Important work dialogue

Jane: those shoes are really cute. 

Me: …and tall. I think I am taller than you in them. 

Jane: No. I am still taller. 

Me: No. I am. 

Jane: I will have my manager settle this. 

The manager, being a bright man, called it a tie. However, he said my shoes did give me some edge. 
Which means that I won, because edgy shoes always win. 

He hardly even rolled his eyes. He must be used to working with insane people. 

Blaming myself for what other people feel

“you are only responsible for your own feelings”

“You choose to react the way you do. I am not responsible for how you choose to feel”

We already know that I have limited patience with people who tell me that I choose to react the way I do to their misdeeds. I can summarize it by saying that while I agree that in theory my reactions are in my control, that does not mean that it is fine for you to treat me like shit.  My reactions are all mine. Your douchebaggery is all yours. 

So how to I handle the opposite situation? When my own actions result in sadness/anger/other negative emotions in other people? 

Do I tell them they are responsible for their own emotions? No. I feel guilty that they feel bad.  Even if I didn’t do anything wrong.  Even if they are being unreasonable. I can have the most tenuous role in their feelings. If by any remote stretch I could possibly have played even the smallest role in their distress, I feel awful myself. Responsible. 

It’s a lose-lose situation, but at least I’m consistent. 

There is good news, though. It isn’t as bad as it used to be, in the same way that I don’t take my own hurt feelings as personally anymore. Yes, I still tend to over-personalize, but I can usually bring myself back to a more rational stance without too much trouble. 

Apparently, I really am capable of personal growth and learning. 

Huh. 

Closet archeology

I was just going to tidy up a little. Nothing major. Just put a few things away and fold some things. Then all of a sudden, things went all tangential on me and my bed was covered with things I knitted or wove over the last several years. 

Ohhhh, I remember making this…
And this….

The lap robe I made for Gramma Jolin…

The hat that Andi’s mother never got to wear…

My first attempts at knitting with my own handspun yarn…

I always play down my abilities, but some of these things are really lovely. It could be that I really know what I am doing. If I saw this pile of knits anywhere but my own house I would think that someone talented had been involved in the creation of these garments. 

Funny how I assume that some hack did all of this until I see it all together. It’s kind of an interesting body of work really. A lot of hats, shawls, scarves. The occasional sweater or pair of gloves or socks. I can knit anything, and even  make my own yarn.  It is one of my few talents that might be of use in the Apocalypse. I can make sure my loved ones are warm. 

Seeing all of this in a pile, I really do wonder why I don’t think I am good at it. There are things here that are beautiful. Anyone would be proud to have created some of this stuff. 
Then, after admiring my work, I asked myself the hardest question:  who is going to put all of this away?

Why doesn’t Squeaky Cat ever have to do chores??

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