I think I’ve written here before about one of my big problems with my boss, which his insistence on going around me to get to my people.
I get that as my boss he has the right to assign work to my people. I work for him, they work for me, therefore they work for him. My problem is that I can’t help them grow and develop or even manage them effectively if I have to ask them what they’re doing and why. The work they do requires stability and consistency – it’s hard to spot trends or make decent analyses without consistent data generated by consistent methods. And on a personal level I feel disrespected and mistrusted: am I some kind of obstacle? is there some question of my ability to deliver the desired results?
I’m taking a couple of days off, making myself a nice 4-day weekend. My normal practice with these things is to just kind of lounge around the house, napping and reading and whatever. Or I travel.
This time I’m doing neither. There’s no budget for travel right now, and I feel like I can do better with my long weekend than just vegging out. So I’m resolving to do something fun each day, preferably something I haven’t done before or in a long time. This morning I had breakfast at a place I’ve been meaning to try for a while. Later this weekend I’m going to try Thai food, and perhaps Cuban food, and I’m going to find some fun stuff to do outside the house.
The soul needs fuel as much of the body. And a healthy soul burns joy. I need to keep my soul well-fed.
This is a story I learned in therapy a couple of weeks back. It’s a lesson I struggle to learn.
There was a man who loved his lawn. He wanted to make it the greenest, lushest lawn in town. He spent hours planting and watering and weeding it, and it was gorgeous – all his neighbors complimented him on it. But one day he found a few dandelions had sprung up. He pulled them up without a second thought.
I’m two-thirds done with my DBT class, and I’ve very nearly met my deductible (finally). Both things are a little hard to believe: 36 weeks of group therapy plus individual sessions at least monthly sounded like an impossibly long row to hoe back in the day. I think about how I feel now, and how I felt then, and the two are poles apart.
Yes, I know that’s not the proper spelling for this side of the Atlantic. Observe how vigorously I don’t care. :)
I don’t write lots of poetry. I say that in the same way I might say “I don’t eat lots of camel meat” or “I don’t buy lots of snowshoes”. I could talk about how I don’t see a hard, bright line between poetry and prose – that the artful use of language for effect is the same regardless of the specifics of the form – but mostly it’s that I’m better at and more comfortable with sentences than stanzas. And that’s after two semesters of poetry workshops in college.
But I’ve sort of painted myself into a corner.