Assorted Inner Self-evaluation

Last week, I found I had to address some inner battles that have been occurring in my brain for quite some time. It left me rather exhausted, exhilarated, and lighter. One inner batter stemmed from the main inner battle. It is this main inner battle that I need to return to therapy for. But not yet. For now, it is under control. I am aware of it. I made a lot of progress in moving past it. However, I am not quite ready to talk, outwardly, about it. I apologize for being vague, but I know we all have these inner battles. You each have yours, and you understand that the timing needs to be right to bring it and release it into the air.

Soon. Just not yet.

Rudy the Rude

I encountered a very rude woman the other day while at my local big-chain. She was in line before me. Her cart, a mess, the stuff she piled on the belt, even messier. The cashier, one I have encountered before (and never has been a cause for a problem or even a slightly irritated eye roll), was counting out change with the customer he was assisting, a customer that was in front of the rude woman. As I walked up, the rude woman  – let us call her Rudy from this point forward – apologized for the line taking so long.

“I’m sorry, but he has not moved the conveyer yet.” Rudy said in an irritated tone.

“It is alright. Not a big deal.” I replied.

Rudy tried pushing her stuff up more, to allow me a place to put my items. Thoughtful, yes, but I was willing to wait. I was not is a hurry. I try not to be in a hurry when running errands.

The customer before Rudy was done and moved on. The cashier – let us call him Matt –  greeted Rudy. The first thing that comes out of Rudy’s mouth “What? Do you have a problem with numbers?” I should mention here that Matt was counting out the change the prior customer gave him because the prior customer was unsure she was providing the right amount. There was a language barrier. Sometimes there is a language barrier.

Back to Rudy. As Matt is running her items through the scanner, Rudy is telling him to “move it, speed it up, already.” Matt is doing his best, which was exactly how any other cashier would be doing it, when technology is not working efficiently. Might I also mention, she had a lot of crap. A. Lot. Of. Crap.

As Matt would move a filled bag to the end area, Rudy would swiftly pick it up and place it in her cart. Through this whole process, Matt is doing his job, focusing on what he is doing, keeping calm. Rudy is consistently berating him to “speed it up.”Matt has to ask for Rudy’s date of birth – she bought allergy medicine. Rudy looked at him, appalled. I keep my distance, I rearrange my items, so the person behind me can place her items down.

Matt is done scanning her items. He subtotals and totals her purchases. She signs her stuff, continues to tell him to hurry it up, grabs her receipt, and pushes her cart to the nearest person of authority she can complain to.

As Matt is ringing me up, I am polite, I am smiling. I am trying to let him know, with the tone of my voice, that I am pleasant. Matt continues to look down, do his job. I glance over at Rudy. She is complaining to the manager. There are a lot of angry hand gestures and head bobbing from Rudy. The manager listens, glances over at Matt, then back at Rudy. Rudy leaves, the manager heads in our direction. Matt is finishing up with me. The Manager moves over to another register, opens it to help another customer. Once Manny and I were done. I said thank you, and to have a good day.

Immediately, I walked over to the manager, tapped her on the shoulder and tell her “I just wanted to let you know that Matt is fine. The woman was rude. She was very rude.”

The manager thanked me for informing her, and I went on my way, to continue my errands.

How can people be so rude? Is Rudy being rude because she is in a rush? If she is feeling a time pressure, she should not take that out on others. I know about time pressure. My anxiety is time-related. My anxiety levels rise when I have to be someplace at a particular time, or if I have a lot to do. My anxiety tells me I have to be there at that specific time. To keep the anxiety at bay, I do what I can to not run late. When I do, I freak out, the anxiety kicks in and I am crying, screaming – it is a mess.

So, I try to avoid time-related stressors. Some days, I am really good at it, and I can give a fuck-all if I am late or not. Other days, if there are other stressors in effect, I cannot do it.

However, I can control the anxiety when I run errands. I let them go at their pace. I pick the longest line, I allow myself to enjoy being outdoors, out in public, out doing something. It is the one time action I can control. I am working on being better at more actions.

When I am anxious about being later, or feeling rushed. I never take it out on someone else. Especially someone who is helping me. If I ever see her again, well, I do not think I will. In fact, I hope I never do. What I do hope is that Matt is alright. I hope Matt is doing fine.

An Annual Afterthought

If I were to place a percentage of good versus the bad in the span of a year, I would have to say that the year is 90% good and 10% bad. The bad, as always, seems worse than it is.

With regards to that 10% bad, it can be further broken down to 7% during the holiday season (that being November to December) and the other 3% being this past week. Most interestingly is that it is this past week that tends upsets me more than the other 7%.

You see, this past weekend, was my birthday. I received one card from my family. I got birthday texts, but two of those felt like last minute “oh right, it is your birthday.”

It is how it has been for the past several years. At this time of year, I feel like an afterthought.

