It's a sign

There are some new signs that have popped up in our break room and conference rooms at the office.  At first, they were a little cryptic:

I initially thought they were about disclosing customer information in a secure way, and then, I hoped (selfishly) that they were a mental health initiative of some kind (I'll get back to that in a second).

As it turns out, they're to remind us as a company not to drive distracted.  They're in conference rooms because we're supposed to do a sanity check before we start calls to make sure that people on the phone aren't also barreling down the highway.

I think that's swell.  Cryptic, but swell.  But, I mean, if you want to get the right audience, get some little air freshener trees with that printed on them and get your people to hang them from their rearview mirrors.

Anyway, back to mental health.  I've had a tumultuous time of late (meaning, the past year), and I find that I am having a hard time finding acceptable places to be angry.

Last night, for instance.  I'd had a long day, I was tired, hungry, itchy and cranky.  Where I didn't need to be was stuck in a Weight Watchers meeting with perky old Violet (again, not her real name but she was dressed and made up for that to be so applicable).  She was talking boot camps and chicken breasts and planning.  And I was thinking, "Fuck you, and fuck you and fuck you."  Look, Violet has lost 200 pounds - she knows what she's doing - but she's not my old leader, and I'm hungry, and today has just been annoying.

So, I was mouthy and contrary and completely meh.  It doesn't help that there were seven, yes, SEVEN of us there.  At the first meeting of a new year, it should be SRO.  It wasn't.

So I had to put my two cents in, and they were not shiny pennies.  No ma'am.

I know she thinks she's going to turn me around, and maybe she will - maybe I'll be the one that Violet gets to and inspires in a Lifetime for Women Original Movies kind of way.  But I've had a handful of good leaders before her, and they did their best. She may not make the cut.  I hate change.  What can I say?

Anyway, I stopped myself at some point and apologized to the two new people and our Fearless Leader - told them I am normally quite charming.

Which is basically true.

I think of myself like a Junior Mint.  Shiny and sweet on the outside - but under pressure, that thin, shiny veneer cracks and unleashes a torrent of sticky, minty goo.  Although, in my case, it's more bile than mint, and more prickly than sticky.  Think of liquid acid cactus.  That's my goo.

So I've been thinking a lot recently about finding a place that's safe to be angry.   I wonder if I should vent my anger in like, kickboxing or a cardio class.

Or if I should find a shrink who will just let me call and bitch for a few minutes every day and say calming things and reassure me I'm not inherently flawed.  Someone who gives good coping strategies.  I tried a shrink last summer and fell off when my travel schedule went haywire.  Plus, she really wasn't for me.  I need... something different.  Someone who works Fridays would be a plus.

Or, if I should, instead of storing the anger beneath the candy-coating, I should just integrate it into my life a little more.  Like, you know - be angry *in the moment* instead of storing it up for later, cramming calories on top of it to keep it down and then just cracking, exposing the minty goo (or acid cactus bile) at the worst possible moment.

I'm not good at being angry.  I'm terrible at it, actually - which is why I occasionally unload on the Customer Service Rep at Delta, or Violet, or someone who totally doesn't deserve my wrath.

Also, I'm going to use my phone to navigate when I'm on trips for - so if that's in violation of company policy, so be it.  But going forward, maybe they can work harder on finding me a safe place to talk.