Some days it feels like I am sitting on the wrong side of the window, watching the whole world pass by. This is not a typically uncommon feeling. Meaning I’ve had it on days unlike today, when I wasn’t actually locked inside my room.
Had to leave work early again today. Woke up not feeling great, but since I have a severe problem allowing myself to call off from work – I always go. Most likely a mix of childhood strong polar opposites where dad would let me stay home if I asked and mom would never let me just stay home but always had to get up, brush teeth, get dressed and make it as far to school as possible. Which pissed me off because once we got in the car the chance of her turning around to take me home dropped considerably and she’d always win because once I was at school – I got to see my friends. Sometimes, I’d call my dad to come pick me up though. Depending on if there was a test or not.
I walked into work convinced I would work the whole day. Not quite sure how I actually felt since I don’t feel “sick.” No symptoms of cold or flu, just tired, kinda out of it and hot to touch. Anyway, I walked in and was bombarded with the bullshit from last week – Asking why my rooms weren’t cleaned as good on Friday and they were on that previous Wednesday and me trying to explain myself which just led to them getting defensive and me getting defensive.
It was a horrible start to a morning. I have a big temper, I know this. I know not to piss me off before noon especially because I’m particularly catty before noon. The zenith of the conversation was when I level-headedly told the 2 questioning superiors that I felt they were condescending when they spoke to me. One immediately jumped in “we’re not condescending!” And that’s when I chose to walk away and start my rooms.
I wasn’t even through the first 30 minutes of work and I was crying while stripping one of the beds in a room. It was horrible, I had lost all control. I couldn’t feel anything or think clearly. I knew I was burning hot and weak and just marched back to reception, in all my crying glory, like a child and admitted defeat and asked to go home.
It was horrifying and humiliating. Sort of. My boss came over and gave me a hug and I didn’t fight it because I knew that’s all I needed. I wasn’t doing well and had to admit that. Like when the another lady in housekeeping asked why I bothered coming into work today and I snapped at her “because I don’t know how to take care of myself and say I need the day off!”
Whoa. All these breakthroughs coming left and right. Me, shouting truths all over this joint. I slept today, for quite a while. Off and on until about 5 pm. I had a pretty ________ dream. Not sure yet how to describe it.
I know you’re not to tell people about your dreams… but, whatever. Bold and brutal honesty, that’s what I always say.
It was about my dad. I went to his apartment and was waiting for him and went through his cupboards looking for junk food to eat. However, all the food was organic and gluten free… you know, “health shit.” At least that’s what he would have called it, if he were alive now.
So the dream was weird on a few levels, obviously because my dad is gone now and dreaming about him is always an intense experience. And the fact I had him and junk food together. He used to say “you’re going to grow up to hate me one day” after he verbally allowed me to have 2nd, 3rds or 4th on dessert. I just ate, and ate, and ate when I was at his house.
My mom’s house was the “restriction” zone. We weren’t allowed to eat junk food, but she always had crappy food. Like organic peanut butter. What 14 year old kid wants organic peanut butter? Yes, as a 29 year old woman sure, I’ll mix the oil in. But I was 14 and wanted to be “normal,” which meant being just like the other girls in school an having the creamy, processed crap.
Mom only let us watch an hour of TV a night and we had to listen to classical, international or folk music. Dad let us eat whatever we wanted including tacos. Mom never made tacos. Dad was rock and roll and TV and slumber parties and root beer floats. Where mom was do the dishes, take out the trash, did you finish your homework?
I realize, if my mom reads this she won’t feel too good about herself. She didn’t do anything wrong. She was trying to be a good mom. And she was and is. I love her to death. She’s amazing. However, with the juxtaposition between carefree dad and over controlling mom you get a kid who starts buying kitchenware is 11th grade for her apartment she’s planning on moving into the week after high school so she can be on her own.
I know I spoke to my dad in the dream, but I don’t remember that. I just remember the feeling I had when I opened the cupboards and couldn’t find the unhealthy escape I was looking for and his silent approval for me to eat it and be overweight and fat by providing the foods for me in the first place.
Heavy shit, right?
So back to the window thing. BECAUSE I always knew but never admitted I wasn’t taking care of myself I gave myself the permission to NOT be the person I wanted or live the life I wanted to live. Now I know this isn’t just a “fat girl” thing. A lot of us do it. I realized that today when I was watching a totally dumb love movie where the girl was too worried about making a mistake to even try for things.
Some guy once said “what would you do if you knew you would not fail?” Seriously. Have you thought about it? What would you do? That thought made me happy today because I realize I’m doing what I would do… Travel, try new things, challenge myself, try to figure out why I don’t let myself have the live I’ve imagined and pinned about.
I wouldn’t even give up this work experience if I had the choice. I like having to work for my goals, it will make Asia that much sweeter knowing I put my time in here to get myself there. But there are other things I’m holding back on. So, now I try to right those things and set myself free.
I was afraid 30 was going to be a bad thing, but now it’s shaping to up to be “Remember when I turned 30? That’s when everything changed…”
One thought on ““Stride” (Day 13)”
If I was your mom reading the above, I would not feel bad. I would feel like I helped you form habits and learned life skills that allows you to do what you do today. I remember turning 30. i woke up that morning thinking “I’m 30 years old…no one can fuck with me.” Nice thought, but nothing really changed except that my 30’s were better than my 20’s and my 40’s were better than my 30’s. Age is a number. Experience, challenges, learning that we handle things differently than we thought we would…all of that is what makes “everything different.”