Pay it Forward... To Yourself

Last night I escaped with what my Irish father referred to as "elitist English shite".  Yep, I was watching Downton Abbey on Masterpiece.  I am thoroughly and completely enjoying this show.  While I no longer believe in romance or love I am as vulnerable as the next gal to shameless forbidden romance.  As I watched it it occurred to me that I was so completely taken away that I'd forgotten.

What had I forgotten?  I had forgotten about Monday.

Lately I get a tension headache almost everyday.  Usually by Sunday at 1:00 I start to dread the inevitable coming of the work week.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't hate my job.  Sometimes I quite like it and given the horrible situation of the economy I feel incredibly lucky and don't take my paying gig for granted.  I may not have bought myself any clothes in almost two years and my only pair of jeans have been washed so much that there is now a hole exposing what color underwear I wear, but I can buy my daughters clothes and pay for a roof over their head.  That's what matters.

So why am I getting headaches?  Work.  Beyond a normal year this year has a lot more stress.  I could deal with that but I am having a hard time dealing with the endless parade of attitudes and bad moods people bring with them to work.  I could easily bring my problems with me to work.  Every single day for a long time now I have felt lost, sad, scared, or even angry.  I do not, however, bring that to work.  If my life isn't going as well as I'd like it's not your fault.  If life sucks it isn't your responsibility to deal with it.

Despite the fact that I feel that way others seemingly do not have this same viewpoint.  I understand that people have their own problems or difficulties.  What I do not get is their proclivity for making you feel as miserable as they do.  I come in and no matter how I feel I am ready to engage you in a pleasant way.  I'm ready to share a laugh or smile.  It seems like work has almost become a perverse version of Pay It Forward except that unkindness and unhappiness are what they send down the line in a whisper down the miserable lane.

So thank you PBS.  You have once again provided me with an escape from reality.  Or as my father would say, an escape from reality to "elitist English shite" reality.  It's not his fault.  He's Irish.