My Shell

Sometimes I wish I could live in a shell.
Sometimes when things are hard I like to cocoon under the blankets and hide.
But 99% of the time, I have to be a grown-up even when I hate it, and that means getting up and going to work and facing up, even when I want to stay home and cocoon under the covers.

It was a busy weekend at work and some of my co-workers were kinda bitchy and whiny. I did my best to let it go and not let it get to me and I feel like I did a good job diffusing a couple of potentially volatile moments. I was downright proud of how well much I got done on a busy Saturday and while Sunday had some paperwork frustrations for myself and the other closing manager, the team really pulled together and rocked everything really well and did a great job. 
Today we were wicked slammed. I spent most of my day running the cash register. Today was a day I didn't feel like going to work. I was dead tired (not physically, just emotionally.) - Shawn has been working six day work weeks for two months straight, and we barely see each other anymore. It was a busy weekend and that's fine...it was just one of those days where you wish you could stay home and lay in bed all day and drink hot chocolate. Your bones feel as if they are made of cement and you have to force yourself to get up to go.
But for everything, it was a good day. The team worked hard. They did well. They had a good attitude and kept going and even when we were running out of gas at the end of the day, they kept at it hard and we got out on time and everyone was in a good mood and we slaughtered our sales goal and even many of the clothes racks got put away and there was balance and tomorrow is the last in my 8 day stretch and for once I don't feel like a failure. I was feeling pretty good.

And then I message my boss (who I have to say is actually a good guy and I respect a lot) a couple of notes about tomorrow, including that the opening cashier has a commitment and will be in after that commitment is finished.
And as I'm telling him this, I realize I was stupid to not think about covering that shift. I don't know why it never crossed my mind. It just didn't. I wasn't being deliberately neglectful, it just honestly never crossed my mind. My boss is always telling me to stop calling myself stupid but I can't when I do things like this. Because that was stupid. 
And I realize for all the good work I felt like I did over the weekend, I still failed.
My boss responded by telling me that what I did (not covering the shift) was inexcusable and something he never would've done to someone. Which is true. He wouldn't do that. The fact that I didn't mean to do it isn't the point. It's the fact that I did it.

I know it's not the end of the world to have your boss be mad at you for a while. 
But it bothers me. And it really bothers me when I screw up - and the bigger the screw up, the more it bothers me. I have this tightness in my chest now. I don't know how to describe it. I feel anxious, guilty, ashamed, stupid, bad, unworthy, resentful, overwhelmed, frustrated.

When I go to bed, I like to imagine I'm in a giant walnut shell cocoon. The image makes me feel better and it's soothing. I haven't yet been able to take my imaginary walnut shell cocoon with me anywhere else. But I'm working on it. 


This Post Was Hard.

I don't know how to write this.
I've been struggling to write this post for some time now, and it just doesn't seem to come out right. So I'm just going to put it out there and (try) not to overthink the presentation. So apologies ahead of time if it's quite random.

.......................

Food comforts me.
You know how you hear smokers say "I need a cigarette!" or you sit with a smoker and their hands visibly shake as they puff while you have that conversation about whatever frustrations and anxieties they are having at that moment? Maybe you are that smoker.
And so am I.
Except...for me, it's food, and it's less immediate. I guess.
Whenever I have a stressful day at work - which is A LOT, and especially lately - I don't come home and have a beer or a glass of wine to take the edge off like most normal people. I eat food. When I'm stressed or anxious, I want to eat. No, I don't want to get home at nine o'clock at night and prepare a meal of steamed freaking veggies and baked chicken. I want to get home and have a nice plate of Chinese take-out. Or spaghetti with more garlic breadsticks than is anywhere near necessary. When I am frustrated I want to have a good cry and go out and order a bacon cheeseburger with sauteed onions and barbecue sauce.
When I wake in the morning, the first thought in my head is:
f o o d.
When I first awaken, my stomach is growling and ravenous and even before coffee, I need to eat to take the hunger pain away. I feel like I can't function without food first and foremost.
When I am in the midst of the stressful-est of days, two thoughts dominate my mind:
1.) Aaaagggghhhhh!
and
2.) I want ________.
Of course I have some patterns in my eating, but not for the sake of this post. Those patterns are for another time. This is mostly just stress and emotional eating, to which I have no real pattern. It's not like "I'm anxious, therefore I need crunch and want tortilla chips."
If only.
Sometimes I want cheesy popcorn.
Sometimes I want ice cream.
Sometimes I want homemade texas cheese fries.
Sometimes I want pizza.
Sometimes I want gooey brownies.
Sometimes I want McDonald's french fries.
Sometimes I want Chinese.
Sometimes I want a chicken sandwich.
There is no real pattern except that it's whatever happens to sound like the thing I most want in the world (food-wise) right then.
But even when I get it, I tend to not feel satisfied. I mean, I do.
But I feel like there is something wrong with me because when other people have a brownie they seem to feel sated and happy they had chocolate and like "Oh, too much of that would make me feel awful!" and I'm over here like I had a brownie and now I want another brownie.

