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Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit
Jul. 1st, 2024 10:00 amAnother month, another journal entry.
June didn't turn out quite like I imagined, but it was closer to my intent than any month this year I suppose. I worked a lot with the day job, and I like to think I got better at it in a relatively short time. Easily bested my previous record of certificates worked and closed the highest number of orders since I've begun working there. I didn't put in as much overtime as I wanted, but that's all right. The OT I did put in felt quite productive and allowed me the space to work deeply.
I still tend to stress about how *much* I should remark on things that are outside the ordinary. For example, if a field tech takes a particle count test and puts it in a different cert from the overall room certification, is that using the wrong form? Should I check in with the tech to see why this was done and leave a note about it? I get the feeling that in a "perfect" world, we would be paying attention to those details. But when there are so many, much larger mistakes AND we're all buried in a backlog? Sometimes you have to pick your battles and learn to let go of the rest.
So that's what I'll be working on this month, calibrating the wavelength to understand what the folks I'm working with actually care about. What kind of oversights tend to get kicked back from Technical Writing? When does a lab map need to be changed because it's too confusing compared to what we see in the report? These considerations take time to get right, so part of the work is just...setting the expectation I'll get this wrong and being OK with the corrections as they come.
Speaking of calibration, I had this...strange cascade of realizations hit me over the weekend. Biscuit, our rabbit, is a cuddlebug but he often sends mixed messages about it. It took me more time than it should have to realize that when he hops away from me a few paces, then looks back, it's because he wants me to keep doing what I'm doing in a different location -- not that I should stop. So now I know that he wants to be pet under the piano or next to his litterbox because those are "the petting places".
I'm not sure how much I'm anthropomorphizing here, but something the great Temple Grandin said has always stuck with me. Animals are *visual* learners and often their associations and memories come from unrelated things they've seen. So like, if the first time I scratched Biscuit's ear super good was under the piano, he might come to think of that perspective as the one he needs when he gets a really good pet. Or maybe it's against a wall and he has a really good view of the dining room (his territory) so it makes him more relaxed.
Anyway, Biscuit has always been sensitive about being groomed, which makes it a little hard for him when he starts shedding. I'd love to be able to get rid of the extra fur but he's not about that brushing life. If we try to pluck the tufts off his rear and sides, he tends to get upset and I had no idea why until....well, recently.
This is going to sound like such an obvious thing, but it occurred to me that maybe I've been petting him with too much pressure and that must feel weird. I mean, being touched is great but if you're being smooshed into the carpet every time some clumsy giant wants to show affection it...kinda blunts the pleasure a bit. Over the weekend, while I was sharing space with him, I just...wanted to see how lightly I could pet him and once I learned how to ruffle his fur without pressing down on his body he got a lot more relaxed. I could even sneak little tugs at some obvious bits that were ready to come out! It'll take him some time before he trusts me enough that he doesn't get nervous when I try grooming him, but it felt like a real step forward.
Then I noticed how much more...relaxed I felt by drilling down into that level of sensitivity and touch, so I thought about taking that mindset elsewhere. Over time, my jaw has unclenched and my shoulders don't feel quite so tight. And the mental...thing...that I had been holding onto so tightly, that...illusion of needing to be in control, or know what I'm doing, or the pressure to be better than I am...it just unclenched suddenly.
That's the best way I can describe it. It feels like my entire body had been tensed, braced for some blow from the universe, and now those muscles are loosening for the first time in ages.
I realize how much I had been locked down, and how much that tension had been skewing my perceptions. I had forgotten what it felt like to be touched lightly, or how to actually be present and focused on the little details. In some ways it feels like I had been actively avoiding being grounded within my body, tuned to this time and place. Like, I had completely given up on the idea of really being here and happy, that the real world was...A Thousand Enemies who must be escaped or endured. It's strange. I had become so protective of my inner self I hadn't realized just how much of it had been closed off from everyone. First through anxiety...and then through excessive numbing.
It also helps that I had a nice long cuddle session with Ratty on Saturday, just being nude and touching each other. It was *so* nice, and he was very patient as I talked about how...keyed up I had been. I've said this before, but it feels like I had my sensitivity to stimulus turned up SO HIGH that *any* stimulus could feel overwhelming. Touch my belly? That would throw me. My inner thigh? Anywhere under my belly? The instinct is to curl up and shut down sensation as quickly as possible.
I think it'll take a little more time to learn how to be comfortable...existing as a physical body again, if that makes sense. But so far, it feels nice to be able to pet a soft rabbit in a way that makes them more relaxed. And it feels so good to know that I can be a bit more relaxed on my own, that I don't have to brace for a kick in the nuts 24/7.
