Can I have a little cheese with my whine?
Sorry for the lack of posts from this half of depthmarker, but I've been mighty grumpy lately and I don't like to post when I'm grumpy. Aside from writing posts that might sound like a pity party, I'm likely to state exactly what's bugging me which, in this case, happens to be circumstances at my job. I wouldn't want my coworkers to read about my complaints on my blog when I haven't yet expressed them in person. That's just not cool. It can be a welcome relief to just bitch about things without the parties involved ever hearing any of it, but the blog doesn't meet those requirements. No, that's the primary use I made out of any therapist I ever saw over the years. I just wanted someone who could be a neutral party that I could use as a sounding board. The therapists I saw (rather, the ones I stuck with) were great for this because they rarely gave advice, but helped me to see possibilities beyond the few limited choices I thought I was facing. And I could use a few extra choices right now because all I can see to do is: 1) Smile, nod and pretend everything is hunky-dory, 2) Find another job or 3) Tell the bitch EXACTLY what I think the next time she pisses me off. If anyone is placing bets at this point, you should pick number three. Unfortunately, when it happens it's not going to be pretty and I'd really like to avoid the office drama that will undoubtedly ensue. Hopefully I can find a sounding board before that happens.

There's a reason I have a reputation for being brutally honest as opposed to just being honest. I can, up to a point, hedge and pussyfoot around an issue, dropping helpful hints along the way, but eventually the clueless are going to hear the raw and unvarnished version of what I really think. For example, I once had a friend who spent months asking me why his staff thought he was an asshole. Finally, I answered, "Because you ARE an asshole." That remark damaged our friendship, but it was the truth as I saw it and poke me enough times, that's what you're gonna get. The sad part was he didn't realize that I didn't like him any less because I thought he was an asshole towards his staff. Maybe he thought that a friend was someone who only saw him wonderful in all aspects and since I thought he was an asshole at times, then I must not be a friend. Who knows, but it reminds me of the time when I was sitting around in a group of friends and one of them asked me what I thought and the answer was "I think you're a lazy drunk." You could have head a pin drop in the silence that followed, but my friend just laughed and slapped me on the back. He got it, the fact that I could think he was a lazy drunk, but still love him and count him as my friend. After all, isn't that what a real friend is? Someone who loves you, warts and all?