The problem…

with this cell phone, tablet, facebook filled world is it makes you have the expectation that you can get ahold of someone all the  time.  And then, when you cant, when you have exhausted all the wonders of technology and they dont pick up, text back or respond to an IM,,,  your head goes to the worst place.  Ridiculous.  Only to be cured by a ringing phone.

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Not my mother’s daughter

I am SO not my mother’s daughter.  I tell myself this regularly.  I pray at night that my wish will come true and that I can hold on to the precious few memories of bonding with my mom and let loose of the pain and the wound tight persona she embodies.

And, today I am reminded of just how much I am not my mothers daughter.  Packing one more box for the dual moves we are making over the next month,  I came across two poems written to us by our daughters.  the first, from our oldest, musing about her memories of car rides and long talks, full of joy and melancholy and family.  The second, a sort of apology and gratitude piece from our youngest, who often feels she has to apology for her past.  This is not true, she does not have to apologize.  She is the most caring, involved, loving person I know.  her passion has led her astray a few times when she was young , but she has nothing to apologize for.  her experiences have made her the amazing woman she is today.

But, anyway.  As I picked up these two poems and read them, I remembered the last notes I had found tucked away in drawers and boxes.  The hate filled notes my mother had written for me to find when, she assumed, she was dead and I was organizing her life’s clutter.  I found them early, but their bite was just as strong.

And I am happy that the notes I have chosen to save are filled with hope, and joy and love.  With good memories and praise.  Notes that will make everyone who reads them, now or in years to come, know that this family faced things together, and loved each other through every heartache.  I am SO not my mother’s daughter….

It has been

a rough day.  Professionally.  You try and try, you work and work….and find yourself attacked.  It hurts, it angers, it makes you wonder if it is worth it at all….

old habits

I had a really rough day at work last Friday.  for many reasons — coworkers, staff, deadlines and expectations all whirled together into one perfect storm that set me off my axis.  Truly.  i struggled with a task the whole afternoon.  The. Whole. Afternoon.  i felt myself obsessing, working in circles, producing nothing but chaos — I shut my door so my staff wouldnt have to endure my mood.  My immediate supervisor said something like “thanks” and I imagined sarcasm, criticism, doubt.

It sucked.  At the end of the day, when everyone should have been readying for a nice weekend, I called a coworker in and said, please help.  I cried.  Cried. the tension and self doubt bubbled over and out and there wasn’t much I could do but wallow.  She was amazing.  Used that voice you use when someone you care about is teetering on the edge of a breakdown.  talked me down, through the problem.  Sat with me for almost an hour assessing, addressing and validating.

When I finally was able to put two words together and she felt it was safe to leave me, I sat at my desk and stared at my computer for another half hour. Enveloped in self doubt and anger. Picked up my little solar turkey and threw it across the room.  then, embarassed, picked up the pieces and tossed them in the  trash.

when i finally got myself together enough to go home and unload on my husband, he said ‘screw em, you dont need that job or any job.  Give your notice.”

Now Im not going to do that, i love this job and have no intention of leaving, but hearing those words made such a difference —

And then I was able to keep the demons at bay long enough to enjoy Halloween and spend time with the kids and my sewing machine…but that feeling of incompetence brought back memories that have laid dormant for years — i didnt like it.  I have to work to make sure i dont let myself go there again.

Old habits die hard.