dealing

I thought it had been longer since I last wrote here. I feel like I’ve sat down a hundred times and started to type. But I see it’s been less than a week. Funny.

I’ve been feeling very overwhelmed in my professional life lately. And rather underwhelmed in my personal life. I’ve been processing so much. I’ve had so much to say. But I come home at night and discover that I just can’t deal with it. That I’d rather just tune out for a while. Shoving my problems under the proverbial rug.

I had a little mini heart to heart with a good friend on Friday. We’d both had one of those weeks. She said some stuff that hit home. Nothing I hadn’t told myself already, but hearing it from someone else always feels different.

I’m not happy. I won’t go so far as to say that I am unhappy. But there are definitely things about my life that are not what I want them to be. But there are things that are simply beyond my control. And truthfully, even if they were in my control, I don’t entirely know what I would change.

PF and I have hit a rough patch. Or what feels like a rough patch to me. I’m so out of practice at relationships that I don’t quite know how to deal with it. I can’t remember the last time I had an issue with someone and truly worked through it. Clearly LH and I weren’t good at that. Aaron and I tended to scratch the surface a little and then just ignore things. Or, I would talk and he would ignore.

I feel helpless and I feel lost. I want to fix things but don’t know how. I don’t know which part is the part that needs fixing. I know that I love him. Academically I know that relationships take work and that life has its own system of cycles. I’m officially throwing my hands up on this one. Trusting and hoping like hell that things will sort themselves out.

But it has me feeling much more lost than I’d like to admit.

So.

The only thing I know to do is to take charge of what I can. To do the things that make me happy. Because at the end of the day I am the only one responsible for my happiness.

I miss singing. So I bit the bullet and sent an email that I was asked to send 10 months ago. Requesting an audition for a chorus conducted by a friend and colleague. It’s much smaller than the group I used to sing with and it’s composed primarily of current or former professional musicians and music educators. That’s much more my speed. So we’ll see how that goes.

I cleaned my apartment. Really cleaned. There was bleach involved. And I cleaned out my closet. I have a huge bag of stuff to take to Goodwill. I reorganized what was left. I couldn’t help but snicker a little as all of my black tie gowns and cocktail dresses wound up hanging next to all of my latex and other fetish wear.

I went online and signed up for a CSA (community supported agriculture) service. Yes PF, you may tease me and call me Californian. I’ll remind you that I’ve been shipping pecans from my hometown ever since leaving there. The CSA box is to serve two purposes. I’m trying to get serious about getting healthy again and part of that is introducing more produce. I could start hitting up the many farmer’s markets but I’m hoping having a box delivered to me will force me out of my culinary rut. And as a chef, I’m looking forward to the challenge of getting outside my box a little as well as increasing awareness of seasonal ingredients.

As for work, I’m just clicking along there. I’m past some big deadlines so I feel breathing room again. My new direct report is coming along exactly as I’d hoped. Better even. It occurred to me that there was the transitional period between my predecessor leaving and a replacement being hired that I did both jobs for 4 and a half months. Then I hired someone who never really caught on and I was still carrying some of that workload. Then her disciplinary action started. And now, finally, after 23 months of carrying all or part of that workload on top of my own, I’m finally seeing the light of having it all handed off to someone else. Which means doing only my own job. Now, my own job is still enough that it could be split into two full-time positions, but still. The load is finally finally lifting.

I could wax on about how life is what we make it and how many things in my life are really something to be proud of, but I’m not there. Not now. Not yet. Where I am is that I’m only one person. And there’s only so much I can do. So I’m going to do the things that make me happy and I’m going to do the best that I can and I’m going to focus on the things that make sense.

And the rest, will either work out or it won’t.

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blood from a turnip

This is the kind of post that usually comes just before bed on a Sunday evening. When the moon and the stars are out. When the lights of the city twinkle in the distance. Instead the sun shines brightly in the sky. Well on its descent for the evening, but still dominating. The temperature dropped about 15 degrees from yesterday. There was fog this morning. A welcome relief from yesterday’s oppressive heat.