Now - don't get me wrong: sometimes I eat healthy. When I have a healthy, nutritious breakfast, I always feel better physically. My body feels stronger and more energized, even if I do get hungrier quicker. (Dude, seriously? I try eating healthy lunches at work and my stomach is growling less than an hour later. If I eat Pop-Tarts for lunch, I'm tired and sluggish, but at least I'm not hungry.)  Anyway...yeah...I go for a few days eating healthy and my body feels better, but emotionally, I feel...lacking and out of control.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I have a problem with food. I mean, I know I do.
But I'm admitting to you guys that for me, comfort eating isn't "I had two Kit-Kats this week - gasp!" For me, comfort eating is a daily - if not every meal - thing. Food is one of the ways I cope.

There are times when I wish I was a drinker instead of an eater. It is so much more socially acceptable to be someone who goes through a bottle of wine or two a night starting with a glass after work. It is 1000 times more socially acceptable to be someone who gets drunk in order to stuff away nervousness and insecurity and frustration than it is to be someone who eats to calm down those feelings of inferiority and pressure and anxiousness.*
I would be an awesome alcoholic if that was my drug of choice. I would be the best! But alas. My love/hate/comfort/merry-go-round of self-loathing and despair and trying to start each day new and be better and failing every day and all that is involved in the whole thing...well...that began when I was a child when I learned to use food to cope and I guess I just grew up with it and it stuck so I never got too interested in drugs or heavy recreational drinking.

..........................

I think that's all I've got for now.

*I'm not saying I think alcoholism is easier or cooler or anything, I'm just saying that socially, drinking to excess is more acceptable than eating to excess.

Some of My Instagram Pics

You may or may not follow me on instagram. Here are some random pictures I've shared there.  I'm sharing these because I'm starting to get a little bit better, especially compared to when I first signed up for IG.

At the library.

A work lunch. Evol Tandoori Chicken Bowl, water.

Isabelle enjoys a morning sun and gentle breeze.

Secret Target purchase? 


Hope close up while she rests on my tummy.

Walking home from the store.

Tired while waiting for an appointment. RBF for the win.


Things Shawn Says:



"Do you really need another chapstick?" (Um...yes.)

"Wait. Tweezers cost HOW MUCH?"

"I thought there was something weird about the pockets." (I asked Shawn if he knew he was wearing his cotton pajama shorts backward.)

I had two slices of Pizza Hut stuffed crust the other night (never again) and I woke up in the middle of the night and spontaneously puked....all over the bed. Like, the puking is what woke me up. (Ugh...it was so nasty.) So I stripped myself down and stripped the bed and double mouth-washed and all the stuff you do after you puke and I also had to wash the stuffed monkeys Shawn and I have in our bed. Because we are grown-ups. Those of you who follow me on instagram will have seen the occasional pic of our sleeping buddies. Anyway, I was sleeping on the couch, all broken up sleep between loads of laundry to make sure everything got cleaned. When Shawn came home in the morning, he saw me on the couch with the biggest monkey, Mr. Bongos, his special monkey, and was like
"What are you doing sleeping on the couch?"
"I got sick and threw up, so I had to wash the bedding."
Suddenly very alarmed. "Is Mr. Bongos okay?"
^True story, yo.

Tonight as Shawn and I were eating dinner, we had this conversation:
"What's with all these weird blocks of cheese that didn't melt?"
.......?
He points to one. "They're everywhere. It's like one of the main parts of the dish."
(At this point you guys, I could not stop laughing because he was so serious and concerned about the amount of cheese in this dinner.)
"Honey, those are sweet potatoes."
"Oh! Well that makes sense. I thought it was funny tasting cheese."
For real, you guys. I can't make this up.


And bonus:
My brother was digging in the bathroom cupboard. I was all
"What are you looking for?"
"I need to get one of those ear sticks you buy."


