This morning I ran into a colleague while having an oil
change. I told her I was “pretty excited” about something, I don’t even
remember what, because I was just chewing the fat, mmmkay?
“Well, obviously you’re a pretty hyped up person,” she
informed me.
And here all these maniacally stressful years I’d thought my
hard-won (let’s not call it fake, hey?) positive attitude was coming across as,
I dunno, mellow cheer.
Also, my Very Strict Writing Group Overlords have cautioned
me that lately Full Spectrum Mama has been sounding a bit “breathless” and
overly full of “We Can Do This” attitude, leading to an overall impression that
I “have things figured out” and am a “Good Sport.” Knowing me as they do, they dared to question this state of
affairs.
I had a chance to ponder their impressions the evening after
our last meeting, as my car overheated on the highway and the Full Spectrum
Family’s 3 hour trip turned into 6-plus hours with a special bonus of three
roadside diarrhea incidents and one potential car-repair-bill-induced panic
attack.
The only Good Sporty part of that whole story was when we finally got to the
convenience store and I let the kids pick ANY donut, even though it was well past
Dinner Time.
I’m horrified by the possibility of a random reader falling
upon this blog and feeling alienated and, possibly, inferior because I come
across as a Pollyanna of competence, wisdom and equanimity. Because, do I
really have things figured out? No.
So I’d like to clarify.
The following pie chart roughly illustrates a more realistic
model of Full Spectrum coping techniques:
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
