I realized this week that when I switched jobs, I didn't necessarily go from one type of job to different type. I pretty much am doing the same thing minus being face to face with customers. Now I get to listen to their gripes over a phone and without serving them a beer. I admit. It's a nice to change to not have to hide my facial expressions when someone is being ridiculous to me. I mean I don't know how great I was at holding back my look of annoyance at a customer who was asking for 12 ramekins of ranch but whatever. At least now when they are yelling about at things I can't control I can roll my eyes freely. With the holiday season upon us and watching at least 4 Netflix originals this week, I started thinking about how much more horrible people can be during the holiday season. I know. You are thinking I am just being rude now but am I? I know people who have never worked a day in a restaurant or in a customer service based job think I'm just being, well, an asshole but hear me out. We all get so wrapped up in getting the perfect presents for our loved ones, in placing the best decorations in our neighborhoods, in baking the best fruit cake that we forget that the whole reason for the season is supposed to be celebrating each other. We get so angry at the hostess because she hasn't sat (our party of 15 that just walked in the door without a heads up) immediately. We get so angry at the person at the other side of that counter because they didn't give us a discount we didn't deserve (but feel entitled to it anyway). Guys, he doesn't have any control over it in the first place. We are so snappy to the person on the other side of the phone who is trying to help us (but think it's OK to yell at them for five minutes about a box UPS smashed). Guys, it's the holiday season, not open season to be nasty.
A word like holiday is a scary word for service industry people to hear. While most get a couple of paid days off to spend with their family, people who work in this industry? Yeah, that means they work a few extra days so that the family that you're enjoying get to come and sit at their table while missing time with their own. It means that while you are making your last minute trip to the grocery store a person is standing behind that register for you. It means that the person you call for customer service is sitting at a desk on a phone and not enjoying time sitting at a dinner table with their own. And I know it is the nature of the beast. I get it. I've worked in this industry in whatever form I found myself in for over two decades. I understand (like everybody who works in customer service gets) that we choose to be in this field... but it can be so much more unrewarding during the holidays. For every wonderful person who walks through those doors or every five people on the end of that line, there are the people who make you want to pull out your hair. Sure, they are always there but it is as if the holidays seem to amplify the nasty rather then mute it. I was at work the other day and a gentleman was on the other line. He spent five minutes literally telling me that it was my fault his product came the way it came, that it looked like it was packaged from K-Mart, that I should do something about the quality I personally was putting out there. Which made me have a flashback to standing behind that bar and listening to the woman scream at me that it was my fault her food was taking more than an hour and a half. I think when we get swept away in this "holiday spirit" we start to forget that the people standing in front of us really have very little control of your grievance. It is not my fault that UPS damaged a package or that some guy in production put the wrong sticker on your plastic. It is not my fault that the kitchen got backed up or that the place is so full that it's turned to a big ball of uncontrollable chaos. And honestly at the end of the day I want your dinner or your canvas or your grocery list to be perfect. I want your holiday to be the best holiday it can possibly be. If for nothing else, for people to not treat each other so harshly.
I wish I honestly didn't want to write this blog today. I wish we would just remember that we're all human, fighting our own battles, trying to figure our way through our own journeys. I wish I didn't have to remind people to treat each other with kindness especially during the holidays. And I wish people would understand that when a server or a cashier or customer service person on a phone get irritated that you are probably the millionth person that told them they sucked that day. It's not that we don't like people but it becomes a harder to pill to swallow every time we get the brunt of anger that really has nothing to do with us. There were times when I would be behind that bar and my hands would clench into fists under the counter because someone was angry at a price of a beer I didn't make and then demand that it was free. Why? Because it is so much easier to be cruel to the person in front of you whose job is deemed less important. I always find some comfort in that though. For the people who complain and turn nasty, the reality is they would never be able to do what you do, not one. I can take solace in my ability to tolerate, to rise above someone else's cruelty... but that doesn't mean it is justified. The point of the holidays is to honestly enjoy each other. It is to give someone else something as simple as a smile, to say thank you for being a part of this world, all of us. I understand you want the most perfect everything but is that perfection worth someone's tears? Just remember one thing this holiday season. One thing. The people who are helping you are people, too. Every one of them whether it be the server hustling to bring you drinks, the gentleman behind that register, that woman on the phone answering your question. Every one of them, all of us.
The hardest thing for me to learn sometimes is how to communicate with people. I can sit down at this computer or in front of a piece of paper. I can take a pen out and feel safe stating how I feel without hesitation about the message that I am about to put out there in the world. I can take my time like I do when I write a blog or a poem. Or I can just allow myself to move freely when I the mood hits me to do one of my doodles. I can see clearly in my head what I want to say, what I want to portray, what I want to give to the world. It's just not so easy for me to sit down in front of a person and truly get my point across. I have a tendency to think too much about what that person in front of me is going to think. Is what I am about to say going to hurt their feelings? What is their reaction to me going to be once I've released these words into the ether? As an adult, I understand that my feelings, my views, my actions (or reactions) are just as much of a factor as the person sitting in front of me. I write two different ways, draw in two different ways. I am more sensitive when I know that I'm putting a blog up or when I put a doodle out there for people to dissect. And then I am brutally honest if I know that these words, those lines will never go beyond these hands. Sometimes I don't always find the balance. Sometimes I write an entire blog and erase the whole thing because when I go back to read it, it feels too real for me to allow beyond this screen. And other times it is the only way I know how to tell someone how I feel. Honestly communication face to face is not my strong suit. I can own that.
