Sunday, January 20, 2013

Prosperity Hens All Around

After finding the bike rack full in the subterranean dungeon across the street from work, I’ve moved on to a place a block away which is working out great, and I don’t think it takes any longer to get to and from, since I don’t have to tunnel down into the earth’s depths to get to it.

Per my new professional fervor, I did on Tuesday attend a meeting given by a boss several levels above me, and stayed on the line for the entire hour, and listened to approximately 50 percent of what was said. I also took notes on the meeting as it progressed, checked my email, wished I could go to the bathroom, and looked at the company’s IM system to see what my co-workers were up to. I noticed that Igby was in a meeting, ditto our boss, Takworth. And so were our four other team members. They were all in a meeting without me! Hmm, talking about me, saying what a huge mistake it was to hire me? Nah, that’s paranoid. Probably some meeting that happens every month with some manager or other, the contents of which would be meaningless to me and to which I could contribute nothing. Still, it felt a little strange to be excluded.

Can you guess what meeting they all were in? You are correct. I guess people do actually go to these things.

Menopause-related symptoms are picking up, making everything seem harder. Besides six or eight hot flashes a day, I feel markedly dizzy once or twice a day, as if the room is spinning, and I feel nauseous at times, and am parched. I normally drink quite a bit of water, and now even more, but my mouth always seems dry. At first the hot flashes weren’t bothersome—it’s nice to be cozy and warm, right? But now they’re starting to seem unpleasant, not to mention the lingering deep chill they often leave in their wake.

I saw Deborah, my mental health professional, on Thursday about some childhood stuff I can see is getting triggered by C., or by the way C. and I interact, as evidenced by disproportionately strong reactions. Plus I think there must be hormones, or lack thereof, in the mix.

Fortunately, being aware of these factors means the actual experience is not compounded by believing each thought that arises. Plus this seems to be a fruitful opportunity to grieve some old pains, so it’s probably all to the good. My practice this week was to ask myself frequently, “What is this emotion? How does it feel?” The answer was almost always that I felt sad. After a few days of this, it dawned on me that sadness, as physically experienced, makes a not unagreeable companion—it’s peaceful, even relaxing. I made a point of not thinking about the future or making a lot of decisions, and it ended up being kind of a nice experience, yet another bolstering reminder that I can be with feelings.

On Friday I arrived at work feeling just superb—Monday! The thrilling start of a fabulous new week! A clean slate to inscribe as I wish! When I saw Olga, one of the lobby security guards, she wished me a happy Friday. “Thank you,” I said. “It’s Monday, but I appreciate the good wishes.” But of course it was Friday, which was still OK—only a few days to go until the workweek starts again! (I guess it seemed like Monday because I had worked from home the day before.)

All this jovial good cheer reminded me that, once again, something good had followed something bad. A period of gloom and difficulty giving way to one where everything seems wonderful, light and easy.

That evening, C. and I had a cozy and companionable dinner at Santaneca. Later I went home and took a shower, emerging to find Hammett dashing back and forth clawing the air. I gathered from his frenzied progress through the apartment that some manner of insect had breached the perimeter.

Yesterday I reorganized my closet to make room for work clothes, and meditated for an hour. I got a couple of nice calls from C. early on, and I talked to Mom. C. called again later when I was on the phone with N. I asked if he wanted to come with me to Noe Valley to do some errands, but he was thinking of doing some shopping. I said I’d call him when I was off the phone, but it was quite a long chat, and he was out by then.

It was a gorgeous day and I really enjoyed walking around doing my tasks. After I left the final place, I checked my messages and there was one from C., having trouble signing up for an email list. I called him back and went over there with a gift of some prosperity hens from the Global Exchange store for him—he’d admired the ones he saw at my place—which he was delighted by.


Our time together was splendid. C. and I hung out at his place in the afternoon and in the evening, we went to La Santaneca. Afterward, we sat on his couch and read poetry to each other. I called him when I got home to let him know I’d arrived safely, and he responded with such lovely, affectionate words. A magical day.
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