that I would have left long ago.
I miss you, my blog friends, I am sorry my comments are brief or missing. I will let you know how I solve the riddle of the over-cooked adrenal glands and get my FET on track.
Ta ta for now.  Thanks for listening and stay tuned.
Yours,
Dolly Drums