Tag Archives: anger

Inventory

The re:gen book asked for my first impression of the inventory process. Usually, I find narrowing down my response difficult. I can write thousands of words in minutes, but summaries slay me. Today, not so much. In a word:

NO

In a few more words:

NO NO NO NO NO

I don’t want to leave it there. Someday, some unsuspecting person might fall onto my blog. Maybe they’ll find it because they’re starting re:gen and want to get an idea what it’s like. Maybe they’ll find me when the group starts whispering about inventory. And I don’t want to scare anyone away. Heck, I’ll probably be the one who sent them here. Having survived, I’ll look back at this post and chuckle wisely. So let me clarify.

Just kidding. But seriously, I’m not looking forward to this. And to make matters worse, a storm came through last night and caused us to shut down the church on the very evening we were supposed to be trained to do inventory. Trained and encouraged, which I NEEDED.

If you’re an enneagram person, let me explain by giving you my number.

1

If you’re not an enneagram person, let me explain what it means to be a one. I need order. I need to know how to do a thing correctly before I can do the thing. I’m driven by a need to make things better. Straighter. Cleaner. PERFECT. Hence, the re:gen journey. I’m doing re:gen to work on perfectionism. And now I’m supposed to start the one part of the experience that kept me from signing up long ago … without training?

I’ve never felt so connected to Bill Murray in my life.

If you haven’t seen Groundhog Day, I judge you. Don’t worry, I’ll beat myself up for it in my inventory.

The Grumpies

Today I’m trapped in an angry brain space. Triggered, frustrated, not in a good mood. I have tools but don’t want to use them. Don’t want to make memes or be cute. I’ve been trying to figure out what got me here, but I just don’t know. I could blame things that annoyed me, but I sail through those things on better days. This is internal. Deep.

Maybe it’s because I only got three hours of sleep last night. Or maybe I only got three hours of sleep because I was already trapped. I get nighttime anxiety, like my sanity goes down with the sun. And if I have to get up the next day, it’s worse. Tired, hangry, loaded with coffee, I went to church today and immediately got a burr under my skin. Then I talked about it, claimed it, dwelled on it. People helped me out of it, and then I went back in.

Whatever this is, I want it gone.

If I hadn’t promised to be raw and real, I would wait a few days and delete this, never share it on my blog. It doesn’t feel like I’m helping anyone, just dumping the grumpies. But I promised dark corners, and here they are. Sometimes I’m just mad. And now that I’ve written it, here come the tears.