For as practical as I am and as standoffish as I can be, I am an emotional person. This week has been trying because of, well, life. There have been choices I've had to make and some reactions I've had to keep in check because what was presented to me. I figure out a lot of stuff as I go but I always want to have an idea of what I am dealing with. I want to know the problems that might occur because this happened. I want to be able to sit down and talk about it but I'm not always the greatest at talking about something in the moment. I need time, time to digest what words just fell into my ears. I need time to truly understand how I feel about something before I can tell you. I react with emotion be it anger or sadness or joy. And there are times that those reactions make my head spin because they become so loud. They become so loud I can't hear in my head how it is I truly feel about something. That's why I've always kept a journal or found solace in some form of art. It has been a way to clear out the loudness and get down to why something made me feel so angry, so sad. I can't tell you in that moment why I am angry. I just am and I need to figure out a way of release on my own before I give it to you to understand yourself. I shut down when something becomes too much. It's not because I am afraid of exploding but because I know what happens if I allow myself to explode. I've never liked that part of myself, this rage that boils at times. I've worked so very hard on myself to be able to reel it in. I understand that those explosions solve nothing except more hurt feelings. I hold back because when I look at that person in front of me, whether I like them or not, what I see is myself in their shoes. I am truly an empathetic person. It drives me crazy sometimes which is why I shut down, why I pull away. Sometimes I don't know how to separate my feelings from theirs.
We have these expectations that hang around our necks given to us by so much around us. We live our lives always trying to live up to them because we are taught that is what we're supposed to do. I expect so many great things out of myself. The idea of me failing makes me react so emotionally. When my feelings are hurt, I don't know how to communicate that because I expect myself to brush it off quickly and move on. I expect myself to be stronger than something wicked someone said to me even though I know I should tell that person the hurt they caused. At the end of that conversation, I will end up apologizing and it's insane. As I've gotten older, I have gotten better but there is so much more in my journey. I understand more every day how my own insecurities manifest in the faces that look back at me. My husband and I don't really fight. There are a lot of different reasons for that. I don't like confrontation. I don't know how to do it without either seeing full on red or caving entirely. There is no in between. Most of the time we see eye to eye. He doesn't like a lot of fuss. I prefer to keep it nice and calm. We don't always agree. Our minds work differently. He can sit down with anyone and speak his peace when he has an issue. And me? I have to think about it for a minute. This week was one of those weeks that this difference was apparent. I have suffered with anxiety most of my life which makes some situations hard to deal with in a normal way. That's not the correct terminology but for this purpose I will go with it. When something happens, I think of worst case scenarios. I have to go through every bad thing that will probably never happen for me to come to the conclusion I am just overthinking it. And when I try to explain this mindset to this beautiful man whose mind functions in a different manor? I don't always explain it right. It's just the way this brain works out what I see around me, good or bad. I understand that the amount of pressure I put on myself to say the right words is, at times, debilitating.
This is how I figure it out, sitting down and allowing my fingers to fly across this keyboard. While I hold some thoughts back, all of these words come from this place within me that are able to shush the loudness that life causes. I wish I could just tell you simply how it is I feel but that has never been a thing for me. I can't sit down with someone over a cup of coffee and be completely honest because I know what is expected out of me. I am the one who listens and who takes care and offers a shoulder for the world to cry on. I am the one who thinks about the back stories and the options and the effects that every action is going to cause. I have always felt that my feelings, my wants, my desires have been something that I should deal with on my own. If I am scared of something, it is for me to find the courage on my own. If I am happy, I am terrified to talk about it because it may quickly be taken away. If I am angry, so many times in my life I have been scolded for feeling that way in the first place. So, I learned my greatest companion were words written on a piece of paper, lines drawn together that would not judge me for just being me whatever version that was at the time. Today I sit down and write these words not because I am trying to tell you anything. If I am being honest, writing a blog has been a challenge because I know the point is for people to read my work but I don't want to be like other writers and feed anyone who is reading this bullshit. What I write is honest and vulnerable. I never want it to become something diluted just to gain something undeserved. Life to me has always been this strange struggle of what I keep to myself and what I give to the world. Most the time this is the only place I can truly give the world anything. It's not because I don't feel it when I sit across from someone but because I feel too much of that someone when they sit across from me. Words fill my lines. I just don't always know how to say them. Sometimes it is that simple.
I find myself having the greatest moments of inspiration sitting in traffic on my way to work lately. Maybe it's because the part of my day where I am alone with just myself. Or maybe my thoughts are just a distraction from the crazy people who are driving too fast down a highway that is clogged. We're all going to get there, guys. This week I was thinking a lot about people, both present and gone, but not just people. I started thinking about my husband and my father and all the boys I've loved before. I thought how curious my journey with love has been and this idea of forgiveness started to take root. I started thinking about every relationship that I found myself in, the longs ones and the ones that lasted just a moment. I thought about the lessons each one taught me, the ones I kept and the ones I realized weren't to take with me along my way. Every person who comes into our lives has a purpose, not all good but a purpose just the same. I thought about the relationships my younger self found myself in compared to the relationships that I allowed as I got older and how vast the difference was, how toxic they once were versus the healthy of what they have become. When we're younger it's all so fast, so quick, so visceral. Everything about being young feels like fire and it's wonderful and exciting and, at times, harmful but lovely, too. I look at my husband and, as corny as this may sound, realize that I needed every one of those bad guys to truly accept someone like him. And I started to understand that maybe love isn't so much about love for someone else. It's more about loving yourself.
