All You Need Is Love

It’s really true, the Beatles knew it all!

Work Love

I believe in this.  Both your love of your work, plus the platonic love that exists within a multi-faceted team as together they leverage individual strengths and have each others’ back through tough projects and together make successes.

Not forgetting, the forgiveness and learning when things go wrong, as they will, and people learn and grow.

Past-Time Love

I believe in this.  The way doing something hedonistic for you and only you (or maybe with or for others), will make your heart sing and the liberation it serves swell within you with the magic of the moment.

Not forgetting the sadness of a wasted opportunity or event: “A life lived in fear is a life half-lived”: Baz hits the nail on its head.

Friendly Love

I believe in this.  I actually believe in this more and more.  The more I get to know people and how they became who they are, the more I find is interesting and amazing about them, the more I admire them, the more I love them.  Those that have your corner, and you have theirs!

Not forgetting how resilient people are when there are fallings-out.

Lover Love

I believe in this.  That relationship that make you explode inside and fill your whole being with stability, confidence, happiness.  At a minimum!  Or simply some fantastic time between the bedsheets (not necessarily located between the bedsheets)!

Not forgetting that it’s important to have heartbreak.  To be a heartbreaker, and have your heart broken.  So that when you fall in love, you will know!

Not forgetting as well that I have written this as a 1:1 relationship – maybe it’s not like that! 😀

Self-Love

I believe in this!  Out of these loving highlights, I find this the hardest one to feel.  Self-esteem / self-confidence … to me it is an elusive feeling / conviction that flutters by on occasion, never stays for long.

Not forgetting, if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for nothing – no one is going to tell you in this life what to do than you: if you’re not telling yourself then you will be doing anything and everything that those in your life are telling you.  You better have surrounded yourself with the Lovers, Friends, Past-Times and Work that you love!

 

I wish I could hang on to these feelings!

Animal Farm – Part II

“Equality of Opportunity”

was the phrase he used as we were sitting out in the sun drinking specialist beer in the backstreets of an up-and-coming suburb.

It’s that which exactly winds me up, or inspires me, depending which way I’m looking at it.

I *hate* that humans pigeon-hole each other

racism, sexism, ageism, heightism, classism, …: by defining groups, creating equality, those very communities and -positive- associations that give us belonging, and attributing them to -negative- presumptions: why does it even make sense to do the negative association?  We are all individuals with unidentified potential.

I *love* that humans are our own underdogs

whomever you meet, see, talk to, read about, listen to, watch, pass-by, encounter, …: each equally has their own aspirations, inspirations, dreams, innate capabilities, things to learn, potential to fulfil.  And seeing those that defy their (mental) confines, make their own opportunities to become themselves and, in doing so, become others’ super-heroes, is Just Freaking Awesome.

 

Size Matters

This week I had a fabulous week in the office.

For real.  For realz.  IRL.

I answered some user queries.

I helped my new colleagues with their puzzles and made their users happy.

I spent time with people I wouldn’t normally, and had a very pleasant evening of conversation and alternative mindsets.

I networked with different groups and visualised some persuading statistics.

I created a new mentoring group with like-minded people from different countries.

 

But there’s always a niggle.

In my mind. Spurring me on.  Taunting me.  IRL.

Am

I

good
enough …

… Please Stand Up

I Spent Today In Training

And what I don’t understand is why I resented the proposed change.  I resent having to deepen my voice to get my message across; to manipulate my walking pace when entering a room to be taken seriously; to think of what prejudices are against me and adjust myself so that those are not the dominating memory in the recipient’s mind.

 

And Yet, Every Other Wednesday

I have an hour of psychology one on one, discussing whether I am ready yet to adjust my perception of my younger self and the struggles she had, so as to adjust my mindset today to be able to stand up to others and state and execute my own opinion, which would also lead to continued improvement of self and life success.

 

In Between Times

It deeply saddens me to hear of others in all walks of life who do not have someone to talk to, to get themselves out of their own head, into the open air, and be accepted – just as they are, or who they want to become, or get away from.

 

Will the real Mrs Mets …

Living in Sweden

If you believe the reports, Sweden is one of The Best places to live in the world.

I’m not talking about that, though. Stockholm Syndrome is defined to be the relationship between the captor and the prisoner, where the prisoner identifies with the captor.

My brain gives me Stockholm Syndrome.

I’m quite baffled how, daily, I repeat the same not-toxic, not-helpful, habits that keep me firmly where I am, without even realising I’m doing so:

  • Enough confidence to thrive; enough doubt to live on edge
  • Enough intelligence to shine; enough stupidity to not know how to accept love
  • Enough fortitude to face the day and conquer; enough insecurity to not change my course
  • Compassion in buckets for others; not enough compassion for myself
  • The love of winning, but turmoil of winning over others

Give me hygge any day.

What a difference a Dave makes

Yesterday

I received an email from a vendor organisation.  Very clever branding email, I thought: they proclaimed a “Sad Day” was with us [read: click-bait to make you clickety-click].

