I hate training days. It harks back to school when I dreaded speaking in front of people. Trust me, it does not get better with age.
It starts with the scheduling of the event itself. Despite people who actually profess to do this, it always comes as a big surprise. I might as well call the psychic network and talk to Jackie Stallone for $3.99 per minute as I'd probably garner more information. There's also the insanity of having me come in for one midnight shift, then do two day shifts of training and then expect me to come in for my graveyards that night. Uh, ha. I haven't slept more than two hours in two days. I bought a box of Gravol the other day and took six of them alone last night to try to get some sleep. I slept one hour. Good times.
I've always been told that I was a latent lefty, despite being right handed. I have horrid memories of elementary school team sports and teachers telling me that I was holding whatever piece of equipment wrong. I made sure that I always hid in far left field. I hated team sports. You couldn't get me to sign up for a team if you paid me. I digress, but I honestly think that gym teachers do more in developing a dislike for all eternity of sports and fitness than encouraging it. If they'd just leave the damned kids alone, maybe they'd like activities. Another topic for another blog, perhaps.
Today's training day, as was yesterday's, was self defence. Bear with me. If I spent time thinking about where my latent leftie self should place my footing, the bad guy would have me. I am not going to have the time to act out "Dancing With the Stars" type manoeuvers in my head. I'll just do what works for me. Call me a spazz, but it won't be fixed after all these years.
I hate having to do this stuff in front of a bunch of people that I do not know. Today there was me and one other woman and the rest of the room was all males. I freeze up when I have to speak in front of people and at some point I literally wouldn't be able to tell you my name. Try it on two hours sleep in two days, a Gravol hangover and six Tylenol three for the headache.
The advice given is great, I guess. I don't know. I am so flustered and in such a tizzy and hoping that the great flood and plague will arrive so it will end my disgrace. Where is that comet strike when you need it? Spare me this ignomicy. I am literally wishing for death. Ah, yes...training day...
I also get weird about having to touch people and having them touch me. It's always going to be there. The weight thing. I've also always had a huge personal space and my family was not demonstrative at all. Then there is the realization all too late that one of the cats may have sprayed my boots. My Diet Pepsi exploded all over me too. So, this was not a great day at all. Yes, training day sucks. Perhaps if I looked like a supermodel I wouldn't feel this way. Maybe if the teachers hadn't badgered me about how I held my bat when I was eight years old. Whatever...just leave me alone and let the bad guy, if he ever shows up, get me. I think it would be less painful then having to stand in front of people and having them watch me make an idiot out of myself.
I was alright with public speaking until I spoke in front of a packed church for my first communion. I made a minor mistake but didn't realize it until someone pointed it out afterwards. Ever since that day I can't speak in public, even in large groups of people I know. I feel stupid and like I'm being judged.
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