First Thing In the Morning

You know that moment of clarity first thing in the morning when you know you’re going to just have “one of those days”? That moment that just stops you in your tracks and makes your teeth grit, and suddenly you regret even getting out of bed? The question of “God, why?” asks over and over again in your head, as you slowly rise your palm to your face.

I had mine first thing this morning before I even had my cup of coffee. I walked in the door of my work and the first thing I saw was a mess of truck on the floor, followed by a few other things that were out of place. I felt it then that it was not going to be my day, but I stamped it out. I was determined to not let it get to me.

I should have accepted my fate then and there.

By the time I left work at 1:15 PM today, I had a migraine forming. I was only able to get half of my planned work stuff done because halfway through the shift, the company inspection lady showed up to check out all of our food shit. We failed with a 60% and it was all due to stupid little things that, to be honest, were mostly out of my control.

It’s taken me a long, long time to realize this, but I’m only one person and there’s only so much I can do. I already do a lot in that store, more than what most would do, and what I do do, I do it well and thorough. Everything I was in immediate control of, we passed through with flying colors. And though a small part of me deep down is still disappointed that I didn’t catch every single thing that caused our fail, I refuse to let it utterly destroy me like it once would have. I’m tired of letting my day job walk all over my mental health.

That’s when you really know that it’s time for change. When the care or do not care switch has been flipped, and you find yourself lacking in the give-a-fuck department about something that once would have severely wrecked you.

I had a bad day at work, yes. By the time I left, I was frustrated and left with the deep desire that I was the kind of person that could just call off tomorrow just because I wanted to. But, where it once would have made the rest of my day terrible, I got home in an okay mood. I got my son from my father-in-law and headed upstairs, looking forward to some lunch and to enjoy my evening.

And I did just that. Was it perfect? No, of course not, but it was livable. I didn’t sit there reeling over what I could have done differently. I didn’t wallow in self-pity because I didn’t do enough. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t bothered by a failed score while I wasn’t at work. I was more upset with myself over my decision to stop breastfeeding than I was with that score.

It was a beautiful feeling. And the realization has only strengthened my resolve to continue my purpose and pursue my dreams.

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