Some Days

Some days I hate myself.

Some days I hate my life.

Some days I wonder how the heck I got here.

Some days I just want to give up.

Some days I just don’t give a fuck.

Some days I don’t even know what I believe.

Some days I have hope.

Some days I’m optimistic.

Some days I feel like I’m crawling under the weight of the burdens I’m carrying.

I’m Bossy

I have a new blog crush. I stumbled across The Jort Report at work last week.

It came about when I decided that I need to actually print/buy prints of all the quotes that get me through the day. My all time favorite quote, and probably the most true for my life is this:

The cure for anything is salt water, sweat, tears or the sea

I did a google image search because I couldn’t find any prints that I liked. And that brought me to The Jort Report which is the greatest name for a blog ever. I quickly read the recent posts, then in true creeper fashion I started reading through her archives while at work. Which led me to this post from several weeks ago.

And it got me thinking… In high school, Kelis “Bossy” was my anthem. Everyone said I was bossy. I loved it.

But the reason I loved it was because I knew about half of the people who told me I was bossy were actually saying I was “bitchy” and I was okay with that.

As I got into college though I realized I didn’t want to be described as “bitchy” and I started to resist the bossy label. I always felt the need to defend myself when people called me bossy. I would try to clarify that I wasn’t bossy, just in charge. And the reason I was in charge was because no one else was stepping up to the plate.

And that really was true about 95% of the time. No one ever took initiative and made plans or decisions when we were hanging out. And I like things to have a plan; plus my parents would never let me out unless they had details on what we were doing. So if I wanted to go someplace and no one else had made plans for me to run by my parents, I had to make the plans or not go.

I still find myself fairly regularly saying “I’m not bossy, I just…” fill in the blank.

But I’m done with that. I know the whole point of this campaign is to ban bossy. But I love the way Queen Bey said it, “I’m not bossy. I’m the boss.”

I’m gonna try to embrace it next time someone calls me bossy. I’m going to assume that they are actually complementing me on my leadership abilities. After all, if I were a man they would probably have positive feedback for the same behavior that they are labeling me bossy for.

Maybe I will even thank them and say “Thanks, it’s nice to know you think I would make a good boss.” Or “Wow, what is it about me that makes you think I have good leadership skills?”

Maybe… Probs I will just get a margarita and lament to my sisters that I’m not bossy. I just like to be have responsibility.

Food

I’ve been reading all kinds of awesome/disgusting books on food, and the food industry in the US, and production and how screwy the system is.

Everything I have read combined with some weird ish going on with my body has convinced me to give up chicken. Except not chicken wings. That stays. That’s the only way chicken tastes good to me so I’m keeping it. I’m not cutting out all meat, but most. Which really isn’t very much since I only eat meat about 2 times a week as it is.

Last night was kind of the first test though, we had Buffalo chicken tacos my fave. I normally substitute cauliflower for chicken on my Buffalo chicken pizza so that was easy peasy.

Homie cooked some chicken in a pan and I had my own little pan of cauliflower and it was freaking delicious.

I was so proud of myself for having the tenacity to follow through on this since it’s something I’ve wanted to do for about a year. I was thinking to myself this morning “cutting out meat is so easy I probably will end up cutting out more variations than I originally intended. I rock at this.”

And then I got to work and it is Administrative Professionals Day. Boom. Free lunch. Free subs! And after I ate three I realized they were chock full of deli meat. Oops. I went for a walk this morning though so that counts for something right?

The Weekend

It was freaking amazing.

I want it to come back.

It began Thursday evening with AJ and her roommate from college being in town and having dinner with my family and Homie actually came (normally on weekdays when I go over he doesn’t go with me because of his schedule). Then Friday another sister got home and we were all together minus 1 person and it was glorious. Then Saturday my last sister got home and we were all there and all together and all was right with the world.

We fixed a giant feast and opened bottles of wine and spend about three hours eating dinner and laughing so hard we cried.