My day has been quiet. I woke up around 9, read for a while, and then had a nap. Something that has become my new weekend routine. Breakfast of peanut butter toast and orange juice over ice was consumed during the lunchtime hour. I’ve mopped and vacuumed floors. I cut a watermelon and baked brownies. There’s a pot of beans on the stove. Later I’ll make cornbread.

I drafted two fantasy football teams this weekend. I spent considerable time doing that. Poking and prodding and double checking bye weeks and match-ups. I watched a football movie today. Its good to be back to that season. LH would say it smells like football.

I’ve been without my phone this weekend. Mine died a horrible death on Thursday. I tracked my shipment and my replacement should be in my hot little hands sometime tomorrow. The truth is, not having my phone hasn’t really made my weekend any quieter. I had no plans. Was expected by no one. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

The only obligation I had all weekend was yesterday evening. Just a quick jaunt up to the theater. An hour’s worth of work. Well, really 5 minutes worth of actual work, it just consumes an hour or so. Normally, I’d carry my phone with me and distract myself during the lag time. Texting, facebook, brick breaker. Instead I took my journal. I sat at an outdoor table, opened to a blank page and just began writing.

Often when I write in my pen and paper journal it’s very free form. Stream of consciousness. I just start writing and see what comes out. I don’t worry about incomplete thoughts or abrupt subject changes. Yesterday, all I could write about was work. And how burnt out I am.

My work is hard on any given day. But in this economy, it’s even harder. And I’m sick to death of that phrase, “in this economy”. But fund-raising for the arts, in this economy, is like trying to get blood from a turnip. Normally when I go to my theater I am recharged. No matter how down or grumpy or frustrated I may be. I go there and I see the space and I see the audiences and the artists and I’m reminded why I do what I do.

That didn’t happen last night. I looked at all these people, on their way into the show, and I thought, “surely, if this many people will still by a ticket, then some of them must be willing to make donations as well.” I should have been inspired by that. By that resiliency. By that dedication. But I just wasn’t.

I’ve been busting my ass all year. Targeting appeals. Streamlining the process. Well thought out strategies and constituency maps to ensure everyone receives an ask that is meaningful based on their ticket buying or donation history. Making sure that asks are spaced out and noone is inundated.

And the truth is, my response rates are good. In some cases, higher than they’ve been. But the bottom line has taken a huge dip. We’re getting more gifts. We’re just getting smaller gifts. And my boss keeps looking at me, wanting answers. And I just don’t have any. I’ve racked my brain. I’ve pulled out stops. I’ve turned over lead bases to the telefunding department earlier than we’ve ever done. Attempting to draw in donors that wouldn’t typically give until the end of the year. Wanting their donations early.

I’m frustrated. I’m at the end of my rope. But I’m in a leadership position. And there’s only so much doubt and worry I can exhibit. If the numbers are down, there have to be cuts. From somewhere. But I work for an organization that is already running so lean. We’ve already made our proactive cuts. That leanness has been made clear by recent firings that have coincided with planned vacations. There are empty desks every where you look. There are things that simply aren’t getting done, because there is no one to do them.

I don’t worry so much about my own job. Perhaps I should, if things get that bad. But I know that I have support and respect from board members and senior management. And too much of my department’s daily workings rest on my shoulders. I’m too close to the budget. I would see it coming.

What I don’t see coming, is relief. From this pace. From this pressure. Instead, I see it only getting worse. I’m swinging into what is supposed to be my busy season. But I’m already exhausted. I don’t know how to close the gap. I’m looking at a pile of turnips without the faintest clue of what to do.

And I don’t know where to turn for guidance.

through the haze of exhaustion

I should be doing other things right now. I should be dusting off my resume and writing out my CV. I should be finishing up notes for the interviews I’m conducting tomorrow. I’m overdue on book and toy reviews at my other site. My laundry still needs to be put away and there’s one full load of dishes still waiting on me. PF gave me pretty strict orders to go to bed early tonight because I’ve been burning at both ends for the last three weeks.

