Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Thinking about zingers

Back from vacation - 4 days in Vegas.  It was warm and wonderful.  Flip flops!  Lunch outside.  Seriously, the best potato I've ever eaten.  It's the little things, right?

But I had these moments, a lot of moments, where I was sad, tired, down right pissed.  I feel ungrateful saying this out loud.  My boyfriend, my terrific, handsome, super nice boyfriend bought me this trip for Christmas.

I've been thinking a lot about zingers.  Not those delicious chocolate twinkie like things you can only buy at the gas station.  But the small jabs we take at each other... the passive aggressive way we have of handling our frustration or anxiety or the fact we're pissed off with someone but we don't really want to come out and say it.  Things like, "you're wearing that?  Oh, no, it looks really comfortable."

I was in a zing zone the day we left for Vegas. We walked to the car, my car which doesn't stay in the garage and it was covered in inches of snow.  We forgot it snowed.  I had on cute shoes.  I realized, in that moment (one of so many moments) things aren't the same.  I had to run back down to the house (the garage is detached), put on my winter boots and get ready to shovel and scrape because my guy can't.

While I was down getting my boots, he got in to the warm car and waited for me to shovel us out.  I was pissed.  I had to put the suitcases in the trunk, scrape off the windows, shovel out the car.  It was a lot of work.   Work that we used to do together and now, I have to do alone.

I wanted to zing him.  I had a million things in my head to zing out.  Warm enough?  Want to double check if you forgot anything so I can walk back down to the house?  Let me just finish cleaning out the car, don't mind while I work around you....  I was cold, my sweater got wet, this was not how I wanted to start out the vacation.

But it's how it happened.  I got in to the car, he was quiet.  I slapped a big 'ole smile on my face and said I was so excited we were leaving!  Inside I wasn't excited.  My heart was frowning.  My hands, correctly placed on the wheel at 10 and 2, were gripping the wheel really really tight.  I wanted to let a zing out in the worst, worst way - as if letting it out would lighten my load.  Why is it an automatic reaction to say something shitty to make me feel better?

A funny thing happened -- as I kept smiling, my tension started melting.  We made small talk.  We were on the way to Vegas!   Warm weather, time away from work, nothing to do but eat, hang out.  Being nice made me feel better.  Imagine that.  It was a zing free trip to the airport.

Now, I just had to bury that nagging feeling that this was just the first of many zing moments that I'd be working really hard to turn in to zen moments...

1 comment:

  1. Wow. This is a wonderful post, Lynn. I'm going to clip it, because I know I need to be cognizant of my own tendency to zing rather than zen, because you're right, it doesn't make anything better.