June didn't turn out quite like I imagined, but it was closer to my intent than any month this year I suppose. I worked a lot with the day job, and I like to think I got better at it in a relatively short time. Easily bested my previous record of certificates worked and closed the highest number of orders since I've begun working there. I didn't put in as much overtime as I wanted, but that's all right. The OT I did put in felt quite productive and allowed me the space to work deeply.
I still tend to stress about how *much* I should remark on things that are outside the ordinary. For example, if a field tech takes a particle count test and puts it in a different cert from the overall room certification, is that using the wrong form? Should I check in with the tech to see why this was done and leave a note about it? I get the feeling that in a "perfect" world, we would be paying attention to those details. But when there are so many, much larger mistakes AND we're all buried in a backlog? Sometimes you have to pick your battles and learn to let go of the rest.
So that's what I'll be working on this month, calibrating the wavelength to understand what the folks I'm working with actually care about. What kind of oversights tend to get kicked back from Technical Writing? When does a lab map need to be changed because it's too confusing compared to what we see in the report? These considerations take time to get right, so part of the work is just...setting the expectation I'll get this wrong and being OK with the corrections as they come.
Speaking of calibration, I had this...strange cascade of realizations hit me over the weekend. Biscuit, our rabbit, is a cuddlebug but he often sends mixed messages about it. It took me more time than it should have to realize that when he hops away from me a few paces, then looks back, it's because he wants me to keep doing what I'm doing in a different location -- not that I should stop. So now I know that he wants to be pet under the piano or next to his litterbox because those are "the petting places".
I'm not sure how much I'm anthropomorphizing here, but something the great Temple Grandin said has always stuck with me. Animals are *visual* learners and often their associations and memories come from unrelated things they've seen. So like, if the first time I scratched Biscuit's ear super good was under the piano, he might come to think of that perspective as the one he needs when he gets a really good pet. Or maybe it's against a wall and he has a really good view of the dining room (his territory) so it makes him more relaxed.
Anyway, Biscuit has always been sensitive about being groomed, which makes it a little hard for him when he starts shedding. I'd love to be able to get rid of the extra fur but he's not about that brushing life. If we try to pluck the tufts off his rear and sides, he tends to get upset and I had no idea why until....well, recently.
This is going to sound like such an obvious thing, but it occurred to me that maybe I've been petting him with too much pressure and that must feel weird. I mean, being touched is great but if you're being smooshed into the carpet every time some clumsy giant wants to show affection it...kinda blunts the pleasure a bit. Over the weekend, while I was sharing space with him, I just...wanted to see how lightly I could pet him and once I learned how to ruffle his fur without pressing down on his body he got a lot more relaxed. I could even sneak little tugs at some obvious bits that were ready to come out! It'll take him some time before he trusts me enough that he doesn't get nervous when I try grooming him, but it felt like a real step forward.
Then I noticed how much more...relaxed I felt by drilling down into that level of sensitivity and touch, so I thought about taking that mindset elsewhere. Over time, my jaw has unclenched and my shoulders don't feel quite so tight. And the mental...thing...that I had been holding onto so tightly, that...illusion of needing to be in control, or know what I'm doing, or the pressure to be better than I am...it just unclenched suddenly.
That's the best way I can describe it. It feels like my entire body had been tensed, braced for some blow from the universe, and now those muscles are loosening for the first time in ages.
I realize how much I had been locked down, and how much that tension had been skewing my perceptions. I had forgotten what it felt like to be touched lightly, or how to actually be present and focused on the little details. In some ways it feels like I had been actively avoiding being grounded within my body, tuned to this time and place. Like, I had completely given up on the idea of really being here and happy, that the real world was...A Thousand Enemies who must be escaped or endured. It's strange. I had become so protective of my inner self I hadn't realized just how much of it had been closed off from everyone. First through anxiety...and then through excessive numbing.
It also helps that I had a nice long cuddle session with Ratty on Saturday, just being nude and touching each other. It was *so* nice, and he was very patient as I talked about how...keyed up I had been. I've said this before, but it feels like I had my sensitivity to stimulus turned up SO HIGH that *any* stimulus could feel overwhelming. Touch my belly? That would throw me. My inner thigh? Anywhere under my belly? The instinct is to curl up and shut down sensation as quickly as possible.
I think it'll take a little more time to learn how to be comfortable...existing as a physical body again, if that makes sense. But so far, it feels nice to be able to pet a soft rabbit in a way that makes them more relaxed. And it feels so good to know that I can be a bit more relaxed on my own, that I don't have to brace for a kick in the nuts 24/7.
