tHe haPPy grOUch

tHe haPPy grOUch

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

I opened this browser yesterday morning. I’ve opened it several times yesterday and today. I’ve started typing, and then stopped.
I am full of "stuff" that I want to get rid of, yet I can’t put it all in print. These are the times I should probably be paying for a therapist.

I am currently sorting through a long list of frustrations. Little ones, big ones. Minor stuff, debilitating stuff. Just like everyone else in the world; we all have our struggles. There are lessons in the struggles, though. We just have to see them. I am trying to see them.

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” ...

I am particularly upset about the fact that the once very important adult in my son's life has suddenly lost enthusiasm for maintaining their relationship. Interest in basketball games, ideas about going to the gym, the university rec center… phone conversations, Facebook messages, etc, etc... It seemed so sincere... And I supported it...  I shouldn't be surprised, based on history. I can only assume it was all part of the agenda. Actually, I don’t have to assume, at all.
Fortunately, my son hasn't yet noticed the abrupt withdrawal. I am brainstorming explanations for when he finally asks- why haven't I/we heard anything? But when he does notice (and he will), when he finally realizes it, when I see the disappointment and sadness in his face... Well, I don't know what I'll do. I am furious enough as it is. Sad, disappointed, furious. I should be used to these feelings when it comes to this one.

Anyway...

I recently got the “step-up day” information for the area high schools (we are a choice of high school town). I think I may have cried a little while I was reading it. It doesn’t seem possible that he will be entering high school later this year... But, but, but.. He is my BABY!  It just CAN’T BE!
Sigh. Seriously, it kind of breaks my heart. Not even kind of.

My oldest baby is still always on my mind as well. As I mentioned before, it’s no easier when they leave the nest. In fact, it’s harder.

Work is a whirlwind of change, as always seems to be the case. We are handling it though, pushing through it. That place keeps me busy. It also keeps me on my toes.
Managing the bar is a constant challenge, a source of stress and frustration... And yet it is also a constant source of smiles, laughter, teamwork; a sense of fulfillment and pride.

It takes a certain breed to be able to work in this line of business; the bar business. Some days I still struggle with it. And yes, I know, that all of you know, that I don’t like people. But it’s not even that. It’s not the people; it’s the environment, the lifestyle. Like I said, it takes a certain kind of person to be able to function in this kind of business. Considering that my father died of alcoholism, it’s extremely ironic that I’m still in it.
It also takes a certain kind of person to be a partner to someone who works in this business. I always wondered how my mother dealt with my dad being in bands all those years. Or vice versa, as she was in bands as well. One or the other, or both, being away from each other, in the bars all weekend. I was in bands for years before becoming a bar tender. I’ve been a “bar employee” of one kind or another for almost 25 years. And not all of my partners have been able to deal with it. And let’s be honest, who can blame them? The person you love the most, in a workplace where they’re constantly surrounded by alcohol, drugs, a party atmosphere, and loads and loads of temptation. Let’s face it, even the most loyal partner can be tested when all of those things are combined. I should know, I’ve been there. And knowing all that I know, I could never be the partner. My trust issues run far too deep as it is.
Anyway, I ramble…

It’s now 7pm, the day after I originally started this blog. Usually it’s coffee and blogging. Now it’s milk, peanut butter cookies, and blogging.

Speaking of which, I should probably get control of these terrible eating habits. My waistline would thank me.

Be well.