Posts Tagged ‘wants’

It’s Been A Day

August 17, 2016

One in which I spent too much damn time in my head.

However.

I called in the cavalry.

I amend that.

I texted in the cavalry.

I also got myself out to a little hoe down of my fellows in Sonoma and got right with God and then made some phone calls from there.

I can fall off the beam easily and have really black and white thinking.

At one point today I was ready to call it complete quits at my job.

Not because there’s something screamingly bad with my job, rather, there’s something off in me, something where my ability to speak up for myself and my needs gets lost in the shuffle and the next thing you know I’m doing a job that is not compatible with my needs and I’m a wreck.

I have to communicate.

Ugh.

No fun.

Except.

Maybe it can be, maybe I am here having this experience because I need to learn, again, how to do this thing called life, how to reconcile conflict and draw up some boundaries that are good for me and empower me.

I deserve the job I want and I can probably have it here and now as soon as I can draw upon the resources that are available to me.

My friends.

Who bolster me all the time.

I don’t see myself very well and sometimes I forget that I am a valuable asset, that I am smart and capable and worthy of my hire.

I have had this come up before.

How many times have I gotten to suss this out, many.

However, I am feeling a lot more stable in my need to articulate what I need and to ask for the compensation due the nature of the accommodating that I do for my family.

See.

I’m happy to accommodate.

But what I have discovered is that I need to be compensated, to continue being flexible and rolling with the punches and what have you, I need to get properly taken care of and I have lost my ability to speak up for what works best for me.

There is no malicious intent with my employers, god am I aware of that.

The malicious intent is within me, those things that I grew up with, the danger, and it was very real, of asking for what I needed.

I knew better than to ask for what I wanted, those things never got met and as for what I needed, I didn’t know, my needs were overwhelmed with the needs of my family.

There have been plenty of times in the past where I was asked what I wanted and I couldn’t tell you to save my life, it was so much easier for me to just ask what you wanted and roll the fuck over.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing and I did a lot of shoving down of unpalatable things to keep the balance going and to save myself from being annihilated.

That sounds extreme, but you get beaten for asking for what you need or asserting your needs, for a little while and get back to me on your stance then.

That shit stays with you.

I have done work.

I will continue to do work.

This is part of my work.

Recovery is integral and an absolute necessity.

School has been amazing.

Friends.

Oh my darling, dear, sweet, loving friends who advocate for me when I am not always so inwardly supported, have been instrumental in this.

Finding the support to take the actions that to me and my personality feel absolutely mind blowing and devastating to do has been crucial.

All the walking through the fear.

I have taken in so much love and support, especially this past week, to know that I can take the next steps to ask for what I need at the job.

And.

The best part?

I will be taken care of.

I always am.

I get to fuck it up.

I get to make a mess, I’m messy, it might be messy, I might fall on my face.

That will be ok.

Part of the process.

Part of living.

Learning and bearing witness, gently, when I can to my own process.

Really when I think about it after all the trauma, drama, and agonizing shit that happened to me it’s a fucking miracle that I am who I am, that I have what I have, that I have gotten to break out and make something of this life, that I didn’t roll over and die.

I am alive.

I am fucking resilient.

I am a living fucking testimony that you can get out and you can get better and that life is exquisite and amazing, astounding in it’s joys and astonishments.

The fawn that I startled out of the bushes today on the edge of the rental property.

The red tail hawk in the sky shrieking for its dinner.

The quails chasing through the underbrush.

The sun, warm on my face, I again turn toward the nut brown skin that is in me and glow with fire and heat.

The black berry brambles tumbling down the hill full of fruit.

The sun through the trees as it sinks golden and full with possibility as I climb Sonoma Mountain Road.

The boys, both of whom have found ways to further endear themselves to me as though sensing that tremulous moment when I was offered a job today, the mom having gotten my number through a friend at school, desperate to hire me and get the ball rolling.

Except.

I don’t want to work 50-60 hours a week and go to grad school.

No way.

No how.

In reality.

I already work that much.

My job fluctuates during the summer between 35-45 and since I started school between 28-35 hours a week.

Through in my recovery and that’s easily another 15-20 hours of my time.

I can’t even imagine trying to work more than that and go to school.

I knew that and gently thanked the woman to whom I was speaking and said thank you so much, but I can’t do the job you require.

She begged me to keep her in mind and I will, but not for me.  I also suggested an agency that she could go to.

There’s plenty of jobs out there should I fall flat asking for what I need or my needs are unable to get met at my current position.

