The Kindness of Strangers

As I was driving to work on Easter Sunday, a warning light came on my dashboard. 

It looked like (!) and it scared the shit out of me. 

I had all of those crazy spinning thoughts that I get; I considered not going into work; I was convinced my engine was going to blow up. I white-knuckled it all the way to work. In the parking lot I flipped through the  previously- untouched owner's manual in my glove box, but I couldn't find an explanation. I ended up Googling it. 

Tire pressure. I felt like a complete asshole for freaking out.

And then I realized that I had no earthly idea how to put air into my tires. And then I felt like an asshole again. 

This was the kind of thing my father would have once done for me. Or, after that, my brother. The nearby tire store was closed for the holiday. None of my guy friends who would've helped with this were at work. 

I ended up telling the story of freaking out about the light that morning to my co-workers and sheepishly admitted that I had no idea what to do. They laughed at me and said "You grew up fighting and you can't even put air in your tires?". Brawling with my brother doesn't equal life-skills. A mean right hook doesn't make a girl into a tomboy.  

After work one of my female co-workers followed me to the gas station and very patiently taught me to put air in my tires. She was so sweet about it, teasing and helpful, but it made me feel so useless.  

My former boss used to say "They don't even know how much they don't know" or something to that effect.

I hate feeling like that. 

I hate that I don't have life-skills. I hate that I have no idea where to start in acquiring them. I hate that every time I feel like I'm starting to get it together something slaps me down again. 

Challenges

Reverb11
Prompt for December 19: Challenges: What did you wrestle with in 2011? What did you learn? What challenges do you see in 2012?




I work for a man who reminds me of my father. 
By now we all know that I have ... issues... with my father. I have actively excluded him from every event in my life for the past four years. He doesn't even have my cell phone number.
To say that having a boss who resembles him presents a challenge would be an understatement.


I struggle to communicate, to cooperate. Sometimes I fail epically. I continue to struggle on, though. Not all of the conflict I've had with my boss is my fault. He makes mistakes, too. He is impatient and defensive; perhaps I remind him of someone too. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. This is my issue. It is not my boss's fault that he reminds me of my father. 
Not all of their shared traits are negative. 


At the end of the day, issues aside, I love my job. And so I struggle onward.

Achieve

Reverb11
Prompt for December13: Achieve: What do you hope to achieve next year? 


Let go.


I want to let go. 


I want to find a way to "cut the fat". I want to exorcise my demons. I want to streamline my life.


I need to minimize my mental and emotional clutter without running away and avoiding my life. 


I want to focus only on the things I can control. 


Sanity. I want my sanity back. I want to feel stable. 


So. That's what I'll be doing in 2012.

Anniversary

Reverb11

Prompt for December 10: Anniversary: Tell us about an anniversary you marked in 2011; maybe one you noted for the first time.

I work with the public. In retail, actually. Black Friday (or the day after Thanksgiving) is busiest day of the year for retailers... and thus the bane of my professional existence.

It is also the bane of my personal existence. My brother died the day after Thanksgiving two yeas ago. Last year I took a week off of work and (due to cancelled-at-the-last-minute travel plans) spent much of that time sleeping and avoiding the world in general. I don't like to do something to honor my brother of this day. There are other days I prefer to honor, other days I prefer to remember.

This year, due to my promotion at work, I was obligated to spend the whole stupid Black weekend at work. With Christmas music. And crowds. And stupid Christmas music. I wasn't looking forward to it at all.

I was a walking wound. Over caffeinated. On edge. Under rested.

But I didn't want to make a big deal about it. I didn't mention the significance of teh day to anyone. Only one of my co-workers mentioned it to me at all. Interestingly, it was a coworker who didn't know me two yeas ago, had only heard me reference the date in passing months ago. It meant a lot to me that she even remembered.

And then, on Saturday, my boss and I had what began as a minor disagreement.

The image of what we must have looked like is laughable. Him: tall, Hispanic, gesturing wildly and booming. Me: shorter, pale and red-headed, frazzled, shrill. We nipped and snipped at each other like a Rottweiler and Pomeranian. I'm sure it was a ridiculous scene.


The disagreement ended with him yelling at me, quite loudly, in front of my staff and storming away.
In an equally unprofessional (and unsurprising) turn of events, I promptly burst into tears.


It was miserable. I don't relish a repeat of any part of the weekend. 

Cry

Reverb11

Prompt for December 9: Cry: Where or why did you cry? Did someone make you cry? Was it happy or sad? Describe a good cry you had in 2011.

I'm not much of a crier. But maybe I've gotten soft. I've cried more the last six months than I had in the last two years before that. 


I've cried publicly. Notably, in the midst of the bulk goods at the local natural foods store. I'm sure passers by thought I was devastated by the price of nutritional yeast.


I cried at work in front of my boss. Huge gulping, gasping sobs that I couldn't even form words around. Poor kid looked totally freaked out.


I cried over lunch to Lovegood in a steady stream of leaky tears that blurred my vision and had me covered in (allegedly) waterproof eye make-up.


Probably most embarrassingly, I cried at work in front of the district HR manager when he mentioned giving me a raise. They weren't tears of gratitude. I don't know who was more horrified.




I'm a basket case (I've never really understood that expression). I feel as though I cry all the time. Maybe its not what I think. Maybe my problem isn't that I can't emote, or that I'm bad at it. Maybe I built of 25 years of unshed tears and now they're pouring out unbidden. 


Maybe I was supposed to be a crybaby all along and life got in the way. 
It does that, you know.

Live for Moments

Reverb11

Prompt for December 2:

Live for Moments: pick a vivid memory from this year- maybe one when you felt most alive; or when you felt most wounded, happiest, fulfilled. Tell us about it in the most vivid detail you can- sights, sounds, smells, feelings.

