The weird thing about not eating your feelings is that it means you have to deal with the feelings some other way. Like, by having them. And exposing everyone in your path to said feelings.
Which means that sometimes, you're going to cry from the second you get in your car til you get home from your evening commute.
And then twenty minutes later, you'll be laughing.
The comedian, Jeff Garlin once said he ate Pop Tarts raw to push down the feelings.
Well, I'm off the Pop Tarts. Although, I liked the cherry ones and the brown sugar ones too... raw, of course.
(To push down the feelings)
I'm not saying I'll never eat another Pop Tart. So now, I'm dealing with all the damn feelings.
Sad, mostly. I'm seeing some friends disconnect - either they're moving, or we aren't really talking like we used to, or... whatever. My social landscape is different than it was a year ago. Not better, not worse... different. I'd settle for better.
I'm dealing with a new manager, and one who likes to over-complicate and over-communicate. I want to tell him, "Look, I've done this job with relative success for nearly nine years. I'm a grown. intelligent, professional woman and not a half-wit or a child." If you think you have to create a Candy Land board out of every metric you can lay your hands on, so be it. But I need less from you. Much. Much. Less.
The house is a mess, and that's at least 50% on me. I just don't feel like dealing with the mountain of laundry. We have clean clothes, healthy meals and we aren't in danger of being condemned. If I need to delay having an organized closet, I will.
Although, I think I'd be happier if the house was clean, and if I were happier, I'd more likely clean house.
I may need to discuss this with my GP at my annual physical tomorrow.
ae
Which means that sometimes, you're going to cry from the second you get in your car til you get home from your evening commute.
And then twenty minutes later, you'll be laughing.
The comedian, Jeff Garlin once said he ate Pop Tarts raw to push down the feelings.
Well, I'm off the Pop Tarts. Although, I liked the cherry ones and the brown sugar ones too... raw, of course.
(To push down the feelings)
I'm not saying I'll never eat another Pop Tart. So now, I'm dealing with all the damn feelings.
Sad, mostly. I'm seeing some friends disconnect - either they're moving, or we aren't really talking like we used to, or... whatever. My social landscape is different than it was a year ago. Not better, not worse... different. I'd settle for better.
I'm dealing with a new manager, and one who likes to over-complicate and over-communicate. I want to tell him, "Look, I've done this job with relative success for nearly nine years. I'm a grown. intelligent, professional woman and not a half-wit or a child." If you think you have to create a Candy Land board out of every metric you can lay your hands on, so be it. But I need less from you. Much. Much. Less.
The house is a mess, and that's at least 50% on me. I just don't feel like dealing with the mountain of laundry. We have clean clothes, healthy meals and we aren't in danger of being condemned. If I need to delay having an organized closet, I will.
Although, I think I'd be happier if the house was clean, and if I were happier, I'd more likely clean house.
I may need to discuss this with my GP at my annual physical tomorrow.
ae
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