Wednesday, July 18, 2012
It has come to my attention that I suck.
Allow me to explain.
Yesterday afternoon, in an attempt to be proactive about my job, I approached my supervisor asking if, since my heinous review, I had improved. I said I cared about my job, and wanted to do batter, blah blah blah. His essential reaction was, "Yes. But we are finding new ways you suck!"
I think the thing that bothered me the most about this transaction was that since my review in March, no one has said A WORD to me about my performance. And my supervisor was all, "Yes, mmwell, me and mmTHEBOSS was to mmHave a meeting with you Monday to discuss your mmmPerformance." (Be sure to read this with an affected Monopoly-guy nasally voice.)
And my question remains: How am I supposed to live up to expectations that I do not know exist?
After some freaking, and some calming, and a dramatic reassessment of my situation, I drove home, intending to eat comfort food (homemade mac and cheese and hotdogs), watch comfort TV (Law and Order: SVU. Don't ask), and drink comfort beer (beer). I did. Husband made me happy. We watched the Red Sox lose, and smoked hookah, and then took our cat on a ride to get Frosties at Wendy's.
And then this morning happened.
I received a text message from a very distressed friend. She was not upset with me, thankfully. Long story short, some rumors are floating through the waves of our Mass Dash team that some of the legs and events that occurred on said run were less than pleasant (read: f*cking stupid, and how dare you let this happen!!). And seemingly shared with everyone but myself. So naturally, I assume I am the one who is really the problem.
And I think: Sweet Mother of the Divine Savior. Can I do freaking ANYTHING right?!
So my past two days have been rougher than two weeks worth of unshaved legs.
I understand that I am not, nor ever will be, the best (or even relatively good) at most things. I am a mediocre runner, at best. I am a weak Minister. I am poor singer. I'm a sucky actor. I'm a lazy student.
But I am an athlete. I am a teacher. I am a vocalist. I am smart. I am dramatic. Wait...that last one came out wrong... I am an PERFORMER. There, that's better.
All I can be is the best version of myself. And some people don't like that. But really, that's their problem. I can't change who I am (try as I might). You think I ENJOY being average? HA! I could only DREAM of having that one thing I'm really special at.
But I never will. And you know what? That's okay with me.
Because Husband loves the crap out of me. Aforementioned friend would rather run races with me than anyone else. My professors all enjoyed having my wit in classrooms. My students loved my charisma. My family is my biggest cheerleader. And when I sing, God loves me. (I mean, he loves me all the time, but he gave me my voice, and I know he likes hearing me use it).
I'm not special to the whole world. But to the people who truly know me, I am everything. And that means more than the world will ever know.