Let’s stir things up this Wednesday morning. I’m in a good mood; beautiful day, easy commute, and the alcoholic in me wants to rub my happy disposition in the face of the woman who sits on the other side of my cube wall, the one who spends her day bitching about everything. The more she rattles on about hating her job, the more I feel the need to tap my foot in time with the happy tune I’m hearing in my headphones. I know she hates me. Let’s make sure she hates me real good. Big smiles.
Step 2: came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
I don’t want to walk a mile in her moccasins. She’s misery incarnate. But instead of keeping my distance, I make sure I show a spring in my step when passing by. Totally inappropriate to be sure, but I’ve listened to months and months of her complaining: about the terrible beautician that ruin her hair, about the parking garage repairs that forces her to park and walk an extra twenty feet, about her ex-husband (the asshole), about her current boyfriend (the asshole), about the thirty pounds that go away and come back again. She’s actively looking and interviewing for other employment, and I’ll bake brownies on the day she leaves.
Normally she’s here by now, yapping about something being stupid. If she’s running late, then it’s going to be a bonus day, filled with vitriol from the get-go. But time keeps passing without her arrival. I find that my alcoholism needs her, misses her, wants that tangible example of horribleness nearby, just off-camera, filling me up with superiority (when I’m in a good mood) or hate (when I’m not).
In either case, I’m giving away my serenity for extreme feelings; I’m becoming emotionally dependent and twisted, and she’s not even here today. How’s that for a lesson I didn’t know I was learning?
Today: Recognize when I’m wasting a ton of time on someone other than myself.
FYI: “Let There Be Peace on Earth” is the name of the song whose lyrics “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me,” I quoted yesterday, but was unsure of the title. Sometimes I forget I have internet access.