(Yes, Q-tip.)



We're Great But Very Far From Perfect

I love America.
And America pisses me the hell off.
America can be so awesome sometimes and there are days when I have all the feels and the pride and feel so much joy and truth be told I love the history of America. (Not all of it, true. There are a lot of unsavory parts.) But you know, reflecting on a time when people really believed in fighting for what they truly believed was right and wrote well-thought and argued articles to persuade people to think about things more instead of just random memes attacking the stupidity of the "other". When I think of hard work and standing up and having a revolution against oppression instead of using photoshop to passive-aggressively whine about the president.
When I think of the great plains, the Rockies, all the people, the minds, the art, the fight, the spirit.
I do love my country.

And then there are the days when I am reminded of how stupid, immature, self-involved and totally selfish we act. As far as countries are concerned, we are like spoiled toddlers who think the world revolves around us. I remember that a very large portion of the voting population apparently thinks the President has the almighty and unquestioned power of a monarch, that most people have no idea what the 19th Amendment is, that I actively know people who can't read an analog clock and don't actually know the purpose of the legislative branch of government....but these people are voting.
And then I'm both terrified and embarrassed.

I do love America. I love me some cherry pie and burgers on the grill and I love a beautiful blue sky and fireworks and lemonade and I love the freedom to write this post.
We tend to have freedoms here so many countries don't have.
When it comes to things like energy, gas, oil, water, the environment....we are so so so far behind and lacking and ignorant and privileged and it's to the point that those of us who do care about that stuff get disgusted.
So I guess what I'm saying, America, is that if the world is a playground, yes, we have a kick-ass fort. Hell, we probably have the best fort on the playground.
But we also have most of the sticks and pine cones other fort-building supplies and there are other cool-as-hell forts out there that maybe we could share with a bit more? And there are some other forts that are being run by bullies who are stomping on everyone and rubbing their faces in the dirt and making 'em eat mud and stuff (probably not a metaphor in the case of N. Korea) and meanwhile we're all over here just jumping up and down screaming about how awesome we are and how we're the best and the coolest.

So I guess the point is...
America is awesome-sauce.
But other countries are too.
Quit being so fucking spoiled and selfish, United States.
Grow up, and play nice.


And if somebody won't quit being a bully, sometimes a fucker just needs to be punched in the face.
Probably not the best official foreign policy, but maybe playground politics would be more effective than the current system the world is working with.






Life Currently



So, yeah. I have no good reason for not blogging more regularly and not being more up-to-date with my reading & commenting. It boils down to the fact that while my hours aren't overly long, the days are just really draining and stressful.
A little background - there are two sides to any retail operation: 
Sales and Production. 
In the case of this being a "Thrift" store, we handle production on-site, via donations, and we sort and tag and price and put things out. Obviously a place like Target or Walmart would have a much more involved production situation. 
The point is: in a nutshell, we have two major teams: 
Production and Sales. 
I'm on the sales side, but both sides are currently understaffed. People move on and get different jobs - more hours or better pay or closer to home or something more in their field. Of course, we are hiring. Summer is tourist season and super busy here in TC.
We have been doing interviews like crazy people.  
And you know what? 
Fail. 
Fail.
Fail.  
So the people we do have are running ragged. They are tired. We are tired. 
Back in the day, when I worked at "SuperMegaMart," I basically hated my job and it was a poison infecting my system every day, spreading more and more like a cancer. 
This isn't like that. 
This is just more like, several times a day I find myself thinking
Oh For Fuck's Sake! (Jimmy Carr)
Mostly this happens when people call in.
So that's it. Work has been busy and everyone who works there is tired and stressed and we're all like walking batteries running low and we get partially recharged at night and on days off, but the days are so slammed that it takes more out than we're getting back, so each day we lose two bars and each night we only gain one back. 
Am I making any freaking sense right now? 
Anyway, at the end of the day, I come home and I see Shawn and I watch TV and zone out or I read and I'm happy, just kinda burned out. If I turn on the computer, I get sucked into pinterest or cat videos or whatever time-waster and before I know it, three hours have passed and I haven't done any blogging and I'm too tired in my brain to stay awake any more and then I go to bed and then get up again for a new day. Also note: today was end of my 8-day stretch, so now I have 2 days off. Hell, yeah! :)
So anyway, that's what's happening. I don't have any grand reason for being semi-absent. Just tired and lazy at the end of the day and I'm pretty much passable for a zombie in the morning. 
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