Crossed Wires

 

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I’ve offended someone, didn’t mean to, but I have and I’ve decided that I don’t care!  That’s a bit of a breakthrough for me, normally I would.  Here’s how it all unfolded…

Friday night I headed off to dinner with Super Sammie and a friend of hers that I’ve never met, let’s call her Jane.  Jane seemed nice enough and it turns out she spent a lot of her younger life in the same area as me.  We didn’t know each other, but we know the same people.

Normally around new people I’m pretty quiet, I let others do the talking and rarely share. Yes, I have trust issues, especially around people that have a connection to the place that I deliberately left behind and distanced myself from.   However with just the three of us there was nowhere to hide.  So after a while I shared that I’ve been reading some blogs, Mummy was a Secret Drinker in particular (if you haven’t read Sober Mummy’s blog, please do, she’s funny and engaging).  I know I’ve shared this with you dear readers, but I’ve never actually admitted it IRL before.

I’ve been concerned for a while that I have the capacity to develop a problem with alcohol and even mentioning out aloud that I’m interested in this space is pretty big for me.  That probably says more about me right?

Anyway, a nice dinner ended (Lickerish, check it out Adelaide people) and farewells were exchanged.

Monday morning I boot up the PC to find a brand new shiny blog from Sober Mummy, which was nice, she doesn’t post as often as she used to (yeah, yeah, I know, people with semi abandoned blogs shouldn’t throw verbs or nouns or whatever – I can never work out which is which).

So without thinking too much about it I shot of a quick Facebook message to Super Sammie and Jane saying “Hey ladies, this is the blog I was talking about”.    Almost immediately I get a message back from Jane, curtly asking why I’d felt the need to send this to her.    Clearly I’d offended her, so I clarified that it was just that we’d been talking about it and I thought it was good blog and that it had been nice to meet her on Friday.  I’d hoped this would calm the situation.  Instead, Jane accused me of not being truthful!

(I can only imagine her reaction if I’d sent her my other fav blog Mr Money Moustache! )

Great, just what I need to start my day.  My first instinct was to defend myself, but that sixth sense that tells you more information will only make it worse kicked in.  So I acknowledged her feelings (they are hers, she has every right to have them) and let her know I didn’t mean to offend and I’ve left it at that.

I wish Jane nothing but good things in her life but I’m not sure I want to see her again.  I hope that Super Sammie isn’t being dragged into a drama that isn’t of her making. That is the last thing I want.

Initially I was really upset by this.  I open myself up and am immediately rejected.  However as you can tell from my opening line, I’ve moved on from that to pissy.  I’m sure I’ll calm down and get to acceptance at some point, but at the moment it’s a bit raw.

What I’ll do about the rest of what I’ve mentioned above I’m still not sure.  I think I’m ok.  Speaking of ok, I do have some other blogs half written and I promise to be here more often.

Be kind to yourselves good internet peeps.

I Have A Dirty Little Secret

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My name is Crazy Cat Lady and I’m an addict.  That’s the first step right, admitting you have a problem?  I was the last person I thought this would happen to.  I’m opening up so that others don’t feel they are alone…

First, I feel I have to defend myself; I’m an intelligent, articulate woman.  I hold myself to high standards and get quite angry by the low brow entertainment offerings that are so prevalent today.

Hell, one of my favourite rants is how “reality news shows” and morning TV are the reason we are becoming so dumb.  I’m passionate about education and using my time to achieve worthwhile goals.  So I’m deeply ashamed to admit my degrading addiction.

(I also believe that not returning shopping trollies to their bay in the car park is contributing to the breakdown of civilisation, but that’s a rant for another day.)

It started innocently enough; I was tired on a flight back from a client conference and wasn’t paying too much attention to my actions.  It was only one, what could it hurt? Right?

Wrong! That one hit was all it took, I was hooked.

I binged all the flight home, I couldn’t get enough.  I didn’t want to get off the flight and lose my “connection”.  I knew I couldn’t get the product at home; I’d never be able to hide the lost time and money from Crazy Cat Boy.

For the past few years I’ve hidden this dirty secret from the world, indulging while on work trips alone in my hotel room. Making excuses to leave client dinners early or showing up late for pre dinner drinks. Yes, I had sunk that low.

Only recently did I admit my problem to Super Sammie.  I expected her to recoil in horror and suggest I seek treatment immediately, but to my dismay she just smiled knowingly and shared her stash with me.  It appears that this addiction has almost reached epidemic proportions among seemingly responsible, middle class, white women.

