Some days . . .

Working in a public office has schooled me in handling my emotions - in public!  But I take no prisoners at home, and this has led to some interesting conversations once the air is cleared.  My husband has often told me that I ought to treat the people at work the same way that I treat the people at home.  My retort - sassy but true - is that I could never do that, because I wouldn't have a job!  But at home, they are required to love me, no matter what.  I've not quite convinced him, but he does appreciate my reasoning.

Maybe you have shared these experiences:

• Work, which usually has a lighter atmosphere, hits a parade of high-stress demanding days.  Smiles, banter, and laughter evaporate as everyone rushes around; many people closet themselves behind closed doors.  My natural insecurity leads me to silently review recent actions for that terrible miscue that might have led to, or fed, this crisis. 
• As an older member of the local gym, I have finally begun getting "that look" from the gym bunnies and hardbodies.  Completing my extended physical therapy activities, trying to keep my knees and shoulders from completely giving out on me, I notice the glances exchanged among the younger, more physically attractive set.  Unfortunately, I recognize this - it was not so long ago (was it?) that I participated in sharing "the look."
• Sometimes I have a run of days where nothing looks or feels right.  My clothes either don't fit, or they just look wrong.  My hair is too thin, too thick, too straight, too curly, too anything!  Who swapped out all of my mirrors for the fun-house mirrors?

It reminds me of the old line, which is so true:

"Home is where, when you go there, they have to let you in."

This Robert Frost line sums up my safety net.  Family - however it is defined - provides the sanctuary that is so necessary for each human being. 

Sometimes communication at home can be improved.  I suffered years of sharing insecurities from work, only to have my loving hubby tell me what I should do.  It took a looooong time for me to grasp what angered me about that; once I had a handle on my dislike for being told what I should be doing, I could communicate that to him.  Now "should" is virtually eliminated from his vacabulary!

Other times, I may need to hear a compliment, or at least an uplifting comment, specifically about me.  My darling can sometimes completely miss my usual oblique approaches, and then I resort to the less-subtle remark "You aren't reading your script again!  This is where you say '(fill in your requested compliment or commisseration here)'!"  Oddly enough, this brings strangely satisfying results to each of us!  You would think that feeding him his lines would be enraging; however, it allows me to humorously tell him exactly what I need to hear.  And he recognizes my cry for help and delivers his lines perfectly.  He doesn't feel nagged, I feel preetty good, the problem has been aired and dealt with, and we move on.

Yes . . . Home, Sweet Home is the greatest destination on earth!  The one place I am truly accepted.