In the space that has opened up since my soul-sucking class has ended, I’m remembering (slowly, unfurling) that I was working on just being the real me. Oh yeah! That ‘real me’ stuff got totally obliterated for awhile. But over the weekend, as I happily caught up on chores and tentatively started a small creative project, and built a dresser and reorganized the closet… I was starting to remember. Not really that the ‘real me’ does this thing or that thing, but that the real me has some emotions that aren’t fear, stress, worry, or numbness. The real me likes to enjoy the sun while potting a plant, sometimes. And sometimes has good ideas about figuring out logistical problems of single-handedly transporting home a dresser that weighs as much as I do.
One good thing about being so busy (with school, etc.) was that I didn’t have time to be so nice all the time at work. Sometimes I was just really sick of everyone and had no patience and I just went with it. I crabbed around and vented sometimes and was impatient and didn’t do certain things that truly were a waste of my time. That was kind of a relief. And guess what — as far as I know, everyone still likes me. I’m going to remember that.
Having a default setting of ‘nice’ is all well and good, but it’s a bit boring, and actually not all that nice. It’s more like just being nice because that’s what I thought was the, well, nice thing to do. I don’t really think that anymore. I think what I’m supposed to do is just be however I am. Most of the time, I really am just fine and relatively happy and I like doing little (and big) things that make other people happy. But sometimes, it feels really good to be the crabby person and have other people do the side-stepping and the extra things to help make MY day easier. I’m more interesting and probably much more likable when there are a few thorns here and there.
So, even though my initial impression was that the last few months was all school and very little personal learning, maybe I did learn something after all. I kinda like my prickly self.
Well, I’m in full swing of what Terri and I call “bio-emo” — it’s Sad-Sack City, completely brought on by hormones. Crying at the drop of a hat (or for even less reason). A perfect time to practice this new (old) prickly pear self.