CW49: I have geographical committment issues

Before we begin, it’s important to define what CW means. It stands for “calendar week”, so if you’ve been confused as to why I have been content warning you a number, here you have the explanation.

My OCD (diagnosed OCD) had a field day this past week, fueled by my former catholicism. I was a whirlwind of guilt and confessions. This has left me feeling a bit sour, I never want to have a relapse but my brain works like this and the only thing I can hope for is to handle it the way I handled it this week: every day we begin anew and try just doing a little bit better than we did the day before.

At some point during the week, the matter of my accent came up again in the office. My line manager (who I otherwise like) jokingly asked me to say the name “Luigi” because according to her the way I say it is soooo funny. This was then followed by a conversation from another manager at my desk hub telling me how shocked he was when he went to a wedding in Naples and found us all civilised and just like them. I wish I was kidding.

Day 1: I though my outfit was really good, a pastel moment that I will come back to often. I only went to the office because we were promised a Christmas feast which ended up being apple juice and a really basic almond cake. I was hoping for croissants.During the “party”, I tried to once again helplessly hint at my gay coworker that I am bisexual, so we could form an LGBT+ alliance. I said, very excitedly “I am going to see Troye Sivan live with all my friends!”, thinking this was a clear tell. Of course, he had no idea who Troye Sivan was. 

Day 2: I call this migraine chic. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I was needed logged on until 3 pm, which was torture. Despite the discomfort, between 3 pm and 4 pm I kept looking at screens and found a new niche of YT videos that make me cry: people reunited with their long lost families. Half sobbing and half aching I kept watching these videos until I realised I was being completely stupid.

The thing about my migraines is that I’ve had them since I was 13, I think my headache problem would be classified as a chronic issue as I experience pain basically every day. This did not stop me from convincing myself that the reason I was having an episode was because my afore-mentioned work friend and I gossiped about a new colleague we don’t particularly like. God was punishing me for being a c*nt. 

Day 3: returned to the office, could not look my new colleague straight in the eyes. I regretted the gossip session but I genuinely do not vibe with her. Could it be my right to express my annoyance to someone else other than her, as she does not actually deserve said annoyance? I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week, because I feel guilty. 

The day was otherwise fun, because we had creative agencies coming to pitch their ideas to us and this was a productive way to channel my judgemental traits.

Day 4: I have been excited to show you this angle since my boyfriend snapped the picture.

This day was just fine. I was meant to have a driving lesson but my migraine returned and I just didn’t feel like driving with a hammer in my brain. Instead, I went home and played cities skyline for about 3 hours. Not a smart idea, I will admit, but I needed to just nail that entry roundabout. If anyone has cities skyline roundabout recommendations, send them my way (BOYFRIEND DO NOT INTERACT). 

My sister was meant to come visit us this weekend, but on Thursday she tested positive for covid, which was a bummer. I was excited to see her and spend some time with her, but thankfully Christmas is only a couple of weeks away.

Day 5: bank holiday in Itay. Thank you Virgin Mary 🙏

I worked out for the first time in ages, which felt good (spoilers: I've been keeping it up the whole weekend!).

We did not do much at all, other than food shopping. There was a protest in the store, workers rights. I must admit something that makes me feel shameful: I cried. What use are my tears? Emotions are not actions and I wish I had thought of something to do to show my support. I come from a family of proud union fighters, but that did not help me come up with an idea.All I kept thinking was “these people are here fighting for the job and I am buying chocolate biscuits”.

I must clarify: the workers protesting were not store employees, just a group of workers wanting better working conditions. We don’t know whether they were there because the store is somehow tied to their employers or because when you are in the suburbs the most visible place to be on a bank holiday Friday is the local supermarket.

Thought of the week: I wish keeping online friends didn’t take so much active participation, I wish everyone was close to me and that we could just hang out.