Sure, I can say that this year it was because of my grandmother’s death. However, every year, it is not one thing it is another. It is always something.

It hurts. I admit it does hurt.

Also, it is alright. I am okay with it. It is only one day. Sure, it is my birthday, but I have already had 41 birthdays prior to this one. I will have many more.

I am not really convincing, am I?

Dry cleaning words of wisdom

Make Change, Not Excuses.

Driving to the airport last Friday, the dry cleaner on the corner featured these “words of wisdom.” I had to laugh. I had spent the week leading up to that moment, asking my loved ones to make one less excuse a week.

It is a learned behavior. I inherited it from her. I still find myself making excuses from time to time. Ok, I still struggle with this, but I call it procrastination or laziness. I am really good at procrastination and laziness.

Wait, this is not about me. Maybe it is? Yes, it is about me, but through learned behaviors I inherited from my parents. So, it is about both my parents and me.

It is so much easier to make excuses than to take action and make change. Excuses are simple. You make them and you can not face the potential outcome of failure. Who wants to fail?

Lately, I fail. I fail a lot. I also learn a lot from my failures. I will continue to fail and I look forward to it. As I continue to fail, I will continue to change.

I actively make changes in my life, because I am tired of making excuses. The excuses only cause me to feel more depressed or overwhelmed. Change keeps me moving forward. Change energizes me. Change gives me the motivation to try new things.

Change has always had a positive outcome in my life, even when (at the time) I did not think so. It can be a bitch, making change. It requires energy. It requires determination and/or will power. It does not matter where you are in your life, you can make changes.

I want my loved ones to make less excuses and make more change. It is never too late (their number one excuse), it does not need to wait to happen until after “blank” has come to pass (their number two excuse),  and it does not have be overwhelming (excuse number three).

Want out of the rut? Tired of complaining about the rut you are in?

Make change, not excuses.

Not quite numb. Not quite feeling. More like existing.

BibaMy grandmother passed away last weekend, on February 13th. Since then, it has been a random mixtape of emotions. This is to be expected. It managed to stop my forward momentum. And it should. I should take some time to mourn the loss of my grandmother. I should take some time to adjust to my grandmother no longer being around. I should take time to sort out the “What now?” moments.

And I am. And I will.

I should be adjusting. I should be transitioning the worry and stress I was feeling in related to my grandmother’s health and its overall effect on the family to some new feelings. Joy. Release. Happiness. Relief.

And I am.

I should be returning to a normal.

But I should not rush it.

But I do not want to be feeling like this any longer.

I feel aimless. I feel like I am in limbo. I feel numb. No? I feel numbish.

I prefer the numbish not stay around much longer. I prefer to no longer feel aimless.

I feel good. Why does that make me feel bad?

I feel good. I am riding a lovely high of “Life is good” and I am enjoying it. It feels good – great, amazing, fantastic – to be enjoying life. I am happy. I spent so much of my life not happy. Now I am and I find myself feeling bad about it. Why? Why do I do that?

I see what others are going through right now, and it makes me feel bad that I feel good. I find that when I am talking with certain people, I hide my happiness and contentment as best I can, because their lives are not going so well. Is this why I try to find reasons to be unhappy? I do not want them to feel like they are the only ones suffering?

Seriously, why do I feel bad about feeling happy? Why can I not be more selfish about my own happiness? Honestly, most of the time that I feel good, there is this little voice in the back of my brain telling me that I should not boast about it – others are not as happy.

When my brain needs to react (to anxiety for example) it does not. When I need my brain to keep silent, it shouts. My brain and I need to have a little conversation after this. It apparently does not understand the priority levels for what is to what is not important.

I feel good and I should feel good about it.

When brain and body are not in alignment.

My body is reacting. My brain is not. My body is going through the motions of an anxiety attack, making sure I pay attention (love those sudden heart palpitations). My brain? It could care less.

My body is screaming “YOU HAVE TOO MUCH TO DO WHY AREN’T YOU FURTHER ALONG WHY ARE YOU STILL SITTING HERE DOING NOTHING CANT YOU SEE I AM TELLING YOU TO GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET SHIT DONE?!?!?!?” (Ok, this might be what I assume it is screaming since that is what it usually screams at me. My brain usually does that).

My brain seems to be shrugging and saying “meh.”

While I appreciate that my brain cares about as much as a nonchalant cat on a sunny window sill, it would be nice if it sent a few nerve impulses to the rest of my body. You know, tell the rest of me to settle down and relax?

Or maybe I am having an adverse reaction to my morning cup of caffeine? Is that it brain?

Brain: “Maybe. This all started up when you switched the roast. Right”

Me: “Oh. Right. Well tomorrow this won’t matter because new coffee is arriving via the Bestie Bestie this evening. So, whatevs.”

Brain: “Great, but doesn’t that roast have a little more punch than what you are currently drinking?”

Me: “Right. I think? Crap.”