How can I go from feeling on top of the world to feeling like crying just because someone yells at someone else? This emotional roller coaster is what makes me crazy--not just literally, but it makes me feel even worse than I do in the first place. I don't know if that makes any sense. But there's a hummingbird that just flew through the garden and that made me feel a little better.
So here's the story:
I was delivering menus for The Garden to all the vet and pet shops I've seen around town. Keep in mind I do not actually work for the garden, I just like the guys and the place and want to help them stay open for at least as long as I live here. Primarily, everyone was very nice & receptive. Sure, they weren't all crazy about having more paper clutter around their space, but they were excited about the idea that there is a place in town that is truly pet friendly--a place where they can bring their little friend in and drink their drink while petting their puppy.
And then there was the guy at the fanciest store, the one on University down the street from Mo's, and they sell such expensive outfits and furniture for dogs and cats that for sure their customers would want their dolled up dogs with them at all times possible. So I told the nice girl who works at the cash register about this amazing little Garden and then asked her if I could leave some menus with her. She said, "I'll have to go back and ask the manager." So I gave her a few.
Then, from the back and in the snootiest pinched voice ever, I heard him practically yelling at the poor child, "Absolutely NOT! I HATE FLYERS! They're obnoxious and disgusting and I don't want to see them around here...." and he went on.
Then she came out and said very kindly that "they wouldn't be able to put them out, but if any customers asked about it, she could give them one and let them know."
"I have a feeling you'll have to be the one who mentions it," and made an I'm sorry face, "But thanks." And left feeling completely deflated.
Which is silly. I didn't get yelled at. I did not do anything personally wrong. The guy might have just been having a bad day as my newest and most diplomatic friend said. And once again, I was not at fault in any way shape or form. But still I felt like crying.
And that is another part of this disease. Taking things too personally and emotionally over-reacting to them. I need to learn how to control that by thinking through the above paragraph quickly and just keep on rolling, instead of being knocked out for the count--or at least one round. I really can't make boxing metaphors. So, that is why I am unemployed--I mean, on disability--because if that happened to me in a work environment I would not exactly be getting rave reviews. And if it happened to me in a high school--which it would; those kids are like a pack of wolves; they sense weakness and attack it, together--I would probably have to quit or be driven out in an ambulance after having a nervous breakdown in front of the class. (I've heard that this actually happened to a kindergarten teacher once.)
OK. I feel a little better now that I've written about it and also had some yummy herbal tea and swung in the swing and listened to the water fall in the fountain at The Garden--healer of many a wounded soul.