Home is where.....

So periodically I participate from here and there across the interwebs. I'm the worst sort of lurker lately. I used to have time to participate 100% in everything and now it's just hit or miss.

But, I love the Stream of Consciousness Sunday over at Jana's blog and I really try to participate when I can because she always has goodness over there. Here's her post idea for this week, so here goes. Set a timer and riff on it for 5 minutes.

Today’s post needs no real introduction. There are places we all feel are “home” even if they’re not physically our homes. They invoke emotion in us that can’t usually be put into words, but today we’re going to try. Today’s (totally optional) prompt: Going Home

 When I was younger, we moved around a lot. So home always meant something different. Mostly it meant family though. Because we were always in a different city, had a different house. I never had the house with the pencil marks on the doorway, marking my brother and my growth.

But as an adult, living with my husband in Nashville, I always sort of thought "home" was where our stuff was. Like when you're on vacation and say I want to go home. Well, you mean your house, to sleep in your bed and smell the familiar smells and cuddle up on you own sofa to watch tv.

Until we moved to Pennsylvania, I believed this. However, once we were there, I never stopped saying "I want to go home" and he'd say, "oh, you're ready to go?" meaning leave whereever we are and go back to our house. but I meant Nashville. Home.

It's where I was at 18. It's where I was in my 20's. It's where I grew up, had bad and good things happen, learned to drive in traffic,  had my first apartment. When we would come to visit I felt like I was seeing a lover I'd missed for years and not realized it. I love that city. It's home. And I'm not back there yet, but home isn't so far away now....

Dear...well....everyone,

I have a lot on me right now. I am dealing with a work situation where I'm doing two full jobs. I have more responsibility than I ever expected or wanted. I am stressed out. Beyond the limits of what I ever in my life imagined stressed out to be. So. far. over the edge.

I wake up thinking about work. I got to bed thinking about work. For the past month I've worked at least partial days seven days a week. I come home and check email and upload pictures. I work 12-14 hour days when I need to and take off days if and when I can.


I'm getting about 5 hours of sleep a night-which for me is NOT enough. I'm not the most pleasant person to begin with. I'm gonna be bitchy and snappy and dismissive. It's just gonna happen. I'm stress eating, or else I would be an alcoholic by now.  I can't wear any of my clothes from last summer. I fantasize about running away sometimes.

So. When I'm a little grumpy? I know you'll forgive me. Instead of being smart back, or yelling back, or being otherwise hateful and getting mad at me, please try to show the least bit of empathy for my current situation, especially when you work with me and know what I'm going through.

If I actually ask for your help with something? Please help. It takes a lot for me to ask for help. I don't do it very often. And when you dismiss me and just flat out say no? Well, that makes me less willing to ask next time. And it makes me a little angry. Which will make you mad at me. And it is much more helpful to me for you to take an hour to help than you just being mad at me.

Love,
Marsha

p.s. I am not looking for any sympathy comments here, my life isn't worse than anyone's and I don't post this to win any votes, contests, or anything else. It is what it is and I'm dealing with it. I just have to vent sometimes.

What am I thinking?

I'm trying something new this week. I dunno I just woke up. Saw Jana's post and I've wanted to try SOC Sunday for a while but I never had the courage. Five minutes of stream-of-consciousness writing? Brain-dump? Like I usually reserve for my journal, certainly not what I put up on my blog. But here it is.


My moment in time is now.

This morning I woke up thinking about work. It seems every morning lately I wake up thinking about work. I've had things put on me that I've had neither the experience nor the training to be ready for, and it makes me angry. Angry. Angry.

I'm doing it. I'm finishing the paper every week. I'm play-acting editor. Because I have to, not because I think I'm remotely qualified. I won't win any awards, I won't get any recognition but it is getting done.

This is hard for a perfectionist person like me. I don't like doing things, especially public things, until I'm confident in what I know. Doing this week after week is making me angry. Angry. Angry. It's making me tense. It's making me boring. It's making me ... well, a bitch. To put it mildly.

No one. No one. Gets it. Not really. Their days can go on as normal, basically. They can miss the person and be outraged that he was fired. I'm stuck with his work and with being angry with him.