Fuck the Mean Reds. 

And I mean right in the goddam ears.  I’ll begin on a positive note:

(Try not to concentrate on how terrible I look- I have never photographed well- and just see my awesome hair cut. Hello windows rolled down on the freeway. 

Where to begin about today. Work was negative right from the start. Two co-workers yelling at each other, each right in their own way and both amazing individuals who have a very difficult and stressful job that I am certain shortens a person’s life span. I closed the door to my office so as not to hear the yelling. It’s not as if I don’t care, or that I wouldn’t like to help. I just sometimes have this huge invisible wall in front of me, and I want nothing more than to hide behind it. 

After that my office roommate (and very good friend, he’s good people, folks) was getting grumpy, as we all do at this particular time of the month. Month end is the equivalent of “that time of the month” for everyone working in a dealership. I happen to work at a very large, very successful dealership, and with that comes a large responsibility and the potential for calamity at any given moment. I am well compensated. I love my work family. There are about 75 unique and wonderful people in our department and we are all in the same boat, every day, and most days we steer that shit like those snooty row boat teams at Harvard or wherever. You know, like Robert Redford played in The Way We Were.  

I’ll take a break here and compare myself to the X-Men character of Rogue, who I always liked but never much considered to be like me. Rogue has the power to absorb another Mutant’s power for a short time. I am just like that, only instead of absorbing power, I absorb emotion, causing me to lose any power I ever had. Man, I take that shit and run with it. Like I’m literally trying to one up the fucker whose mood I just stole. 

Back to today. I Rogue’d out, and big time. The Mean Reds settled in hard. They unpacked their suitcase, set up a fucking tent, and then began to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs. I wish I could say I have as much fun with that as they do, but I don’t. Today’s was particularly bad because, not only had I become sullen and moody and negative, I didn’t even WANT to feel better. I wanted my anger to fester and explode. Even as the little voice in my head that was totally conscious of what was going on begged me to stop, I plowed on through my day, upsetting people or even worrying people who depend on me.  I wanted to be mean, you see…And that, my friends, is the worst part. 

Not to say that my negativity wasn’t justified, because it was. In some ways. In other ways I think to myself, do I have a reason to be THIS mad? Why can’t I just go to work, be numb to the things I have no control over, and make the best of what I have the power to turn into a great day?  Am I just upset because not everything is done the way I would do it? Does that make anything not my way wrong?  Is my emotional response the result of a person who cares deeply about what they do, and takes great pride in doing it right?  I definitely have a strong emotional connection to my shop. I even met my husband there. Or is my behavior simply the result of not having my way? Of being a whiny little bitch? Cause nobody likes that co-worker.  And sadly, I have one of those personalities where it is crushing for me to know that someone doesn’t like me. 

Anyway. I battled it. All day.  Some of my close work family made a lot of effort to make me feel better. How do I tell them that the only way to feel better when it gets that bad is to take a Xanax and go to sleep for 6 hours? How do I tell them that, yes, my job can make me crazy sometimes, but that it’s made exponentially worse by what is already crazy in my stupid brain? 

 I made it through the day, as the little voice In my head said that I would. And I knew I would. But to get that part of my brain and the broken part of my brain to find some middle ground is just impossible sometimes. Today was like that. I fought back stinging tears more than once, thank Christ. I did not need people seeing that.  Only Bear and Kris see me that way; Bear because he married me, loves me, and knows I’ll stalk him if he ever leaves me.  And Kris- not sure if I’ve talked about her yet on this blog- because she is the best friend I have ever and could ever hope to have.  She is the only person who has loved me for my whole life without being legally or biologically predisposed to do so.  

There are days when the Mean Reds come rampaging through like Hitler and the Third Reich. Days when I feel impotent and helpless, and stupid for feeling that way.  And at the end of such a day, when I know I made it through and that, as Scarlett O’Hara says, “tomorrow is another day,” I always start to feel a little better, and then a little ashamed. Or maybe embarrassed is a better word. I do feel better; was feeling better toward the end of my work day, which is good.  I am grateful for the days when I don’t come home, pill up, and go to bed by 7.   In fact, maybe today wasn’t so bad:  I made it clear till 9, after all. 

So now that I’ve brought everyone down into the Derry sewer pipe with me (“we all float down here, Georgie”) I will end this shit filled day by saying:  mother fucker, tomorrow is another day. Seize it and make it good. And if the Mean Reds start to look threatening, ask a friend to help you bitch slap them back to yesterday. 


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