Um, I’m Not Available



That was uncomfortable.

My boss changed up my schedule.


It’s been a little rocky, this start to summer, but as I am constantly reminding myself, be flexible.

I am certainly trying.

I even managed to get in a yoga class before work today.

I worked 1-8p.m.

So the mom and dad could go have a dinner date.

I’m down with dinner dates and happy to facilitate.

It does mean feeling a little off kilter since I go back into work and do 10a.m.-6p.m.

But so it goes.


When I was talking with her earlier this afternoon there were things a foot, summer camp scheduling and re-scheduling and adding on another camp for the oldest boy.




I made plans for the weekend.

Like I bought tickets to New Orleans, I ain’t going to be there.


That was uncomfortable.

“Oh!  I hadn’t confirmed that we were doing that,” the mom said.

And she was right.

Fuck I hate when the other person is right.

Don’t you know who I am?

Dang it.


I made the decision, bought the ticket, and was actually hoping to keep it under my hat, because I am still a touch uncomfortable discussing certain aspects of my life with my employers and not everybody gets why it would be super fun to go hang out with a bunch of sober people in another state for a weekend.

“I bought a ticket to go visit friends, thinking that I would have that Friday off,” I told the mom.

“I’m not expecting to be paid for that day, you already made that clear, the Friday was not to be included in my pay for the holiday,” I said, “I made plans to be at the airport for a red eye on Thursday.”

The mom was not happy.


Neither am I.


I bought the ticket, paid for the Air BnB, and I’ve already invested close to $900 in going.

I’m not not going.

I have been really flexible with them and I have taken on extra work and not asked for compensation.

Some times, all the time, fuck me, I have a hard time asking for what I need.

I need to know what my schedule is going to be.

I thought I would be ok with the week to week change up and I think I can be, I believe I can be, but it’s super hard to make life plans and then constantly up end them.

I have ended up re-scheduling and canceling three times on a lady I work with on Tuesdays.

I don’t like doing that and I was thinking I’m going to have to schedule all the ladies I work with to the weekends.

“If you need work, you let me know, I know tons of people,” my dear friend from school mentioned.

And I’m not thinking of changing up jobs, but I do have options, I need to remind myself, and that means also knowing my worth.

I am worth a lot.

I do an amazing job.

I love my charges.

I take good care, I’m smart, I’m high energy, I am a good snuggler.


I sound like a personal ad in a newspaper.


It was awkward, but I’ll be taking off that time and I get to work at clearer communication with my employers.

That’s always a sticky point with me.

Like I said, I can be challenged when I have to speak up for myself.

I am the only one responsible for me and I realize that again and again and again, and when I was upset about some work stuff last week, oh did I do some inventory, it really all came down to me.

I was mad at me for not speaking up.

I had been keeping quiet about something and I finally spoke up to my people and I knew that “they” were going to “make me” do something.

“Oh, no, that’s not right, you need to say something,” came one response, “but let me just check in with…..”


From another.

“Did you have the conversation with the mom yet?”



The last few days have been a lot of busy at the house, it’s getting repainted and the scaffolding went up today.

Plus, the family is leaving for a trip on Thursday.

I have not, in fact, had the opportunity to speak about what has been on my mind.

I don’t even want to write about it here.

I feel ashamed.


How interesting is that?

I don’t like it when I play the victim and I’ve cast myself in the role at work.

I had a play date last week that was not a play date.

It was another charge for the day.

I wasn’t offered compensation and I felt really weird about it.

It’s happened before, play dates where there’s not the parent of the other child or children present, and it is often times easier, on one hand since the monkeys all distract each other.


It is also stressful.

Being responsible for another child.

And the not being compensated doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s really me not asking to be paid for my time that bothers me the most.

If I believe that I am a valuable asset, I have to ask for more.

It may be called a play date, but being saddled with another child for four hours felt like four hours of extra work.

I’m not comfortable writing about it.

I feel tender and stupid and taken advantage of, by myself.

I do have some compassion for myself too, I know why I do stuff like this, I get afraid to speak up, fear of confrontation, fear of, yes, I know it’s stupid, but, fear of getting fired, which always leads me down this fat rabbit hole of losing my job, losing my home, and being a homeless woman sleeping in the bushes.

Thank God for inventory and other people’s perspective.


That I am a total fucking people pleaser and if the people I work with tell me to do something I do it.

Which sounds like I don’t have free will.


Actually I don’t.

I have a disease that wants me dead and the solution is to not listen to my self-pity and fear.

That’s the way of death.

I know.




That’s how it works these days, I don’t want to use or pick up, but sometimes I just want to self-sabotage what ever I am doing and all it means is that here, again, is something to work on and to grow around.


“They” say.

Is the touchstone to all spiritual growth.

Guess I’m having a growth spurt.


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