I don’t cry.
Okay, I lied.
What I mean is: I don’t cry at work. I just don’t. It shows weakness and I am tough. I will not show people my weakness.
Well, maybe on Twitter. Twitter people accept you, don’t care if you rant and give you support when you need it or give a smack upside the head as appropriate. And they are willing to order you pitchers of margaritas…or raise a glass in support. God, I love my Tweeps!
Do you ever have those weeks when it just overwhelms you and you try to get work done but the sheer size of the mountain is so big that you just can’t do anything?
That was this week.
And Friday I nearly cried.
I was on the phone with someone discussing work shit and I was getting so frustrated that I choked up and couldn’t talk. Worst, he is one of my superiors. Not really my boss, but still in that upper echelon of bossdom.
“Sassy, are you there? Did I drop you? Are you reading emails again and not paying attention?”
“No. I’m here. Just sitting here.” Trying not to let the tears drop out of my eyes, my throat closing off sobs; so glad that I am not in the office.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. Go on. Finish what you need to say.” I know he can hear it in my voice. I just pray he doesn’t ask me again.
He continues. “Blah, blah, blah, blah…smile sometime today.”
Fuck you…Yeah okay.”
And even though the tears pooled and threaten, I did not let them fall. They slowly drained away only to leave me without the satisfaction only a good cry can give you. My eyes feel like they have cried and my body feels exhausted just from the effort to not LET THEM SEE ME CRY. Or in this case…hear me cry.
I am at a crossroads in my job.
I have two titles and two job descriptions that are at odds. It hasn’t been made official to the rest of the staff and I am encouraged to keep on foot steady on each end of the teeter-totter.
It’s getting harder to balance.
I am suffering from TMSOMFP syndrome (see tags)…and I just know that I am going to move my foot and go crashing down. Either I will fall hard on my ass to the point of breaking an ass bone or get flipped on the other end and go sailing through the air only to land on my face, breaking my expensive orthodontia perfected teeth in the process.
So I am going to smash that plate and scatter the shit until it gathers dust and doesn’t smell anymore.
I will delegate more.
I will go on radio silent and not feel the need to be there at all times, for everyone.
Because dammit! I need to!