This afternoon, straightening up at home before going to pick up my son from school, I caught a glance of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was still dressed in my "work" duds, my red corduroy pants and braided belt and patterned paisley shirt (FANCY, I know. You should see me on NON-work days. I'm a snappy dresser.) A little pang went through me--work!--and then I relaxed: done for the day. Whew. Nothing but domestic tasks ahead of me: comfortable, easy stuff.
Yes, I know. I'm still new; work is necessarily uncomfortable, full of long well-meaning silences at the lunch table as I desperately try to make conversation with someone I don't know. Everyone is trying to be friendly, which is nice, but I don't know the lingo or the in-jokes. This is normal, this feeling of not-fitting-in and inadequacy.
BUT. Moments of relief like I felt earlier today, realizing I was DONE, make me wonder about my general fitness for work. Days like today I feel like I'm best suited for the quiet life of home, of cooking meals and overseeing homework and doing laundry and reading: a place where I don't have to project or posture, I can just be me (and slightly withdrawn).
And then I'm totally appalled, and tell myself to get a frigging grip, already.
And THEN I pick up kid one and he yells, "Why didn't you bring the car? I wanted you to pick me up in the CAR! [tears]"
And then work, and projecting, and posturing, don't look half bad. GAWD.