Thursday, February 11, 2016

Just Tell Me What the Fuck To Do

For an average of fifteen hours a day, five or more days a week, I make decisions. Some are small, a minor adjustment here, a slight schedule change there. Some are not so small--lots of prioritizing and readjusting to reality, lots of money, time, and people.

Decisions create a ripple affect that rolls through upwards of forty people. A decision made in another department three months ago impacts me tomorrow. A decision made by me impacts revenue streams a month from now.
People come to me with a hundred tiny questions a day, and a few really big issues.

Decisions. Choices. Making the call. Over and over again. Day in and day out. Long days. Long weeks. Hours that fly by too fast. Just trying to keep the ship floating, keep the people rowing in tandem, decide when to lower the sails, who most needs the limited amount of life jackets on any given day.

Decisions. Choices. All day. Every day.

Sometimes I want to crawl out of my own skin. The skin I wear so well, the skin that is but is not...Mine. His. Me. Us.

I am. The queen bee. The regulatory interpreter. The manager of a single department with her fingers in every other department.

Sometimes I just need to be told what the fuck to do.

Not at work. Because I largely do it my way, which led to an unpleasant conversation with my boss regarding the chain of command the other day where I walked out pretty pissed off. But if you want me to make all these decisions day in and day out every day, I refuse to have them all dissected, questioned, and challenged.
I don't always make the right call. Doing so is a statistical impossibility. But I make them, and my ratio of success is fairly high.

Decisions. Choices. All day. Every day.

Sometimes I want to crawl out of my own skin. The skin I wear so well, the skin that is but is not...Mine. His. Me. Us.

He likes it, having the queen bee bow down, fall to her knees at his feet, beg to be free.

When I'm with him I just want to be told what the fuck to do. Regardless of whether or not I have the least amount of desire to do it.

He asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner the other night. I looked at him and said, "Just tell me what the fuck to do". And he did. We went out to dinner.

The world, our world, it's a heavy heavy globe.

For him, peace comes in those moments when his control is total and absolute.
For me, peace comes in those moments without freedom, without choice, when I have no control or voice.


14 comments:

  1. and that last bit....is what makes the 2 of you perfect for each other....and gives you the strength to get through all the rest.
    hugs abby

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  2. Having each other is what is going to keep you sane. You have mentioned the littles in a while, are they doing better?

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    Replies
    1. sunnygirl,
      eh--they're hanging in ok. The hours we've been working are really hard on them because we don't see each other much these days.

      Delete
  3. I'm not sure how you are finding the time to post, but it sure is nice to see your words! (I kinda want to hug them...and you.)

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    Replies
    1. Misty,
      I felt like I had a life for a couple hours last weekend--scheduled posting to the rescue!

      Delete
  4. "I just want to be told what the fuck to do."

    This. A thousand times this.

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    Replies
    1. Lea,
      happens a thousand times, doesn't it? :)

      Delete
  5. I scream always, "tell me what the fuck to do". After my day, I can't think anymore.

    I love your past paragraph. Spot on!

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    Replies
    1. His slut,
      Yea--I know exactly how you feel about the end of a day!

      Delete
  6. I feel this so often in my relationship. I HATE it from other men but CRAVE it from Him

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    Replies
    1. anon,
      funny the way that works, isn't it?

      Delete

Play nice.