Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Heather Doesn't Live Here: A Reminder about Stress Reduction


I'll be the first to admit it: I'm a tad bit tightly-wound these days. It's been a long journey and I'm not enjoying the wait for a referral phone call. Someone told me not too long ago that I shouldn't acknowledge these feelings, that I should just feel optimistic, be positive, etc., etc., etc. - I kind of wanted to scream at that moment. I think on a scale of 0-10 I probably rank about a 7 on the positivity scale. I generally have a pretty sunny outlook but I do like to indulge in dark humor and I get crabby when people tell me what I have the right to feel.
Anyway... the last couple of days I've been feeling like a caged animal. The phone keeps ringing and it's not the adoption agency. It's not even somebody calling for me. We've had our current phone number for over 2 years, yet we still get calls almost daily for a woman named Heather. Heather evidently was a very popular lady in her heyday - especially with sketchy gentlemen callers. Calls for Heather always seem to come at the most inconvenient times like when I'm napping, up to my arms in dishwater and across the house from the phone, or in the middle of my favorite show. But I always answer, because it might be the adoption agency and I won't want to miss that call. When I answered the phone breathlessly today and it was a man asking for Heather, I snapped. "Heather DOESN'T live here. This isn't her number anymore. Don't call her on it!" I schooled him (see, it wasn't that severe - I'm not that mean of a person). It turned out the man was calling to solicit funds for wounded puppies and sad babies, or some other such charity and then I felt like a total jerk.
So, I took a note from the stress-reduction workshop we had after school today (SIDE NOTE: You know what doesn't help with stress-reduction in the workplace? Having to stay after after work to listen to some chiropractor sell you stress-reduction treatment.) I went outside and burned off some of my pent-up frustration and stress by mowing the lawn while breathing deeply. I have to say, it did make me feel better and got me through my daily pity-party a bit more smoothly. It kind of kills me to admit the guy was right.

2 comments:

Pennythrower said...

Such a timely post. My mother just sent me this link today (because, of course, she thought of me!) -

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=15505690&sc=emaf

The moral? Go on, be a bitch. I'm thinking of you...

Love, Andrea

Ed said...

May Heather is going to be your resident babysitter / nanny. Anyway keep your chin up the adoption will happen shortly, maybe by the new year.

Love Uncle Eddie