Perfect Christmas gifts...

On Christmas Eve I received an absolutely perfect gift. It was so unexpected and so perfect. We had Christmas drinks with friends. These friends live in the general direction that my parents live in and since we were heading down there we made arrangements to head to our friends' place first. It was lovely. It made us realise we should try to catch up with our friends more often... life, you know... It gets busy.

So we're sipping champagne and suddenly T says she has something for me. As she brings it toward me I instantly know what it is. It's a Claire cowl. A what? I don't expect everybody to know what I mean by that so let me go grab a Sony pic from Outlander to show you what it is.

 

 (photo source Starz)

See that neck scarf? That's what in Outlander fandom is now known as a Claire cowl...and I have one! My gorgeous friend T made me one. My eyes started to well up when I saw it. I was madly blinking away trying to stop myself getting emotional over a scarf, but it was just so perfect, and the tears flowed. T is the friend I referred to in this post (link) who introduced me to Outlander (aka Cross Stitch) but when we were chatting on Christmas Eve she said she thought I introduced her! I'm still pretty confident it was the other way around but both of us associate the other with our early introduction to the series. What a gift. Seriously it felt just perfect!

Later that night my husband was very mysterious as he hid in my parents' laundry wrapping gifts, and writing cards. On Christmas morning I discovered what he'd been wrapping. It was a vintage milk can. He'd researched all the history of their use and thought it would look great in our kitchen (and it will). The poignant part of the gift, and his note however was the circumstances of him buying it. On Monday I had to drop him at the auto electrician to pick up his car. Our 11 year old daughter was with me and after we dropped him off we decided to stop at this quirky little store that I'd driven past dozens of times but never been in. I didn't even know what sort of shop it was. It turned out it stocked a bunch of secondhand stuff, some antiques, but lots of stuff that you find in a regular op shop. Miss11 found a few pig things (pigs being her latest obsession) but we left without making a purchase.

Little did I know, but my husband had noticed my car and decided to see what we were looking at. He parked around the corner and walked into the store to find out what we had found, but as he came around the corner, we drove off. He decided to go in anyway and he asked the shop assistant what we had been looking at...realising he sounded a little stalkerish he explained that he was my husband and he was looking for a Christmas gift for me. She mentioned the pigs! lol! But she wasn't sure what else I'd been looking at. He had a bit of a look, found the milk can and decided to buy that! The antique milk can is lovely, but the story behind it means so much more to me....and the two page letter he wrote to accompany it with the detailed history of it and the means by which he tried to find a gift I might like.

The other REALLY awesome gift we received this year...which unfortunately I knew about and spoiled my daughter's surprise, was a Soda Stream. You know, one of those machines that carbonates water, and then you add syrup and hey presto you have home made fizzy drinks. The reason this was one of my favourite gifts was because my 15 year old daughter bought it for the rest of our family (her brother, sister and parents) using money from her first ever pay from her first ever part time job. My heart swelled with pride when I saw that she had bought it and her intention to gift it to the family. Sure, she'll get benefit from it too, but it was such an awesome thing for her to do. We've been so proud of her working at her part time job, earning and saving, and then making such a lovely gesture with some of her new found wealth.

And finally, one more gift that I just loved this year was the book 'Love your Sister' by Connie and Samuel Johnson. I was keen to get a copy anyway, but I love that my own sister bought it for me. I look forward to getting stuck into it.

It's been a lovely Christmas and these few gifts were some of my highlights. Overall, I am overjoyed to be thought of by my family and friends, and to spend some quality time with them. Did you receive something extra special?

Some emails matter more...

I feel sick.

I just hit send on an email that will potentially change my life. I volunteered for redundancy substitution. It means I might not have a job in about 8-10 weeks.  I’ve cried about 5 times this morning prior to hitting send on the email, which if you’ve read this might not surprise you. I’ve had 3 weeks to come to this decision. Three weeks of knowing that agreeing to go the way I’ve gone would mean signing off on security and my comfort zone.

