Well, I confess, wasn’t going to the forum. I was just going for a jog.
The weather has been so nice recently. I’ve been trying to be outside as much as possible. First, I could use the vitamin D-3 (the sunshine vitamin). I get you, Timothy Green, I get you. Second, I love being outside. Third, our garden is growing wicked fast – and so are the weeds! Fourth, did I mention that I love being outside?
Sometimes, however, being outside requires me to talk to people. I have this little thing called “shyness”. Some people think it’s a disease, but Rocky doesn’t. I think we make a real sharp couple of coconuts - I'm dumb, you're shy, whaddaya think, huh? Thanks, Rocky.
I don’t like when people notice me. I don’t like attention. And I don’t like talking to strangers. I’ll do it if I have to and it always turns out OK, but, on the inside, I am freaking out. When I first moved to this zero-stoplights-small town, everyone was a stranger, but everyone knew me because I married a local. I’m kind of a big deal. Now that I’ve been here a while, I know, well, OK, I know everyone in the whole town – at least, I can recognize them by face if not by name.
So, back to my story. I was jogging through the town and a lady stopped me. Don’t worry, it wasn’t you. She was with her grand kids, I am guessing. She said someone asked her about the girl running down the road with long curly red (?!?!) hair and she didn’t know who they were talking about. Once I took off my sunglasses she recognized me. She said the sunlight made my hair look a little orange. Great. “Um, ha ha, thanks?” She was glad, almost relieved, to finally know who it was. She admitted she was going to go back to her source to let them know that “the red haired girl running down the road” was “Craig’s wife”.
I hate when people acknowledge me when I run. I am getting used to being seen at other times: church, the store, the post office, the library. But when I run during the day, I am ashamed. Yes, I feel guilty when I run during the day.
You see, I stay home and don’t work. Well, I don’t have a full-time job. When people see me during the day, I think they must be judging me. Yes, I am sure they are judging me. “How does she have all that time to run in the middle of the day?” Or, “She could be helping out at church, working for the town, babysitting kids, helping at school, cleaning houses.” Is it just in my head? Horton, is a person a person no matter if they have a job or not?
Yes, I stay home, and, yes, I do whatever I want all day long. I am still trying to be OK with it. I love it, don’t get me wrong. I love staying home. I love being a stay-at-home-wifey. I am a different person than I was when I had a job. The stress of a “normal 9-5 job” almost killed me. Don’t you want a job, Mary? Negative, Ghost-rider, the pattern is full.
I am so thankful that Craig is taking care of me. But, I still feel bad around him and other really hard-working-how-are-they-so-dedicated-to-their-jobs people. Does everyone around here have the German work ethic inherited from their Grandparents? Sit down for two seconds!
I have to remember; first, those other hard working folks have made the choice to work. It is their decision – no one is forcing them to work. Second, I have to remember that I am not saying “no” to a regular job, I am saying “yes” to getting better. And that is the most important thing I can do right now. Baby steps, baby steps. Who cares what other people think anyway, right? Ding, ding, ding! Right answer. Was that a bell, I heard? One more for the road, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”
Sorry, I’m done now. Have a nourishing weekend. Albetabet alit, that’s all folks. Sorry, I couldn't help myself.