Breaking through my barriers

I was going to write "fears" instead of barriers.  I think the two things I finally did today weren't things I was afraid of doing, rather, they were things I'd used as barriers to keep from moving forward in this new stage of my life.  Maybe now that I've done each of these things once, I'll have an easier time doing them again and again.

The first thing I did for the first time today was to apply for work through the MWE job search site.  I've mentioned before that since I am collecting unemployment benefits I need to apply for at least two jobs each week.  Up until today I did this the "old fashioned" way.  I looked for jobs in the local on-line newspaper or I asked people I knew about possible employment opportunities.  Those were working just fine for me.  But on Friday I received a letter from the DLLR informing me I was required to attend a seminar for the JobSource program this week.  I knew the state wanted me to use their job service to hunt for work.  It allows them to keep track of how I'm looking for work and not just relying on me to keep my own records.  So, today I updated my resume' and applied for work through the website.  I applied for two jobs.  Check.

The second thing I did today was to go for a walk around the neighborhood during working hours.  I had delayed this endeavor for more than a couple reasons.  I had excuse after excuse after excuse.  I'm lazy.  I'm fat.  I don't have good music on my phone.  I couldn't find my earbuds.  I didn't want to see anyone from the neighborhood.  My feet hurt.  It's cold.  It's hot.  It's windy.  It's not.  Yeah, I had a few excuses.  Today my husband shamed me into going for the walk.  And I lived.  And I DID see people from the neighborhood.  And the music on my phone was crappy.  And it did hurt.  But it was a nice day and, who knows, maybe it will be good for me.  Check check.

And, more importantly, maybe I'll do theses things again tomorrow.

541.  A nice neighborhood for walking just outside my front door
542.  Friendly neighbors
543.  A perfect fall day
544.  The feeling of accomplishment
545.  My son got a new roommate
546.  Looking forward to my bible study small group

Hazardous workplace

This info came to me just 24 hours too late.  I guess my workplace is hazardous.  It wasn't necessary to bold the STOP EATING or Drinking portion of the email.  If there is nothing inside, there is much less that gets hurled out.  Yep, this is higher education.  :)

And, of course, prevention.  So important.

190.  Pepto Bismol
191.  Ginger ale
192.  Rice
193.  Paid sick days
194.  All the company this misery could ask for
195.  Knowing it will be over soon

Frankenstorm Sandy, please please be gentle with us

Hurricane Sandy will come to my house between 2:00 a.m. Monday and 2:00 a.m. Tuesday.  Color me nervous.

Let's look over the checklist of everything I need to do to prepare for Sandy.

1. Buy bread, milk, and toilet paper
2. Get furniture off the deck
3. Tape windows
4. Invited Hurricane Irene to come last year and clear most of the trees from around the house

Yeah, I think we're ready. 

Prayers are welcome.  Seriously.  Pray for us.

638.  Stores with vodka (hurray!)
639.  Tenants are out of my house (there will be a blog on this)
640.  Knowing there is only so much we can do to prepare for the storms in our lives.  Trusting in God and his plan for us is the most we can do
641.  God is good    
642.  The faith in God given to me by the Holy Spirit

I had a bad day

Yep, I had a pretty bad day.  It started out with me having to do, pretty much, the thing I hate about my job the most.  I had to stop at a shop and pick up food because my boss scheduled a meeting inside the two week window that on-site catering is available.  I know this doesn't sound like a very difficult thing to do, so I'll tell you the rub.  No matter where I go to pick up food for a meeting, whether it be for breakfast or lunch or a snack, it never turns out well.  So, what happened on this day, you may ask.  I ordered catering from Panera Bread.  I know, you're all saying yummy, yummy.  Yeah, I know, Panera is yummy.  Here's the thing, when you order food for take-out, you never know what you're going to get.  I ordered something they call a 13 pack and two jugs of coffee.  The coffee was supposed to serve 8 cups per each jug.  This would equal about 16 cups, right?  This is what I thought.  So, I have coffee for 16 cups and 13 bagels with two small tubs of cream cheese.  Easy peasy.

Not so fast.