I will be honest. I have carried around a lot of fear of my life, of people walking out on me, of not being enough, of somehow not living up to my own expectations. I had this fake sense of courage that I wore because my biggest fear was for someone to see me as vulnerable. If you could see my weakness, then you would know exactly how to hurt me but I was always really good at doing that on my own. Boys just seemed cruel, something I needed to keep at arms length. So that's where I kept them for a long time even the ones I thought I loved. So I allowed myself to get into these bad relationships with bad people because that's what I thought I deserved. I thought that if they were less then I would be more, could feel like I was more. And I know that sounds twisted in its own way but I did not have enough faith in myself to realize I was more without them. I was full of self sabotage because it was easier to fail, easier to be with these people that didn't involve a lot of effort. What difference did it make if we didn't make it? I wasn't looking for forever. I was looking for that moment because when you're young it's only that moment that matters. I remember my father shaking his head at me, at these choices I was making, knowing what he was thinking, knowing that he knew I knew I deserved better and being frustrated that I kept picking these toads. I also knew that these toads were somehow important. Not because they meant something but because where they took me would someday mean so much more.
I wore my father's flannel the other day to work. Sometimes I just like to wear it, to feel like he's still somehow here. He's been gone for four years and it's amazing the parts of him I understand so much clearly now than I did when he was alive. He was the first man I ever loved. I don't want that to come off as something strange. It's a beautiful thing, this love between a father and his daughter. When we're younger, he's the one who protects you, who teaches you, who shows you what respect truly means. He is what you should look for when you become older, not him exactly but these qualities that he exemplifies. And we don't necessarily understand that then. I know that I was lucky enough to have a father who loved his children, who would go to hell and back for his children, who wanted absolutely nothing but the best for his children. I become more grateful for that every day even though he is not physically with me in this world. I look back at all those boys that I surrounded myself as a young woman and I see how they were everything he was not. I see clearly how I intentionally dated the very opposite of him. I understood what kind of partner I should have but It did not mean that I thought I deserved it. And then I grew up. It's funny how quickly that happens. I blinked and I realized this search for love had nothing to do with anyone else. Somewhere in my life my father taught me that. I heard him loud and clear, just didn't want to listen until I met my husband. I know that sounds like I am contradicting myself but bare with me. There are things about my husband that remind me of my father. He has a kindness to him, this giant heart that exudes this amazing sort of love, the same kindness and love that my father had. To me, that is comforting but it's not that I need my husband to understand what I am worth. Somewhere along that highway this week I thought a lot about this road I was on, the passengers I have had along my way, and it sort of just hit me that all he ever tried to teach me was that I was the one in charge. It wasn't about who loved me or how they loved me or if they loved me at all. It was all relative and somewhat pointless.
I look at my husband and know how lucky I was to find a partner who accepts me for every crazy that I am. He doesn't always understand my chaos or why I feel frantic or how I see the world but he loves me enough to not try to change me either. I am who I am, every nutty part of me. I've worked really hard to become so comfortable in this skin (though the work is still in progress). I see my flaws and I accept them, finding a way to make them something beautiful, too. And I guess that's what my father was always trying to say but I wasn't able to hear him until I was able to love myself. I still battle. It's really annoying because I know that there is so much good in me but still it rages. I look at my husband, this person who I happily align myself with, knowing that he would have never had a chance in my life if I thought nothing of myself. And I am grateful. I had this strange thought about love this week, this love for other people and this love for myself, this simply complicated word. I allowed my mind to wander through my life, going through every relationship from my father, to my husband, and to the ones in between. I thought about how horrible some made me feel, the euphoria that some gave me, the swiftness of others, the safety that I finally found, the one relationship that still makes me fumble. I realized that I needed to forgive myself for all those bad choices, for all the good ones that I walked away from out of fear but I needed to forgive myself for myself, too. I realized that most of my bad choices, all that fear, so much of my own pain was caused for one reason and one reason alone. I wasn't brave enough to allow myself to love myself. And on my way to work wearing my Dad's old flannel, something finally clicked. It wasn't about who had come and gone through out my life. It was about the one person who has been with me the entire way. It was about me, the amount of love I gave to myself. It was about forgiveness. It was about finding the courage to be ourselves, completely and fully in our own skin. The only way to truly love anyone is loving ourselves in whatever form we are, broken or complete, flaws and all.
I was driving to work the other day and my head was creating the greatest blog that, again, I will never write because, well, life. Inspiration doesn't always choose the best times to hit and that's OK. I remember the gist of it. That's what is important. The night before I was texting with a friend. We were just talking about the last month, the changes that have happened, the directions we were going. Any time there has been some sort of change in my life before I have reacted the best to it. I am good but a little bit of time goes by and I start stepping backwards, thinking that maybe I should have not left that comfort zone as toxic as it might have been. In my thought process even something that was bad for me was acceptable because at least I knew what to expect out of it. There would be no surprises of the aggravation I was about to receive. It seems now, looking back at it, so self deprecating, almost self sabotaging. Why change when you can stay comfortable right where you are? The older I get I understand better why change is so imperative in becoming something better than what you are. I understand that certain parts of this life won't be what they are tomorrow what they are today and it is not a terrifying thing. Sure, adjustments will be needed but you adjust and keep moving.
You know I watch my teenage daughter flounder. I see her trying to find her feet and figure out where those feet want to take her. I remember being 17 and thinking that I had to have the world all figured out. In reality, I did not. And I wish someone would have looked at me and told me that but I felt so much pressure to know my plan, to know how to execute my plan, and how it was all going to work out. There was no way I could have predicted the actual trajectory my life would actually take. The idea of something not being exactly what I wanted it to be drove me bananas. For as easy going as I was, I did not like surprises. I wanted to know exactly what kind of people I would be dealing with, what environment I was going to find myself in, and what exactly was going to be asked of me. In some ways, that hasn't left me but I can pivot much better which I didn't necessarily understand what that meant back then. But here is what I have come to understand about this life, this beautiful journey I have found myself on. I don't know what is going to happen tomorrow and I have peace with that. I don't know exactly what I want to be, who I am as an artist or a writer, how I am going to achieve these dreams that still so brightly shine within me and it does not frighten me that I still flounder. One my favorite movies is Away We Go. It's just this simple, poignant movie about two adults who are about to have a baby trying things to figure out their path together and individually and as this new family. There is a scene where they are sitting on a couch and they realize that they are just two fuck ups (pardon the French). There is something so real, so touching about that to me. I guess it's part of my adulthood that I relate to the most. At almost 40 years old, I still don't know much more about myself then I did when I was 17. I thought maybe there was something wrong with that. Like I should know by now, right? Over the last few weeks, I realized that it doesn't really matter because I keep trying. I keep moving in whatever trajectory my life is currently pointing, knowing it will change and change again.
