Subtle Glow

Talk me off the ledge here.

I am trying to play it cool, but the word went out very recently that the reporting structure is being “tweaked” a bit.  In reality, nothing will really change for me on the surface.  It will all be pretty much transparent.  But in the next month or so my “on paper” boss will change.
Still, you know how sometimes you just won’t let things go, because of the “principle” of the issue?  Like when someone screws up and it turns out they overcharged you $20 for something.  It’s not that you can’t afford it, it’s the principle of it. That’s kind of how this is for me.  Because, I know that I won’t really approach what I do any differently, and I know that when it comes to daily priorities they will come from the same source.  But having said that, I also have to say I’ve had a really bad string of bosses in the past, and I finally (FINALLY!) have a great boss.  I don’t want to mess with it, and it makes me very nervous to think that it might be messed with.

I can be candid here, so I’ll tell you that part of the reasons I had for leaving my last two positions with two different companies had to do with the management.  There were other reasons, but one huge factor in the decision to move on both times had to do with management.  Lack of quality management, to be specific.  Lack of respectable managers, to be even more specific.
I was so happy when I got this job because I liked the work I was doing, it was in the same direction I wanted to go with my career, and once I got to know who I worked for, I was ecstatic because it was everything I was looking for at that end.

My boss tells me that nothing will directly change, and I’m trying really hard to trust him on that.  Personally, I don’t like when there are “unknown” factors, and it’s too early to know if the new guy has a whole plan on how he wants to shake everything up as a display of leadership.  Because, you know, sometimes people with new-found power try to prove they can handle it by thoroughly fucking everything up on behalf of their newly acquired authority.

Which is to say, I’ve been through the pains of becoming a direct report of someone who previously had zero direct reports.  She was a tyrant.  I left within a year.  So most of my thoughts and insecurities with all of this change have little to nothing to do with this particular change, and almost everything to do with my past experiences and my very strong desire to NOT go through that again, but also to NOT be miserable at a job and eventually have to face the fact that the only other option is to move on.
I like my job.  I don’t want to leave.  I want to be able to feel positive and secure in the knowledge that I’m doing a good job and will continue to do so with the way things are.  I want to regard this information as a “blip” on the radar because I want the reality to be that’s all it is.

I don’t want this to be a sore spot, but I’m lying at this point if I try to pretend that it isn’t, at least a little bit.

But, I’ll try.  I’ll give it some time, see how it plays out.  I’ll treat it the same way it is supposedly intended - merely a formality on paper but no real change in the overall big picture.   I won’t spend a lot of time thinking of alternatives if I don’t think it’s working out in a few months, but I will know by then if I’ll need to or not.

I’m not looking forward to New Year’s. Or January, February, and March. Can I just disappear until April please? Oh, actually no - make that May. I have a small window in May but then June is out as well, and then I think September of next year will be good. But other than that…

I keep thinking about the past year and honestly, I’m glad the end of it is not far off. I’ve tried to ignore it, and if you were to ask me to my face I would lie and say I haven’t thought about it at all. I’ve tried to convince myself that I don’t know the exact date of this, that or the other, and then when those dates come around marking one year since then I won’t notice. But, it’s a lie. It’s a total lie.

It’s just that I’m nervous, I guess. You know how you go through a rough time, and then things get better and you think - hey, wow that sucked but phew - I got through it. You thought it would be harder than that, or take more time, or something but also you’re glad to be Moving Along in Life.

Then, a few months later you start to wonder if it was really going to be that easy. If you were truly Moving Along or just fucking kidding yourself, you don’t know which and you kind of suspect you’re being too hard on yourself, as always, or probably you should talk to someone about it. So they can assure you that it’s all ok and of course you’ll have that from time to time but they can say for sure that you are Moving Along. But you don’t say anything. To anyone.

Instead, you shove it to the back of your mind, try to shut it in a closet behind some other storage boxes of stuff you’ve long forgotten. Only that closet it a little bit full already, and the door won’t shut all the way. So then you’re in the bakery at the grocery store and they have these cookies and it makes you think of that other night, months ago, and has it really been that long already. You were hiding it all then, too. How were they supposed to know when you hide it all from anyone who might care to listen? Because you think no one should have to listen.