It doesn’t mean that my needs won’t get met.

They will.

I just have to speak up for them.

And.

Big.

Deep.

Breath.

I will.

 

 

I Got The Job

October 1, 2013

Honestly, I figured I would, but it was a matter of am I going to take something that is lower paying than what I want.

Then I thought, I really like this little girl, her folks did their graduate work at UW Madison, know where the Essen Haus is and went to the Angelic, why, they’re almost family.

Plus, I can always accept other work.

It seems silly to turn down a position with nothing behind it.

I have full-time work this week and I have an overnight in the upcoming weeks that will help pay the bills.  The new gig is just going to start off as one day a week, on Thursdays, it will help with the overhead, which is being taken care of.

Bills they be getting paid.

Paid my rent on the 28th for October.

I like to roll like that.

I know what I want from the nannying, I put it out to the Universe, and I was pretty damn clear.

The only thing I forgot–paid holidays.

That is a nice thing.

When I had PTO (paid time off) with a couple sets of employers I also got the standard, American, holidays off and paid–Christmas, New Years Day, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day (not usually Labor Day–as I am usually out in the desert Labor Day weekend), and Fourth of July.

So, yeah, let me add that to what I want.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but if I am going to nanny until then, then yeah, I do know what I want.

(I want to get my book published, have it get optioned for screen play work, then have all the fucking time I want to work on the follow-up pieces as well as enough money to own my home in, wait for it, I am dreaming big, San Francisco).

Yeah, you and I both know what I want to be when I grow up.

A writer.

Wait!

I am.

Ok, more specifically, I want to be a highly paid, sought after, credited, writer.

Published.

I want to see my words in book form.

I want to see my ideas translated to film.

I would love that.

I think in a cinematic way, anyhow.

I like to think that I write that way, when it’s good, that the words are no longer words, but a movie in your head.

Because when I am writing, not the blog, the blog is like opening my head and shaking out the contents into a sieve, some of it worth reporting, the Mister is working ALL week again, some of it not, who should I date instead? What time do I need to set my alarm for tomorrow, who am I seeing, do I want to pick up carrots at the store?

Et cetera.

But when I write, I am watching a movie in my head and transcribing it.

That’s the best way to describe it.

And speaking of which, I just had a thought.

Maybe I want no more than 40 hours a week and maybe I want to work slightly less, or, better, I want to work four days a week instead of five.

I want that fifth day for my writing projects.

I have an idea for a short story that has been pinging around my brain since Burning Man and I have not taken the time to write it down.

Need to get on that.

Also need to pester my friend who has my book.

I want my hands on his edits and comments and thoughts.

Give them up.

I want to work the last of the kinks out of the book and get it fucking published.

That is my end goal.

Get this god damn book out there.

It can and will happen.

And I can and will happily work the work that is in front of me.

I love my charges.

My boys.

So sweet today.

I love that I get the big flirty eyes from the 8 month old and the 16 month old’s sense of humor is so coming out, along with scads of words and he loves me to read him stories.

Not all kids have the patience to sit in your lap and have stories read to you.

He surprised the hell out of me today, in a good way, when he said the title to one of the Sandra Boyton books we read together.

It sounded like this: “moooballalalalalalalala” giggles.

Oh my God.

The book is called “Moo, Ba, La, La, La” (A cow says “moo”, a sheep says “ba” three pigs in a row say “La La La” NO!  You say, pigs they say oink….”)

First, he’s a boy.

Boys don’t always have a verbal aptitude that well advanced at his age, second, he’s 16 months!  Ok, maybe 16 1/2 months, but that still quite shy from 2 years, and he’s still using the signs I have taught him.

My favorite, aside from please, everybody loves a good please, is apple.

He does it really well and says apple while doing the sign.

Pretty cool.

So, yeah, I can hang with being down with the nanny thing.

I know what I want for pay and I am willing to allow abundance into my life, I want to make more money, I want, well, I want a scooter.

And yoga class.

My friend has a scooter that he once was going to sell me, he has two and a car (he also has a garage at his place so he can) an old Vespa, I know he still rides it but not that much and I remember what he offered it to me for back before I was moving to Paris.

My thoughts are keep working at the savings, pay back Barnaby the plane ticket, then start saving for a Motorcycle Class and a scooter.

I would like to get that for my birthday.

A motorcycle license and a scooter.

That might be pushing it, my birthday’s in December, but hey, you know, according to some really amazing women I know, if you know what you want and you put it out there, you will get it.

I am putting it out there.


%d bloggers like this: