Tag Archives: stress

The move: the great uHaul meltdown

You’ve seen the pictures. You’ve seen the stats.

The big move is done. But there are stories. And one story in particular that deserves mention. I call it ‘the great uHaul meltdown.’

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I told M when we decided to move in together that I thought that this would be one time where we might fight, or he might see a different side to me than he’s used to. He thought I was being preposterous or exaggerating  on my hatred for moving and stress I put upon myself when it comes to logistics, packing, unpacking etc.

But I must say, there were definitely a few times where he saw my angry, pissed off Italian side come out. A side of myself I am proud of – in a way (more on why in a minute!) – but one that he hadn’t really seen.

Enter Friday uHaul meltdown.

Just as we were packing up from our one night in Maine (playfully referrred to as ‘escape from boxes!’), I got a text message from uHaul confirming the 10′ truck I reserved a few weeks ago. Reserved it for 7 am on Saturday, in the closest town possible (5 mins away). What do I get as my confirmation? A 3:30 pick-up of a 14′ truck in a town far far away – college suburb USA.

Um, no.

No effing way.

Not happening.

My words exactly. I rant and rave. I start freaking out, swearing left and right. Tell M we gotta go, we gotta get on the road rightnow so I can call these a-holes back and tell them they can’t eff me over.

He blinks at me. I think he may have been a little scared.

We say goodbye to my grandparents and get on the road. I immediately call uHaul, all huffy, pent up and ready to let ‘er rip. Already, the automated voice on the other end is annoying the shit out of me. All dippy happy joy-joy and I’m sitting here fuming, so pissed off that they are trying to screw me (because of course, it is a personal vendetta against me, right?).

Someone answers and I – with a healthy dose of ‘tude – explain the situation. Wrong truck, wrong time, wrong location. Fix. Now. Chick puts me on hold. More annoying happy joy-joy dippy voice. I’m thinking, okay, I am on hold for the next available operator? I thought I was on hold WITH an operator?

“Hello, uHaul, how may I help you?”

“Um, I was just on hold with someone – was it you or did I get dropped and have to repeat myself entirely?”

“Um, what can I help you with?”

*fuming* Repeating myself and my story AGAIN after getting dropped by the other uHaul chick is not making this any easier. I start dropped F-bombs effin’s and a few other choice words. M is extremely uncomfortable, gesturing at me, shaking his head, trying to get me to calm down.

Clearly, it’s not working.

As I continue to rant at this chick asking her what she can do for me, what truck CAN I have and WHEN can I get it that coincides with 7 am at the location of my choice?? She gives me the ole song and dance about how this is the first available truck/location (riiiight) and she only covers that region (south of me) and not the region I am in (north). She gives me the number of a more local office to try and help (and probably just wants to get the screaming lunatic off the phone!).

I hang up on her.

I’m crying. I’m yelling. I am quite frankly, filled with rage. It’s like all the stress and anxiety over the move comes tumbling out of my mouth in one giant FUCK YOU.

Yeah, I said it. And I said it a lot.

M refuses to let me call the next number when I dial and the hold music throws me into a tizzy again. I hand the phone to him.

And I have never seen a more calm, collected and EFFECTIVE phone call take place. Ever. He put on his ‘professional’ voice that I hear all the time when he is on call with patients, and goes in for the kill. But nicely. Very nicely. I almost want to hit him for being SO NICE.

But I can’t.

Because well, I would never do that. And because it worked. And because this is what I love about him. His calmness. His ability to work under pressure like no other. And not get rattled. Ever.

What did he get us? A 17′ foot truck at 7 am, at my chosen location. AND for the price of the 10′ truck that honestly would have been WAY too small and we would have needed two trips.

The great uHaul meltdown? Yeah, not successful. But it reminded me why I love this man so much. (not that I need a reminder) And it showed me that we can argue, or that I can – on occasion – lose my cool, and he’ll still love me. (just as I would him).

Okay, so maybe all those F-bombs weren’t necessary but I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t feel DAMN good to let that out.

(and a few years ago? I would NEVER have done that, because I never made the phone calls or handled the tough situations. I stepped back and ‘let’ my ex do it. I liked feeling empowered and not scared to speak my mind. That counts for something, right?)

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I also would be lying if I said I didn’t get snippy with M here and there throughout the move and unpacking. But I am glad it happened.

Why?

He took it in stride and gave it back to me when I needed it. Tough love as my sis would call it 😉

I needed that.

It showed that we can ‘tiff’ and talk through it and figure it out.

We are already learning and growing.

And it’s only day two (give or take).

 

Sometimes, I wish…

I wasn’t so damn sensitive.

I was in tears at least twice today. Because I’m sick of being compared to my boss. Because I am sick of being talked down to (in some cases) and feeling as all that I am doing is just not good enough. Because I am sick of asking questions and feeling short-temperedness on the other end.

It’s awfully disheartening and demotivating to feel so slighted. I feel, for the first time, uninspired.

I hate this feeling. Absolutely hate it. It makes me feel weak and lacking confidence and angry and sad all wrapped up together.

Yet, I know they miss my boss for who she is, not necessarily because I’m doing a shitty job.

But it sure makes me feel like I’m doing a shitty job.

It feels thankless right now, and I probably should expect that it will for the next month or so until she returns. And yeah, I will address it with my interim boss at some point, but given I now won’t see him face-to-face for another two weeks, it just doesn’t feel like the time to just throw that into one of my hurried phone calls where I try to get all the answers I need as fast as I can because he’s that busy.

I just wish I was seen for all that I am and not all that I’m not.

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I wish I could see past the comments and the slights, whether they are intentional or not.

I wish I could cement that game face on and never take it off.

But I’m me, and that means I AM sensitive and my confidence does wobble when I’m questioned.

I’m human. I have my weak spots, more than I’d care to admit sometimes. I can’t ignore it.

But that’s me, so I’m feeling the need to go with a ‘take it or leave it’ attitude and kareen  through these comments utnil they DO see me for all that I am instead of all (or who) I am not.

Because I am capable, I am smart, and I do have things under control. It may not be the way it’s been done before but dammit, it’s the way I’m doing it.

I’m going to have to call it the F*ck it mentality.

(now if only I could live these words instead of just writing them down)

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What else do I wish?

That I didn’t still struggle with body image issues.

I had another of those days today too (what a great combination, right?)

Maybe I need to stop reading the bevy of fitness and healthy eating blogs that I read for awhile. I love them, I love all of my bloggy friends from that ‘world’ (my ever-growing blogroll is half-filled with these wonderful reads), but sometimes I get jealous when I read them. I hate to even say that, but I do.

I start comparing myself. Wishing I was half-marathon capable again (let alone full marathon capable).

Wishing I was stricter in my eating habits. I eat mostly ‘clean’ but do enjoy wine on weekends and the occasional cracker, cookie, or other processed food. (that makes me human, right?). But then I start to think, maybe if I ate uber clean, I would love my body more (or would I?)

Maybe I just need to stop focusing on what I don’t have and focus on what I do have.

Strong legs, getting-there abs and arms, and the ability to work out often. (I shouldn’t take it for granted).

It’s a constant internal battle that I need to find a way to quiet. Find a way to embrace and love, not tear myself down.

But I suppose that’s a story for another blog post.

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At the end of the day, though?

It’s *just a job*

I’ll get over it. I’ll move past it. Eventually.

My body isn’t nearly as bad as I envision in my mind.

It’s fixable. I’m focusing on it.

And ultimately? Life is pretty damn good irregardless. Love, happiness, family, health.

Isn’ t that what really matters?

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Sometimes I wish…my pep talks would ‘stick’ more. Maybe this one will.