Thursday, February 21, 2013

Coping Strategies

I'm not sure of the exact location of my craw, but I do know that I've got some things lodged in there. In other words, this is not my favorite workday ever. It's nothing to do with the people I work with, just a situation that's a by-product of dealing with other people integral to my job and, whenever it comes up, I can't stop taking it personally. I'm aware that this is boring and maybe cryptic (hashing out the details would be even more boring, trust me) but I don't like to go into the specifics of what I do, for many reasons. Writing about it in this roundabout way right now is an attempt to impress upon my brain that what's getting to me isn't actually about me as a person or something I did to someone. The sooner I internalize that message, the sooner the dislodging process begins. Also, the idea of being met at the door by my favorite gentlemen tonight, a good run or maybe yoga after HR's in bed, and a glass of wine that didn't come from a box (for once) are things to look forward to in terms of fully getting right. I also have the kind of coworkers I can talk this out with and that is priceless.

A word about being met at the door, though: the enthusiasm with which I am received every night--even though we actually need the money from my working--is really the #1 reason to leave the house every day. As soon as I put my key in the door when I get home, I hear those little feet speeding around the living room to meet me, and when I come inside I always get a smile and a hug and kiss, usually accompanied with "Mama, I so glad you're home!" Poor Mike gets the short shrift once again in that department, as HR is only ever awake for his return on Sunday afternoons, and on all the other days he's just always there so is not treated with the special-ness he deserves. The woes of a stay-at-home-parent.

Anyway, just picturing my evening reception has already helped calm me to the point where I'm not seeking frustration cookies. Fine, I'll probably still eat a cookie or two, but they won't automatically crumble under a ton of emotional weight.

And here's a song that usually fixes me right up. Terrible video quality, but fantastic ode to the serial comma.

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