too much

In the salon yesterday, while I was in the chair for 90 minutes getting my long hair chopped off, there was a woman who seemed to be a cancer survivor sitting behind me. Her stylist was in the middle of some family drama, and kept pausing to take calls on her cell phone.

Their conversation was exclusively focused on pain, suffering, and condemnation. I found myself wanting to jump out of my skin when the client started explaining in great detail the sensation of the 3 inch needle entering her neck for her latest biopsy. I tried everything I could think of to block out their voices.

I sang in my head, screamed in my head, chanted, listened to their voices like they were music, focused on the traffic noise, took deep breaths, and pretended none of the syllables had any meaning.

What did not occur to me until just this second, which suddenly seems so obvious I want to cry, was to start a conversation with my own stylist. She and I have a lovely connection, and since english is not her first language, and she's very soft spoken, we typically enjoy silence together. I never even considered drowning out their conversation with the sound of my own voice. That's kind of a fascinating glimpse into my inner victim consciousness, huh? LOL.

Anyway, no matter what I did, I could not tune them out. It felt like a relentless jack hammer on my heart and soul. I became absolutely desperate for it to stop, and was just coming to the conclusion that I may have to actually ask them to change the subject, which was excruciatingly painful to think about doing because it felt lame, disrespectful, and invasive, when another stylist showed up and starting talking. So I listened to his voice instead, and I made it through.

I left there feeling new empathy and respect for people who have conversations like that happening around them all day, every day, like my stylist, and people who work in office cubicles, and ... well, I guess LOTS of people are in this situation. It's been ages since I've felt stuck like that, and the feeling of powerlessness is horrible.

If I drank beer, I'd raise one right now and say, This Bud's for you! It's not that hard to feel good when you have control over your surroundings, as I do most of the time since I work for myself from home.

But holy smokes does it up the ante when you are sharing close quarters with jack hammers while striving for inner peace! Clearly I am not yet up for the challenge. And truthfully, I may never be, so I am grateful to be able to design my life to avoid that most of the time.

Here's to you who are out in the trenches, working to feel good in a soup of yuck. I salute your courage and strength.