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The Bull In The China Shop

So I’ve been feeling a bit like a bull in a china shop in my own life recently– in a general sense, and also particularly in certain social and work situations.

For starters, my second job, the fine dining “insurance job,” is in a restaurant where the actual bar has about four square feet of working space, no running water at the outside bar, and cement floors. For a dropsy, loud, occasionally profane person such as myself– and also for anyone accustomed to a loud, spacious, fast-paced bar with no “decorum” standards–this is an awkward combination. I like the money and the staff, but I feel like I don’t belong, and it’s an uphill battle to convince myself to go every shift.

Also, as usual, my personal life is a clusterfuck of bad timing, awkwardness and self-doubt, which I think is exacerbated by the fact that the peaceful self-acceptance and motivation that I found in Vieques ran away with a quickness as soon as the stresses of hometown life, family and work flooded back into my life.

I’ve had a couple of really self-centered down days this week– days when I knew I was wallowing in pointless and imagined hurts, and making it everyone else’s problem. A friend called me out on that tonight, and I’m grateful for it.

I don’t feel any less like an awkward robot… But she brought my self-awareness back. It had been most certainly on vacation, while self-doubt and self-pity were working overtime.

So I guess I’ll end with a Jack White lyric that just sort of sums it up: “I just don’t know what to do with myself…”

And that’s okay, too.