Since I left my job and started a new one, I have noticed so many changes about myself. It is beautiful the way one change can have such a positive affect on other parts of your life. I put down the cigarettes, this friend who was bad for me and had been for far too many years. I started eating better and going to bed at a decent hour. I wake up early and start my day with bones that no longer scream at me because I've mistreated them for hours straight the day before. I eat dinner with my husband every night and see my daughter more than just on a passing basis. I draw and write with a new found light within me. I generally don't mind people all that much (unless they are driving). Right before we left to go to Denver, I had this anxiety attack. I hadn't had one in awhile. I don't really know what triggered it. My day wasn't great and I was in an environment that I just haven't become familiar enough with yet. It was one of those attacks that once it started, I just had to let it roll out. There comes a point that you can't stop these things. You just close your eyes and hold on. It will pass. The thing was this change happened so quickly with the new job, I guess I just hadn't given myself enough time to digest it. Once I understood that, I was able to embrace this change completely. I was able to really sit in it and understand what I had just walked away from. I realized that this one change was the only way I was going to move forward. This one change was the only way I was going to give myself permission to really try doing what I loved. It's just so easy to sucked into vortexes that suffocate your true talent sometimes. And I know that sounds like I am throwing shade but no malice is intended. What it was is that I had somehow convinced myself that I had to compromise what was inside me because I happened to be good at something that paid the bills. I got too comfortable and I allowed doubt to be my voice of reason.
I was having a conversation with a new coworker yesterday. I had drawn a Doodle and he was looking at it. I don't get a chance to talk about my artwork with people very often so this was nice. It is eye opening to listen to what someone else sees in your work. Honestly when I draw, there's not a lot of thought. It's just what I am feeling in that moment or what I am allowing myself to feel in that moment at times. And his thoughts made me think. I draw differently than I write. When I put down a line, I just let that line lead me. So often it is the same girl but I have always understood who she is. Maybe I haven't always understood what she is trying to tell me but I have always known who she is. And when I write, it is more deliberate. My train of thought has a flow that sometimes I don't know where I am going until the end but I tend to have more discipline with it. This week is the first week that I have truly felt amazing about the choice I made to walk away from a place that I had planted roots. It's been such a learning experience to talk to people who have the same sort of artistic aspirations, who have a different way of looking at the world, who aren't so bitter honestly. There's no judgement there, guys. The service industry is not for the weak hearted and unfortunately it makes you a much harder person than you really are sometimes. It's been nice to breathe again, to just simply sit down and breathe. I guess at forty years old I finally found some peace in this head that sits in the clouds. It just took one change to help me let go, one change to set the girl within my lines free. One change changed the trajectory of this life, this beautiful journey I have found myself on. And I know that even if tomorrow throws another change at me, I will pivot. That one pivot can lead to something even more inspiring.
My husband and I just went to Denver for our ten year anniversary. We realized that we had not taken a trip, just the two of us, since our Honeymoon. Life just seemed to get in the way. This needs to be done first. We need to take care of that instead. It seemed like something always came up that needed our immediate attention. Isn't that life though? So, for the first time in ten years, we sat down together. We slept in and we laughed and we talked and we caught up. It has been busy for us over the last ten years. We work so hard to provide the best life for our family. We often sacrifice ourselves so that the other can be comfortable and not worry. There have been times when I have been so exhausted that he has had to pick up the slack, where he has had to be the one keeping us together. And times where I see that he needs to sit down for a minute, to catch his breath so I put the weight of us on my shoulders until he heals because, to us, that is what a relationship, our marriage has always been.
I remember when we first got together. He was this guy that would walk by my coffee shop every day with a grumpy look on his face. I was the girl who came sat at his bar with my bitch face on. He was an adult with the world of his father on his shoulders. I was a single mother just trying to scrape by... but we were both adults. Sometimes people ask me why him and I work so well together. We were both a little older when we met. Neither of us were interested in playing the usual stupid dating games. I didn't really have time to mess around. I had this tiny girl staring up at me, expecting me to protect her. I very rarely mixed my romantic life and my child together unless I thought there was a potential for something wonderful not just for me but for her as well. And then this man came along and took me by surprise. I knew the moment he was for real. It's just a silly moment but, for me, it said so much. We were driving somewhere and I needed to get gas. Before I could get out, he was pumping my gas for me. Yes, such a trivial gesture, but the thing is the only other man in my life who did anything like that was my father. And the general type of men I had been dealing with were not of that caliber. Most men wanted to save me or they wanted an instant family. They had no real interest in me but the man who pumped my gas wanted me, all of me just as I was, just as I am.
The place that we stayed at in Denver was the most adorable little house. We had our own private entrance and this sweet little patio that we could sit together, enjoying the Fall weather and each other's company. I remember sitting across from him and thinking that ten years and he is still sitting there when I only thought my table would only ever be filled with ghosts. I remember thinking that it feels like he has been with me a lifetime and just yesterday he was filling my sanitizer bottle. It's lovely how someone becomes such a sweet part of you. I sat with him and we talked about our right now, our tomorrow. We reflected on how far we had come together, as two separate individuals. Here is the thing. I know at the end of the day if he got up and walked out that door, I would be just fine. It would tear me up but I would be fine. And if I decided that I wanted to walk away, he would be just as fine if not torn up. We both realize that we have to be comfortable with who we are as individuals to be the best we can be together. I am a strong woman who will light this world on fire. And he is the most courageous, kind hearted man I have ever met that could charm a toilet if need be to make it in this world. No matter what life throws at us we figure it out. It's just what we do.