The first thing I discover when picking up the food is that they give me the bagels in a bag and not on a tray.  Evidently, you have to order your bagels on a tray if you want them on a tray.  And, they add $2.50 + tax for the tray.  Thank you.  I need a tray.  Secondly, they don't give you plates with your catering.  You have to specifically ask for plates.  Thankfully, I asked for plates when I ordered the food, so I didn't have to pay extra for the plates when I pointed out that I needed them and they weren't in the bag.  Also, remember the bagels.  Well, you must have to ask to have the bagels sliced in advance, because the bagels I got where not sliced.  And finally, even though you've ordered bagels and cream cheese for 13 people, they must think all 13 people are GREAT friends.  They gave me four plastic knives.  Four.  Four plastic knives for service for 13 people.  This is not good.  I scrambled around the building and found three more plastic knives.  Evidently, plastic knives are the holy grail of plastic cutlery.  By the way, Panera gave me enough sugar to give the biggest sugar addict enough sugar for an entire year.  TONS of sugar, four plastic knives.  AND, they didn't slice the bagels.  I guess I kind of get this, no slicing of the bagels thing.  Maybe they thought I wasn't going to eat them right away.  However, I did say I wanted these for a catered breakfast meeting.  I guess I didn't put the dots close enough together.  Oh well.

But this wasn't the worst thing about my day.  By a long shot.

As I drove down to the college for the breakfast meeting, I had an uneasy feeling.  Scheduling this meeting was challenging.  For some reason, every time I sent an email with the meeting information, the recipients would ask me questions like, "what time is this meeting?"  Even though it was on the email.  Or they would ask, "what sub-group meeting is this?"  Even though it was on the subject line.  They even asked, "what day is this meeting?"  Even though I said, in the email, it was tomorrow.  Odd.  Weird.  But, wait for it...........  wait for it..........
I invited the wrong people to the meeting.  None of the people I invited were in the sub-group the meeting was supposed to be about.  None.  I invited the wrong sub-group to the wrong sub-group meeting.  When my boss returned from the meeting he says to me, "something went wrong.  didn't it?"  I said, "yeah."  Sure, as soon as he said something was wrong, everything made sense.  These people didn't know what meeting I was inviting them to attend, but nobody said anything to me.  My boss never made the sub-group list.  (no wait, he did, but he made it at 7:45 a.m. on the morning of the meeting.  too late to help me.)  Then he says to me, "I'm not mad."  Seriously?!?  You're not mad?  This meeting was a total waste of some very important people's time.  I made admirals come down to the college from their posts.  I made presidents of companies come to a NON-meeting.  I screwed up.  BUT, yeah, I had a lot of help.  From my boss.  I had never even seen the list of people to invite to this meeting.  He forwarded his request for this meeting from the wrong email thread.  The list of CORRECT attendees for this meeting didn't even exist until 45 minutes before the meeting was to start.  So, I guess he's not mad.  He has someone to blame.  me.  It sucks, but at least there were bagels.

But this wasn't even the worst thing about my day.  Oh no.  There was more.

There is a HUGE hubbub down here at the college.  Two long-time and well loved employees were fired.  One had 25 years of service and was an administrator, albeit, not at executive level and the other had 37 years of service and was support staff.  Fired.  (seriously, support staff don't get fired because of a change in administration.  support staff only get fired when they do stuff wrong.  like invite the wrong people to the wrong meeting.)  And then the all-staff email that broke the news essentially said, this is what we did and don't you dare ask us anything about it.  (also known as, F.U.)  For a college with staff that hasn't had raises in 5 and a half years, this was morale breaking.  A student blog has taken this issue on, as well as the local newspapers.  The college is stonewalling.  Silence.  When there is silence, everyone thinks the worst.  Everyone here is afraid for their jobs.  It's awful.  But what did I do to make my day even worse?  I did a stupid thing.  I opened the student blog and planned to post the link to one of the stories from the local paper.  I wasn't going to say anything or add to the fury with an actual comment.  I was just going to post the link.  And, I was going to post it anonymously, or so I thought.  But no.  No.  no.  no.  It must have been my trembling hand readying to click the mouse.  I didn't just click.  I DOUBLE clicked.  And when I double clicked not only did I post anonymously, but I posted with my Being Happy profile.  With my lovely avatar and link to my blog.  Disaster.  How UN-anonymous can you be.  My smiling face and my blog.  You know what they say about the internet, "once something is on the internet it is there forever."  (maybe they don't say it, but I certainly do.)  I had been joking about doing something similar to this earlier this very day.  Not as myself, of course, but with an actual person's name as my log-in.  (this would have been the name of a co-worker I don't like very much.  I know, it's hard to believe I don't like EVERYONE, but I don't.  can you believe that karma, or whatever you want to call it, came around and bit me in the butt so fast.  no, me either.)

