Posts Tagged ‘PTO’

Go For A Swim!

August 19, 2015

What?

You haven’t gotten into the pool yet?

Go for a swim!

When your person, the person that I check in with almost daily, meet with weekly (except when I am out-of-town with work or Burning Man), and trust implicitly says get into the pool.

Well.

I thought about it.

Then a dear friend and I chatted this early evening and when I told him the same thing I could hear it too in his voice, what the hell am I am waiting for.

Well.

You see, I have a lot of reading to do and some papers to write, like four, I think, could be five, but let’s not talk about that quite yet, and I have things to think about and worry about and why, I’m quite the person for self-abnegation, why the hell would I do something I like to do.

I could feel the disinclination to want to do it.

I was balking.

I don’t know why, perhaps some sense of I just don’t have time to enjoy that stuff.

I must always be doing the working and the things and the figuring it out.

And oh what the fuck.

I got into the pool.

It was preceded by a pretty honest and open communication with the family I currently nanny for in regards to the discussion that was had about my not getting paid vacation pay for going to Burning Man and I re-iterated to the mom that I understood her viewpoint, I was taken aback, that I had gone back over the contract and that I saw she was right.

I can be happy or I can be right.

I am not right.

Nor was I very happy when the initial conversation happened.

That being said, I saw my part so fast it was sort of spooky.

I saw where I assume, I saw what happens when I make assumptions, I saw what happens when I act out of fear and don’t have clear communication.

I saw it all and again, the mom was right.

Was I still a little pissed at myself this morning when I woke up?

Damn skippy.

I wrote, I prayed, I ate a healthy abstinent breakfast, I took the time to make some phone calls and I did another spot check inventory then called my person.

Who was perfect and clear and blunt, but not mean.

She knows how the fuck to communicate.

I hear her so well and it was good to have the talk and get grounded and get my principle for today, which was “just for today” and it was soothing to hear her and be on track with my life and job and recovery.

The recovery piece has been a little bumpy since I haven’t had my normal menu of places to be and church basements to sit in, since I have not been around a metal folding chair and some over cooked coffee in a few days.

I have been a touch self-reliant with my program, doing the deal on my own, but also checking in with my friends and fellows and making myself available to be checked in with by my lady bugs, confirming with them that I will be in San Francisco this weekend.

Which reminds me I have one more phone call to return, I just remembered there’s one I haven’t slotted into the schedule.

Anywho.

It was good to touch base and be held accountable and see how my perceptions are skewed and what I can do to rectify that.

Get into the pool

Oh.

You mean, get out of my head and into my body!

Duh.

I haven’t ridden my bicycle in a week and a half.

I haven’t done much exercise, not nearly enough.

I have been sitting a lot and reading a lot and processing a fuck load when I was in school and the only exercise I got was a few dance exercises (which thank fucking God that happened when it happened or I might not have made it through that last day of T-Group) and walking to and from the dining hall.

I knew when I had a cup of tea after dinner and was on the phone with a friend that I needed to out myself.

I wasn’t really in the mood at the time of the phone call either having just finished dinner and sitting on the porch swing looking out towards the rolling hills of Sonoma county and the grape vines tiled along the hillocks, the glint of sun on the underbelly of a red-tailed hawk soaring high in the dusky blue sky, the oak trees bending into the twilight and the rising song of crickets in the grass serenading me.

No.

Really?

I don’t feel like changing up and putting on my swimsuit.

But.

One little three-year old came out to snuggle in my lap, then the five-year old, the mom came out and dad and the next thing you know we are having an open conversation about what we can do moving forward and if I felt that it was unfair not to be given some sort of compensation for the week I’ll be missing work (I’m not even talking about getting paid for the two days extra, well, extra in my calculations, not in theirs) while I am at Burning Man.

The funny thing?

I had pretty much forgot the whole thing by the end of the day.

I was enjoying being in the moment with the boys, we went black berry picking and had a really nice walk and lots of snuggling and being silly with each other and time on the porch swing too.

I had legitimately let it go and had moved on.

Fucking unreal.

And.

Awesome.

The mom and dad and I talked about moving forward, when my contract was ending, what they wanted to try, not signing another year-long contract, but giving all parties a two month trial as I enter into graduate school and see what works for them and what works for them.

ASIDE

I just re-read that in my editing.  “What works for them and what works for them.” How amazing, I am still, unconsciously deciding my life on what works for them.

Fuck.

End aside.  And I’m keeping that piece in un-edited to remind myself that this is not about what works for them, but what works for me.

Now aside ending.

That maybe I would work extra household stuff, marketing and cooking and organizing while the boys were in school, to look at what I wanted for hours and that they would guarantee I got them and if I worked less, as they didn’t need me, or I had to take more time for school, that during those two months, my pay would stay the same.

Super generous.

And it felt right.

I said my gut wanted thirty hours a week.

My head wants 35 hours.

But I think I want a guarantee of 30 hours and if I need to supplement I can say so.

I can also work outside the family and do cash jobs, baby sitting gigs for families I used to work for.

Maybe just put it out there in my circles.

I don’t also have to stay with the family, I am aware too, though I did not say that to them, that I have options and if it seemed that I would do better financially to find  different situation that plays better, that I go with it.

Ultimately.

I am the only person who is going to care for me.

Though I have been assured by some lovely friends that I will be taken care of no matter what.

I believe that too.

I always have been, why the hell would it change now?

I also asked for a raise come my year.

The mom balked.

She replied that it was not standard to give a raise to someone who was going down in hours.

In fact, she intimated that when that happens the person involved makes less money.

I was taken a bit aback, but I reiterated that it was a year, that it felt right to ask for a raise, and that despite my hours lessening, and not exactly by my choice (they’re children are going into school), that my level of care and the quality of my work was not going to decrease.

We left it at that.

I also found this good information to know moving forward.

I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face, but I do deserve a raise and I felt it appropriate to bring it up.

They want me to continue working for them, I adore and love the boys, it could be the best of both worlds, I am just not going to not look at all my options, as again, I’m the one paying my rent in San Francisco.

I don’t see cost of living going down any time soon.

I felt good.

I communicated.

We will have another discussion.

And I went back to my room and put on my swim suit and got into the pool.

Into my body, out of my head, and my heart swelled and the old familiar comfort of swimming assuaged me and I felt connected with my body and limbs again and resolved that I would swim again every night while I am here.

Then I took a bath with French sea salts I found in the cabinet and soaked in super hot water.

I almost fell asleep in the tub!

I did good.

And I read for an hour after getting out of the bath–putting me at two hours of reading today–finishing up the reading that I needed to do for a class so that I could move into writing the paper for it.

Not too shabby for a Tuesday.

It’s nice to be reminded to take care of myself.

It’s nicer when I actually do.


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