Have you ever had one of those days when, from the get-go, it goes down-hill? I went to work on friday and just got off to a bad start. Let's just say that one of my co-workers needed an attitude adjustment. And instead of letting his 'tude just "walk on by", I let it stomp on my head. I got sucked into it... and became "attitudy" myself. The 8 hour day then became a marathon of events: lots of negative grumblings, eye rolls and stink eyes. And then, what's worse... I complained and talked behind his back to another co-worker.
I know. I know. 5th grade? No... 3rd grade.
But that's what happened.
The good thing was that the co-worker I complained to... didn't get sucked up into the attitude. She stayed on top of it. She was kind. She didn't join in on the bashing. But she didn't make me feel like a complete moron either. And that's when, in the light of her kindness, the attitude in me was brought to the light, and then it was burnt up.
And then, I felt cruddy about it. I had failed. Darnit.
After work I was happy to come home and see my parents, my boys and my husband. They were working on building the deck. Well... the boys were playing in the dirt. Around dinner time, Braveheart started to have a breakdown. He kept nagging at my parents to pick him up. Tenderheart joined in on the chaos. It escalated. And, at the wrong time... with the wrong words... I told my parents to "not pick him up". And then I went on about other things not to do. When it's just my husband and I... I can say those things to him... and he to me... because we have learned that we aren't trying to blame the other... we are trying to learn from the situation. But it took a year to get to that point. In the beginning... it felt like blame... but now... through many such situations... we have learned "how" to say it to eachother.
But on friday night... all my learning and "know-how" went out the window. I said it in the wrong way... at the wrong time... to the wrong people. And I made my mother cry.
I know. I know. I know. Failure #2.
It get's better right? Nope.
So, 9:00pm rolls around... the night was still young... and romance was still a possibility. And I swear I must have had a negative/junky/cruddyness magnet stuck to me foreheard... for the night ended with our backs turned to one another and a bunch of insults. Failure #3.
I woke up the next morning... early early ... and went to work at the coffee shop again. And there was a pit in my stomache all day. I wanted to go back home. Make things right. Say, "I'm sorry". Hug my Mom again. Smile at that co-worker that had so ticked me off. And what transpired that day was a healthy dose of humility. And I felt like the air had came back into my lungs. And that magnet I had on must have fell off.
You know... it's good sometimes to fail. To really screw it up. For when you feel like you are on top... you are very alone. But, in that moment of turning... when you realize you aren't so hot... you feel thankful for the grand company of people, no, angels... that you have in your lives.