Nov. 14: I’ve completed my Christmas shopping. Yes indeed, and about 3 weeks earlier than my goal! After my last post, I got the Christmas bug something fierce and decided to just dive in full force. I couldn’t be more excited about that, but I must admit there is a little bit of sadness. Will I miss the hustle and bustle of being out and about with all of the other shoppers listening to Christmas carols over the speakers, bundled up in heavy coats and scarves, warm cider in hand? I really am a sucker for the holidays. Certified Christmas junky. I find myself super giddy as Christmas parties start being scheduled, holiday goodies arrive fresh out of the oven (someone else’s oven might I add) and Christmas music and movies on every channel. I truly wish for at least one Christmas I lived in a place where we had 12 inches of snow on the ground and still falling and horse drawn sleighs running through the streets (does this really happen in some places?). Yep, I eat that sort of stuff up. And for the record, I get it honest from my mom. All that said I just may have to trek out for a few stocking stuffers just because. Or maybe at least some window shopping lies in my December future.
Christmas always reminds me of a maybe not so politically correct story that now takes on a bit of a new meaning for me. Several years ago, in December, I scheduled an appointment with a plastic surgeon. Background: Back when I was being treated for lymphoma and receiving daily radiation treatments, they used small tattoo marks on patients to serve as placement markers for the radiation machine. Patient lies on table, naked might I add, and above the patient is what looks like an xray machine. Shooting down from the machine are pin point red laser beams. You line that beam up with the tattoo dots on the patient to ensure the patient is always lying in the exact same spot. This protects vital organs (evidently not the boobs) from receiving the radiation dose. Anyway, while those tattoos were a tad endearing as a marker of where you have been, there were a few that were strategically placed in areas that gave me trouble- the center of my chin for example. So after years of enduring people trying to “get the pin ink” off my chin, I decided it was time to make two of the spots disappear. Insert Plastic surgeon for tattoo removal procedure. Back to the story- while I was waiting in the waiting room I noticed the clientele seems a little stereotypical. How do I word this exactly? All female, all leaning on the side of high-maintenance in appearance, all about the same age (20-40) and all shall I say well-endowed in the chest region. While I fit some of that criteria myself, I felt a little out of place. A few minutes later I’m called back to my appointment with the surgeon and somehow the topic of those waiting in the waiting room came up to which he replied “Oh yeah, those are the Christmas boobs. Happens every December.” It goes without saying that I busted out laughing. People actually got new boobs for Christmas. At that time, it seemed so foreign to me. Now, here I sit with two new boobs. Albeit for a different reason, but the irony isn’t lost on me. Actually, maybe it is for the same reason come to think of it. After the mastectomy, I wasn’t content with the concave chest appearance so I went in for some enhancement. Maybe I’m not so different after all. Vanity can sneak its ugly head into anything. Kind of wish my surgery had been scheduled for December so I could say I have “Christmas Boobs.”
I’m hoping this Christmas Spirit carries me a good bit better than the delights of fall has the last few weeks. I’m really struggling at work in this super busy project we have going on. I feel like the entire building is one big ball of emotion right now. Deadlines, unfinished tasks, completion of task, personalities, stress, confusion, achievement, success. Balancing two jobs, two locations, two sets of leadership, two sets of loyalties is always a challenge. On any given day you go in with a huge smile on your face and hour by hour the calm is peeled away like an onion being stripped layer by layer. I am blessed with a personality trait of being able to stay calm and focused in chaos, but I have to admit even I am wearing down these last few weeks. I’ve never been part of a project this intense. During the day, I just keep moving forward meeting to meeting, email to email, fire to fire all propelled by a burst of adrenaline and then when I get home where I feel it is safe I purge myself of all built up emotion. And I’m also a caretaker wanting to protect of each member of my team, but in that process I often leave care of self to last. Last night, I got home and pulled into my driveway, turned the engine off, and laid my forehead against the steering wheel where I found myself still sitting 15 minutes later sorting through the past 10 hours. The neighbors surely thought I had passed out in a drunken stupor. I might even make the neighborhood newsletter. (Something certainly to strive for no doubt.) I don’t think Boob 1 and 2 can be blamed for any of this other than maybe some reflection in my stamina, but that is at least improving with each passing week. Needless to say, I am beyond grateful that after a night of sleep I come back the next morning with the smile and calm restored, if only for a few hours. I used to love this occupational adrenaline drive. I used to be exceptionally good at chaos. Maybe Boob 1 and 2 do carry some fault in that change. Maybe. I’m fully aware that God has a purpose in this job for me. I prayed for 2 solid years before transitioning out of something very familiar and comforting into a brand new arena of change. I’m claiming that awareness, and that is what is pushing me forward through this. He must have something in store during this or at the end of this, either for myself or for someone else. I’m relying on that so I stay motivated to keep pushing through the onion layers. Remove the emotion, peel back the gunk, get to the core of the decision, weigh it all out, make the decision, spend two minutes celebrating the success, move to the next fire. That’s how I’m spending each hour of each work day. At home, I’m desperately trying to fill each moment either with relaxation or a blast of excitement. Needless to say my vacuum is feeling neglected. We as a human race sure do know how to drive ourselves into chaos. Oh to live where they have summer holiday. And employers actually smile on it. I however would advocate for seasonal quarterly holidays. Ok, maybe that’s a bit much.
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