But that was almost a year ago. How could it have been that long? How is it almost Christmas again already? How can things be normal again already. I was so ready for normal, just to be “through this” that I don’t know when I’m pretending and when I’m not. I didn’t know when I started this that I had some much going on in my mind over it. The dam is breaking the thoughts are flooding and it’s too late to stop them and push them back in anymore and I want to. I want to put them away and be done with them. You know? Well, that’s where I’m at right now.

I don’t want to talk about it with anyone at this point, because you know it’s probably just a blip and maybe that blip will randomly show up from time to time, out of nowhere like that. And like any blip it will fade away, too. It’s not something I want to deal with at this point. I have enough to do, other things to think about, better ways to spend my time. Let it go…

I remember listening to a call on a radio talk show once, where a woman called to ask for assvice and when she mentioned she was a single mother she was interrupted so the host could clarify whether she was a single mother or a divorced mother. WTF lady - I don’t have a spouse with whom I share parenting tasks day-to-day. Does it matter if there ever was a spouse or not? Not to mention it had nothing to do with the call, and added even less to the conversation except to let me know that I probably needed to keep on flipping through radio stations.

I mean, seriously? Is that why someone needs to know?

Marital Status (choose one)

• -Single
• -Married
• -Divorced
• -Widow/ed

This question inevitably irritates me. Married or not married. After that, it’s just nosy.

I’ve seen the writing prompts where you’re supposed to go back in time and talk to your younger self and share one piece of advice that will be important for you to know between the Then-you and the Now-you.

Not to pick on Mel, but this entry made me chuckle as thought back to when I made the switch, and I realized exactly what I would tell my then-self:

Do not wait until you have finished your degree (for which you took classes online - at night after you put the baby to bed) to go ahead and allow yourself the splurge of getting cable internet.

Listen to me:  Get that shit NOW - because it isn’t worth the cursing violently at 2am when you’re dial-up has disconnected for the fifth time while you try (again) to upload your assignments for the week.  It’s not worth the flinging heavy objects off the desk and stifling the roars of frustration before you finally decide “Fuck this” and go ahead and open the wine - Zoloft be damned.  Seriously.

Some people think about their time in college and kegger parties and frat boys come to mind.  For me, it was that damned dial-up internet I stuck with for far too long.  Ok, I would by lying if I said I didn’t go to any parties.  There were plenty of keg parties, but they were more often attended by the local surfers (which incidentally were also kind of like the jocks, considering they were on the surfing team) because we didn’t have full-fledged frat boys in high school.

Sheryl from Paper Napkin wrote an entry today and asked for responses.  I started to leave a comment, but then it grew and grew, so I just decided to make it into a whole entry of its own.

I have some of the same concerns - I struggle to keep my weight in a healthy range, and I try to emphasize my desire to be HEALTHY rather than thinner.

That said, I feel lucky that my kiddo does not have a weight issue at all, though making healthy food choices is an area of struggle.  He’s also not a picky eater, so fruits and vegetables don’t have to be hidden in cheese sauce in order to be eaten.

I don’t do fast food.  If it has a drive-thru - we typically will not eat there.  From time to time it’s either that or go hungry, but I would say in the last year we’ve hit a drive-thru less than 5 times.

I don’t buy junk food snacks.  Goldfish is about as crazy as I’ll get - and even then I prefer the low-sodium variety.  Cookies, candy, ice cream, chips and sodas don’t make the regular grocery list.

I buy low-sugar alternatives for things like flavored oatmeal and orange juice.  It’s not that WE aren’t allowed to eat it, it just helps to keep the amount we do eat closer to the “sparingly” and “seldom” frequency.  We have proven over time that if it’s in the house - we will eat it with little portion control involved.

I allow carte blanche when it comes to the produce section - any kind of crazy fruit or veggie you want to try.  He loves mango, and it was his idea to make something with eggplant.

It’s not a perfect solution - if he has the option of adding fries to a cheeseburger while we’re out, he’ll take it.  But again those are rare instances when we eat out.

Sadly, one of the hardest parts is what they serve at school for lunch.  I’ve tried sending him with a lunch but he wants to eat the hot lunch… and frankly IMO it’s a lot of crap food.  Corndogs, pizza, etc.

