Yo, keepin’ it real…

I’ve been with Glen for about six years. That’s a fairly long time. That’s long enough to really know that person and to have routine, to exist together. There’s really no surprises at this point of the relationship, so you feel comfortable and relaxed.

This should be the case for inlaws and inherited relatives. Alas, it is not. They don’t have a clue who I really am and they don’t know my tastes in things. This results in birthday and Christmases being very disappointing and demoralising.

I’m continually starring in a recuring role on Pleasantville. We all know the movie. It’s set in picture-perfect-nobody-has-any-real-problems land. We’re all pleasant and polite. No one has a mean thing to say about the other and we put on a persona when in the presence of such company.

This is hard for me. I consider myself to be a very real person. To say it like it is. I wasn’t blessed with the gene of subtly. I don’t know what that word means. I grew up in a very relaxed family which consisted of me and my mother. The lines of parent and child were blurred to become friends and accomplices in life. It was how it had to be. The tap needed fixing, we were both there fixing it. Dinner had to be made, we were both there peeling the potatoes and cleaning up. Ironing and washing had to be done, we both endured it.

More to the point, if there were issues, she told me off and I had my say (to a small point). We sorted it out. We kept it real.

Suddenly, I am thrust into another world where such relationships were never formed. Where affection towards each other wasn’t as paramount as it was in my family. That is not to say it wasn’t there, because I am sure it was. But the degree to which you say I love you etc is not as present. In this new world, people do not say what they think, they keep it to themselves. If you have an opinion that others do not concur with and the situation presses enough buttons, you are told to shut up - like a small child that you were 20 years ago.

I don’t want to disparage this family, because for all the things I whinge about, the produced the man I am spending the rest of my life with. The man who has so much love to give, there is never enough time to receive it. He is perfect, despite the issues that surround us today.

Having said that, it has been refreshing for my partner and his sister to get an ‘outsider’s’ take on the situation. To give an objective appraisal of the situation. To say that for others, this is not a normal family dynamic. People do talk back, they do express discontent and annoyance to each other and the lines of parent/child become blurred as the child becomes an adult and the parent just becomes another adult. Children at the age of almost 40 are not told to ‘do be quiet’ as they were when they were 10. They aren’t silenced because the parent has ordered it. The dynamics are supposed to changed. We are allowed to question our parents. It’s ok.

So, this family dynamic has become a bit of an issue for me and for my partner and his sister. It’s been a stressful week and I feel as if there is great expectations placed on me to sort it out, to bite the bullet.

Life is so much simpler when you pretend in your everyday life that no one but you and your partner exist. It is very selfish, but less complicated.

Office Politics

In a hypothetical situation last week, colleague A and B were witnessed by many others, being rather unprofessional. Colleague A (aka CA) knows a lot of things about the organisation that others do not, and Colleague B (aka CB) was keen to get the goss. CB met with CA to talk about it. They did this rather indiscreetly, in a full glass plated office, for all the office to see. It was obvious that there goss to be dished and it made all very uncomfortable and uneasy. Emails started flying between the uncomfortable ones (aka uncomfyones), asking what the hell was going on and how pathetic CA and CB were.

As it turns out, CA (back at desk) started to read one of the uncomfyones’ emails about the atmosphere CA and CB created. CA was pissed to the max. Sent out a rather harsh email and the pressures of their job and how the information they know, they didn’t want to be privy to.

Met with silence, the uncomfyones decided to avoid all contact and proceed to work. CA cracked it today (hypothetically, of course), demanded to meet with us. They were met with declines, which infuriated CA further. Meanwhile, as usual, CB is nowhere to be found. This is pretty normal, when the shit hits the fan, CB gets out of there.

Anyway, CA cracked it today. The uncomfyones do not like confrontation and CA does. Bad match, right? CA lost and did not get to yell and carry on. There were no indiscreet meetings with indiscreet discussions. There was no satisfaction given to CA.

You see, CA is young, 25 and young. Idealistic and full of themselves. They are an over-achiever. They want to be in the know. They believe they should be in the know.

CB is 30ish, a cad, boyish, conniving, selfish and egotistical. He grins and people bow down before him. He likes to know the gossip. He’s an old gossip.
See the attraction?

This is what life can be like in hypothetical land. Political, conniving and unfaithful. You realise that you cannot trust anyone. This is a bad realisation. It’s lonely, but it’s a motto that I have lived by ever since beginning work. There’s a lesson to be learnt from this experience. Be careful of who you speak to at work, don’t say too much and don’t say anything that you don’t want others to know. It’ll always get back to them.

Remember, emails have bcc, people have prying eyes and you don’t have to tell the caller on the other end of the line that there’s someone else in the room.

Cramped conditions, cramping my style

It would appear that my blog entries are quite sporadic and never particularly exciting, or uplifting. Truth be told, I haven’t felt 100% since before Christmas. It seems that I’ve suffered one thing after another and yes, it’s taking its toll on me mentally.

So if I don’t blog as often as I used to, it’s nothing personal. I just get sick of hearing the same moaning.

Currently I am afflicted with womanly issues which are compounded by estrogen tablets and painful cramps. Once I’m done with that, I’ll sit down and update with some photos of the painting we’ve managed to get done and whatever else I’ve been up to.

Really sick of

fucking coughing.

Have been coughing since February.

Doctor tells me without much testing (a lung capacity test) that I have a viral cough and she doesn’t know when it will go away.

Have been in bed for two hours and have woken myself up because of a nightmare, which turned into a coughing fit that has gone on for the last 30 minutes.

Why does viral always equate to - don’t want to give you any drugs for it?

Fucken sick of it. Cough means always tired, no sex, can’t sleep, sore throat, cough lollies, cough medicine, tissues, fatigued back, depression and futility.

I can deal with anything as long as there is a visible end.

Something to brighten your day

Giggle Pot

My day would have been better served sleeping in.

Humiliation at work, excited people screaming happy birthday to me. People I do not know. People I don’t see outside of work. Chocolate cake. Not so good. It should have been. Card with well meaning wishes.

ANZ presentation. All staff in organisation listening. Well meaning manager announces “special” day. More humiliation and embarrassment. Shrink off to lunch with friend whose birthday it is tomorrow. She understands. Had a good chat. Wandered back to work.

On table, a gift voucher and potted orchid from manager and colleague. Very sweet and a little overwhelming. Who spends $100 on someone they don’t know too well? It was very appreciated though.

Stumbled through the rest of the day with headphones.

Don’t feel older. This isn’t about age. Just not enthused about birthday celebrations like I once was. Part of me is pleased that many people forgot. That is fine.

Scored a heart-smart grill and a lovely JAG wallet from Glen, plus $50 from mum. Might score something else on the weekend from other.

Big hugs to the crazy chick in Sweden. Thanks for the morning b’day wishes. It was sweet Thanks to Di for never forgetting, no matter how much is on her mind

Can’t wait for Friday evening to arrive Sleep ins and relaxation, Greek dinners and voucher-spending.

31 aint a bad number. It kinda means nothing actually. I’m going to have trouble remembering it. 30 was much easier to remember.

This sick feeling in the pit of my stomach

I read this news article today and I have been forever scarred. I just can’t help but feel that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It upsets me so much. Words fail me.

All I can ask is what type of person does it take to do something like this? What sort of person do they live to be? How do they live with themselves? Do they think about it? Do they feel regret? Do they realise?

I’m too disturbed to say anything else. Truly, I could cry.