It's Not All About You

I take everything personally. But give me a couple of points, please for knowing I take everything personally.

Last week my officemate told me her friend who accompanied her to pick up a couple of pieces of furniture from me was a realtor. Friend-realtor called her client and said, "You really need to look at this beautiful house." Friend-realtor's Client clicked over to www.tarmls.com and put "Chula Vista" in the street name field and hit search. Oops, only one picture. And when Friend-realtor described the house to Client and told her I was offering a carpet allowance, Client basically said the house must be a dive because I've admitted the carpet is crap and there's only one photo.

(Hot dawg. I just checked again and my realtor posted the pics I sent him yesterday.)

Give me a great big freaking break! I'm dancing as fast as I can. This is the first week without rehearsals and performances. My houseguest just left yesterday. Finally my realtor can come today and take a few interior photos. I worked until 10:00 last night clearing things out and packing more boxes and generally trying to make the living area presentable for the photos. As soon as I finish this post, I'm hopping into the shower, then making my bedroom presentable. It takes a damned lot of work.

At first knee-jerk reaction, I get very defensive. I feel the need to explain my busy life to whomever is criticizing me. Then I have to step back and realize I'm not being criticized. My officemate doesn't know me well enough to understand how I personalize every comment into a criticism. She's only trying to be helpful. I want to run up to Client (thank God I don't know who she is!) and shout, "You don't deserve this beautiful house."

Then I step back. I realize I am the Maladjusted Adopted Child of the Most Critical Mother Ever Born. (Ratz. I thought maybe that would come out in a pronounceable acronym.) And I say to self: Breathe. Chill. Relax. It's not all about you.