Why admit my addiction now you ask?  Well after years of managing to keep a lid on it mostly due to the lack of opportunity to indulge it seems that I’m about to be found out.  I’ll shortly be able to feed my shame at home and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist.

So if you don’t hear from me for a while, please stage an intervention, I’ll be in my lounge room wearing PJ’s, an addict’s vacant glassy stare, slack jawed and binge watching Real Housewives….

Bah Hum Bug

20151208_125434_resizedI’m totally not a Christmas person

We’ve just gone through his family’s seasonal “Crazy Cat Lady, you got random cousin Jay in the family draw” saga.  This means I now have to work out which one Jay is again, then spend $50 on a person that I don’t really know, only see every third Christmas, who won’t acknowledge this gift so I’ll never know if the specialised gift that they requested and I paid extra shipping for even arrived!

This process is starting to wear thin. Plus,immediate family are an exception; you are still expected to spend a fortune on them and get random crap* back in return.

I’ve never really been a Christmas person, even when small.  It usually meant being up early and having to be on my best behaviour if Grandma was coming.   The only upside as a kid was that I usually got to see Cousin Wendy and check out her new earrings (she wore make up and made her own funky earrings, she was and is way cool). Cousin Wendy and I would also whip everyone’s arses at pool at Nan and Pa’s which was always fun – It stood us in good stead drinks wise when we started hitting the bars.

Crazy Cat Boy however LOVES Christmas.  He’s an extravagant shopper by nature and loves to be a part of his extended family.  But (why is there always a “but”?)  Christmas is a stark reminder that his family don’t really know him.  It makes me sad to watch the puzzled look creep over his face as he opens yet another well meaning but rarely thought out gift.  Just email me people; I’ll give you some tips, it’s really not that hard!!  I mean, at least I know they don’t care what I get, but he takes it personally.

This year we are on the verge of a Christmas miracle, we are just one missing dog sitter away from it being the two of us in our own home, far away from the inevitable stress that will occur over slightly dry pork and copious amounts of champagne as my BIL & SIL host lunch at their place.

The magic of Christmas might just be restored!

*It’s not their fault; they don’t know me any better than I know them.

I always get a giggle at gifts from SIL.  One year out of every ten she knocks it out of the ball park with an amazing, thoughtful gift that must have taken months to pull together.  The other nine years however, it looks like she ran blindfolded through a service station and just wrapped whatever random stuff she picked up!  LOL

I’ve Quit Guilt & So Should You

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I gave it up about 18 months ago. If you haven’t already done this, give it a try it is liberating.

I was a 3 pack a day guilter so it wasn’t easy.

I always had that feeling that whatever was wrong was my fault somehow. It comes high school where I was bullied everyday then moving straight into a job where the company culture was to sit the staff down and tell us that we should do anything they told us to because no one else would hire us. I already knew from school; comply and conform is the only option for acceptance. Doh, talk about negative reinforcement!

Closed doors, must be talking about me. Something goes wrong on a project that I’m only slightly connected with, must have been something I’ve done. CCB in bad mood, yup, must have been something I said or did. It got to the point where guilt was starting to control my life.

My light bulb moment came after a particularly trying day at work where it was announced that “not everyone will be going” to a long awaited event that I was a critical part of the planning for. I immediately thought; Well, I should take one for the team, I’ll talk to the boss tomorrow and tell him to leave me out. Then I went home and got ready for my walk and CCB got cranky because he wanted me to go and do something with him, he didn’t need me to do it, it was just that what I wanted to do wasn’t about him*

So I went for my walk feeling guilty and then it hit me… why am I feeling this way? I deserve to get fit; I have the right to want what I want.

Then I thought about the work situation. I didn’t notice any of the boys volunteering to step back, so why should I? I’m a key part of this team and I should be at this event. I’m proud of the work I’ve done to get this up and running. Bugger it, I’m not having that chat with the boss tomorrow and I refuse to feel guilty about it.

So that is the day I gave up guilt.

I feel lighter and strangely more confident when I reply “That’s a shame, what is being done to resolve the issue?” instead of immediately trying to find a way that I messed up and jumping in to help “fix” it.

Guilt is a highly addictive, nasty, destructive habit that is bad for your mental health. Giving up is hard, but not giving up is worse. Take a hint from Tay Tay** and Shake It Off, Shake It Off.

* He’s working on that

** I wonder how different my high school years might have been if Ms Swift rather than Mr Farnham was the soundtrack!