I like the place I work at and I like the people I work with. I like how much I’m paid and I like the flexibility this job gives me but…. And there is the million dollar question, the but… ‘The but…’ is what made me hit send. ’The but….’ is that nagging feeling that I am not destined to work my entire career in this current role….this role that chose me. This role that I am good at and qualified at, but this role that doesn’t light the fire in my belly….that doesn’t represent what I am about.

The problem is, I don’t know what lights my fire. I don’t know where my passion lies. I just know it isn’t here so I’ve spun the dice and taken the gamble. Sure, the redundancy gives me a little cushion on which I can land, but between now and the next little while I need to find that passion. I need to work out where I’m going and what I want to do. I’m nervous. Actually, I’m more than nervous. I feel sick. But I keep thinking that the timing of this wasn’t meant to be a kick in the guts, it was meant to be an opportunity, so I’m grabbing it. It will still be about another week or so before I know if my choice has been accepted so nothing is really any clearer now than what it was this morning, but I’ve shown my hand. I’ve put my cards on the table and taken a step into the abyss.

As I drove to work this morning, confident in my decision, I listened to the morning news announcing that Ford was probably going to close their doors in Geelong…the first tears came, and the doubts about my decision. If Ford closes, then that’s more people in the job market in Geelong. I know it’s kind of selfish to think of myself when there’s a bunch of good people wondering about their future and their ‘involuntary’ redundancy, but that’s where my head was this morning. It had turned my decision on its head. I’m not in the same job market as Ford employees but it still seemed that the Geelong job market would be impacted. A friend and colleague, but mostly friend, came to see me and the tears came again. She reminded me that I hadn’t been happy here for awhile and as much as she doesn’t want me to leave for her own reasons of having a friend nearby, she reassured me that my decision was right for me.

My boss came to see me. He was shocked. He was sure I’d opt for the safer option of staying. I guess I present as risk averse –heck I am risk averse. I don’t think he could believe it, but he supported me. He’s facing a similar scenario. We both could be out the door. A colleague from another state phoned me to find out what was happening. Whispers are going around, as they often do in these circumstances. He too was supportive and understood why I was making the choices I was making. But still I cried. I think I was up to 4 lots of tears.  Being brave sure brings the tears to the surface for me. So much for work colleagues not knowing I was a crier! Ha!

Our work group decided to have a pub lunch. A few wines later and back in the office, I wrote the one line email that confirmed my decision. My finger hovered over the enter key. This is it. And so, I hit send. A few minutes later the Group boss called me. I ignored his call. I replied to his voice message with an email saying I was too emotional to talk. I’ve shed enough tears today.

In a week or so I’ll know. I don’t feel like the weight has lifted yet but I feel at peace with my decision. 

I feel thankful I have a husband who genuinely wants me to be happy and to make choices that will make me so. The financial concerns and staying in our comfort zone could have been his dominating drivers but he’s chosen happy over money. Yay me for marrying the right bloke, for more reasons that this, let me assure you! I have friends and family who are equally supportive.  My work team and immediate boss are great. We’re all in this together. I’ve got a good 20 years to give the workforce. I’m ready for a new challenge and a new career. Time to start researching just what that will be.  

Let any new tears be happy tears.

I'm a crier too...

I’m a crier, always have been. When tear ducts were handed out, I must have grabbed more than my fair share. It doesn’t take much to set me off and I think my eyes are cleansed multiple times each week for sad, glad and mad reasons.

I’m also a professional. I work in an office and deal with a variety of colleagues. I am fairly well paid and do my job effectively, efficiently and professionally. Most colleagues who I only see at work would probably not know I am a crier. As a rule my work generally doesn’t involve much emotion. It’s all numbers and spreadsheets and black and white decision making.