Our trip was simple, not very extravagant. We didn't go to many places. We didn't see a lot of places. We spent most of our time tucked cozy in our little rented house. We ordered our food in and drank our drinks, let ourselves breathe for a few days. I had gone from one job to another with only a day in between. I will be honest my anxiety was starting to take control because I hadn't allowed myself to digest all the changes that were happening. Sometimes I look at my sweet husband and I get taken with such emotion because I know that he has to deal with my demons. I know how unfair that is to him especially when he gets frustrated because he can't defeat them for me. It's not his job to fix me. That's all mine but his presence makes this journey a lot easier. For ten years he has been here with me and honestly I don't know how I got so lucky. Sitting with him this last weekend, spending this precious time with him brought my focus back, reminding me that this foundation we created is unbreakable as long as the love we have for the other is strong. It just seems like with every passing year, we just keep getting better. We talked about the things standing in our way right now of where we want to be. And the most comforting part about that conversation was that even if it falls to pieces, we know that we will figure this all out. We know that no matter what life throws our way, good or bad or indifferent, we will figure this out together. I don't know what is in store for us tomorrow but I am grateful for my every day with this man. He is my favorite human, the man who will fight for my honor, my best friend.
Happy Anniversary, you idiot <3
This week I started a new job, a new chapter in my life. I wasn't necessarily unhappy where I was. I just knew that it was time for me to move on. I came home feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. To me, that was a sign that I needed to change something in my life. And let;s be real right now, I'm not getting any younger. The restaurant industry is a young person's game if you're not interested in managing or owning a place. I joked that I was going to be hobbling behind that bar with a cane. The image makes me smile but there is a reality that it was time for me to go. One of the girls said that I was like a mom to them. She's right. I was for a long time but years have gone by and I've watched all of them grow, bloom, figure out their path. I realized over the last year that they didn't need me like that anymore. It's been a strange journey watching my own daughter at the beginning of her journey and these beautiful people around me taking flight on their own. I suppose I liked being needed like that and it's probably why I held on to that place as long as I did. It was for these bright faces that looked to me when they needed me and I won't lie. I loved that feeling of being needed, of being important but we outgrow the things we lean on after awhile. We realize we have our own two feet and those two feet can take us anywhere. No cane needed.
I started this new job this week. I left the place that I had been for five years with people I had grown to love, to respect, to adore to start something new. I can sit here all day and say those wonderful people needed me and that's why I held on but it wouldn't be the full truth. I needed them, too. There was a beauty about the relationships that bloomed. There was this support, this unyielding support for each other. I guess I was afraid out of sight, out of mind. That we would somehow lose the connections that we made because I wasn't right there in front of them. And let's be very real I'm a homebody. I tend not to go out very often. I hide in coffee shop corners behind these words and that's just me. Somewhere in this last year, I started to feel my feet twitch. I started feeling restless. I wanted more, more for me. I didn't want to just sit in the corner anymore and pick up other people's crumbs off the floor. I ran into a guy I went to high school at my new job. Out of 74 people in my graduating class, I work with a classmate. Considering how small my high school was? Yeah, that's pretty bananas. I remember driving home after that first day and thinking about the me of back then and wondered if I turned out how he thought I would but then I laughed. I didn't turn out the way I thought I would. In the twitching of my feet, somehow I woke up that girl. I felt her in the words that I started writing again, in the lines I started drawing again, in the dreams I let myself dream again. I realized this new chapter wasn't because I was angry where I was or frustrated where I am or even sad about the places I will never go. It wasn't for my husband or my daughter or anyone else. This new chapter is for that girl I used to be, the one in the corner with ink stained fingers.
I haven't talked much about my new job. In a way I guess I thought it would somehow be pulled out from underneath me and then what? So, I kept it to only a few friends until it was time to share it, allowing myself time to digest all these changes. I know my blogs in the past have talked about how rough the restaurant industry is and believe you me I am not exaggerating. People can be horrible but as horrible as they can be, they can be the kindest, too. While I will miss a good number of customers, I can honestly say that it's been nice this week being away from it, too. You know I didn't get this job because I was angry. I went after this opportunity because it was time I grew up. If I am being honest, it was time I finally did the work to do what I really wanted to do, who I really wanted to be. I was damn good at serving and bar tending but it was not my destiny. I just let it be enough for too long. I realized over the last year that I could tell myself over and over again that I would just do my writing and art on the side, that it would be good enough to just dabble but when I really took a look? I understood if I didn't take a leap, I was never going to jump. I wanted a career, a career that fulfilled me and provided others joy. I wanted my work to be shared with the world, big or small. I wanted to be more than just that girl with the tattoos behind the bar, hiding the girl forever sitting in the corner. I've become someone in between those two and it's time I give me a chance. This week has been wonderful and terrifying and enlightening. I've had my moments of maybe I can't do this. I've had my triumphs of I got this. I've laid my head down at night with a peace that I haven't felt in years. I won't be needing that cane. These two feet will do just fine.