And yet here I am. Because I’ve missed this place. Because I’ve got so much to say. I’ve had a million thoughts floating around in my head I’ve just been too exhausted of late to write about any of it. The last three weeks have been insane. I fired someone. I broke up with Aaron (or mostly, he won’t engage in the actual conversation, but I’ve moved on). I’ve cut off all the casual, random hook-up centric relationships in my life. Chuck spent several days in the shop getting a major repair. I started the vetting process of joining a board of directors. And I’ve been laying some serious groundwork at my actual job. Positioning myself for a next step even as I hunker down for the long haul at that same place. I’ve been playing the game and putting in the face time and simplifying where I can. And this is me just swinging into my busy season. See why I’m tired?

Not to say that all of a sudden today I’m perky and so I decided it was time to start getting caught up. On the contrary. I’m still exhausted. Yesterday I slept for all but 8 hours of the day and still had to drag myself kicking and screaming out of bed at 8:45 this morning. I had one of those days where I did a lot but didn’t get a lot done. My truck was loaded and then unloaded only to rinse and repeat. More mileage was added to my expense report. A report that is already up over $100 in two weeks time. That’s a lot for me.

So why am I here tonight? I’m not exactly sure. Except that something feels different. My energy is different. Maybe it’s because I’ve started to see the fruits of my labor. Maybe it’s just because I’m finally on the back end of life-transition-funk. Or maybe it’s that I spent time this weekend with strong women who embrace me for who I am and inspire me to keep reaching for what I want. Women who reminded me why I shouldn’t settle and affirmed that I deserve only the best.

And maybe it’s because I’m basking in having a partner. Romantic and otherwise. Not just a boyfriend, but someone who wants to be a real part of my life and my future. Who nudges me firmly when I’m caught selling myself short. Who makes me feel beautiful and smart. Who makes me feel scared and vulnerable and safe all at the same time.  Someone who makes me feel wanted. It’s been so long since that happened I can’t even remember that it ever did.

There’s more to come about all of this. But for the moment, this was enough. I have interview questions to finish and a date with my pillow.

and then the phone rang

Today was a little intense at work. A pre-meeting meeting to prep for some exploratory conversation. And then the exploratory conversation itself. Which went really well, but went long, and only served to further illuminate just how big of a chunk I’ve bitten off.

And speaking of biting, this little back to back session happened during lunch. But did not actually involve any lunch. I think meetings during lunch hours should involve food, even if its a working lunch. By the time we were done my energy was drained and my stomach was growling.

I assembled my salad, grabbed a container of watermelon from the fridge and settled into my desk fully intending to spend some quality time with D-Listed and Texts From Last Night. But then my phone rang. And I was needed. But I was told I could bring lunch.

So back upstairs I went. To a mostly empty office. To work out some project details with a colleague who is also a good friend. And she was clearly having a rough day. So we started talking. And I lamely ate my salad while she poured her heart out to me. And then I counseled, because that’s what I do. And then I shared some things. And we talked about our future career paths, something she and I have always done. We once planned on going to grad school together.

She and I are both at tipping points. Or it feels that way. Only we’re each a little unsure of which way to go. Struggling to either figure out the next step or to find peace where we’re at. We missed a birthday celebration. But it was important for us to talk that way. An hour and a half after I walked into her office, I returned to my desk.

I picked up my now room temperature watermelon and just sat at my desk, trying to decompress. And then my phone rang. Only this time it wasn’t the extension at my desk. It was my cell phone. And it was Aaron. I’d kicked off my heels but didn’t care. I picked up my watermelon and went skittering out to the parking lot. Stepping quickly over the hot pavement. Finding a spot in the shade under a tree.

Our last calls have all been so brief we’ve hardly said hello before we’ve had to go. They’ve been squeezed into illicit moments. He’s sounded stressed. I’ve felt disconnected. Today was different. He was relaxed and happy. A mutual friend of ours is in town and he’d just returned from that meet up. We had the first meaningful conversation in weeks.

Which of course, me being me, got me a little misty eyed. And in a lull in the conversation it just burst out.

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“Aww, bugaboo. I miss you too. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ve  just been feeling so detached from you and missing you and just…”

“I know baby. It’s on me. I don’t call you enough.”

It was wonderful to hear from him. It was so wonderful to hear his voice. But not just his voice. There was something else there. A spark that’s been missing between us. I was afraid that spark had been lost in all the shuffle. It’s very reassuring to know it’s still there.