Tag Archives: Athens

Take Your Monster to Work Day

I had a new weekly meeting on my calendar for 10:30. I left on time but forgot that the conference room is blocked by construction and requires a detour, so I got to the meeting at 10:31 and they were already rolling. UGH. Strike one.

During the meeting, my phone buzzed with notifications of missing assignments at school then texts from G about all the Very Important Parenting Interventions we needed to do tonight. Bzzt, bzzt, strike two.

After I clarified what the team needs from me (not much, it turns out), I bolted out of there down a back staircase. I’m pretty sure I’m not authorized to use it because through a door I saw something vaguely surgical looking then the stairs deposited me outside next to some very explosive looking medical gas tanks. But I made it outside…where it was raining and I didn’t have an umbrella. Plink, plink, plunk, strike three.

The anxiety that had lurked over my head like a little black storm cloud all morning sank to my shoulders and wrapped around the top of my lungs and tightened up my heart. And the mean voice started.

A smart person would have remembered her umbrella. A dependable person would have gotten to the meeting early. A good mother would have kids who don’t need any talking to about turning in homework. A healthy woman wouldn’t get out of breath hurrying through the rain.

Under the pecan tree outside my office building, I felt the pull back towards my desk, where stacks of work awaited. But for a second I let myself wonder, “Where would I end up if I just kept walking until my legs gave out?”

The straight answer is, “rural Oconee County with wet shoes and a chafing problem” so I dragged my soggy ass back inside.

And that’s where I was greeted by a little vignette of my own making, a reminder to my stressed out self from my healthier self:

Out of frame: actual work stuff that needs doing

That sumo mandarin is a healthy snack because I do take care of myself, even if I could stand to work in more cardio and less cakie-o.

That list of dinners for the week is me being a good steward of our resources and making sure everyone else eats healthy too. Cabbage soup is Vivi’s favorite and Carlos has been curious about curry. I am a good mom who does her best to delight.

That purple pin from Emily McDowell is the “Didn’t Please Everyone” prize that Wise Heather gave me a few years back.

There’s stress relieving antibacterial hand gel because I have to stay strong and calm.

And a teeny tiara because I’m a queen, dammit.

The fellow in the middle? He’s my Anxiety Monster and I have put him in the place of honor because he commands the power to make me lighten up.

We went to a comic-themed Family Day at the Georgia Museum of Art last weekend. Cartoonists from Athens were there taking requests. While my friend waited for a “wolf dragon” from Abby Kacen, I got in line for David Mack, because his sign asked…

I blurted, “An Anxiety Monster, please.”

In little more than a minute, David knocked out a pencil sketch of this perfect blob of quaking and blushing nerves who’s a tad wobbly because he’s balancing altogether too much brain under the flop sweat but he really really really wants the world to like him. He’s a monster who’s trying quite desperately to be scary with the horns and the big teeth but GAH he can’t seem to manage fearsomeness what with the wobbling.

He’s the perfect monster for me.

It was a privilege to watch an artist engrossed in his work, all action and no pondering. He was the mirror opposite of the thing he was bringing to life with his pen. Create, don’t ponder.

David inked in the sketch, shook it a couple of times to dry the ink, then passed a large white rectangle over the surface. “Is that like a blotter for the ink?” I asked.

“Nah, just a big eraser, to get rid of the guidelines,” he said while handing over my monster.

Because even Anxiety Monster hides his rough start, afraid to let anyone see the messy parts.

A Little Patch of Blue Will Do

It’s been raining for a solid month. How do I know? Because the day my dad went to hospice–poured buckets. It rained until the day he died. Then it rained some more but we had a beautiful blue sky day for the funeral. Then it rained some more and then October was over but it is STILL RAINING. Here’s a haiku I wrote about the weather:

Rain rain more damn rain

Yep still raining rain rain rain

Rain rain rain rain fuck

(That is COPYRIGHTED, y’all, so don’t try to sell it to Hallmark.)

Even on a good day, I’ve already got a wagonful of depression to drag around. Add to that a layer of grief, a layer of rain, a layer of daylight saving time and a snotty cold and it has made for a really bleak week. Oh, then my doctor pointed out to me that I weight 20 pounds more than I did when Carlos was born. Cherry on top.

The grayness is eating into my brain. But right around lunchtime today, a weird soft glow came through my office window. I looked up to see a patch of blue hanging over the soggy trees!

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I made a RUN for it. I walked the longest way possible down the stairs, across an extra parking lot, around the E.D., past the puddle-covered helipad, up stairs and down. I crossed the street so I could walk without the old oaks dripping on my head. People I passed on the sidewalk looked like little squinty moles rising up into the light.

Then up ahead, another patch of blue:

marti's

The line snaked out the door but the wait is always worth it for Marti’s at Midday. When I ordered a half Paige (tuna melt) with a half/half mint tea, Marti winked and said, “This one’s on me.” I’ve learned to just say thank you when she does that and put what I was going to spend on lunch in the tip bucket. A few minutes later, she handed me my lunch, blew a kiss and said, “Love you.” Her blue eyes twinkled with loving kindness.

The rain began to plinky-plunk again. I really wanted to sit outside and enjoy the patch of blue sky while it lasted. Then I remembered that there are a few tables on our cafeteria patio that are covered. Victory! I claimed one for myself and pulled a book out of my purse:

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Check out that little patch of blue, huh? (It’s about two inches above Justin Theroux, for those of you having trouble focusing.) If you are watching “The Leftovers” on HBO, the book is well worth the read. I watched some of the first season and one recent episode from the second season. Lots of differences in the novel, so it’s interesting to compare how one had to be turned into the other. And Justin Theroux. There’s that.

So I was feeling pretty good, out of the rain, enjoying the last 30 pages of a book, my favorite lunch on the side. I choked up over one scene (No spoilers!) featuring Jill, the teenage daughter who has lost so much in the story. She stood up a person whom she was supposed to meet in favor of hanging out with a cute boy:

She felt a little guilty…but not guilty enough to do anything about it. She could apologize tomorrow, she thought, or maybe the day after.

I ran into some friends, she could write.

Or: There’s this cute boy, and I think he likes me.

Or even: I forgot what it feels like to be happy.

Yep. Sometimes I forget what it feels like to be happy. Today was a nice reminder.

As I got up to leave the patio, I saw one more patch of blue out of the corner of my eye. There sat my friend, Pat, also taking advantage of the shelter of the overhang so she could eat her lunch in the fresh air. Her back was to me and I thought about leaving her to her private time–she’s a nurse who doesn’t get a lot of down moments during the day. Just yesterday, she gave me a hug in the cafeteria. I wanted another one. She was another patch of blue on my trail.

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Look at that smile! Pat is one of those people who has been encouraging me for years. Whether it was through grief or motherhood or boring days or thilling ones, Pat never fails to tell me that everything will be OK and I will be too. We talked for a few minutes and she told me how much she enjoys reading these stories on Baddest Mother Ever. I got my hug and another one to spare. Thank you, Pat.

That lunchtime adventure really turned my mood around. I followed the “blue clues” and found myself a little happiness. This afternoon? It poured. As my dad always says–said–“It’s raining like a cow peeing on a flat rock.” I can’t change that. Any of that.

And that’s OK. I just have to find enough happiness to keep going. During those times in life when it’s raining and it’s been raining and it’s going to rain for another week, a little patch of blue will do.