The best I can do is try to drill the message about healthy habits at home and hope that later in life they stick.  It’s somewhat easy now because he doesn’t have a weight problem.  I’m more worried about what happens if he ever does - I won’t have the necessary skills to get him back on track.  I base this on my own struggles to keep my weight in check.  It seems to be a lot harder to come back from that than it does to prevent it.  I’m getting there, but I would like to help him avoid that if I can.
He plays hard at school, and runs around plenty during that time, but when we’re home things are way more sedentary than what I prefer.  I can come up with excuses, but the fact remains that he and I both spend more time in front of a computer or tv or video game than is healthy.  I’m working to change that, and it’s a tough habit to break.

We’ve managed to make it through the first two days at the new school. Kiddo’s neck is starting to go down, and it’s much less noticeable than it was a few days ago.

I just finished going through the mountains of paperwork they sent home - some of which is the same information on the same forms that they just *had* to have before they would even enroll him.

I don’t know why, but I am just fucking annoyed with them right now.

For instance. The Dress Code.

This school has uniforms. They are optional, but they encourage you to have your child wear them so that “the message will be sent to all students that the focus here is on schoolwork.” Also, “Shirts MUST be tucked in.”

I don’t know why, exactly, but I find both ideas annoying. I’m pretty sure we will be opting OUT of the uniform, and I really could give a fuck if his shirt is tucked in or not. Kiddo is not a clotheshorse and really doesn’t give much thought to what clothes he has on, although he prefers them to be clean (and I require that much so it’s not an issue). Likewise for what other kids are wearing.

Still, I’m annoyed by their insistence.

Here’s why: This is obviously not our first day at school, much less our first YEAR at school. We’ve been to two other schools in that time, and kiddo has managed to excel at each one. Imagine that - he wore regular clothes to school, and not once was his shirt tucked in! And he still did exceptionally well - so much so he’s eligible to participate in the GATE program.

If the “focus is on schoolwork” then how is it I just spent my time going through THREE PAGES of fucking dress code information? I sure didn’t get three pages of curriculum information. Oh, but the “focus” is on schoolwork.

Really?

I see the benefit of uniforms, and then again I also see them as pointless - for reasons already stated.

Maybe I’m just in a bad mood tonight, and tomorrow this will all seem like the ranting of a stubborn grown-up child.

Anyway, I told him if he is asked to tuck in his shirt to do as he’s told. (I didn’t tell him this part, but other than respecting the authority there, I don’t care, because I think that is a stupid and ridiculous thing to worry about. What - do they think he’s packing or something - they need to see his waistline? Oh, what the fuck ever.)

I can just see it now - I’m called in for a parent conference for Kiddo’s repeated violations of dress code for not tucking in his shirt. But really - how’s his schoolwork?!

Hey! I signed my lease yesterday, so in about month I’ll be setting up house in my new place. And seriously - NOT moving for a few years. At least three, but no more than five. That is my goal.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and as much as there are things that I like about where I live now, I definitely want to move out of state. I haven’t settled on where, although I have a couple places in mind as a “maybe” and probably a whole 48 or 49 other STATES that are a definite “No.”

Currently, my not-boyfriend lives in one of the “No” states. In fact it’s a “No and Hell No” state. But - he does want to move once he’s done doing his thing (school) there. Of course, he wants to move to another “No” state. Of course.

To be completely honest, and aside from the freezing icy winters there and the stifling humid summers there and the cost of living almost as high as here, I just think that if it happens that we end up going down the path of “together” rather than apart - well, he should have to sacrifice something as well.

That probably sounds a little bit petty in some aspects. I agree.

However, there’s more to it than just that. Most importantly, I would want to know that he’s not with me only if I’m willing to make it as convenient for him as possible. Maybe in some ways I feel like that’s what I’ve done to some degree, or on some level. I agreed to it at that point, during that time. That doesn’t mean I have to keep agreeing to it, or that I will.

I’ve made it clear that I want to move out of this state in a few years, and he’s not 100% settled on where he wants to move once he’s done with school. There’s no reason he HAS to move back to the “No” state. See where this is going? I see it going down a path of neither of us willing to compromise and so we go our separate ways. That’s only based on other conversations we’ve had that sort of circle this particular drain. Also, it is based on the fact that I Am Stubborn and also the fact that So Is He.

