As we know, my brain's like the state of Britain's economy under a Tory government at the moment, i.e., 'hopeless until Labour are re-elected', so you'll have to bear with me while I talk about Terrifying Stuff rather than fluff and glitter or whatever it is I normally talk about.
I was sick with nerves about going back when I woke up, which did not bode too well, so I trolled off and made a doctor's appointment for the same day, and while I love my trolleagues and do not want to be in a state of abject terror on seeing them again, I cannot rationalise my way out of my brain's assumption that I'm useless and got this job entirely due to some fluke, and that nothing I'm doing is worthwhile here. So today did not go so well, because trying to translate when you're preoccupied with thoughts that you're probably a moron is not very possible. I went to the doctor straight after work, and he was wise. We discussed signing me off work, but agreed it's not a good idea, because if I was signed off, my brain would think that everybody would be angry with me and think I'm weak/even more useless. This is probably not, in fact, what they'd think, but it's what I'd THINK they'd think, so for me, it's just as damaging. He said that it sounded like I needed to somehow get past my crisis of confidence at work by discussing stuff with those concerned face-to-face, and I agreed, although pointed out that I am often too terrified to move out of my chair and in the past, have had to be physically pushed out of the door to be convinced to take a lunch break. The terror is why I'm now on a higher dose of sanity snacks, which I'm not thrilled about, but neither of us could really see an alternative. So armed with this dose of courage, I'm hopefully going to have proper words at some point and try and make them understand how much of an effect this has had on me, without pointing any fingers or sounding melodramatic and being all like 'HI I'VE NOT SLEPT IN A VERY LONG TIME, I DON'T FEEL LIKE I'VE ENJOYED ANYTHING AT ALL THIS MONTH AND YOU'VE DESTROYED ANY SENSE OF PURPOSE I HAD'. That's probably not productive. I just need some kind of reassurance that the work I've been doing is somehow worthwhile and that it at least shows a bit of promise. I don't want them to say I'm Best Translator Ever, nor do I want them to start saying my work is GREAT if it's not, I just want to know that there's a point. A glimmer of hope, or something.
Currently I'm too scared to get all this across in an articulate way, although writing them down has helped a bit. I'm trying to think like my gran a bit and rationalise that I was happy in my job until a couple of weeks ago, so once I can get past this and build up my confidence a bit, I cn get there again. I still want to fix it all. The doctor said I was 'obviously intelligent', which (although how could he possibly know, he's only just met me and has yet to see me walk into a wall) was all it took to get my brain working that bit better and actually make eye contact with him and interact properly. My trolleagues are being awesome and are plying me with cake and pictures of babies and chinchillas. Maybe this is all nothing that can't be fixed. It's just that I'm a very small and very inept plumber dealing with a ginormous flood at the moment.

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