So, I’m convinced that either no one can be bothered reading what I write, and therefore this is really an online version of the diary I kept, albeit poorly (see nothing changes), in the early 1990’s (think Beverly Hills 90210); or it’s really only read by close friends who can be bothered reading my dribble or complete strangers from far flung countries (yes, WordPress does give some vague idea of the country locale of readership) who have nothing better to do with their time or are practicing English perhaps – seriously, you should pick a better blog – English grammar is not my forte. Oh, and on that point, you should probably know, I don’t edit my writing. What you see is what you get, unedited; uncensored; unreviewed.
So, what have we here? W e l l (said in a very nasal ‘Bewitched’ tone), I’ve had enough. Finally. I think I might have flipped my lid. As others around me suggest, maybe, it’s possible, I do too much. As I mentally process it…not all the ducks are lining up…as they should…right now…
What does this mean? Well, for starts, I’ve had it with ego’s. Honestly (and for the first time in my life, I don’t give a flying fuck who reads this), I work with some of the biggest ego’s known to mankind. Seriously, full stop. Some of the people I work with are some of the biggest ego maniacs on the planet, who honestly believe they can say and do what they like, and others will accommodate their acid tongues. Learning to accept their insane commentary is part of the luxury of attracting the “best in the business” or some such bullshit. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have a great job. I also have an amazing boss (my boss has no idea this page exists, and quite frankly, never will – I think there are only two people I work with who might even stumble across this and know this is me), but sometimes, a great boss isn’t enough to keep your head above water.
Add to this, I’ve worked my ass off all my life, feeling indebted to those who saved me at the proverbial fork in the road (is that debt ever repaid?). I have made a modest and comfortable life for myself and my family. I’ve put The Devil through hell and back, determined to be financially independent in my own right (on reflection, sometimes I have made decisions to go to work to the detriment of my own family – who wouldn’t want a wife/mother home part-time?), out of this selfish need to prove to people that I didn’t marry The Devil for any other reason than the fact I truly love him – and not for his “money” or some warped sense of stability (though, granted, my family can seem a little dysfunctional at times).
So, rather than rant about all the woe me palaver, why is today so different? Well, I’m a bit of a control freak – as if that hadn’t occurred to you before now. I like to plan. For everything – except the end of the world – maybe (well, I’m not one of those crazy ‘Doomsday Prepper’ types). I do have spreadsheets for holidays (a trait I may have learnt through osmosis from the Vegemite Wife).
Today however, I had a group of lovely friends over and I did not plan a thing (well, I did buy some snags, but that was more maternal instinct than planning). I had no cheese and crackers; dips or antipasti; salami or prosciutto. Nothing, except champagne and beer already in the fridge (and the champagne ran out before the beer – so definitely not well planned). Everyone survived. I don’t think anyone went home starving. And, when the snags did run out, The Devil leapt into action and hunted down some extra food. We’re all okay, I’m okay (admittedly, for a little while I was freaking out a bit “what will people think of my lack of hosting abilities blah blah blah). And, you know what, it’s okay. Tonight I learnt not everything has to try and achieve perfection. If people are friends, they will accept non-perfection (actually, these friends are encouraging such behaviour).
Why is all this rubbish important? Well, for starters, you’ve read to this point. Secondly, it’s a little step on a way to accepting I’m not ever going to achieve a state of perfection. What does that look like? I’m not really sure. But I’m pretty convinced all this stress is causing me to be fat. What I need is a little less bullshit.
I only hope I’m strong enough to follow through.