Respond, Damn It

by

Not react.

Oh, lord.

The price of perfection.

I responded to a work request this afternoon, ignoring the faint alarm bells of doom going off in my head, with an affirmative, I can do that and awesome, how great.

Except.

Well, uh.

I can’t actually do it.

When I realized, quickly, oh so quickly after I had sent off the text that I could not do what had been requested, in fact, I had to put in a request to be done early on the day in question, I was horrified.

I mean, horrified.

Then I saw it.

Perfection, rearing its ugly head.

It had a great hair day, but it was still perfection.

Followed closely on the heels of that cock tease, people pleasing.

God damn.

How long does this go on for?

The wiring in my brain is so off.

I am so good at taking care of everybody else.

Me, not so much.

Although, I can and do recognize, when I am not hyperventilating into a plate of salad and scrambled eggs at Crepevine, that I have made strides, tremendous strides really in my self-care.

But sometimes, well, I back slide.

I don’t listen to that quiet inner voice, the one that says, uh you have something else going on, perhaps a pause here is called for.

I ignore it, because I really want to be helpful and accommodating and I want to please my employers.

As though the awesome care I provide is not enough.

It’s not even that I wouldn’t have done what was asked for, I am happy to be of service in the way the mom requested, I just forgot about the court date for my bicycle ticket.

March 7th.

Which is next Friday.

How the hell is that possible?

It’s the 27th of February.

February.

You cold whore you.

You short month of doom.

Already filled with unexpected bills and now short notice on my time too.

Add Valentines Day to the mix and just combust the entire month.

Ah.

It’s not the bad, I just got caught short.  I had intended to tell my employer about the date as well too, but had not.  I am human.

I forgot.

I hate that I did.

I hate that I am human and not perfect and not on top of it all.

I mean, I could cut myself some slack here, I am on top of a lot of other things.

But sometimes the stress of juggling three different nanny gigs per week really gets to me.  The continuity that I develop in one home is completely tossed out the window after mid-week and I have to think of my schedule, their schedule, what home am I in, do I need to bring lunch, dinner, snacks, etc.

It gets overwhelming.

My solution?

I was going to get up early tomorrow and ride my bicycle in the forecasted rain to 850 Bryant and stand in line at Room 145 and beg for a forbearance on the case–to push it forward instead of having to attend court next Friday.

I was until I found out that it being so close to the day of the case I may not be able to do so unless it’s an emergency in nature.

I can miss two hours of work on a Friday.

It’s not an emergency, except in my head.

I mean, the thought of getting up early to ride 30-35 minutes downtown during rush hour traffic on my bicycle in the rain so that I would be able to cover two hours of work next week is idiotic.

I would be breaking traffic laws to get there on time.

Now, wouldn’t that be ironic?

Getting a another ticket on my way to arrange a postponement on my ticket.

No thanks.

Then I thought, I will take MUNI.

Oh, like, that’s a good guarantee I will get there and then to work on time.

Then I thought, well, I will just suck it up and take a cab.

That is even sillier.

The cost of taking a cab from my house in the Outer Sunset to 850 Bryant would be astronomical and would cancel out whatever small revenue I would bring in next Friday with the 2 and a half hours I need to leave early.

So the pain of people pleasing and perfection had to be negated and fast.

I sat and talked it out with someone and asked her for suggestions and how to let go of it and what to do and I got some suggestions.

None of which I wanted to hear.

But all of which rang true.

The difference between feeling good, hiding in bed watching 7 hours of Netflix House of Cards, and taking care of myself, are two entirely different things.

I really want to do the thing that feels good, not the thing that is good self-care.

Perfection, but at what cost?

Not a cost I am willing to pay anymore.

I have to admit it.

I am human, I make mistakes, I am allowed, further, to do so.

Despite what I tell myself, contrary to all the “training” I received when I was younger and did not know better than to question the sacrifices I was giving to take care of everybody other than myself.

I got home tonight, after talking it over with another and vowing to write the e-mail and say that I could not work more than a half day next Friday, and I wrote the e-mail.

I did not want to.

It did not feel good.

But I did it anyway.

Because I am allowed to care for myself.

No one else has this job but me.

And according to the memo I got from the big boss, I am ok to be human and fall down once in awhile.

Humanity is endearing.

Perfection is debilitiating.

Imperfectly, perfectly human.

Sigh.

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