I’ve been saying “I look better on paper” a lot lately.
For instance, three months ago, during a panicky moment and a bout of “WTF-am-I-thinking?” thinking, I told Kate… “Um, I’m not so sure about taking on a leadership role in the Women’s Institute.” Without an edit button, I’m lost. I’m not polished when I speak, I hesitate, I stumble, I can hardly pronounce “extemporaneously” let alone speak that way.
“Not so fast,” she said. She wisely quoted my own words. “Make your job what you want it to be.” And that was a good thing and I recovered and I learned that, yes, I can do this. As long as I set boundaries, and delegate, I will be fine.
The other day, though, I received an invitation to speak at an annual area convention, in October. This opportunity came entirely due to my social media presence on Facebook. The writer said that she enjoyed my posts. Hoo boy. Show time. Or not. I haven’t decided.
Am I flattered? Sure, a bit, but I know that finding speakers is a challenge. Am I nervous? Nah, I’m good in front of crowds. I think. Do I want to find out? I’m not sure.
I’m not so sure of anything these days because I’ve been sick. I caught a bug, one that has set any number of my friends and acquaintances on their butts. Hard.
I haven’t done much this week except keep that aforementioned butt of mine on the big red comfy couch with a cat, my tablet and a box or two of tissues. My only obligation was writing a final exam on Friday. The poor proctor. She endured an earful of snorts and sniffles, croaks and chokes.
Saturday, yesterday, was the worst. I could finally collapse, and collapse I did. No pressures, no worries, no need to make a good impression for anyone. Ask the roofing guy when he returned to retrieve his sample book.
But on paper? Oh, the sun is shining and the skies are blue and thanks so much for your birthday wishes. What’s a fever of 102? Nothing a well-placed exclamation point or emoticon can’t vanquish.
Yeah, it was my birthday yesterday.
I hesitate to press “publish” on this one. It is not my intention to diminish the kind and thoughtful gestures expressed on Facebook. Nor do I want to appear pouty and cranky and attention-seeking, on paper. Heaven forbid I should reveal that immature, squalling, and cantankerous two-year old.
But an obsessive-compulsive trait is demanding that I paint the full picture. Since it is absolutely bad form to respond directly, “Yes, it’s a lovely spring day. But I’m sick.” or, “Oh, thank you for the lovely image. But, you see, I’m sick,” I am writing this post here on WordPress. Otherwise, one online friend will never know that she nailed her birthday blessing. She wished that my birthday be filled with zombies and flowers and candy and love. It was! It was! But I was sick!
Categories: Personal Growth