The last week or so, I’ve been feeling more myself again. I’m not as raw, or as uncertain about myself as I was earlier this year.
As a general rule, I don’t care what other people think of me. The fact that most people ‘never’ think of me once out of their face is rather comforting and true. My confidence got a good thrashing when the marriage fell to pieces. Starting a whole new career? Insecure, who me? Em, yeah. I don’t seem to know how to do one change at a time.
At work, while I’m by no means as experienced as most of the women there, I’m good at what we do. Competent even, so if they want to make a fuss over things I do or don’t do, that’s on them. I’m done trying to make them happy. It isn’t an achievable goal. It’s better to enjoy myself while I’m there and pass it off to the next crew. I do what I’m supposed to, so they can bite me, or feel superior which they seem to do very well. Le sigh, no more dayshift stress. Done, over, not happening anymore.
I went to see a friend tonight. I had a gut feeling, which are never good, so I paid her a visit. When I got home my husband asked how she was and the only answer I could give him was, ‘the same.’ She didn’t agree with the separation. She’s not over it and I’m over her martyr nonsense. If she’s looking for an apology it isn’t happening. I don’t know what the hell she wants. Again, I’m done. There is only so much one person can do.
When I mentioned how defeated, deflated I’d been she gave me an incredulous look.
Really? Oh that’s right, you have all the problems. Alrighty then, you keep doing what you’re doing and I’m moving on. Sorry to see you fall behind. Shrug, there is no hope for it. She’s where she is, which isn’t even in the same universe with me. It happens, and I’m moving on.
I’m slowly reclaiming my house after leaving it to the men for three months. Note to self, don’t leave the men alone. They won’t vacuum and the carpet will be a nightmare. Oh yeah. It’s as clean as I’m going to get it. Shake my head. The kitchen cabinets are scary too. One is never sure what will fall from where, or when. Yep, men and cabinets don’t mix so much. Mine don’t get the ‘nesting’ concept of putting things away. I tried to teach it and failed miserably.
Tomorrow I have some clutter to file, toss or put away. If I feel brave enough, I’ll tackle the plastic container cabinet, maybe. smile