It was windy outside. The wind was crazy: whistling and whining and flinging things through the valley. I had struggled to keep my tiny EasterEgg on the road and was relieved to have made it to work safely.

I entered the building juggling my too-big purse and too-big Americano while trying to untangle my too-big sunglasses from my too-big hair. I could barely see through the red-blond cloud the wind had wrapped firmly around my face. My Americano had splashed over the lip of my cup and scalded an angry red blotch from the web of my hand past my wrist.

I set my coffee and my bag down on a counter and tried to shake it off- first the coffee on my arm, and then the I-blew-out-my-hair-with-a-cyclone look I was rocking.

My coworker, Tigerlilly, a particular favorite of mine, popped up out of nowhere. She grinned at me from underneath her inky black never-a-strand-out-of-place hair and said, "I'm glad you're here! I didn't know you would be in today!" I smiled at her as I tucked my sunglasses into my bag and gulped my coffee. "Your little brother just walked in, too!" she continued.

And, just like that, with a flash of her adult braces and a flip of her hair, I was devastated.

Every cliche about being metaphorically sucker punched happened in the next millisecond. My heart stopped. My breath stopped. Everything was quiet.

"What do you mean?" I forced the words out.

"You know, Lames. Your little brother." She was still smiling. A distant part of my brain realized she was making a joke about a coworker with whom I've become close friends.

I could see where the joke was coming from. He's a few years younger than me; we bicker like kids; we have silly inside jokes and nicknames.

I managed to hold on to my smile and say something flip in response- I have no idea what.

I walked away feeling nauseous, dizzy, breathless. The worst part? She had no idea that she'd just punched me in the throat.

The irony of Lames being the next person I encountered was not lost on me.

He drank my Americano and listened with sympathetic eyes as I told the story. It came rushing out in disjointed sentences and fragmented thoughts. I was sucking in deep choking gasps of air and fighting back the looming panic attack.

His silence was perfect.

"She didn't know" and "Its going to be okay" or any of those other things people say in situations like this one weren't what I needed. I knew that Tigerlilly didn't know.

I knew that she had no idea how much the loss of my brother still colored every day; that the pain festers and bubbles because I can't talk about it. Probably she had no idea that I have a dead brother at all. I also knew that it wasn't going to be okay. I'm never going to be okay with my brother's death. I'm never not going to feel the emptiness of the LittleBrother sized hole in my life.

This is the worst part of grieving- the unexpected reminders. I can steal myself for birthdays, holidays, specific places and people. But these reminders that pop up when least expected and sucker punch you? There is no way to prepare for them.

Humble Beginnings

I've decided to join Reverb11.

I've been neglecting my blog and thus my mental health lately- two things that are infinitely tangled to together. I've been looking for a way back, and so here I am. Reverb11.

Prompt for December 1:

Humble beginnings: where did 2011 begin for you? Describe where you were- be it physically, emotionally or otherwise.

I rang in the New Year at a party with work friends. We had these parties fairly often to celebrate- milestones or Saturdays- it didn't matter what. The house was packed with coworkers in fancy dresses and sparkly ties. My tiara fell off and was trampled when I got caught under the mistletoe that was still up from Christmas. I used a sharpie to scrawl my signature on "my side" of the beer pong table. We consumed dozens of bottles of champagne. It was a giddy, sparkly mess.

I was bored. I was tired of drinking. Tired of these people. I felt a deep down restlessness that I didn't know how to name. I didn't know at the time that this giddy mess was the last in the long line of giddy messes. Our era had ended.

A few days later I received a promotion at work. I was put in charge of the largest department with the most personnel. I'd taken a chance in applying. I was technically under-qualified, but I knew I was up for the challenge. This department had not had a leader for a few months, and the previous department head had been beloved. I had been promoted from outside of the department. Most of the people who now worked for me did not know me. They did not care that I was smart and capable and hard working and funny. I was an outsider.

I had to grow a stronger spine and thicker skin. FAST.

It became clear that huge and immediate changes were necessary for the department to remain productive. The place was in shambles. The procedures were outdated and directly conflicted with company policy. Important files had been misplaced. The filing cabinets hadn't been touched in over five years. Unethical practices were the norm. Beloved or not, the previous supervisor had not been very good at his job.

I had thought that I would be able to rely on the people who had worked with me previously for support. No dice. On top of that, the individuals who were supposed to be my assistants had been my competition for the position. Some of them had been counted among my friends before my promotion. Some of them were part of the giddy mess. I couldn't look to them for anything more than the barest civility, let alone support. I was met with opposition and insubordination at every turn. Every small procedural change was a battle. I thought that if I heard "Well, that isn't how Joe did it" one more time I would scream. I had fantasies of just throwing myself on the floor in front of everyone and throwing full-blown kicking-and-screaming toddler tantrum. Thankfully, sanity prevailed

My boss wasn't able to be very much help to during this transition, but I didn't want to be in the habit of relying on him. I knew that if I was going to command the respect of my department and be an effective leader I would have to do it alone. I needed to make the tough calls and have the awkward conversations without someone holding my hand or standing behind me like an enforcer. I had to find the support I needed outside of my department and outside of my branch of the company.

I was lucky. There were plenty of people who were willing and able to help me find the answers I sought and institute the changes I needed to make. I actually found allies where I least expected them, and developed friendships with the unlikeliest of colleagues.

Some of these challenges are ongoing, some took the better part of the second quarter to be resolved, but by the time Valentine's Day rolled around the worst was over. My friendships had been irreparably damaged, but things had turned around at work. New challenges were on the horizon.

I honestly don't know if I learned more about my new job, my old friends or myself during those first six weeks.

January 2011 was a lion fight and I won. Barely.