SO Bite me fickled finger of FATE!!!

First day of job number two. So far so good, the little optimist in me is cautiously peeking out.
Friday was mind numbing. I was a shaking hulk of despair after 8 hours of Ogress' psychoanalysis. On the way home one of my favorite angry songs was on the radio, Beck- LOSER, ahhh "I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?" My radio would only turn up sooo loud, not loud enough to ease my agony.
I am already worrying about how I can tolerate Monday. Pick Pick Pick, and I remain silent to my credit, she says I have repressed anger and I am a very sad person. No she is misreading me I am a happy person and I am merely keeping my mouth shut while she goes on and on about my fallibilities. The look on my face is tolerance tending toward walking out the door. "FIND another care giver OGRESS!"
I guess I don't tolerate abuse very well. This is another life lesson in patience and tolerence that I did not ask for. I am good at keeping silent, but my face looks pained and I can feel that. I need a coping technique if I am going to stand this much longer. I think shorter hours, and I wish she would keep her hands off the chart. She picks over every word how she thinks her progress should be written. Can we just put in PIA? (pain in the ass)?? Angel is not my name.