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I need to remember that occasionally forcing myself to have fun in spite of my strongest desires not to can be a good thing.

I had a lousy damn day today. I'm still anemic and off-balance fron giving blood yesterday, I had a prolonged and painful conversation with my grandmother last night about my (nonexistent) relationship with my father, and my boss surprised me with the news this morning that apparently all of my coworkers hate working with me, complain about me constantly, and feel that I'm a condescending, overbearing lazy witch. Add this to other background issues that I'm not really at liberty to discuss, and this afternoon saw my third crying jag in a week.

The last thing I wanted was to leave my safe, comfy sofa nest and go out into the misty, dreary evening to dance and be social and perky. But my fiance, who is much wiser than I am, gently but firmly steered me to the door, insisting that getting out would be good for me. So I went, convinced that it would be no fun. And I was hugged, and chatted with, and danced with, and told stories, and heard stories, and ate lemon sherbet, and generally wound up dragged sulking and pouting into a good mood.

It's hard to remember that I'm an extrovert when I'm so incredibly shy most of the time, but it's true.....

Date: 2004-04-14 11:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vettecat.livejournal.com
Sorry for the rotten day (though I'm very skeptical about everyone there not liking you), but I'm glad you're feeling better now.

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