I’ve adopted an interesting approach to dealing with telemarketers. Are you ready for this? I talk to them. Yes, you read that right. No more sighing, swearing, and hanging up on them. I engage in the conversation until we reach a conclusion, whether it’s a purchase or their understanding why I’m not interested. I’ve had two calls today, and I’d give myself an A+ for both. In one call, the man from Calcutta shared his life, and I’m even considering him for future work. The other call ended with me explaining why I wasn’t interested in an Alexa/Google voice-over solution, and if a future call from them comes in will refer to today’s 22-minute conversation. Let’s see if that keeps the daily spam calls at bay.
I tossed a clump of blackened Q-tips and paper towels into the trash. The sweat on the window’s interior and the time it takes for insects to decompose in the hard-to-reach cracks has left a tar-like gunk that I’m tending to like a novice playing Operation. I’ve told you how my mind often connects odd dots; something about cleaning the gunk in those obscure corners overlaps with the chaos of a necessary family chat about my Grandma’s will.
Deep cleans, no matter how unpleasant, hold an undeniable value.
I’m feeling a bit uneasy about recording a podcast with my friend Travis, and Dave. It’s not them that’s the problem; it’s the audience, and the pressure to perform. How can I shed the facade, turn off the spotlight, and just talk as I’ve done for years with Travis and Dave? It’s a difficult question.
I sense a strong urge to be extra, to be that exceptionally fun person I’m not. My mind keeps whispering “alcohol,” but I’d rather find a different way.
There’s a part of me that believes I’m nobody, that I’m not worth listening to. This is intriguing, especially considering I have a blog and a counseling practice where I’m constantly talking to people. But, as I’m learning in my schema training course, some insecurities only surface in specific situations. Is it because it’s not my show, and I fear being told to dance like a monkey without my say in the routine?
I remember my embarrassing discomfort with ballet as a child. Carrying my ballet shoes in my backpack for practice, the day they fell out, and the teacher asked if they were mine in front of the class. My heart pounded, and I felt shame in a way that led me to shut down, and not step forward to claim them.
On top of all that, I felt guilty for not continuing to fit the “cute little girl” mold my mom loved. The leotard, slicked-back bun, and pliés were her dream for me, not mine. This has led to me making an effort to respect Evelyn’s choices and pay attention her needs during our disagreements.
Well, I’m onto a few other things before heading to my friend’s house to record. I hope we have a fun and relaxing conversation, that’d be nice. Well, I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow, and maybe even share it with you when it’s released. It released! Podcast link
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 