The brother-in-law that pushes my buttons, and not in a good way. He can be a nice guy. He’s a good father. He’s married to Linda. Once upon a time, he was the spoiled oldest male child in a traditional Mexican family. He’s getting over that one day at a time, but making my sister’s plans go awry while that happens. If my sister changed husbands tomorrow I might not miss him.
Month: March 2015
Why did I say that?
I never should have opened my mouth. For two days I’ve been trying to overcome the overwhelming desire to strike back. It was a petty, mean thought that I knew I would regret.
I fought the urge for two days. Then I lost. I opened my mouth and told a tale — the wrong words to the wrong person.
He’ll do something, react. He’ll hold a grudge, but not against me. And that was the point.
I gave in to the petty urge, and now I feel guilty.
Guilt guilt guilt.
When the chips fall hard on my head, I will once again feel regret. I probably won’t have to wait long.
I should have been a grown up. But I wasn’t.
***** Written on my ipad. I promise to proof and edit it later (maybe). ******
What happens in the dim bar…
At some point in the conversation I realize that he’s been flirting with intent. I look at this man across the table from me, too young and too beautiful, and I smile at him. And then it dawns on me that he’s been waiting for me to make the next move.
We’re sitting in a fashionable but semi-deserted hotel bar where I’ve been been entertaining him for the past few hours with the unfiltered words that tend to color my conversations. Really, he’s just been my attentive audience for most of it. Nice scenery to look at while I talk out loud.
The dull roar that swirled around us at the beginning has dimmed to a quiet murmur as fewer people remain. We’ve been camped out in the same place since the business day ended, nursing the same drink for long enough that the waiter stopped coming by to check up on us. We’re both mellow and relaxed.
There’s this moment… a moment of delight as I realize that he’s looking at me with that kind of genuine appreciation that so rarely makes an appearance these days. It’s friendly, but with heat and without pressure. It’s an invitation.
I am shallow enough that I wallow in that look for a long few minutes as I contemplate the possibility of actually giving him a sign, making a move. My mind flits through different scenarios, the pros and cons, in a single second. And the moment holds on, and our smiles remain, and our eyes are still locked, and we’re still silent now.
And then I remember to breathe.
{{Yes, dear reader, that’s all you get.}}
image source: sharonang / Pixabay
So I quit my job today …
I didn’t intend to do it. I was going to be professional, calm, adult-like. I was going to update my resume, start to look for a job discretely, find something then leave. It was a plan.
I made that decision mid-morning.
Then I realized that that idea of going into this workplace on a daily basis was making me hyperventilate. It was making me sick to my stomach. So, then, I realized that I need to quit now. So the plan was that I was going to write my letter of resignation and turn it in tomorrow.
I made that decision mid-afternoon.
Then I sat in a meeting and got so worked up, so upset that I walked into my boss’ office and told her that I was going to quit and that the letter would follow shortly.
I made that decision late afternoon.
In two weeks I will be unemployed for the first time in my adult life. I don’t have a job waiting. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what I’m doing next.
All I know is that I’m so relieved that in a few weeks I don’t have to go into that workplace any more. I don’t have to navigate those people any more. I’ll be done.
It’ll hit me soon. Right now I feel like someone pulled a huge weight off me. Ask me how I feel in two weeks.
A mistaken sense of failure
A few years ago I started taking some graphic design classes at the local community college to get in touch with my creativity. The first semester was wonderful. I loved the classes, learned a lot. I’m still using some of the info and techniques I learned in that one semester.
The next semester was a disaster. The professor came into the classroom and read from the book for an hour. It. Was. Mind. Numbing.
It was boring and I hated it. I wasn’t engaged and wasn’t learning.
I was telling a friend over dinner about this horrendous experience and she gave me a very simple and, to me, astoundingly awesome insight: “Paloma, you signed up for the classes for fun. If you’re not enjoying it, drop it.”
And I sat there, awestruck with the simplicity of her solution. I could drop the class. It never occurred to me that I could actually drop the class and walk away.
I could drop the class!
My ability to focus on the end goal of a project has served me well. The tunnel vision I develop makes it possible for me to ensure that I will do what I set out to do. Unfortunately, it also means that I don’t see the simple things like when it’s a good idea to abandon something.
Walking away from this did not equal failure.
So I dropped the class and felt better. But I didn’t learn my lesson. This week has been a good example of the fact that I still haven’t learned when to walk away from horrendous situations. I’m still focusing on the end goal and not noticing the boiling water I’ve landed in in the meanwhile.
Fortunately, I still have wonderfully insightful friends who point out the obvious to me. “Paloma, stop being a dumb frog and get out of the boiling water.”
I think I’ll listen.
Image source: miniformat65 / Pixabay