Tag: work

Le stress

Click* Click* Click* Click*

L’horloge tourne….

Everything seems to be going so fast, yet so slowly right now in my life.

Just as I start to get the hang of some something or other at work, something else comes along to stress me out again…

So, too, in my life as a whole at the moment.

Perhaps this is the world’s way of changing my mind, my opinion, about something…

But it creates so much unreliability in my near future, that I feel terrified all over again, because this back-up plan isn’t panning out so well as a back-up plan…

But, again, just as a new idea presented itself today, so, too, can ideas I’ve never imagined, let alone considered, come to life and to fruition in a short time, leaving it unnecessary to have stressed in the first place.

Actually, I just realized that my initial plan is a good back-up plan for right now, anyway, so I can calm it all down regarding the stress at work – if they dislike me, they dislike me… if I don’t do it the way they want, I don’t do it the way they want… if I need to move onward sooner than expected, I move onward… and something even better awaits me on the other edge of it all…

Ich vertraue dir…..

Post-a-day 2019

Stress in the Schedule

There is so much I want to share here, yet I find myself, after hours of delay and fooling around, and even further delay, with almost all of it due to my concern about the number of parts that must fit somewhat perfectly in order for tomorrow as a whole to happen, wanting just to go to sleep.

What’s the funniest to me is that I don’t even need to do any of the most stressful parts of it all… yet, here I am, still planning to do them, anyway…

For some reason, I feel like I will be throwing away something by not doing them all…, throwing away an opportunity… perhaps of being the person I want to be…

Perhaps, that last one is why I feel almost afraid of not going and doing it all tomorrow… I have waited this long, who is to say I won’t wait this long again to take further steps to be who I want to be in life?

That’s the fear I have here…, so, I guess by separating the concern from the facts of the matter (I’m going to bed way late, and need sleep in order 1)to function and 2)to take care of my body), I can select what to do in the morning, and not have to feel bad, in the case that I don’t do them all tomorrow.

I definitely want to do them and am a bit scared to do them…, but it is okay not to do them tomorrow, if that means I am being responsible for myself and my well-being, and if I set up appropriately what to do instead.

Okay, well, we’ll see tomorrow, I suppose.

For now, goodnight.

Post-a-day 2019

Hairy

Does anyone else ever feel that men growing out their facial hair, just to show that they are men and not boys – I’m thinking of young teachers or coaches especially, but this applies to more men than just them – is stupid?

It supposedly makes them more manly.

It suddenly occurred to me, walking up to work this morning, that m the female equivalent would be women not shaving their legs and underarms, just to show that they are women and not girls.

By the male standard, then, my not shaving my legs and underarms would make me more womanly, as only a woman could grow such hair – girls just can’t do it the same, you see…

Therefore, I am more respectable, because I have hair on my legs and under my arms…

Or am I?

I certainly call bs on the whole affair, men’s facial hair included.

You are a man, when you are a man, and facial hair’s growing ability does not affect that.

Likewise, you are a woman, when you are a woman, and no hair growth affects that.

Hair is simply hair.

Being a man or woman is independent of such a minute factor, and I just wish people could get that, and stop doing the stupid ‘facial hair makes me look like a man’ thing…, because it typically emphasizes the individual’s youth, creating an opposite effect from that which was desired.

Just my thoughts early this morning, as the sun rose (which, too, is a funny idea).

Post-a-day 2019

Un Cauchemar

Have you ever had a dream that seems to shake you to your core?

One that seems so real, it is difficult, at first, anyway, to determine that it was not actually real, but just a dream?

And, though I said dream, I more meant nightmare…

Last night, – rather, early this morning – I suffered one of these nightmarish, lifelike dreams.

I live in a house that also houses a religious space (like a chapel, but of a different faith) and a yoga studio.

This morning, starting very early, long before sunrise, there was a special morning meditation being hosted.

I was not attending, but I knew about it – similar morning meditations happen regularly.

However, after some recent events, in which one person who comes here regularly did not follow proper protocol for arriving, for cleaning up, nor for closing up after classes, I now always have a slight concern regarding this person’s reliability to fulfill the necessary tasks to keep the location, and, therefore, myself safe.

And so, last night – early this morning, after a potty break around 1am – I had an odd combination dream.

I was living in a different house, but it was clearly meant to be this same house, with me in my top floor apartment/area.

It was this morning, and I awake in the dream to find that no one informed me of the fact that the morning meditation was taking place on the top floor – aka in my room, which is not community space, mind you – but several people have already arrived and are participating in the morning meditation, and my things have all been moved out of the way and rearranged while I was asleep.

It is dark outside, still, due to the early hour.

Eventually, I participate in the meditation, as well as in welcoming new arrivals, and helping them get set up to join the meditation.

