It Ain’t My Fault

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So this has been my first Saturday/ weekend “in” in awhile.  The house has been quiet and so I have enjoyed it.  Not that is a bad thing and I was actually looking forward to it.  Get some sleep and regroup from what feels like weeks of stressful work- paid work, volunteering, driving an 11 year old to see The Smurfs movie.  In fact it has only been a couple days compounded.  Most of the stress has to do with how I let other’s words affect me.

At a meeting earlier today I made a joke about the easiest way to hurt someone is to tell them their mother does not love them.  And then it hit me.  This is the easiest way to hurt me as well.  I am struggling with the fear of man, and wo-man, lately.  I want to impress.  I want people to like me.  To see that I do good things.  To say that I do things good.

So when a customer I have never met or talked to before tells me that I messed up their life when they didn’t get an email I had nothing to do with, I take it personally.  When I am blamed for their issues of not being able to operate a computer, I take it personally.  When I come home and find the house a mess with others’ junk, I don’t feel respected and take it personally.  When my computer decides to delete a couple files that make outlook work, thereby making my 5 minute email check a 3 hour endeavor of reversing updates, running virus scans, uninstalling and reinstalling programs…I…I take it personally.

And this is what I have been writing about a lot lately.  How I let things that shouldn’t affect me—strangers, missed buses, dirty cars, weather— really change my demeanor.  A lot of my issues are in fact not my issues.  I don’t need to care what she said to him.  I don’t know them and he is a big boy.  I don’t need to care that someone in Abu Dhabi thinks I didn’t respond to their email in time.  I shouldn’t take it personally that a man that is a millionaire by valuing businesses can’t read a bullet pointed email and wants pictures instead of words.  And I definitely shouldn’t feel rejected when the bus pulls away and no strangers yelp to stop the driver.  Unlike that cute blond 20 year old everyone just yelped for.

This was written a while ago, I don’t remember when. But I kept the present language in it because it is mostly true again, except for a couple things and relationships mentioned.  I also added a little to it.  Please forgive me for disregarding “time” for literary sake.


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