I know that I talk a lot about working in the service industry. Here's the thing. The money is good so you kind of overlook the madness that you are surrounded by. You suck it up and work the hours (oh the hours) because it allows you a flexibility that office jobs don't. You can work two hours a day and make what you would if you had to work an eight hour job. There are perks to being in this industry... but there is a lot of other stuff that you have to learn to suck up, too. I wish I could tell you that serving was as much fun as it looks. It can be but there are days when you question humanity. There are days when you look at the people staring back at you demanding your soul that you just want to accidentally drop that ranch right on their lap. And sometimes it is those thoughts that get you through that very long, very tough shift. The last two days have been chaotic. I have walked out feeling pretty beat up. It was like a semi truck ran over me and then backed up just for kicks. My fellow coworkers and I were yelled at, were made to feel like we were less then human beings. And it was days like those that always made me question was being treated like that worth it?
Yesterday was exceptionally rough. Things just fell apart. Sometimes that's just life but what I saw were some true colors that made me wonder what is wrong with people? There was a lot of stuff going on this weekend which meant that we were extremely busy. We were short, only adding to the madness. We were rushed and unfortunately we fell apart. That is just sometimes how the restaurant business is. You can be prepared as can be and still you still fall to pieces. Life, right? We informed the customers that it was going to a rough ride, that their food was going to take longer than usual but we were doing the best we could to pull ourselves out of this rabbit hole that we just kept falling deeper and deeper into. While some were understanding like the sweet couple at the end of my bar who waited an hour without complaint, others were aggressive. One gentleman physically pushed and cornered our hostess because he was angry about how long his food was taking. I have worked in many places in my life and never have I seen such behavior from grown adults. If this man was so aggressive with someone he does not know, I hate to see how he treats the people he actually cares about. Then there were the customers saying inappropriate comments. I've had my fair share of comments. I'm a curvy woman with tattoos. It doesn't necessarily phase me for a man to speak to me in a way he should not. I don't tolerate it clearly but it no longer makes me feel helpless. And I understand you all want to watch your football games while you are enjoying a nice cold brew but understand it is not your living room. There are fifty other people in there who want to do the same thing. I can't tell you how many times I got scolded about what game was on which television. I can't tell you how many people yelled at me for things that were completely out of my control. I can't tell you how frustrating it was to look at my coworkers' faces and see pure misery because of the way grown adults were behaving. It breaks your spirit, guys.
This sentiment has probably been said in many of my blogs before. I just have to reiterate how important it is to treat each other with respect. There is a great amount of human study that happens in this industry. I've seen some amazing things in my years. I have met the kindest, most loving people. I can't tell you how much I love and adore the people that come in and make me smile, the ones that ask about my husband and daughter, that simply ask me how my day is going and genuinely be interested in the answer. I love seeing the families that come in that have brought their little ones over the years and how those little ones grow. I enjoy the puppies that knock over their water because they are so excited about just being alive. When I saw the two sleeping baby dachshunds in a stroller the other day? Get out of here with that cuteness!! And that's what you try to hold onto when you have an entire restaurant screaming at you about things that you cannot fix. Please, please, please when you go into a restaurant and your food is taking a long time, understand that it is not your server's or the hostess's fault. None of them cook your food. Hell, the hostess doesn't even take your order so where does yelling at the person who just sat you get you? Raising your voice does not make your food cook faster. And if I'm being real honest, you yelling just means your server is going to let those drinks sit empty a minute longer. And it's not because we intentionally want you to thirst to death, it just puts huge amount of anxiety on us to even go near your table.
What this all boils down is respect for each other. Understand that we are human just like you, absolutely and utterly just like you. We have families at home we are providing for. We have parents who care about us and friends who want to see us. All we want to do is our job to the best of our ability just like everyone else. We all want to have a good time and that includes our customers. We want you to leave with a smile on your face because you appreciated the experience we gave you... but it's a hard thing to do when the respect we give does not get returned. It's not about the tips as much as people like to think we smile just for the money of it. It's about doing a job well and providing a service while taking care of the people who wait at home for us. I always had this motto about waiting tables or tending bar. In fact, it's the way I try to live my life. Treat people how you want to be treated. It's the one thing I guess I kept from all those years of Catholic school. When you sit down with me, I will treat you exactly the way I would want to be treated and see what you throw back. If you throw disrespect at me, I will still show you respect. I may not pay as much attention to you but I will treat you with nothing but respect not because I'm paid to do it but because you are a human being. You are a human regardless of your behavior. All we're asking for is that same respect. You may not like the way your server looks. You may think that are slow with the refills. You may wonder where your server disappears to when it's busy. You may tell the people that you're with that you didn't like the server's service. And all that is fair but understand your server is a human being with human feelings. Life sometimes is out of our hands. Life sometimes throws in situations that we can't control no matter how good we are. However, what we can control is the way we treat each other. In every situation, we control how we treat each other. We're all in this together.
I have had this weird fascination with Wilson Phillips pretty much since they came out. I am not ashamed to admit that every time one of their songs comes on it makes me smile. And I know they are cheese but sometimes the most uplifting messages come from a simple corny song. They are just three women, daughters of famous musicians, trying to make a name for themselves. Aren't we all just trying to make something out of ourselves? I find that every time I am feeling down or beaten up or wanting to give up, the song "Hold On" comes on, telling me to just hang on for one more day. Something better is coming around the next bend. There have been moments when it's hard to believe, it's hard to hold on that maybe I'll get a win but it does happen. I got some really good news today (which will be shared at a later date) and, of course, one of the first songs that comes on this morning was "Hold On". I smiled to myself because it felt like the cosmos were smiling down on me. I know. It sounds strange but for whatever reason when this song plays, it reminds me that my hard work is not for nothing. It's for everything. And though I may not see a pay off for a long time for the blood, sweat, and tears that I give, eventually life does come around and cuts you a break. I got a win this morning, a well deserved win.
