A loved one recently confessed their unusual distate for surprises.
There are people who simply don't care for them. People who are convinced they could "plan their own party better" (and maybe they could). People who prefer calming things. People who dislike the anxiety of having other people do things for them / the feeling of now owing them things. People who have a certain kind of relationship with control that makes them feel like death whenever they must hand the reigns over.
This loved one is working through why they do not like surprises, so I will respectfully back off / not over analyze / do my own confessing: I am not a professional (nor have I ever been) in this scene. Also: sometimes people don't want to be analyzed, so don't be rude, you big jerk.
So what am I to write about? Was that it? Was this just some kind of quick, friendly reminder / PSA not to analyze people when it could be considered rude? While that is something I personally need to keep in mind sometimes, no: that was not it.
First of all: let's applaud healthy growth in any/every way possible. Perhaps especially for loved ones.
Second of all: their growth / realization got me thinking: do I have a similar distaste for surprises? Is this something I can work through and grow through as well? I don't think I have a poor relationship with surprises in general. I deduce this by recalling literally any of the conversations with either my mother or my sister on the topic. They both REALLYdo not like surprises. They hate them, I think. Makes them so painfully uncomfortable / discomforted that they often get angry and will likely be in a very bad mood throughout the duration of their birthday party.
This processing has made me realize something I truly do have an issue with: having the rug pulled out from under me. And of course nobody I know has ever rejoycedover such a thing happening to them, but I can tell - should I ever be able to afford one - this topic could easily be an episode of Lexx Speaks to Her Therapist (maybe even a "To Be Continued"!).
There is an element of surprise that comes with such an event, but these two items are very different. The rug-pull is not necessarily an issue of change (at least not for myself), nor is it something "new" added. It is the antithesis of this. It is, in fact, a loss. It is something taken. Something missing. Something wrong. Like a trap door under an unsuspecting cartoon coyote.
Have you ever, for example, had a great morning because, heading to work, you had visions of yesterday's leftovers dancing in your head? You ordered too big a lunch yesterday for the office meeting and - against your usual impulse - saved the rest of your veggie burrito (as well as some chips and salsa dregs) in the break room mini fridge. "I'll never eat that", you thought, packing your things to go home for the day. You were certain you didn't want it. So much so that you realized you did not have it on your way out. You were a mere ten paces out from the fridge and decided the trip back to it was not worth it. You deemed it useless.
And now look at you: you had no time for breakfast. No time for a coffee shop before hand. And, thanks to that NCIS marathon last night, you had "forgotten" to prepare a packed lunch. No food. No bev. Never fear, you think to yourself; leftover burrito is here.
You confidently cross the street from your parking garage. You all but kick in the office doors, ravenous. You drop your bags at your desk, get to the mini fridge with prepared, empty, available hands just to find - someone has cleaned out the fridge. (This is the end of the point to be made, but hang on a sec:) You stand there in disbelief, thinking surely you must be mistaken. Your eyes search militantly - work their way from left to right, top to bottom: Nothing. With the exception of a few old dressings. Half empty, because you are feeling pessimistic. You replay the many days over what feels like weeks where, right next to where you like to put your coconut cream yogurt, you have had to fight a deep gag over the molded hummus Kathy had left. Even Kathy surely got, at least, the satisfaction of throwing away that science experiment. That crime against humanity. Even that was safe from the cleaners' hungry clutches for so long. And yet your precious burrito had not been given a day.
Your stomach gargles. Your head begins to throb. You close the door in defeat. You head over to the sad Keurig machine in the corner of the break room. Someone says an all-too-cheery salutation. You turn to see:
Kathy.
OKAY back to reality. My point is: ^^^this is having the rug pulled out from under you. This - although surprising - is not what I would consider (in this blog's context) a "surprise".
The rug-pull is much more sinister. There is a negtive or selfish intent from the other party, if there even is one. (Someone eating your fridge food vs. the cleaners simply trying to do their job.) And sometimes the over-looking / complete and utter lack of consideration is what sucks the most and is the most difficult for the rug-pullee to deal with. (This, I suppose, could be: your mother / roommate / partner going grocery shopping and deciding it was up to them to make the call. Even though they watched you make that boxed mac and cheese yesterday and take the time to pop it in the fridge, they decided to toss it to make room for their stuff / the new stuff / whathaveyou.)
I guess that's kind of it for now. (Two blogs today! Woohoo! I feel great.) And, yes, this example is based around a none-too-serious issue / event / happening surrounding an employed person's food (that they can presumably replenish). And if you're curious: it is mostly due to the fact that I think this will be relatable as well as: some of the other examples I first thought of are much darker and shitter and I do not wish to bring you / myself down at the moment. I don't think it is necessary to discuss this topic today.
Just Thinking! Go enjoy the weather before it turns to shit and goes fully Autumnal and there is no sun.