I went for dinner with a colleague after work and before the weekend.  Felt like a nice friend.

 

Last Tuesday

I received an email from a vendor.  Very clever management email, I thought:  he proclaimed an “opportunity” for me to help create a shared utility [read: hard work to convince others of the gain].

I went for sport after work.  Felt like super-woman.

 

Last Monday

I’d emailed the vendor to ask for help about a shared utility.  I’d reached to that vendor because I’d been working with him on and off for about 5 years: I know him to be experienced, professional, prompt, correct.  I know him to be a good facilitator, I know him to be a good hustler, I know him to be prepared, I know him to be kind with his time, I “know” him … I’ve never actually met him: softly-spoken, I imagine him to be well-presented: a mix between technological and artistic stereotypes.  Somehow this all adds up to a David Baddiel look-alike.

I went for sport after work.  Felt like I’d rejuvenated myself.

 

Last Thursday

I’d emailed alllll dayyyy lonnnnng.

I went for sport in the evening.  The vendor died.

What a difference a Dave makes.

da nuh — da nuh — da nuh – da nuh – da nuh – danuh danuh danuh danuh

Really, Anxiety?  Today?  All day long?

Today I was anxious.  Not just in part – lingeringly, from the moment of putting on my jacket to leave the house in the morning, right through til 85 seconds into class tonight.  That’s 11h, 4mins and 25 seconds.  da nuh — da nuh — da nuh – da nuh – da nuh – danuh danuh danuh danuh DANUH DANUH DANUH …

Normally I don’t notice it.

But what is “normal”, anyway?  And why should I have to “not notice it”?  But what is making me feel this way?  And who knows?

Why do I have to “be vulnerable” when I feel vulnerable, in a place where I *am* vulnerable?

Brene Brown is suuuuuper-awesome.  Really on truly.  And alright, in the office, I am not literally vulnerable.  But I am also not in a mindset to expose to my boss or colleague – or hey, even MYself – what it is that is making me on edge.

 

One step further toward the edge … who knows what is in that water…

Bricks in the Wall

Did they make you read George Orwell in school?

{bA : ∃ aA: b = a, b > a}

I distinctly remember his phrase from Animal Farm “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others”.  Even as a 12 year old, it jarred, but I couldn’t comprehend it.

 

How about your times tables?

{bZ : ∃ aZ: b = 8a}

“Eight ones are eight, eight twos are sixteen, eight threes are twenty-four …”  In primary school we had a pinned-up grid where you could see everyone’s scores day on day.  I always got 100%, apart from the day I raced and got 12 wrong.  T-w-e-l-v-e: the number, not the times table.  I was so embarrassed my face burned; but I couldn’t fathom the learning in it.

 

Lunch time?

{bT : ∃ aP: b = a}

In sixth year we played shockey (indoor hockey) with the PhysEd teachers: teachers v pupils.  Generally I ran round with the plastic hockey stick in my hand for 45mins.  Once, I scored.  It was magic, the score was unequal … but it was significantly more than that: across all the lunchtimes – and regardless of the score – teachers, pupils, people were equal: I loved that hockey pitch.

 

And now?

20 > 4 * 5

This week we did 45 b**tard sprawls in our workout.  It’s akin to this Crossfit Burpee, but the internet doesn’t know about it: at the bottom of your push-up, shoot your arms out so you’re in a cross flat on the floor.  Thankfully, we did one set of 10, rest, one set of 15, rest and the final set of 20.  I’m glad that “four fives are twenty”, because four mini-sets of five of those b**tards were definitely easier than one set of twenty.

The Cat with the Toast

Have you heard the one about the cat with the toast?

Actually, it’s not really a joke.

It’s a play on two “facts of life”: that, when dropped, a cat will always land on its feet, and a slice of buttered toast will inevitably land butter-side-down.  Thus, the question: suppose a slice of buttered toast is buckled to a cat’s back: which way up will the cat with the toast land?  Feet first, or butter-side down?

 

My brain feels like that.

And, as with the cat and the toast, it’s a “fact of life” and there’s no good reason for it.

I’ve been seeing a psychologist weekly now for two years, and my brain never ceases to amaze me (sarcastically, and really).  Sometimes I feel like the progress I make is glacial, other times I feel like I’ve made an instant revelation.

This week’s revelation came from watching Heidi Grant Halvorson explaining Be Good mindset and comparing that with my own feelings of office pressure: imposter syndrome.  Like the cat with the buttered toast on its back, I feel like I’m journeying on a moebius strip through my (work) life.  The imposter syndrome keeps my feet too firmly grounded, and the Be Good that I learned means that I always have to do better: the combination rotating to propel me towards undoubted “success”.

 

What I’d love for my own success is to unbuckle the cat.

And maybe eat the toast.

 

69C0BC19-5E55-40FA-87A2-C29318E6D15E
The cat … where’s the toast?

 

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