I was laying in bed with my husband yesterday afternoon, catching up with him about our days. Sometimes he comes home and I crave being with him and just having a real conversation without distractions, and when that's what we want, our bedroom is where we go. I lay in the crook of his arm and he pretends he's asleep and we go over what happened at work and what's on our minds. Yesterday, I asked him the above question. It was one of those questions that I wanted the answer to, but I didn't. Where I wanted him to be honest, but I was kind of hoping the answer would be, "No, never." But my husband is not the kind of man to lie to spare my feelings, or sugarcoat anything. If I ask, he will tell me point-blank that no, that dress does not flatter me, or no, he does not want to be seen with me at the supermarket wearing those pajamas. And you know, even though I would love to be told how perfect I am all the time, I'm kind of glad Rob is the man he is.
So when I asked that question, I got a real answer.
"Sometimes," he said. I turned that over in my mind for a minute. My stress level and how I am responding to stress is a topic I've had to confront in the past couple of weeks, as I've been having tension headaches every moment of every day and haven't been feeling well. Visits to all kinds of doctors have brought about the same comment: You need to think about the sources of stress in your life. And being the easily irritated woman I am, my internal dialogue was, "The $%^& these people talking about? No one is helping me with a damn thing. I might as well go on WebMD and buy some Advil."
And then I realized something: I sound exactly like the kids I work with. Same attitude. Same profanity. Adulthood and my mama and the knowledge of how to behave in a publicly acceptable manner have taught me to keep that dialogue on the inside, but at the end of the day...we're the same people. I may have a decade-plus more life experience, I may have more education, I may have a badge around my neck that says I deserve a certain level of respect...but inside? We're not so different. I think some rules are stupid, too. I think some people are annoying as hell (okay...more than some). I'd rather be home, also. I am also mystified/irritated as to why you have a detention (and why I have to be the adult that sits with you as you serve it). And hell, sometimes, I also want to call my mom.
Maybe that doesn't make me the perfect adult, but I think it makes me a better counselor in some ways. I'm not one to pretend that I'm beyond all of life's little irritations. Perhaps that means I'm a little more stressed out than others, but maybe I just need to do more yoga, meditate, drink the occasional glass of wine, and enjoy my life a little more to balance out my sarcastic self.
And if you find yourself relating to me in any kind of way, perhaps this meditation is for you...(note, it's full of curse words and is not safe for work):