Bumps And Bruises

I never considered myself an accident prone person. Mysterious black and blue marks and bruises of unknown origins have never been a part of my daily attire. But things change. As I was opening the safe at work today, I managed to pull the door too far back and my hand got stuck between the handle and the wall for a second. To say that the safe door is light would be the understatement of the year. Half of the time, I need to use both hands just to open it. As I cursed and cradled my hand, my coworker made a point to mention that in her five years at the company, she never once managed to hurt herself at the safe. What can I say? It’s a new talent I guess.

You’d think one accident per day would be enough, but where’s the fun in that? My newfound talent wants to express itself more often it seems. As I was quickly putting away some newly laundered in my bedroom, and feeling rather productive I might add, I leaned down to grab a solitary sock from the floor. (The lone sock mystery continues.) As I was bending down, I managed to smash my forehead into the corner of my dresser. I use the word ‘smash’ because there was actual loud impact. As a quick defense, I should point out that the light in my bedroom was off and it was pretty dark in there. On second thought, I don’t know how much better of a light I’m shining on the situation by pointing out that I was putting away laundry in the dark. Oh well, we can’t all be smart all of the time.

Some blood and a nice-sized bump later, I sit on the couch and wonder about this new accident prone phase I seem to be in. I’m not sure I’m loving it. But that’s the thing with phases. They come and go as they please. They don’t ask for permission and they don’t give us a heads up. Whether it be the two year old tantrum stage (which I fear will continue well beyond two) or the discombobulating of my limbs. In the meantime, I’ll just keep a few extra ice packs in the freezer.

Responsibilities

I used to write a blog post every single day. Somewhere along the way, I got lazy. It’s not something I’m proud of. I love to write. It’s one of the most cathartic things in the world for me. Laziness is a poor excuse for not exercising this outlet as I should. But I’m human and my slacking off will not discourage me from attempting to begin blogging regularly once more. So here goes nothing.

My co-worker’s last day was yesterday. I have now lost my one good friend at work. There’s nothing like having that co-worker you can send side glances to, smirk with, and go on snack binge breaks with. Things are not going to be the same without her in the office. In addition to losing my work confidante, I have also gained approximately 40% more work. My ever so generous boss decided to divvy up her responsibilities amongst the rest of us instead of hiring a new employee. I got dumped with a fair amount of them.

If more responsibilities means a pay raise, then I can get on board with being a lot busier. The pay is to be discussed this coming Thursday, so I’m walking around with my fingers permanently crossed until then. Good thoughts…. Good thoughts….

In a weird way, I actually don’t really mind the added responsibility. It makes me feel more productive and allows me to prove my worth as a valuable employee. I’m hoping my boss sees if that way too. The one thing I don’t enjoy that much is this beginning/transition period. I’m a bit of a perfectionist. I like to know exactly what I’m doing, and I like to do it perfectly. I don’t like not knowing stuff. Granted, I’ve been trained in all these new responsibilities that I have, but even just today, things have come up that I was never taught. In these cases, it’s clearly normal for me to not know how to do them, but the perfectionist in me gets upset that I’m unable to just do it. All new beginnings have a learning curve and I need to constantly remind myself of that.

In addition, I need to remind myself that it’s okay to ask questions. That’s how you learn, and that’s how you grow. Having to ask doesn’t make you a lesser employee or a lesser person. On the contrary, being afraid to ask and then messing up, that’s what detracts from you.

I guess I’ve never been particularly good with asking questions. I’m more of a quiet person by nature, plus the perfectionist in me convinced myself that I should already know the answer. The things we do to ourselves….

If I’m being honest though, I probably don’t like questions for another reason. Anyone who’s lived with an addict probably knows that look you get when you ask your addict a question. You know that crazy doubt they make you feel, you know how bad they make you feel for questioning their sobriety. Questions become these loaded missiles that you’re unsure about launching. But questions can just be honest and sincere requests to learn more, whether it be about work, your significant other, etcetera, etcetera. Working through life’s questions allows you thrive and grow. So here’s my question for the day: Do my ramblings make sense to anyone else?