#Reverb11.
Believe it or not, I do remember it.
But since it is far too late to spit out a hash of hastily put together catch-up posts; I will instead use this post to talk vaguely about the last two weeks and, if I can, I will lace this entry with lashings of Reverb, hand it to you on a pretty china plate and hope that it passes muster.
Imagine, if you will, that you are at work and you are happy. It is the elusive, golden-hued kind of joy that comes from genuinely loving what it is you are doing. The challenges that crop up like some many flat-headed toadstools do nothing to faze you; you tread on them and move on or pluck them up and tuck them into your bag to use and dissect at a later date. There are days where you are so giddy with contentment that you find yourself sitting at your desk giggling persistently at something that otherwise might not elicit the same kind of mirth. So there is your laughter (#Reverb11 Day 6).
Now imagine that your work, your job and everything you have achieved for more than half of the year is being called into question. Not in any negative way, you see, but through procedure. Procedure which dictates that you must apply for your own job along with countless others to keep it. Think of the days spent scouring the application for errors; crafting and re-crafting sentences; leafing through the vast folds of your memory to locate an example that would better illustrate your worth.
You hit the send button and spend days thinking about every single thing that you should have included that you didn’t. They sit idle and mocking by the wayside while you trip over them multiple times through the day. There is still work to do. There are still deadlines to meet. You shield yourself the best you can from the ominous cloud that hangs overhead like a Sword of Damocles. You get an interview. You nail it but not enough to be told of the outcome until after a weekend spent worrying yourself into stomach cramps and headaches and 90 minutes of restless, feverish sleep.
You get a second interview. You nail that too. But it’s not enough. You don’t get it. You hear your dreams clatter unceremoniously to the ground.
Fear? You have it in spades. And with it, is its preferred concubine, Disappointment (#Reverb11 Days 9 & 13). Doubt and worry and myriad other things descend like black-winged birds. What about money? What the hell am I to do next? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why wasn’t I told that I wasn’t good enough before now? What will I tell my parents? What will I tell everyone? How can I leave my friends here? It’s two weeks until Christmas.
And then the fears, they morph into something huge and encompassing and utterly out of control: will I ever lose enough weight? Will Mister still love me? Will I be able to actually do anything I want to do?
So you cry. And then you cry a little more. The ugly cry with open mouth and shining red eyes. Or the shaky, silent cry with misted glasses and clenched fists. You cry at the office and feel like the most colossal of idiots and you try not to cry on the tube and in the station and on the train home but on the walk to the house from the station, you cry some more and people stare and you give them the finger because there is nothing else left to do.
And then you get angry; really really angry and you vow to raze the place to the ground and you want to introduce your fist to a few faces. You rave and you punch pillows and you hang up on your parents when they try to be the voice of reason. You plot intricate and damning revenge and it makes you feel better for a fraction of a second. But not really. Not really.
But then you start to listen to the sage advice of your loved ones. Their words are like a balm to the raw, bloody, pulpy wound that is your self esteem. They encourage you and they take your mind off things and they make you laugh and you’re so thankful that you can’t even form the words to adequately thank them. They fizz up inside you but burst and disappear like bubbles when you try to voice them. So there you have your gratitude (#Reverb11 Day 14)
You start to list the things that you won’t miss; that you didn’t love about this whole process: the stress and tension headaches so tight that it felt like my brain might leak from ears and drip onto my shoes; nights spent wide awake, twisting the duvet between bitten nails, staring blankly at the ceiling and listing each and every way you are inadequate and doomed to fail. You think about the commute and reason that it might be nice to travel to work without worrying that the groggy lady three seats away might erupt in a fountain of puke. Your days of fare dodging are over. Your list lengthens and suddenly you have 12 things (#Reverb11 Day 12).
So you climb back on the horse and within days, you have lined up some interviews. Your self-esteem is scooped from the doldrums and you re-evaluate your plan to spend the rest of your life sitting in your Snoopy Pjs, watching Friday Night Lights and constructing elaborate fantasies involving Taylor Kitsch and a whole lot of melted chocolate. You don a black skirt and pretty blue sweater and ruffle your curls and as you step out with your team to enjoy the Christmas Party and waves of “we will miss you so much” wash over you; you pause and think; maybe I am a bit awesome. Failing that, you know you’re hot (#Reverb11 Day 10).
Forgiveness? Working on it. Eking it out of the furthest corners of your hardened heart and doling it out preciously but still with a narrowed eye (#Reverb11 Day 7). There are still moments when hurling your computer at someone’s head seems like the best course of action and when you feel like open your mouth and unleashing a tongue lashing the likes of which these people have never before witnessed might make you happy, but you hold your shit together and you hold your head up high and come tomorrow, you diddy bop your awesome ass on out of there and right into your future.
So there’s that.