This is a random musing that has nothing to do with the weight-loss theme of this blog, so please allow this one digression…
I had a tough day yesterday. Though I tried to remain distant and unaffected, at a certain point it just became too much, and I felt my face begin to burn and the tears begin to cloud my eyes. I had no choice but to leave the office before anyone else could see the emotional storm that was beginning to surge within me.
But there was no emotional storm. None while I was still in the building, at least.
Last night, however, while I tried to fall asleep, I replayed the events of the past few weeks in my mind and trying to contain the tears, the anger, the frustration, and, most importantly, the indignation, was useless.
Would you like to know what is extremely funny about this situation?
The “meanness” which upset me so terribly and to which I allude – but purposely don’t describe or define – wasn’t even directed at me.
Watching disrespect and utter lack of consideration flying around freely in that office is so emotionally and mentally draining, it is very hard to describe. Fortunately, there is nothing that holds me there, but they need me, so I am usually spared of the bullets.
Yet I do feel them when they ricochet.
I have always been very sensitive to others’ emotions. I can usually feel a person’s sadness, tension, elation before they open their mouth or demonstrate it somehow. This may be a nice characteristic to have at times, but when the atmosphere is as heavy and dark as it is in that office, I sometimes wish I could be more impervious and unaffected.
For the past few days, I have been suffering from intense headaches from 10-5. Yesterday, the headache even developed into a low feverish state. Incredibly, everything disappears almost as soon as I set my foot out of the building.
…
But returning to the subject of “meanness…”
The mean bullets are almost never aimed at me, but that doesn’t mean I am spared of everything. In fact, the one person for whom I was feeling sorry because of all the crap (please excuse my language, but I can’t think of a more suitable word to define it) she endured, decided she would turn her own gun against me.
I know it was – most likely – not intentional, yet I must say a figurative slap on the face is almost never the way to respond to a suggestion, especially when you won’t hear the explanation for it. And, I must say, assuming everything another person says is a subtle, implied attack, will do nothing for your mental, spiritual, and physical health…
I am very close to no longer feeling sorry for her and to beginning to believe she deserves it… But if I do begin to believe this, am I not being mean myself?
Well, my thoughts and observations have led me to conclude that I am, quite simply, disenchanted with society and with people. But then, I heard the tiny voice of the sociologist in me ask, “Aren’t you making a generalization? Could there be any intervening variables restricted to this particular segment of society in which you are involved at the moment?”
And then it hit me: The office and the people who work there are not the problem. I am.
I am in the wrong place. I don’t belong there. I had forgotten the purpose of my involvement in the organization in the first place: to know people from all walks of life, from all strata of society.
…
Ugh, but I have digressed yet again.
Unfortunately, however, I see examples of mean acts literally everywhere I go recently. I don’t know what is happening to the world, but I really wish I could fix it.
