The day started promisingly enough. Went to yoga, made a new yummy smoothie concoction, and even rescued a baby lizard from hours of entrapment between my screen door and sliding glass door, all before 9am.
Later, at work, my office mate was in a chatty, distracted mood, and since I will use any one else’s chatty and distracted mood to procrastinate on my own work (human connection vs. grumbling at my computer screen? There’s really no competition), I was not a very good worker bee today.
The problem, as it often is, is that the bitchy woman that lives in my over-active mind was up earlier than I and had clearly had her espresso. Her litany on my shortcomings started before I was really conscious enough to understand that she was ready to wreak havoc. As I pulled on clothes for yoga (Wow, get a load of those love handles!), when I forgot to bring several things with me into the yoga studio (You are a hot mess, one that can’t remember details for shit.), during class, when I couldn’t do my chaturanga properly or keep my foot firmly planted on my inner thigh in tree pose (yup, those extra pounds are making yoga hard, aren’t they, chubs?), when I had my quick breakfast plans thrawted (you should have made your smoothie last night), and so on and so on throughout the day. She was in excellent form today, and I grew more sullen and grumpy as she grew in self-importance.
I hate her. I know, I know, I should shower my inner Bitch with compassion and forgiveness, recognize that she’s so critical because she doesn’t feel loved unconditionally. But today, I’d have loved to have had a inner bitch removal surgery.
And then, I get home late and catch that Obama not only caved on tax cuts, but gave Republicans 6 different tax cuts that total $900 billion dollars in exchange for 13 months of unemployment extension. Then he went on attack — not towards the Republicans — but toward his progressive base, toward me. I feel like Obama cheated on me with the Republicans, and then told me it was totally their fault, that he had no choice and that I was being stupid to be mad at him. So I’m stewing and feeling like an idiot, because in my heart of hearts, I want him back. If he started talking all tough and renegging on his deal with the Reps, I would welcome him back with open arms. But as it is, he’ll probably let the Republicans string him along, screw him over, dump him, and he’ll come back to me and I will take him. I’ll take him back because I read his books, I know who he really is, I know he gets the issues better than any leader we’ve seen in decades. And, when it comes right down to it, I can’t say for certain that I’d have made a different choice if I were in shoes. He so wanted to deliver something tangible to struggling Americans, and felt that this was the best he could do right now. I may disagree with him, but I can understand his motives.
The interesting thing is, when I’m all up in arms about some social wrong being done, my inner bitch sits back, shuts up and enjoys the show. I imagine she gets a kick out of watching me be self-righteous and acting as though I could do better than anyone else. Her silence during these times makes me suspicious of my own capacity for judgmental thinking. I so don’t want to be her, but the grove between my shoes and hers is so well worn, it’s like default, automatic pilot, and it’s often days or never that I realize I’d given her a break, and taken on the odious job of being mean, uncompromising, and unforgiving.
I think, Ms. Inner Bitch, it high time for you to be fired.
But if my mind is anything like a public sector bureaucracy, there’s a ton of paperwork, meetings, and tasks I need to do to release you from your steady work in my brain. Guess I’d better get on that.
Next step, meditation.