I got a promotion! I got a raise! I got a new office! I got a laptop & a cell phone! Weeee!! I kind of have this feeling, possibly for the first time, that I am finally in the job that I was meant to always have. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all perfect, there are many things that still bother me about working in retail but my actual position, my influence, my responsibilities, my creativity, my nurturing side (which has only ever been seen at work) are all exactly what seems to be required for this job. Everyone who knows me knows that the people part of any job is my favourite and now I feel like the Mother Hen of an entire store. I’ve had such a blast in my first couple weeks, it’s been a riot. The challenges, the stress, the accomplishments, it has all made for a roller coaster of a month. The problem is I get really excited or stressed at work dealing with everything I enjoy doing and then I fry my adrenals to the point where I need a nap and am considering asking for a nap room. After doing a 5 day stretch of morning shifts (and everyone knows how fucking awesome I am in the morning…and by awesome I mean grumpy and shitty) I was hitting a mental wall. One afternoon I told my coworker that I was so tired I felt incongruent. Then I said incongruent wasn’t the word I was looking for. But you know what I mean right, like I feel isosceles. And then it occurred to me I was replacing feelings words with grade 9 geometry terms in a weird and random way that totally confirmed that I do indeed struggle to express my feelings. I feel like I may have just said trapezoid and then left the room.

But seriously, back to be being an emotional helmet brigade. I found out that my work offers 7 free therapy sessions with licensed psychologists all over the city. So I thought, free therapy, yes, this will be hilarious. I remember walking in to my first appointment and wondering if I would just cry like a crazy person because it’s totally nerve wracking being put on the spot to talk to a total stranger. But I thought, no I will just make a thousand inappropriate jokes that will make the doctor write down little notes and then I will panic that she sees through my wit and diagnose me with some intense behavioural disorder that will lead to a possible trip to the R.O. And what I did was stellar, I walked into the room, disappointed to not see a Freudian chaise lounge, sat on the plain jane chair, stared up at the lady and just started balling. I was like dammit woman!! Pull yourself together. No but really, I did get a lot from the few sessions. I don’t remember any of it because I have the memory retention of a 105 year old with Alzheimers. But I remember feeling relieved. That I was a) not a sociopath and b) she kind of had my back on things I thought were stupid. I also do recall by the 5th session (and my last, I am keeping 2 in my back pocket for meltdown emergencies) that by the end of the session I was annoyed at how many questions she was asking. I was like ugh, just say that one pearl of wisdom that makes me leave realizing everything is totally fine. And then when she assigned homework I was like, YES homework-homework I will actually do for a change! But it turns out nothing has changed since high school or Uni, I never completed my homework and when she asked about it I lied saying I had done it. I immediately pictured my Dad shaking his head while laughing in disbelief, as he always thought my commitment to academics was a bit of comedy in itself. And here I was, with real life homework and I took it with the same complacency as my education. Nailing it.

We went to Pride yesterday!! Nothing says the best political statement ever as hot, gyrating bodies in the rain, riding by on floats in a sea of Rainbows. If only us straight people could get our shit together enough to put on that much of an accepting, love in, street party. I guess it’s for everyone really. I always go. No one has ever turned me away due to my sexual preferences. Yay for inclusion! I went with a friend, her little girl, her mom and her brother. Her brother said he wore a shirt that signaled he was straight. It was a pink V-neck that said “missionary man” on it. I said, are you kidding? He was not. I said you know your shirt is tight and pink and that is a sexual position that 2 dudes can do as well? Can’t they? The look of surprise was rather priceless. We then quickly discussed the logistics. He then realized he was wearing the perfect shirt for Pride. The parade handed out all kinds of good stuff. For some reason no one handed anything to me…when I heard how many condoms my friends had received I wondered if they looked at me and instinctively knew I wouldn’t use them, even if given for free. Were they judging my hatred of latex barriers? How dare they! It’s possible I’m looking to far into this and it was not a judgemental conspiracy to make me feel bad. It’s possible, that arriving late, I just missed the free condom floats. Next year I will be on time!