The last few days haven’t been the best. In fact, they’ve been emotionally turbulent. If I didn’t know better, I would say that Mercury has been retrograde, but it hasn’t. It’s just been a case of riding through the shite knowing that this too shall pass and all will be well.
Firstly, my poor, darling husband Andy was on the receiving end of what can only be described as a vitriolic, unprovoked and vile verbal and physical assault by two of his so-called family members, and all this over the settlement of his late father’s estate. I was appalled and disgusted by what happened. I don’t want to go into details because the language used and accusations levelled at Andy were inexcusable, unforgivable and riddled with blatant lies. Anyone who knows Andy will say he is the kindest, funniest, nicest, most decent and intelligent man they’ve met, a man who doesn’t have a nasty bone in his body. Anyway, we are having a gentle weekend, working through the hurt and bewilderment, with me trying to convince him he is a thoroughly good person and these other people are not worth a second thought from here on in. All will be well.
Secondly, and not nearly as horrific, I had an experience at work where I was suddenly expected to deliver a woodwork session to our client base i.e adults with learning and physical disabilities. Now, the problem here is that, in past discussions with my line manager, I have expressed my feelings about being uncomfortable in a woodwork workshop environment, using power tools and other tools associated with woodwork. I have asked for training in how to use some of the power tools, but despite promises, this has never happened.
Besides, I have been happy delivering our care service in terms of gardening, cooking (indoors and over an outdoor fire), baking, some farming activities, and arts and crafts. I’ve mucked in with all activities including getting more than my share of the mucky jobs like emptying compost bins. But really, woodwork is not my ‘thing.’ It does not appeal, it is noisy and messy. It is not something I would choose to do as a hobby.
And yet there I was on Thursday leading a session in making solitary bee boxes and feeling very much out of my comfort zone. Oh, I coped, because I do. I was a teacher, for goodness’ sake. I have been described as being calm in a crisis. But I made it very clear to my line manager that I was unhappy at being forced into this situation, and all she said was, well, at least it’s something else you can do now.
Why do extroverts feel the need to push people ‘outside their comfort zone’ in order to make them learn new things. Why is that necessary? It doesn’t sit well with us introverts. It makes us feel anxious and defensive. It makes us feel bullied. My experience at work that day was not enjoyable. One of the reasons I left teaching was because I wasn’t enjoying it any more. Am I going to have to do the same with this job?
But…there is plenty of lovely stuff to look forward to, which will help dig the generally upbeat and cheerful Lord and Lady Malarkey out of this miserable reactive fug. For example, Heather and Ollie are starting their Big Move To Shropshire this week, and this time next week they shall be moved in! Ollie starts his new job in August. Heather has an imminent interview for a very exciting potential career change. And when they come up on Friday, they will be bringing my lovely granddaughters with them for a holiday!
And I’m getting into the thoughts, patterns and rhythms of being an indie author which knocks all the rubbish stuff into insignificance. Life might throw occasional crappy curveballs but the overall picture is fine and dandy! Here, then, is a wish of love, peace and happy days for us all.
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KJ