Balance. Perspective.
Those two words have haunted me this week. Though they have been ever present, they remained aloof and ellusive. Psyche-teasers, if you will. Everything this week presented a challenge and, for reasons I can't fully fathom, I lost my balance and sense of perspective. Objects in the mirror were faaaaaar closer than they actually were. To whit:
There was not one criticism, large or small, constructive or not, that didn't cut me off at the knees. I'm a grown-up and can take it as well as I can dish it out, but everything to my ears sounded like I had a contracted a bad case of yernotgoodenufitis. This was mirrored in both my personal and professional life and the stereo effect was deafening. I felt pressure building up in my brain, in my heart...and *snap*
I have a violent temper. It takes a while to get stoked, but once the button has been pushed, the Hulk-effect is in full sail. I recognized this from an early age and have worked very hard to contain it. Most people who know me, and I mean really know me, may not have ever seen it. But it is huge, so keeping it "together" or in reality squashed, results in an even greater fury. And this makes me so upset I can barely speak. So I did the next best thing to exploding - I punched a wall with the heel of my hand and now it really hurts. The wall remains unscathed. Stupid wall...The alternative would've have meant screaming in Sailorese with kicking and more punching. Fairly similar to a 6 year old whose mother won't buy them the latest/greatest.
Did I get it out of my system? Well, if I could remember what "it" was, I could probably tell you. I can say it was 1 of a thousand hits I felt I took this week. That's how I felt. And if video replay was an available app for the human experience, I'd bet dollars to donuts that I wouldn't be able to identify the culprit. Because now that I'm feeling a bit more BALANCED...with a better sense of PERSPECTIVE, I can safely assume that it was something that under different stars would have flowed off me with nary a glance. Water, meet duck back.
My personal life is important, terribly important to speak truly and rather obviously, but I cannot sustain 24 hour surveillance as to how I'm feeling. It's unrealistic. Many self-help books recommend "checking in" with your "heart center" to monitor how you are experiencing your...um...experience. I'd lose my freaking mind. And probably not get very much done.
Hmmm, how am I feeling?
This sucks!
And how am I feeling now?
It's still sucking!
My professional life isn't the most important thing to me. It's up there, no doubt, but most? To the exclusion of all else? No. I really enjoy what I do, but there are some moments of sheer drudgery. Every occupation possesses this trait. The CEO of a major company has worked long and hard to get where she/he is at, but are you gonna tell me they looooooove the shareholder's meeting with Mrs. Pleasedieski who wants to know where each nickel of her investment is being used? Do you honestly think that every rockstar chef has a climactic "event" in their pants every time they dice carrots? I wager that every vet adores animals but they'd sell their children into slavery if they didn't have to stare up the business end of a pekinese ever again.
I need my job to pay my rent, keep me productive and to make me feel like I'm actually making a difference on this planet. I've got to keep my personal life if order to make the whole journey worth it. One cannot outweigh the other...well, maybe personal sneaks in a few extra pounds. I kinda like me and my peeps. But I must keep it in perspective. Just weigh things at their true value. Is this worth losing my marbles, screws and other assorted hardware? That's the question I have to ask myself when these crisis occur.
The road to babeness includes not only checking up on your thighs and underarm jiggle - howze your brain doing? Anything make you sad today? Anything make you happy? When you stand on the scales, weigh the other stuff too. Remember, take a look at the whole picture and see if there is balance and perspective in your portrait. Otherwise, you'll wind up like Hitler.
(WTF??ed.)
Why, I thought you'd never ask!
Before Uncle Adolf took out his massacre machine of a mind out for a spin, he went to art school because he truly believed he had the soul of an artist. The young Hitler drew and painted and pasteled his heart out, envious of the other students whom the muse had singled out for her favours. At the end of it all, he got a failing grade. It seems he had an acute problem with balance and perspective. And he never cracked that nut.
LiliLaLarge
PS-This post is dedicated to DF. Thank you.
PPS-There is a perceptible sag in the ass of my jeans. Not my ass, the jeans' ass. yay!
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