A Ramblin Man @mauicrb - Tumblr Blog

The Devil You Know...

Every day, in my job, I put myself out there. I have to. I show people glimpses of my core values, I show them glimpses of my soul...I show them. I show them who I am to varying degrees at varying times. I’m vulnerable with them.

When things happen, like getting told by your boss that everyone hates working with you, that you are unprofessional, that you’ve made so many mistakes, that you are a coward and that you are letting outside forces impact your performance...it stings. No stings isn’t the right word. It cuts deep. It hurts badly. I was vulnerable, then I got attacked and now I don’t want to be vulnerable.

I can feel myself withdrawing into myself. Building up the walls that I worked so hard to tear down. I can feel myself shrinking. I slouch, I put my hands in my pocket, I stay near walls, I don’t smile. The most telling sign is in my eyes, they are of course the windows to the soul. I have sad eyes. Even I notice.

I know I shouldn’t do this. I should stay strong. I should reach out to the very people who I manage and love and tell them what happened. I don’t though.

Why?

I guess because it’d be the very thing I’m being accused of, unprofessional. I’m supposed to be the support system for them. Not the other way around. I’m supposed to be the beacon of hope and light for them in this hopeless, almost Siberian, workplace. I’m not supposed to lean on my people in tough times...not in a work environment.

So I’ve bottled it. Not knowing which devil is better, I’ve bottled it. It’ll stay inside me and eat me up. It’ll make me sad. It’ll upset me. It’ll make me cry. It’ll make me feel unwanted, unloved, different and that I’m somehow a bad person. It’ll make me feel like I’m terrible at my job and that it was a mistake to promote me. I’ll feel like I’m worthless. I’ll feel defeated.

-CRB

Stories

One of the last things my grandpa ever said to me was “write.” When I replied that I couldn’t he only said “try harder.”

I still haven’t honored his last wishes.

Writing takes me to an emotional plane that I don’t want to explore. I mean I’ve had some shit happen in my life, I mean real shit. I put on a facade that everything is fine, friends and family excluded, but writing is so much more personal. There’s no hiding from self.

So now when people ask why don’t you write anymore? I only reply with “I can’t.”

Think less of me if you will, it’s ok. I know, I think I know, that I’ll conquer this mountain in time. Baby steps.

Do you ever feel like you don’t belong? Where every interaction with someone is magnified and thought of as a slight to your own personal being? Do you ever feel like a complete outsider, and no matter how hard you try to interact with people you just can’t?

I felt like that today. I haven’t felt that way in a long time. It upset me if I’m being honest. I like my alone time for the most part but I also feed off the energy of others. It’s weird I know. I don’t get it either. It’s just...when I have these days I feel so alone. So disconnected from everyone and everything. It’s like nothing can reach me. It’s a barrier of sadness. I can physically see it. It’s in my eyes, of course, they are the windows to the soul.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I just thought I’d share. I’ll probably bounce back in a few days. I’ll be damned though, this whole thing caught me by surprise.

I wish preconceptions didn’t exist in today’s world. I know, I know it’s naive. Sue me. I bring it up because of what happened to me yesterday.

It was a friendly conversation, no harm meant, no slight intended but I was told that I should drive a nicer car because I’m a manager and if I roll up to a job interview in a jalopy it might look bad.

I’m leaving a lot out, but this is the part that actually stuck with me. Do people still think that way? I mean if you see me on the freeway driving in my crappy car do you really look down on me? Like oh he’s probably poor, or has a shitty job, or is from the ghetto...or whatever other outrageous ideas that might be floating around in my head currently. Does that actually happen? I mean of course it does, but do you have any idea how ridiculous that is? I think I’m a nice guy, I have a good job and I’m from freaking Saratoga. Why does what I drive matter? Why is that even a thing that is perceived? I don’t get it. I mean I do because I’m guilty of it too but geezus I need to stop that. We all do. Like as people we really need to stop judging things. I’m in danger of getting preachy so I’m going to stop but for the zero people that read this think about it.

*I put a picture of the mystery machine because a) I’m cheesy and b) you don’t know what’s inside...that made me laugh since it kind of has to do with what I just wrote about cars.

I want to write something funny because this post was heavy. I want to write about San Francisco or Baseball, but I don’t think I’m going to do that yet. This is the most I’ve written in a long time and I’m kind of proud of myself. I’m sorry my dry sense of humor wasn’t as prevalent as it usually is I just wrote this to kickstart myself out of the down mood I was feeling. Thanks for listening audience of zero, I actually do feel better. (Not sarcasm)

-CRB

no it feels weird all the time

why is this literally my go to?

A Ramblin Man turned 4 today!

#tumblr birthday #tumblr milestone

fuckyeahstrikeback

uneventfulness

my blog will make you smile

argumate

Wingardium Leviosa Potter, you were named so that every time a teacher yells at you they’re going to make stuff fly around the room. Your mother wanted to call you Fred, but I thought this would be more true to his memory.