Victim Investigator: Special Whiney Unit
As quickly as I was on the trail of joy, I have temporarily lost it. This blog was meant to be light and fun, however, if I’m going to be honest here, I have to admit that things aren’t always sunbeams and rainbows. Still, I will always attempt to find some fun in the misery.
Last week was a difficult week. Having workers in your house doesn’t seem so bad at first, but as the days wear on, you just want it to end. They’re still here. I’ve been informed that they will either be done today or tomorrow morning. What really took the wind out of my sails was more bad news regarding the value of the house. Of course it came late Friday afternoon when nothing could be resolved. I was left to sit for an entire weekend, imagining all the worst-case scenarios. I saw my dream of a writing life go up in smoke. I quickly slipped back into fear and the anger that always accompanies it.
It set me off on a journey, gathering evidence to prove that I was the victim of a cruel universe whose sole purpose was to toy with me, giving me hope than yanking it away. Issues with work came flooding back. I had told myself that despite the unfairness that my 20 years of involvement with the show meant nothing to production and was not rewarded, I would be okay because of the house sale. That perhaps the purpose of being stuck for so long was so that I could have this payout and finally get a shot at my dreams. So, what exactly was my reward for that 20 years of stagnation? I kept asking myself why other people were allowed to make big profits on real estate. When the market is booming all around me, why am I only allowed modest gains? Why is it that the banking system, which made a killing on selling me a house they foreclosed on, is now limiting my profit? Why can’t those who “have” ever allow those of us trying to make some progress even a few crumbs? I know those gold plated toilets, expensive vacations, and Ivy League schools for the kids don’t come cheap, but can’t we peasants even have a roof over our heads in old age? I’m not asking for a million dollars. My dreams are modest. I want a chance to write, and I don’t even want to be a rich and famous author. I just want to earn a living doing what makes me happy and be able to take care of myself into old age. Apparently only the dreams of the “haves” matter. I should know my place and just keep toiling away so the deserving can go to the ball.
Yes, monkey mind is alive and well. My thoughts actually reminded me of someone I used to work with who demanded perfection at all times. You could do it right a million times, but make a mistake once and you would be subjected to a tirade of, “Just once I wish people would do their job right. Every single time…” Except it wasn’t every single time. The mistake was a rare anomaly, but he only saw the mistakes. It was not an attractive trait, and the memory held a mirror up to my own thoughts. Sometimes you really do have to thank people for who they are, and showing you who you don’t want to be.
I reminded myself that there were many times I had something within my grasp and managed to get it. I’ve had some remarkable and unexpected successes. While we don’t live in a fair society, and at times I have felt like I’m going through life with one arm tied behind my back, I also can’t deny that I have enjoyed privileges of which others can only dream. I can focus on how unfair it is that I have to keep downsizing my dreams, or I can rejigger things and find a way to succeed despite the limitations forced on me. I can think about all the times I’ve lost out on something, or I can focus on all the times I’ve succeeded and let that inspire me to succeed at this.
The battle hasn’t been won yet, but the tide is turning. I’m keeping at it, one thought at a time. Hopefully next week I’ll have a far more upbeat post, and perhaps finally some good news about the house.
And on a side-note – I have decided to give the Whole30 program a try. Since being out of work, I have had a hard time avoiding sugar and fast food. I’ve also experienced increased inflammation. Coincidence? I think not. It will likely be hard to complete with goodbye dinners, etc., but something needs to change, and so it has. Day one had me running for the bathroom like American Pharoah. There was hunger, but I enjoyed the tastes of the food I did eat. Today I am tired, partly from the lack of sleep from continuing to go to the bathroom throughout the night. Sure am glad I don’t have to work today!
Have you tried Whole30? What were your experiences?