At some point, the meditations is ending, but I have to leave, possibly to go to work, and so I am not present for the end of it.

When I arrive home later, everything has been moved in my room to all new places – yes, even different from what had happened early this morning – and nothing makes sense.

Two people are still in my room, and comment, clearly somewhat bothered, on the fact that I am moving my bed to elsewhere in the room (aka where it had been in the first place).

One of the people is that unreliable individual.

I am too tired to care, and I need to go to sleep, because I know I have another very early morning the next day for the gym and work (as usual), so I go to bed and to sleep, while they are still discussing plans for something or other, still in my room for whatever reason.

I fall asleep rather easily, as I am so tired.

Suddenly, hours later, I awaken with a start and a sense of near-panic, as all my hairs are prickling all over my body.

The two from earlier have left.

But someone is in here.

Someone I don’t know.

I knew instinctively that the unreliable duo had not locked the doors to the house properly…

I was in trouble, and I could feel it.

I turn to find a woman in black suit, hair almost shaven, her skin only a few shades lighter than her suit, and her face showing a terrifying emotionless expression… almost animal-like… something in the back of my mind mentions a wolf, like the one from “The Never-Ending Story” a typically I like wolves, but this one was not cool…

Her entire presence speaks and oozes cool rage and the explosion of a pistol – she emanates a silent, fear-inducing aura, and her facial expression never changes… she looks and somehow sees me, and I know she sees me, but she doesn’t acknowledge me… it is clear that she has known of my presence and has been waiting…

My brain processes quickly, and decides to aim for pulling of a guise of ignorant kindness..

‘Hi! You’re here for the event, right?! I’ll take you to it – it’s actually downstairs. I’ll show you. What’s your name? How are you doing today?’

I carefully take her left arm arm in a casual yet ready grip, and then hold her opposite hand’s thumb with my left hand, so it looks like we are arm-in-arm, and then holding outside hands across our bodies… really, I am being extremely sweet and physically loving as a means to keep track of her more effectively – danger is the feeling of her.

Somehow, in this piece of the story, there mixed in a small portion of my trying on clothes for the morning… I currently had on a jacket that I was not going to wear to work, because it was too restricting and tight… and I did not have on my knife, because I was only trying on the clothes, and it was still attached to my actual outfit that I had been wearing… my phone was by my bed, and I missed the chance to grab it when I first jumped up to grab her arm…

I was evaluating my steps, and found concern in my lack of safety, but I couldn’t let go of her now and turn back – I could feel how that was the wrong move, even more so than the others.

And so, we ventured downstairs, arm-in-arm, as I chattered away, and thought of what options there were for me.

No one was awake, so I would have to find a way to get out of the house or call 911 as soon as possible, but without alerting the woman.

I flipped on a light switch st we reached the kitchen…, except that it wasn’t a light switch.

It was a sort of fan, a loud fan… one that could muffle just about any normal sounds.

Bad move – get it off!, I said within myself.

As I reached back to get it back off, I almost lost grip on her.

Before I could get it off and a light on, she was slipping entirely from my grasp, and making a move, stepping away and turning toward me to attack.

Just as I was preparing to run for the knives and then out the door, – I was ready to spring – the real Hannah jolted awake in her bed, sweating everywhere, breathing heavily, goosebumps all over her body, terror-stricken…

It took the real me a while to realize fully that it was a dream – I had to check that no one was in my room… I felt immediately better knowing that I also had locked my specific door before bed.

I was filled with something akin to outrage at the unreliable individual, as I sorted out my feelings and my personal safety, figured out what was dream and what, if anything, was reality.

Even now, as I think back on it, I still find myself wanting to avoid picturing that woman’s face – its lack of expression was frightening, almost like possession…

And the reality of the situation, that someone’s inattention actually could put me in such a situation (because I go to bed reasonably early, and I don’t always get to check all the doors after everyone leaves at night), is still frightening, is still shaking me ever so slightly on the insides…

Even now…

Post-a-day 2019

Flying solo

Riding home on my beloved scooter, having a slight struggle with the very outer edges of my eyelids, due to exhaustion, I considered:

This is the end of a very heavy week of work, the first full week of school since it started last week… It is Friday evening, and I want to go meet up with friends and do something to celebrate the completion of such a week of work… I want that happy hour evening, that friends dinner, that wine night or movie night or game night…. that night of friendship and release…

Instead, I am heading home to prepare and eat my dinner, to shower, and then to go to sleep… and I don’t even have anyone to whom to relay this information – I was not invited to any of those desired Friday evening and night activities… I’m not even sure who might have invited me if I were…

This feeling, this experience, I notice, is familiar… to when?

I believe to the last time I was teaching full-time in the US…

I work hard all week, throwing myself wholly into school (aka work), staying as late as it takes to accomplish everything I want and need accomplished for the next day or week, and then I head home on Friday afternoon, in an almost rush to free myself of the school and the feeling of needing to work…, and I head to where?

Home…. to eat and shower and go to bed…

I usually don’t mind doing this – in fact, I’ve done it multiple nights these past couple weeks, and I have been grateful for it, and have even turned down an idea of going to spend time with a friend here or there – I wanted to go home and be alone and go to bed to be prepared for tomorrow…

Fridays, however, have a way of reminding me that I am not normal, and of suggesting to me that I am missing out on one of the best parts of being an adult.

Personally, I loved having ultimate frisbee on Friday afternoons in college, where we all could release the stress from the week, free our minds and bodies, and have a wonderful time with other people having a wonderful time all together… and I long for something like this.

I did not activity (yes, I have made that into a verb here) with almost any of them outside of Friday ultimate frisbee, because we weren’t exactly friends, but we had camaraderie and mutual interest in playing ultimate together as a cap to the week, and that was all that mattered.

For me, it is the community aspect that I miss so much, the piece for which I long on a Friday night like this one.

My week has been good, but full of work and high schoolers, and I want some adult camaraderie and love now to finish off processing whatever my mind needs to process to be finished with the week…

I know that this is not what I would find at a bar, or with a group out drinking their troubles away.

It only minutely lessons the pain of feeling so alone in the world, however.

In these experiences of feelings of desperation at my own failure to have friends and activities for a Friday evening and night, (or any time, but they most often happen around Friday night no-plans nights) I notice an extreme desire to get anybody (almost, anyway) on the phone to talk to me…

But I know that it won’t fulfill what I am seeking, and so I make an effort not to call anyone – it seems somehow unfair to them, only to call them because I’m in need, not because I genuinely want to talk with that person in particular…

I don’t even call my mom, because all I really want is for her to hug and to hold me and make me feel loved, but I know she likely will be home, watching some show or other with my stepdad, and will want to get back to watching that ASAP – she is really usually only good for talking during the day, if I want to hang out with her over the phone (or in person)… it only would make me feel even less loved.

…….

And those were my ponderings as I drove home this evening, hoping to avoid the imminent rain storm that seemed almost too close for comfort on a scooter.

I did as I’d planned, visiting the grocery store after I swapped the scooter for a car, and then returning home for dinner and a shower, and then getting ready for bed.

I did end up calling my mom just a bit ago, but it was for a genuine question, and we discussed that briefly and then hung up, my lingering being quite minimal for once, as I was conscious of my desire to be with my emotions on this, and not to aim for escape by talking with my mom.

Alas, here I am, still having spoken to almost no one, but having listened to almost two hours of my current audiobook while I was cooking and eating and cleaning up.

And, mostly, I feel okay.

Yes, I still want to have someone with whom to check in, whom to love, and on whom I can rely to love me… so I don’t feel amazing, exactly, but I’m okay.

Better, actually, since I didn’t call anyone – this is a new step for nights like this one, and I think it is a really good step for me and my life.

And, on that, I’ll sign off, so I can stretch and read and sleep ASAP!

Goodnight! 🙂

Post-a-day 2019

Let’s talk about…

Today’s topic is sex, apparently, though in a totally detached and unconcerned, un-exotic approach to the topic…

This morning, listening to music on Pandora while working, I am only noticing the occasional phrase in the music, as I am rather focused on what I am doing.

However, one line of one song leaps out at me after the fact…!the song has already moved onward by far, and my head is reeling on this line it knows it just heard, though it wasn’t aware at the time.

“Tu fais l’amour en deux poussées,” was the line in this song (“Adieu”) by Coeur De Pirate, and it made me inhale sharply and chuckle heartily, all while making a silly face in response to the idea that this woman clearly just called someone out… and in a song… that’s going to be around for quite some time, and someone out there will have to know that it is about him….

My thoughts after that were merely, ‘Oh, snap!‘ repeated over and over again as I considered that one particular line.

I quickly jotted it down, laughed some more, and then continued on with my work.

So began the silly sex topic for today.

Standing in line at the store tonight, I noticed the couple who had stepped into line behind me.

The man was mumbling up a storm, leaving me to wonder whether he was even speaking English, but the woman was clearly responding in English, though not actually clearly, as she seemed to be somewhat mumbling, too, just significantly less than the man was.

I listened somewhat carefully, though still rather passively, for a minute, and determined that he was, in fact, speaking English, just super sloppily and mumbled, and then I returned to ignoring them altogether.

That is, until, another thirty seconds later, perhaps, from the cluttered mumbling that was the general sound cloud behind me sprouted a sudden inspirational clarity of language from the man.

“I should start charging you for my shirts.”

A pause.

“No-oo!” responds the woman, in that two-syllabic, nearly outraged response we tend to have to absurd, somewhat stupid ideas.

I turn round in the silence that follows, curiosity demanding a glimpse of how these people look and whether they are joking genuinely or are being passive-aggressive or mean with one another.

The woman is wearing a men’s t-shirt, which I notice immediately, but is also very pregnant, which I didn’t notice at first.

I laugh as I turn around to them, and I see that the woman is somewhat smiling: they are having fun.

After a few moments of silence, the woman replies, still in a slightly outraged tone of voice, “Then I ought to start charging you for sex.”

Momentary silence ensues… the man must be thinking up his response, or perhaps he was just out in his place(?)…, but I think more the former as I am standing, enthralled and half-panicked, half-agreeing with the woman’s idea…

The man then speaks up, hurried with his words, and making a bit of a fumble, but just rolling with it, “Good thing I don’t have any money right now, ’cause I really wouldn’t owe you anything, anyway…”

Another quick silence, this one much quicker than the last.

She replies, “Yeah…,” fully acknowledging that he is accurate in his statement, and then continues, now in a genuine and honest tone, “Sorry about that…”

And they both smile, likely delighting in the future they are to have with the growing baby that presently resides underneath all of the man’s t-shirts.

Thus ended the topic of the day’s incidents (aside from writing this right now, of course).

Post-a-day 2019

Wakey-Wakey

Some days, your body just takes over, and, if you’ve been taking really great care of it, it does this responsibly.

Today, I missed three alarms.

I still made it to school on time, but just barely.

You see, for the fifth day in a row, I was scheduled to get up just after 4am this morning.

At that time, I was scheduled to go downstairs and eat my first breakfast, then participate in the first part of the morning meditation that would be happening, starting at 4:30am, and then, with an extra backup alarm to make sure I leave in time, ride my bicycle down the road to the gym for a 5:30-6:30am workout.

I then would return home, shower, eat a second breakfast, now post-workout, and head off, with prompting from my third alarm, to school at about 7:05am.

This, of course, did not happen.

I awakened at 3:15am, in desperate need of a potty break.

I went downstairs and used the bathroom, then came back up to bed, grateful that I had another 45 minutes to sleep, and I passed out again.

I eventually opened my eyes to find some sunlight shining through my skylight curtain, and I panicked.

I jumped up and checked the time: 7:02am.

I threw on my clothes as fast as possible, and rushed downstairs.

I managed a basic breakfast smoothie, did my teeth-cleaning routine and used the bathroom, all in a borderline frenzy that was somehow calm, too – I kept my head about me, but I moved as quickly as I could manage effectively and safely.

Fortunately, the weather was expected to be rainy in the afternoon, so I was already planning to drive my car to work, which is significantly faster than taking my non-highway route with the scooter.

Phew!

I somehow arrived to school, used the bathroom, let the kids into class, swapped out what I’d brought to school with what I’d needed for class from my office, and greeted students before the bell rang for class to begin…

By the grace if God, I suppose… by my name.. 😛 🙂

And… it was a wonderful day.

Connection

Sometimes, all we need is connection…

A hug…

A common experience…

A shared surprising and true interest…

A shared language…

Sometimes, that is all it takes to soar our spirits up from the depths of the valleys, into comfortable, smooth air.

In my life, anyway, these are the moments where, when I look back on them after the fact, I can glimpse a sort of smile from the God within us all.

Post-a-day 2019

First day of school nightmares

Walking onto campus this morning, I had a sudden concern that I was wearing the wrong clothing – it wasn’t actually our last training/in-service day, but, rather, the first day of school… and that meant that blue jeans were not welcome…

I thought really hard on it for a couple or few seconds, and determined that no, it was not the first day of school – the boys really are just dressed up to come take their photos for their school IDs and the yearbook; that’s why they’re here at all, even.

Phew!

What a relief that was to be clear on…

And it had me recall the idea of the horrible dream of showing up in a terrible outfit, possibly one akin to the Emperor’s New Clothes, or being late, and jus my generally being horribly embarrassed on the first day of school by getting something terribly wrong somehow… and how, as a teacher, that fear-filled dream never real goes away.

I still tend to have a nightmare-ish dream before the first day of school.

Typically, I forget the first day of school, and so show up way late and wearing the wrong clothes and utterly unprepared for classes, somewhat in a dual daze and panic…. this morning was almost the real-life version of that dream… fortunately for me and everyone else, it was not.

I’m curious as to what dreams will come tonight to me… we shall see… (probably, anyway, though we’ve no guarantee I’ll have any or will remember what I have)… 😛

Post-a-day 2019