But…a few weeks back I cried at work. It wasn’t a few discreet tears, it was tears pouring out of my eyes and unable to stop crying… the type I usually reserve for a something particularly sad. Without going into detail of the circumstances too specifically I’ll try to explain what happened… I had been asked to attend this meeting at another location to my workplace…it was still part of my workplace but a different site. It felt ominous. I was in a meeting that was video linking to other meetings across the country so all staff in similar circumstances to me could attend simultaneously.  In the room I was in, there was a colleague I see a couple of times a year and a Senior Manager who I knew but didn’t work with and a HR person with a reputation for only being at meetings when there was bad news….and there was bad news. It affected me and all of my colleagues and the minute the news started coming through I just knew that my working life as I knew it would never be the same…and the tears came. I didn’t choose to cry. In fact, if I had my time over I definitely would have preferred that the tears didn’t come. It felt weak and stupid.  I stared at a black dot on the white board as hard as I could, trying desperately to stop the tears, and then someone in another room and in another part of the country would ask a question and I’d hear their voice wavering, the emotion right on the edge of their words and the tears kept coming. And I didn’t want a comforting pat from the HR rep and I didn’t want anyone to look at me and no I didn’t want tissues. I just wanted to stop crying and I bloody well couldn’t.

You see, crying comes easy to me. I can sit here typing this and be reminded of numerous occasions when I cried, both specifically and generally. I often joke that I would have a weekly Thursday night cry as a young girl watching ‘Little House on the Prairie’, it was almost a given. I recall seeing the movie ‘Gallipoli’ when I was younger with my grandparents and remember this as the only time I ever saw my Poppa cry and seeing him cry made the movie even more poignant, so I was a mess.

I recall happy tears too. I distinctly remember taking my eldest daughter to see Hi-5 on stage. She must have been about 4 and as we sat in the audience and Hi-5 came on stage she looked at me with such awe and wonderment as if to say ‘Mum, they’re really there…not just on the screen’ and tears slid down my cheeks because I knew she was so happy and it made me happy.

Some of the best tears are the laugh out loud until you almost can’t breathe variety and I recently had one of those moments with my Mum and sisters. We laughed so hard we were doubled over and just about rolling around. Tears were streaming out of our eyes and we couldn’t even speak and then someone would say one word and we’d be off again.  They’re the kind of tears I love… and the memory of them brings a huge smile to my face… You are possibly wondering what it was that set us off and to be honest the re-telling of the story wouldn’t do it justice. It was one of those ‘you had to be there moments’.

 Driving to work today, Chrissie and Jane on the radio were talking about Prime Minister Julia Gillard and the tears she shed as she brought NDIS legislation to parliament. Hearing them discuss workplace crying is the reason I decided to write this piece, and I bloody well cried listening to people call up with their stories; the lady who cried singing the goodbye song with her pre-schoolers, the celebrant who had to perform a wedding for a bride whose father had died the night before. More tears slid down my cheeks for people I don’t know… My tear ducts just react to things like that.

When I heard that Julia Gillard had cried in Parliament yesterday I didn’t even need to know what the subject was to know that she would be judged. I saw tweets suggesting they were ‘crocodile tears’ and a newspaper report that the stress of the budget had got to her. It annoyed me no end. I have great admiration for Julia Gillard and have always thought she is one tough cookie and more than capable. I see some of the things she puts up with and can’t believe she doesn’t just throw her hands up and say “for f*cks sake”. I think that’s what I would do. I’ve since heard snippets of the tearful speech she was making and thought about how monumental it was. I have never done anything that affects hundreds of thousands of people’s lives, and not only affects them, gives them opportunity and hope. It makes me glassy eyed to think of how that must feel to know that you are involved in improving the lives of so many. Politics gets pretty nasty and petty and mean spirited and fighting over this road or that railway and then something like NDIS comes along. To legislate something like that into law, knowing it will change so many lives for the better would overwhelm me. It must have felt like a moment of ‘this is why I do what I do’ and I say kudos to the Prime Minister. Emotion can be strong and all encompassing. It doesn’t mean you are less of a person or weak, it means you are human.  And it doesn’t mean you are more or less equipped to perform your job.

After my meeting where I cried I was concerned I would be seen as weak or unprofessional but seeing the Prime Minister cry reassured me that tears in the workplace are not weak or unprofessional. Tears just show that things mean a lot and you care about things that happen in your professional life. We spend a lot of our life at our workplace. I’d prefer it if I had more “laugh out loud tears streaming out my eyes” type events at work and less of the “shit’s hitting the fan and life’s about to change” type tears.  The person you are during the hours you work is the same person you are in your non work time. I’m a crier, and occasionally, I might cry at work…