P.M.A and Work Self-Love

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Do you ever sit there and suck up all the negative energy in the room? Every so often, sat at my desk at work, I realise I’m scowling for no good reason.

I’m a sponge. When people are happy, I feel happy to. When they’re crying, I can feel my own tears welling up in support. It’s nice to be in tune with people but not when you’re magnetically pulling other people’s anger and despondency toward you. Not when you have your own issues to work through, man!  I know I’m not the only one who feels this way btw.

When a day like this is happening, and I want to avoid making my face wrinkles any worse by frowning all day, I do one, some or all of the following:

  • Type up a five-minute blog post like this one
  • Eat something cheerful, like pink marshmallows or strawberry laces
  • Go onto ASOS.com quickly and buy something small to be delivered the next day. This is why I’m poor FYI
  • Eat cake
  • Look at pictures of Panda’s cat, Pudding who is my new one true love
  • Ditto photos of Bertha Mason, sweet princess baby of my Blog Wife
  • Listen to podcasts – usually film or true crime (I recently got onto untoldmurder.com and really need to get round to badfatbroads.com, which is neither film or crime themed)
  • Go for a walk and talk to colleagues under the guise of ‘working’ for ten minutes (more often 48)
  • Think about my new tattoos and future tattoos
  • Talk about the Kardashian/Jenners – I know this is lots of people’s idea of hell but their lives are pure escapism to me and I kind of love them (I know Camelia Ophelia shares this)
  • Make a 77th cup of tea
  • Water Kieran II
  • Watch this YouTube clip – or this one
  • Take a quick selfie in the loo (Snapchat filter optional)
PicMonkey Collage
Cake ~ Kieran II (the plant) ~ Puddin’ ~ Prison Tatt

I’m a big believer in PMA. I know people have bad days and miserable ones, I do too but generally I try not to let inertia creep in too much. Self-care is a very important topic for me and there are many more things I love to do to administer that. These are just the ‘work friendly’ ones I can conceivably get away with at my desk or around the workplace.

I’m not sure how ‘Dance around naked to Aerosmith’ would go down in our open plan office, truth be told.

BTW, I know this post is very ambiguous and it’s not like the cause of the office grump will ever read my blog. But I need to get it out every now and again, you know?

Out of interest, what do you do when the work blues kick in? ❤

And yes, I know we’ve got bigger problems in the world than a slightly bad day at work.

Worry Woman

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I worry I don’t have this hair

My main act of #radicalselflove this week is to stop worrying so much.

I don’t know when I started being such a fretter but it seems overnight I caught the worry worts and now I lie awake at night remembering things I had aimed to do that day, but didn’t get around to or emails I wanted to send.

Go to sleep woman!

I worry about where I am in life at the age of 37, that I’m not earning very much. I worry that I’m not creatively fulfilled. I worry that everyone hates me and that I’ll be sacked tomorrow.

I won’t be able to get another job either, natch and my husband will leave me. I worry because I can’t seem to muster the energy to be healthier. I worry that I’m old before my time.

It goes on and on. It’s not good, is it?

So, I’m taking time out from tying myself up in knots. I know how lucky I am, to have a home, a loving relationship and the most awesome family.

I have a job and I know I’m good at it, even if I’m not doing exactly what I want to be within it. If I do decide to move on, then this is the only area that really needs to change, it can’t be that difficult. I’m a moderately intelligent human. I have a nice smile.

And I live in a world where Patricia Arquette has an Oscar and topped off her win with a kick ass feminist speech that made Meryl Streep fist pump (it’s more of an impassioned finger point). It’s a good time to be alive.

I think they call this period the Blues, usually it stays in January but with climate control and the polar ice caps, it drags on even longer these days.

Relax, I might sound incredibly negative in this post but there are lots of exciting blog things coming up and I love lots of things about my life. I know this is just a week of illness and PMS talking. I feel better sharing it with all of you already, you lucky, lucky people!

How’s your Monday been?

Image via Google.

Blues, Blacks & Purples

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Even pink poodles get the Blues

I found myself sobbing into our open fridge last night, whilst searching for cheese. Full of a sadness that is very hard to define.

It’s nothing new though, this phenomena. I mean, don’t we get all get introspective at this time of year? And The January Blues are a scientifically proven thing, aren’t they? An actual bonafide condition.

The reason for my tears seemed clear at first: it’s been a bitch of a week. I spend way too much time caring about my job. Conjuring up problems that just aren’t there; pretending the issues that actually are there, aren’t. Much, I’m sure, like every other employed person on this planet.

But I’m a lowly Marketing Assistant, not the CEO of a vast company, Editor-in-Chief of Vogue or a brain doctor. I organise things, write copy and give presentations; what is there really to stress about?

I think I can safely say that sometimes the littlest things trigger a very bad attack of The Doubts. Feeling inadequate because things aren’t going perfectly is one thing but given the right environment it can mutate.

Suddenly you find yourself cocooned in your robe on the sofa, losing your shit to Don’t Tell The Bride, lamenting how terrible your life is because you’re no longer 27 and what the fucking fuck are you even supposed to be doing with your life anyway?

My dreadful imagination has me homeless on the streets, never to be employed again. It has me penniless and alone because I never get over the horror of losing the job I don’t even know has the future I hoped for anyway. I curse myself for not being better, for not having a talent.

For being a bad person. A bad partner. A terrible sister, daughter and friend. I turn myself inside out, pulling at the stuffing until there’s nothing left. I don’t deserve anything, will never amount to anything.

I might as well leave this crazy city with nothing but the clothes on my back, like Julia in Sleeping With The Enemy on a Greyhound bus. See if I can’t start a new life somewhere quaint. Rebrand myself with a new name, maybe get a little job in a book shop.

Better this course of action than just going to bed, getting a good night’s sleep and getting the fuck over myself.

I blame January for all of this. For being miserable and underwhelming and poor. January angers me because it always comes in to the sound of trumpets and fireworks.

It’s not all that. It’s just another month but 86 days long.

I’m over it. The Blues won’t win this one. But if I want to mope and cry and eat cheese for the remainder of the month, then… so be it.

How you doin’? #january