It was a bad day.

I did email the owner of the blog and ask him to remove my avatar and blog info.  He was kind enough to do this.  I do feel a bit of relief.  I hate screwing up.  I REALLY hate screwing up on the internet.

417.  A husband that listens to my fears
418.  Learning a tough lesson, but surviving it
419.  A boss that gives the leftover bagels to another office to spare me the calories
420.  Friday, even if it is the 13th

Why I don't hug

I'm not a hugger.  I don't like hugging.  It's not that I never hug.  It's just that it doesn't come easily for me.  I can hug my husband.  I don't do it often, and he doesn't ask me to do it often, but I can do it.  I can hug my mom and dad.  I can hug my son, but it is hard for me to do.  Weird, huh?  I read Emily's guest post yesterday at Nancy's blog, Out of My Alleged Mind.  So much of it broke my heart.  If you have an extra 5 minutes, click and read Em's story.

What is it about hugging that makes it hard for me to do it?  I know my answer, but it's hard to speak the words.  Maybe writing my reasons here will make it easier for me to understand them.  I can't believe how much my aversion to hugging has to do with my poor body image.  This is hard for me to share... here goes.  I don't like to feel the body of the person I hug and I REALLY don't want a person hugging me to feel my body.  There, I said it.  I don't like the feel of hugging anyone.  If they are overweight, I like it even less.  This is because I think they are thinking the same way I think about myself.  I hate the way my breasts feel, to me, when I hug someone.  I know my breasts are pushed up against their body.  I think to myself how absolutely horrible it must be for them to have to feel that part of my body smooshed up against their body.  The feeling makes me hate myself and my body because my body isn't what I wish it was.  I wish my breasts were small.  I wish my body was thin and athletic.  I am completely grossed out by the thought of someone's hands touching my back and feeling the indentation of my bra strap in my back fat.  If I hug a thin person, it isn't any better.  I think they think I'm disgusting.  My feelings of disgust of my body when hugging a thin person are equally overwhelming.  I feel as if I'm smothering them or crushing them.  They feel so small and fragile, I begin to feel like a giant and I can't get my hands off them quick enough.  I know these are just feelings and there is, most likely, nothing based in reality in them, but there you have it.  (who said ISTJ's don't have feelings?)

As I think about these feelings and thoughts I experience when hugging, I am reminded that it is much easier for me to hug someone who is wearing a coat or jacket.  It is much more difficult to hug someone wearing a tee-shirt or blouse.  I am absolutely sure I wouldn't be able to hug someone in a bathing suit or without a shirt.

I feel these same feelings when I am asked to hug children or hold a child.  I am uncomfortable touching or holding them.  I have an idea that the children want to escape my touch as quickly as possible.  I don't like the feeling of their chubby legs and arms touching my skin.  Don't get me wrong, I can push through this aversion and hold a child or hug a child, but if I don't have to do it, I won't offer.  It's just not something I'm comfortable doing.  While we were on vacation my husband's friend and his family came to visit.  They have two children.  We walked to a restaurant.  On the walk to the restaurant, the children held the hands of their parents.  (they are six years old and we were walking along a heavily trafficked road)  On the way back to the hotel, they must have felt more comfortable with us because the little boy wanted to hold my hand as we walked.  We chatted, but the whole walk I kept thinking, when will he want to pull away from me and not want to hold my hand anymore?  I was sure it would happen at any time.  I guess I didn't want to be rejected by a child.  Strange thoughts, I know.

At our church we "pass the peace of Christ" with a handshake.  (thank goodness there is no "holy kiss")  It is the MOST awkward time of the service for me.  Most of the time, hands miss or I notice I'm shaking the hand and wishing the peace of Christ to someone who is not even looking at me anymore.  The touching seems so forced and uncomfortable.  I really don't like this part of the service.  I don't mind shaking hands in a business situation, but I don't get all that excited about a handshake, either, it's just what we do in this country.

I think I was less uncomfortable with the greetings in Italy.  Even though I had to kiss both cheeks and have both cheeks kissed, there was a comfort in the way we grabbed shoulders and kissed and didn't have to embrace.

