An Important Day

I CAN'T be more clear or more right when I tell you this is an important day.
Today I stood up for myself and spoke about my disappointment and hurt instead of holding it inside where it could do me no good.
I didn't attack anyone verbally and I believe I was within my rights to express my hurt. It just isn't like me to do this. I am the nicest, quietest, meekest person you would ever - or maybe never - want to meet, and this is a good thing ... sometimes. Sometimes it's not.
This morning, at work, we had a meeting, and you know how it goes when you anticipate an event. Does anyone else write scripts inside their heads? Do you plan ahead of time what people are going to say and how you will respond? Or is it just me?
Well, this morning I expected things at the meeting to go entirely different than they did. Because of miscommunication, I ended up with my feelings hurt and felt entirely extraneous. I felt as if the valuable skills I believe I possess were not appreciated or needed.
Now I'm not saying I'm the best thing since microwave popcorn (although it's a pretty even race) but things just didn't play out the way I thought they would.
So there I was, once again, facing the reality of all of my actors not reading the correct script!
At noon I had errands to run and I had time to think about what had happened and what I wanted to do about it. I decided to talk to my employer (who may be reading this ... she checks in sometimes, and that's OK) because I'm just tired of being as "mature" as I am and still not taking charge of running my life better. She was shocked to hear my feelings had been hurt and we talked about some ways to fix the problem. So it turns out that things may turn out better because I did open my mouth this time.
I am happier tonight than I was this morning, but still have a kind of lump in my throat because of a couple of things. One is that the magnolia tree is finally blooming, but that reminds me of my mother who died around the time they flowered four years ago. There are some kinds of pain that just never go away, and losing her is one of them.
The other is the "Battle of the Detritus" that goes on between me and the Mister. What I see as fodder for projects, he sees as clutter - depressing clutter. And I believe him. I believe it dismays and depresses him. And I know some will say just forget it; one man's clutter is another collage artist's valuable collection of gems. I suppose I will just get serious about categorizing and filing it all in the area that is now designated as my "studio." Every night I will work on it a little more until I get this area of my life right too.
The photo up above is a "polarized" picture of poppies - stems, mostly - in the field near Halfway, Oregon, where we stopped on the way home June 10. It looks suitably weird and sort of fits my mood tonight. (I guess I call them "Sleepy Poppies" remembering Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz."
And I apologize if these posts have been hard to read lately. I've been fooling around with the design and I don't have it quite right yet. Thanks, Fresca, for your comment.
Now let's all just grow up and take responsibility for ourselves, OK? - femminismo
p.s. I forgot to tell you: I posted "Did you ever feel extraneous?" on Facebook and my brother, Bob, replied: "Once I did, but Karen (his wife) slapped me." For a couple of seconds I didn't understand, but then I got it and roared with laughter!