at home in my head

the title of this post is an attempt to tie the following to theme of the month.  if it works for you--great!  If not--we're still of track, but that's allowed remember?

there are a few things floating around in my head that seem worth writing about.  they're too long to be Facebook statuses and since I have only two categories for things I want to write (1. Facebook status, or 2. blog post), a blog post it is!

Here they are.  Three examples of what it's like to be me.

Number one: I'm judgy.  And a lot of that judgment is reserved for myself.  Lately when I dig up something dark about myself I suddenly find myself in a swamp of self judgment.  It's not that I see myself walking into the swamp, it feels more like I wake up in the middle of the swamp.  And where I am in the swamp is exactly in the middle; the journey to being outside of the swamp is the same length no matter which way I go...  the only thing influencing which direction to choose is that there is one path clear of alligators, but on the alligator-free path the ground is slurpy and murky and and my feet are stuck in the muck at the bottom.  I'm not interested in running or swimming from gators, so my best choice is to move slowly through the swamp, pulling against the muck trying to keep me there as it attempts to swallow my feet, ankles, and legs with each step.  Some people don't do this...  Some people see the swamp and choose the path around it, or just turn around and go a different way all together.  That's what I'm going to do next time.

Number two: I'm transforming... constantly if I'm lucky, but it's been particularly active lately.  So much so that my brain has made up another little story to explain it.  You know, a story... like the swamp one up there.  This one is less bayou and more back office.  In this one, a potential love child of the guy from Office Space who is concerned about the possession of his stapler, the guy who talks really fast, and the "time to make the donuts" guy sits at an old timey desk (part melamine, part aluminum, thousands of pounds...) with a giant, red rubber stamp that leaves an "OLD WAY" impression on a paper once stamped.  Every thought I have is represented by a sheet of paper in his inbox.  He reviews each thought and some days as many as 50-80% of them get put into his outbox (which happens to be my inbox) with the "OLD WAY" stamp on them.  He gives me a chance to do it over...  but I don't always get it right the second or third time either.  Sometimes he has to get up out of his desk chair and come knock on the back of my eyeball.  I can't hear him in there so instead he just waves his arms, points, and gives me wide eyed stares that say "hello?!  old way!  are you going to do something about this?"  and then I do...  but man...  it's a lot of paperwork.

if these three had a baby, he'd be the guy in my head responsible for policing my old way of thinking... 

Number three: I noticed (with help) that I've been pretty whiney lately.  My complaining game has been spot on!  yay!  Oh no, wait... that's "old way."  I know the value of gratitude in life and I've used it on and off to change the way I perceive my existence.  I thought because I was still using it when I was absolutely devastated and needed a rope to climb out of the trench of despair with (<---damn, I wasn't going to use metaphors in this one...  oops) that I was still practicing it.  Turns out, I wasn't... I was passing on many opportunities to be grateful.  Today I decided I would change that and I did the gratitude spin (which is not a dance move, I don't dance...) on everything (good, bad, happy, sad) that I encountered.  When I fell on my face at the bottom of some stairs this afternoon and heard my foot/ankle make the sprain "pop" after missing the last step (?  honestly I'm not sure what happened.  I was upright and then I was on the floor, and I wasn't even on my phone for once) I started looking for the gratitude right away.  I hobbled back to my desk and was sitting there, still wondering where it was... starting to get impatient... maybe even a little snotty about it... maybe I was even thinking "what the hell is there to be grateful for about falling on my face and having a hurt foot/ankle" and starting to compose the related Facebook status when I heard a familiar voice behind me.  I turned around to find a co-worker hobbling along on crutches with a bandaged ankle...  hers, injured yesterday in a basketball game, was bruised, swollen, and she had to stay off of it for 4-6 weeks.  After only a day her crutches were causing her grief.  And I bowed my head a little bit, said "oh, thank you" and went to get myself an ice pack.  Because besides being grateful that my little stumble resulted in only a minor injury I get to be grateful that the universe sometimes responds to my requests for clarification instantaneously.

So, that's (a teeny sliver of) what it's like to be me sometimes.  And I am so incredibly grateful it is.