I shared this post today for a couple of reasons.  First, because I'm pretty sure I am not the only person out there with these feelings.  Blogging is such a great way to discover that other people have the same thoughts going through their heads that I have going through my head.  Secondly, I wrote this post to share that the reason I don't hug is all about me.  It as nothing to do with the other person.  The people I don't want to hug are completely lovable and huggable.  The other people are even people I like a lot.  I try so hard to make warm eye contact in place of the hug.  I try so hard to say the right thing and smile the right smile in place of the hug.  The reason you typically won't get a hug from me isn't about you, it's all about me. 

379.  Warm smiles
380.  Kisses on the cheek
381.  Words of affirmation
382.  Kind eye contact
383.  Kind words

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose on Thursdays

It's a jungle out there

I don't know if this is normal or not, but I'm scared all the time.  I'm not as compulsively fearful as the character Monk on that tv show.  I mean, I'm not quite as afraid of germs as he is, but there is no way I'm drinking bathroom water.  I don't need to have an assistant with me to walk outside my home.  But I have to admit, I totally understand that character.  No one would know it by looking at me.  I put on a pretty good act of confidence to make sure no one knows.  I wonder, sometimes, if other people are scared as much as I am.  We all try so hard to look like we know what we are doing.  We don't want anyone to see our fear.  That would be a sign of weakness.

I don't let the fact of being perpetually scared keep me from doing most things.  (no way will I be jumping out of an airplane)  I'm just, more often than not, scared before I do them.  I'm typically not scared to drive to work, but today a car pulled out right in front of me and I had to slam on the breaks.  Fortunately I was looking out for something just like this to happen, because I'm always afraid I'll get in a car accident while I'm driving.  Last night there was a storm and I was afraid.  I was afraid another tree would fall on my house.  I wasn't so afraid that I didn't sleep.  But I was nervous, so I took a benadryl to insure I would fall asleep.  I'm often afraid at work.  I know how to do my job and I'm pretty confident, but I am still afraid I'll do something wrong or forget to do something I need to do.  I'm afraid to meet new people and go to new places.  Even though I do these things, there is a little ball of fear in my belly when I do them.  I'm afraid for my son's future and what he'll do when he is on his own.  Will he be ok?  I'm afraid something will happen to my husband.  I'm afraid he'll leave me or, worse, die.  I'm afraid to be without him. 

When I'm doing something I am confident I do well, I'm still afraid of other things that are out of my control.  I can be performing well at work and be afraid I will suddenly do something horribly wrong.  How is it that I can be confident and afraid at the same time?  Does this happen to anyone else?  I remember one time I was in the car with my mom.  She tells me that sometimes she feels an impulse to yank the steering wheel of the car and drive in the lane of oncoming traffic.  Are you kidding me?  I asked her not to do that, or better yet, let me drive.  But the scariest part of this exchange was the thought in my head that, I too, have had this same thought.  What is up with that? 

I read about being authentic and not wearing masks and showing the world the real you.  I'm wondering if anyone can truly do this.  I don't know how revealing the little ball of fear, whether rational or irrational, I often have in my belly would help any situation.  What good would it do for others to be made aware of my fears or my (very rare) crazy thoughts.  After all, most of the time, I'm able to push through my fear.  Am I wearing a mask when I push through my fear and join a small group bible study when I only know one of the people in the group and the rest are all new faces?  Am I being inauthentic when I contribute in a meeting and I'm afraid I'll miss something that is said and not have it recorded in the minute?.  Am I showing a false face when I drive to a place I've never been before and use the map on my phone to get me there and have to watch for traffic I'm not used to watching?

This world is a scary place.  Lots of bad things can happen.  There are many things we can't control.  So every morning I tell God I'm afraid.  I'm afraid and I'm going to need his help today.  I trust he will not let me down.  Even when my fears come true, I know God is there.  And when it all turns out alright, I know he was there, as well.  Every morning, when the alarm goes off, I tell God I'm afraid and I need his help.  

It's a jungle out there
Disorder and confusion everywhere
No one seems to care... well I do.