Sunday we got up super early and went to the sunrise service at the Lincoln Memorial. It was beautiful. That’s the first time I have ever gone and it was so serene. We spent the rest of the day together. We did a totally creeptastic cover of the “Do you wanna build a snowman” parody “Will you help me hide a body”

Seriously… go watch it. And then picture 5 of the 6 of us singing it passionately together while sitting on my sister’s bed. And then emailing it to our other sister’s boyfriend along with a “Happy Easter”.

Freaking fantastic. But then one had to leave. And I cried. And when I left for work today another was getting ready to pull out and the last one wasn’t too far behind.

I hate when my sisters and I are not together.

Triggers

I had a pre-employment polygraph back in December.

It was horrible.

I was so nervous. Sick to my stomach, sweating, can’t sit still kind of nervous.

I had another pre-employment polygraph in October and I was fine. Nervous, but fine.

In December, not so much.

It didn’t help that from the beginning I wasn’t comfortable with the examiner. He blew me off every time I shared something with him that I thought might cause some kind of noticeable reaction. That’s the whole point of the interview. He’s supposed to ask me questions, I’m supposed to answer and give him any kind of information that he might need to know in order to accurately phrase the questions and judge my answers.

When it became clear that no matter what I told him he was going to tell me “That’s not what I’m asking, answer what I’m asking” I just stopped explaining.

I did the test and felt horrible. It was the worst.

I got a letter 3-4 weeks after that saying my results were inconclusive and I needed to re-do my test.

I scheduled it and then got sick. I rescheduled and we had a huge snow storm. The office is so backlogged that I finally had my date this week. Two months after it was rescheduled for the third time.

I got there any the examiner was very nice. It also wasn’t 85 degrees in their office this time which helped. He asked me if the previous examiner had explained why my results were inconclusive, he asked if I knew which set of questions gave me problems, he asked if they had explained the scoring. Finally, after answering nope to everything I clarified that the only thing I knew was what the letter stated, my results were inconclusive and there was a need for me to retake it.

Then he explained, they look for positive 3s for truthful answers and negative 3s for deceptive answers. All of my answers for my previous exam were between positive 1 and negative 1. About as inconclusive as you can get. Except for my emotional response to 1 set of questions.

And then he told me “you had a strong emotional response to the questions about sex crimes.”

In that moment, I almost wanted to laugh. Of course I did. I mean really? No shit Sherlock.

So I explained to this examiner. He asked me a few questions, we talked about it. He explained how an emotional response doesn’t show up exactly the same as a deception, but if it’s unexplained they treat it as such.

He showed me after the exam was finished what my spikes looked like. Every set, without fail I had an emotional response to the question. When he rephrased the question a second time in the set I was better. Still a response, but better.

I don’t know what the results of this one will be. It’s possible that I won’t pass. I really crazy hope that isn’t the case. But if it is I can deal with it knowing why.

Because of course I had an emotional response to the topic of sex crimes. How could I not?

My Mantra for Today

Fake it til you make it.

I feel like that’s my only option. If I don’t feel polished and put together, ready to work hard and be awesome, if I’m not happy and relaxed and full of energy ready to take on the day I just have to pretend.

I’ll get dressed and do my hair and makeup, looking professional and bright eyed. I’ll pretend like I didn’t wake up this morning feeling like I got run over by a truck. I’ll pretend like I have the energy I would have had I awoken in time to go for a walk or do yoga.

I’ll nibble on a small lunch and pretend like I’m not very hungry and I’m just trying to make healthy choices instead of the truth which is that I just haven’t gone grocery shopping.

I’ll sit at my desk and tell myself the roll of fat around my stomach doesn’t bother me. I’ll tell myself I’m working hard on getting rid of it. I’ll think through all the ab exercises I haven’t done and console myself with saying “tomorrow, tomorrow is the day.”

I’ll pretend like I’m working hard on all of my weaknesses. I’ll pretend like I’m mentally strong and ready to take on whatever comes my way.

Fake it til you make it baby.