It's so easy to think things won't go your way. It's easy to fall into that rabbit hole that you will never win, never get what you want, that you will work until your bones shatter and never see anything for it. It is so easy to give up and settle into a life that is fine, just fine but not really fulfilling. I have thought for a long time that my plight in life was to be a work horse. Work hard. Provide for my family. Do little things that make me happy but my happiness wasn't really all that important. The majority of my life has been spent putting everyone else first. My husband laid down the other night next to me and said in his sweet way, "I hope you realize one day how special you are." It is because of this man I've had this sort of awakening about my own self worth. In those simple sentences, I start to comprehend that I am worth more than just a job that pays the bills, just a house that covers our heads, just a person that gets by. I was driving over to my favorite coffee shop this morning and I started thinking about the girl I used to be that was filled with all these amazing dreams, how many of them I will never be able to make true for her but there are some that I still can. I thought about sitting down with her with that Wilson Phillips song playing in our background and I imagined how happy she would be for us that we finally found the courage to try. I just had to breathe. I just had to get through one day and bide my time. I had to do the work in order to get to this point right now. All the moments of self doubt were for something. All the struggle taught me how to keep moving forward. And when I crumbled? Those broken pieces somehow encouraged me to keep going. I just had to hold on for one more day.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I know that I am excited for all the things that may come. I am not scared to fail, not as much as I used to be anyway. The thought of failing once paralyzed me but it wasn't failing other people. Sure, I didn't like the idea of failing other people but failing me was always the biggest obstacle I could never get over. I have such high standards for myself. For as low as my self esteem can be, I expect great things out of myself. If I disappoint you? Don't worry. I'll punish myself enough for disappointing me. I've learned over the years, however, that failing is the biggest success. So, we didn't get what we wanted but we tried. I didn't reach the goal I aimed for but I tried. And there is a certain amount of pride in just the simple act of getting back up. Lately I have felt like I have just been holding on, not necessarily moving forwards or backwards, just holding on. I initially thought that was not good enough, that I could do better... but when I sat down and took a look at myself I saw how tired I was, how exhausted I felt, how beaten up I had gotten. I realized that holding on, just holding on was the bravest thing I could do at least for those moments. My life is filled with good intentions but sometimes my intentions drown in other's best interests. And that's OK. Waking up this morning, I felt more hopeful than I have in a while. I am excited to swim rather than just tread water. While sometimes we just have to hold on, there comes a time to release, too.
And if you are a Wilson Phillips fan, you'll get that last line.
I was sitting after work with a few good friends Saturday night. We had all just gotten off a very hard day and were blowing off some steam. In the service industry, you need to decompress after you've been running around all day, making sure every person around is taken care of and having a good time. You need to let yourself sit for a moment or two in the company of people who were down in the trenches with you. There is a comfort in looking at each other and smiling, breathing and knowing that we all made it at the end of the day. You've just spent up to fifteen hours running around like a maniac. You're hair is disheveled. You're sweaty and smell like balsamic. These moments are sometimes what make working in this industry worth it. It's not the people you wait on. It's not the beer you bring. It's not the compliments that you may or may not receive. It's sitting down next to that amazing person you work with and laughing about how dumb the day was. The one thing we all look forward to at the start of the day is the end of the day when we can just be people. And as I was sitting there, sipping on my beer, just enjoying that quiet moment in our frustrated laughter, a coworker looked at me and said I was the most intimidating, kind person he had ever met. I thought about it for a moment, not knowing initially if that was a compliment, I realized it was probably one of the nicest things I've heard said to me in awhile.
Lately I've been hearing some pretty horrible things that have been said behind my back. So to hear that made me smile. I haven't always been the kindest person. I've judged. I've brushed off. I've said some pretty nasty things to some very undeserving people. I can take responsibility for every not so nice thing I have done. I can genuinely say that I feel terrible for all the harm that I have caused people because I am not a cruel person at the core of me... but sometimes I lashed out first in order to protect myself. I've said this before but when my daughter was small and I was alone, I was especially walled off. So many times in my life I was done dirty and it gets to you after awhile. I thought that if I stood my ground without compassion for anyone else, no one would be able to hurt me... but life has a funny way of teaching you things. I thought about those words Saturday night and I thought about where I have come from, where I have been, who I have been. I guess in those words I realized that I finally found my balance between being cruel and allowing myself to be kind. I once thought that being vulnerable with people even with the people that meant something meant that I was weak. Someone told me that not too long ago, too. I thought that if I showed you my cards, who I really was, it would somehow be used against me and trampled I would get. You would then know how to hurt me. I was so tired of being hurt that I just didn't want to allow it anymore. I didn't even want to give you a chance. So, extreme I went and I gave nothing. It left me in a lonely place, a very dark, lonely place. And I realized as terrifying as it was for me to try, I was the sort of person that needed to try.
I will be celebrating ten years with my husband in October. We were having coffee this morning and I started talking about those words that were so kindly said to me. As I was looking at him, I realized that a large part of this balance I have learned is because of him. He is so much kinder than me. His heart sometimes is so large that I feel like mine is not enough which I know is silly. Somewhere in these ten years, he has taught me how to have faith in humanity again though humans drive me absolute bananas. When I come home upset because someone misunderstood my intentions, he looks at me with that crooked smile and reminds me how beautiful my soul truly is. I think that with him I've understood how brave kindness is, how incredibly strong my compassion makes me as a person. It does not make me weak to feel for the people around me but I always seem to forget that I am just as deserving of that same kindness. So, for a long time, I allowed people to walk all over me in fear of becoming that walled off person again. With him, I learned how to balance both. I didn't realize I had until I was described the way my friend described me Saturday night. And as I sat with him and the rest of these dear people, I understood that I am closer to becoming who I have always wanted to be, closer than I have been before. It's not because I have changed it's because life has changed around me. I got older and I guess I learned how to pivot without knowing it.
These last few weeks have been on the rougher side. I have been talked badly of. My character has been put into question. Friendships have been tested. I have worked so many hours and haven't had a lot of time to sit down and digest, really digest, my feelings. I realize that so many times in our lives we are faced with decisions, choices of our own behaviors. Do we strike out? Do we step back? Do settle into the oblivion, pretending like none of it happened at all? I thought about the tough I used to be, the mean that used to sit in me like a poisonous venom. I thought about the tenderness of me that once used to scare me more than anything else in this life, so scared that I would shatter at a kind gesture. It all sort of came together Saturday night in those words. All I want to be in this world is a good person, a good mother and wife, a good friend. I want to love my family and take care of them with everything I got. I want to make the best decisions that will be good for not just me but for the people around me. I want to be more than enough for my own standards... but I also understand there is a line I have to draw even if it terrifies me to pull out my pen. I understand now more than ever that you can be kind but still firm. You can help the people around you and still take care of yourself. You don't have to wall yourself off. And you don't have to lay your heart on the chopping block to appease the pitchforks. You are not a monster for being true to who you are. I was told once that my kindness made me weak. So, I stood up for myself, for my family and this week was called out for it. And here's the thing, the older version of me would have retaliated and the kindest version of me would have caved but I can't be either of those things anymore. There is a place in the middle, a place where you can love yourself and love everyone around you just the same. We don't have to choose. We just have to learn how to balance them both.
I know that I can come off as a pretty sarcastic person sometimes. My humor tends to lean more towards the dark side of life. I'm quick to call someone an idiot when they behave in an idiot manner. I can be pretty closed off, a bit standoffish, not always the most approachable. I take my time with people. I wait and see what kind of person I am dealing with before I make a decision on whether or not I will invest any time in them. But here's the thing. I am one of the nicest people you will ever meet. If I decide that you (not to sound callous) worth my time, I 100% got your back and will continue to have your back even if I get screwed over at the end of the day. Maybe it's a Taurus trait. Maybe I'm just kind of a sucker. It doesn't matter. My path has landed me where I am right now. I don't want to be any other way, not if that means I have to lose all the lessons I've collected along my way. And at times, I know that I pay the price for people who wouldn't pay the same amount for me. I get it but kindness isn't a commodity. I'm this kind for you so you will be this kind back to me. Sometimes being kind to someone is just about being a decent human being, not about what we get back in return.
Lately the energy that I have found myself in has been suffocating. I find it hard to breathe, to see through the heavy air of just bad vibes. It's this electricity that runs sits in the air and you can't escape from it. You do your best to keep your distance from it but it still seeps into your pores while you're not paying attention. I do my best to keep it at bay. And I tell you what, at the beginning of the week, I do great... but by Friday the heaviness comes out of nowhere and knocks me on my ass. I come home feeling deflated, defeated. It feels like being a kind, compassionate person is something horrible. It would be so much easier to just treat the people around me like the way I've been treated... but what good does that do? You know working in the service industry leaves you with a lot of questions about the general good of the human race. My day consists of people talking to me like I am an idiot, of people demanding some sort of special treatment, of people yelling at me about things I just can't control. And then after all of that bull, I get tipped a 5% tip. It's cool. I get the nature of this beast. I'm doing what I can to move my life in a more positive trajectory. Until then, I have to fight for air. I think to myself wouldn't it be so much easier if I was just as ugly to them as they are to me? Wouldn't it feel great to tell someone to take that ranch and shove it where the sun don't shine? Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to stand up for myself without losing my income? But this is what I have come to understand, that the same sort of behavior falls on deaf ears. I have come to understand by allowing myself to become just as cruel as the world around me sometimes feel I would be losing who I have worked hard to become. I'm not going to be mean to you because you are mean to me. I can't. I won't.
I feel like what we forget sometimes is that we control how we're going to behave, how we're going to react to certain situations. I feel like we've forgotten how to take the lesson from the things we encounter to make it better the next time around. Something horrible happens and we automatically try to find whose at fault. Someone does something hurtful to us and our first reaction is to condemn that person from the start. We've forgotten how to take accountability for our own cruelty, letting the circumstances of our surroundings dictate what kind of people we are going to be. The other day someone asked me for something and I refused, not because I didn't want to do this but because I knew if I did it would be harmful to them. I didn't know this person from Adam. I had no investment in their life, in their future, in the consequences that would come of it. I just knew that I would hope that someone would do the same for me if they knew it would be harmful to me. For as distant as I can be from people, my heart feels too much for everyone. It's the reason why sometimes I can't show any emotion. Even a little is too much. I'm not being cruel. I'm just not always showing you how the world around me can effect me so deeply.
We feel ourselves fall down the rabbit hole sometimes. At times there is nothing we can do catch ourselves. So, we say ugly things and we do terrible things and we make questionable choices. We get so wrapped up in our own pride, in our own hurt, in our own selves that we forget that the person next to us is fighting a battle, too. We are quick to throw judgement on people we don't know because of this or that, because we lack the ability to put ourselves in their shoes. We're so blinded by our own turmoil we just assume that's the only thing that matters. I feel that energy, that black hole that it's so easy to get swallowed into. It's easier to give up, to give in, to fall into someone else's bad behavior. At points, I've seen myself behave in a way that I know is not me. I disappoint myself when I forget my kindness because that's not who I am. I disappoint myself when I forget to put myself in someone else's shoes before I react to maybe them having a bad day. I disappoint myself when I lose the fact that everyone around me is a human being and for that, for just that, they deserve my respect even if they do nothing to earn it. I will break my own heart to put yours back together. And maybe that's not the best quality to have because I know how much it costs me but I wouldn't trade my kindness for anything. We've forgotten how incredibly beautiful we can be to each other but maybe we can start to remember. Be kind because it's the right thing to do. Kindness may make you vulnerable but that vulnerability is the most beautiful part of being human.