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose on Thursday

312.  Waking up and seeing the storm has passed

313.  A peaceful day

314.  Avoiding an accident

315.  Being a child of the creator of the universe

316.  Pushing through fear

You don't get a trophy for trying when you're an adult

I grow very concerned for our nation while I watch a generation come of age without the skills needed to succeed in life.  Somehow the Millennials, those born about 1980 through 1995, have come to believe that the trophy they were awarded in t-ball some how signified success.  And that success was determined by the mere fact that they participated in said t-ball.  AND, the only reason they participated in the t-ball was because their parents took them to the t-ball game and paid for the trophy.  Somehow this false sense of achievement percolated through their formative years in school and extracurricular activities.  Along with this false sense of achievement has come an increased attitude of helplessness.  When confronted with a challenging task now that they are adults, the effort isn't put forward.  And why should it be.  After all, in t-ball, all you had to do was show up.  And, if you didn't show up, it wasn't your fault.  It was mom and dad's fault.  After all, you couldn't drive yourself to t-ball.  Mom and dad had to bring you there.

This generation has been crippled in a sad way.  It is difficult for me to feel compassion for them when confronted with the whining and complaining.  Yet this really is a very sad situation.  If I push past the whining and look at the bare bones of these adults I can see some real deficiencies and indulgences.  The one deficiency that jumps out at me is the dearth of competition with their peers.  This generation had to look for their heroes and bar setters outside their classroom or team sport or other extracurricular.  Comparing kids to kids was not allowed.  This may hurt someone's self esteem.  Unfortunately, they found their heroes in professional athletes or movie stars or whatever.  Since there was NO WAY they could compete in any real way with these individuals, the competition was removed from the immediate activity.  It wouldn't be fair if one child was better at something than another.  We don't want anyone to feel bad about their performance.  After all, they tried.  Competition was removed from the equation in their formative years.  Sadly, competition has not been removed from the real adult grown-up world.  These folks are unprepared.

This generation has also been crippled by the indulgence of ever available praise and assistance.  There have been so many programs devoted to this generation.  There were extra teachers in the classrooms.  There were reward programs geared for just "showing up" to class.  Every "disability" was viewed as a special need and more responsibility was removed from the child.  The only way a child was "special" was if there was a learning or behavior problem.  Gee, who doesn't want to be special now?

So what happens when these GenYer's grow up?  How do you feel proud of yourself when your best efforts amount to mediocrity?  How do you train yourself, as an adult, to work hard enough to achieve excellence when you've never been rewarded for doing so?  How do you train yourself to seek excellence in a world that doesn't care enough to tell you, you aren't good enough?

I guess you can get that tattoo or that facial piercing to feel special.  But, how about trying harder?  How about giving your work your VERY BEST effort?  How about trying to be the best instead of just getting by?  In the real adult grown-up world, your boss isn't "picking on you" when you don't get a excellent performance evaluation.  In the real adult grown-up world, your performance means more than promoting yourself on twitter or facebook or your website.  In the real adult grown-up world, most people DON'T get a trophy.  Only the winners get trophies.

I'm grateful for
51.  Complete recovery from my three week ailment
52.  A desk full of work to keep me busy
53.  A co-worker in the mood to bake cookies
54.  Finding a connection with my son and having a couple really nice chats
55.  Vacation planning
56.  Tulips in a vase on my kitchen counter
57.  The first paid advertisement on my blog  

Poison ivy

Fear took me over and stirred my thoughts
Mixing the compost of dark thoughts through my fertile mind
My imagination grew a vine of dread with thick strong stems
I try to pull them out
But the root stayed firmly stuck, in my brain

Foreboding a future I cannot foresee or control
Roots of fear work their way down my throat
I choke on them as they work their way inward
I try to change the taste from bile to honey by thinking sweet thoughts
But the taste is bitter and lingers on my tongue

Panic fills me when I contemplate life's transitions
Employment ends, classes begin, life twists life turns
I feel the roots work their way to my belly, acid flows
It bubbles, it gurgles and roils.  Pink potion please
But I vomit the vitriol of fear

Cold sweat covers my skin as I wipe puke from my lips
I try to wash it away and rinse sour spit from my mouth
I glimpse myself in the mirror I see the terror in my eyes
Spiral tendrils twisting through my hair and fingers sprouting leaves
The vine of dread bloomed full in me

Praying the break of dawn with sunshine rays to kill this creeper in me
Shift the shadows, shine the light
See the forest for the trees, all is darkest before dawn
Truth lies in axioms of the ages
I can brave another day