Anyway, it’s just a tiny little marble that has been rolling around in my brain. It’s way too early to decide any of this, so there’s no point in bringing it up and trying to settle on it at any time in the near future. For the time being I’m just going to give myself a quick smack on the head, and hopefully lodge that pesky marble back into a dusty corner somewhere. Although, at some point that marble is going to start getting to be more than a tiny little marble. I know it will. That is how these things go.

But, just for a little while, let’s you and me forget I ever brought it up. Can you do that? Ok, well then in that case - just pretend you can. So will I.

I think, or at least I hope, I may have found a new condo to rent. All that lies between the unknowing and the certainty is the screening process. I don’t know why the approval, in a bigger sense of that word, is so important to me.

The credit report will be examined. The pages that hold random snapshots of information about me, where my damaged past is slowly fading and sliding off and out of its’ haunting existence in reality. Each little black mark, fading into memory.

I secretly cheer whenever I am deemed “worthy.” The first time was when I bought my new car last year. I walked in to the dealership convinced they would entertain my test drive, but stifle their laughter when I asked for a loan. In fact I was convinced I would walk out of there and drive my truck home, and prepared myself to be ok with that. I was stunned when the moment came, during the price haggling, and I realized they were actually going to let me finance the car. With a payment I can actually afford. What madness was this? Was it a trick? I still wouldn’t allow myself to be giddy about it until I signed the paperwork.

A few weeks ago I found a condo I sort of liked, although it wasn’t really what I was hoping for. It was something I could afford, so I put in the application and waited. I waited for the phone call that said, Ohhhh, well - thanks but no thanks - you’re denied.

The phone call came, only instead of offering her regrets, she started asking about making move-in arrangements. I had to double-check that she had finished the application process. Yes. Approved. Worthy!

Even now, I’m waiting for the phone call. I don’t know which phone call I’m expecting. I want the approval - but I’m fearing the denial. I’m afraid to really fall in love with the place until I know that all the hurdles have been leaped. Again - I don’t want to get excited or imagine it as my new home until I have the final answer.

I guess that’s just what happens after 7 years of rebuilding. In that time I’ve dealt with the judgments of those who found me unfit for their approval. Unfit, based on numbers on a page. Numbers that tell a story but not the whole story. Inside, I still feel like the ugly flawed unworthy person is still there - just that time has allowed me to hide it with a nice exterior. In a way, if you’ll excuse the pun, I don’t give myself enough credit. I guess I’m sort of like a new person now. All made over and clean again. Not perfect, but more good than bad. So I wait with anticipation to find out if I am worthy of their approval.

**UPDATED**  I was approved!

Picture:  5:00am - alarm just rang.

I sit up to hit snooze…  whooom!  *rumble rumble* goes the tummy.

“Hmmmm,” I am thinking.  “Hmmmm, not good.”

Tell me, just how unusual is it for the next thought to be:  “I need to go scrub the toilet.  Just in case.”

Seriously.  If I am going to have to stick my face in a place where I put my place where the sun doesn’t shine (except that one time but you know I was young, like 20, and we were camping and it was secluded, mostly) - I better be breathing bleach, is all I’m saying.

A recent conversation touched on something (or someone) that I don’t often talk about or really deal with in a concrete way.

My father was physically abusive to me growing up. He was also abusive to my mother, my brother, his second wife, and her three children.

He was also verbally abusive. I remember being told I was fat (I was 5′4″ and less than 120 lbs until I was in my 20’s), that I had a big fat ass, that I had a big nose, that my voice was too nasal, etc. I remember thinking then how uncomfortable it was and how hurtful it felt when he said those things, but “at least he’s not hitting me.”

There were nights when the beatings would happen, after everyone else had gone to bed. They all heard him yelling, the slamming, my crying, my screams of fear and pain. They heard him, my stepmother included. There were nights that none of them left their beds as it happened. They laid there, fear pinning them in place as their hearts raced and they hoped he didn’t come in for them next. We all did it. We all had our turn, over and over again.

(Read on …)