Congratulations

I've never really felt comfortable receiving attention, good or bad. 

I'm not good at accepting compliments, recognition, or awards of any kind. Chalk it up to being a shy, often insecure introvert, or being bullied throughout my school days, or growing up the youngest of three (as both "the good one" (guaranteed neglect...ha ha) and "the quiet one"), or being relationally challenged, or all of the above, but the result is I'm not used to being noticed...by anyone...ever (and in the case of bullies, I certainly didn't want to be noticed). So when, or if, I am, I don't know how to respond (beyond blushing, stammering, rambling, responding with self-deprecating jokes, and just generally making myself and the other person uncomfortable).

I hate to admit it, but I think I've become more comfortable with rejection than recognition, more accustomed to insults than compliments, and more used to being ignored than acknowledged. That's what I've come to expect, so I've gradually started viewing attention, positive or negative, as something to be avoided at all costs, because I put a negative spin on it regardless of how well intentioned it might be. If someone compliments me, I (at least inwardly) question their judgment and their motives, although I've learned (through the benefit of counseling) to simply smile and say thank you. And God forbid any man should ever ask me out (as I said, I'm more comfortable with rejection than appreciation)...

All of this has been running through my mind during the past few weeks for a very specific reason: I was awarded employee of the month at my workplace. It's an honor I certainly never expected to receive (for all the reasons listed above), although even I can't deny that I work hard and will bend over backward and forward to help a student or coworker. By nature, though, my service-type job lends itself to anonymity, allowing me to hide behind the bigger, louder, flashier, award-winning personalities of my colleagues. An occasional quiet pat on the back or thank you is more than enough for me. Anything more makes me uncomfortable. 

That's why word spread slowly. After receiving my official commendatory letter earlier this month, I told only a few people close to me, opting not to announce it on social media (until now). Despite my reticence, my supervisor, who nominated me, informed everyone in my department. Then the president's secretary told everyone outside my department via an announcement in her emailed monthly newsletter. (The press release and accompanying photo still have yet to be released...God help me.)

As a result, I've been showered in congratulatory messages and undeniable kindness and generosity from fellow employees, some of whom I work with every day and some whom I barely know. It's much more attention than I'm used to receiving, and in spite of my discomfort at being noticed, I'm learning to accept and maybe even enjoy the attention a bit. (I guess I should; the pessimist in me thinks I might not be noticed again like this for a long time to come...)

So I'm learning that attention isn't always negative (unless I make it so). Ironically, I've also acquired a deeper appreciation for my job, my workplace, and my colleagues since being named employee of the month. Too often I've focused my attention on the antics of workplace bullies (It Never Ends...), discounting the greater number of wonderful coworkers who offer personal and professional support and encouragement. 

I've truly been amazed by this recent outpouring of kindness. Regardless of whether it ever comes my way again, I've learned that there are many more good people around me than the other (unkind) kind. And whether I'm worthy of this award or not, I've realized that I'm worthy of the appreciation that has come with it...occasionally...in moderation.

Road to Renovation

Six years after moving into my current home, I decided it was past due for a makeover. 

Actually, the road to renovation began in fall 2013 when I split the cost of new laminate flooring with my landlord to replace the horrible, cheap-looking, stained, curling-at-the-edges flooring that was in my kitchen and bathroom when I moved in (and God only knows how long before then). Believe me, it was ugly! In hindsight, I should have insisted that my landlord replace the flooring when I moved in, as I was told, and naively believed, he would, but mousy little me wasn't one to ask for more than I was given. 

At that time, I also hired a local handyman that I found on Facebook to resurface my Drano-destroyed bathroom sink and repaint my water-stained living room ceiling. Unfortunately, that was a waste of time and money, since this handyman turned out to be less than handy. He seemed far more concerned with getting home for dinner with his significant other, with whom he stayed in constant phone contact while "working," than with giving 100% to the hired task. As a result, the ceiling stains were still visible afterward, though slightly less so, and I was less than happy, though I paid him without complaint. 

Fast forward a year and a half to the hopeful end of a winter from hell, and to water damage (stained and leaking ceilings, bubbled and torn drywall) caused by excessive snow and ice on my roof, and I was forced to once again take action. I called my landlord last month and insisted (for once in my life, refusing to take no for an answer) that I needed a fresh coat of paint and drywall repair ASAP. Oh, and some plumbing repairs while he was at it. (Thankfully my suffering-in-silence days are over. If you want something, you need to ask for it, sooner rather than later, I've learned.) I asked and I received.

First, my bathtub and bathroom sink were unclogged in short order. (Fortunately without major pipe surgery.) Then a painter arrived, working for two full days while I was at work, sprucing up all four rooms of my apartment, rather than just the water-damaged ones. (The second lesson I learned, besides the necessity of firmly requesting what you want: When your normally tightfisted landlord agrees to open his wallet, go for broke because the opportunity might not come again during your lease...or anyone else's. And then, of course, there's lesson number three: Never again move into a fixer-upper apartment.)

While all of this was happening, I was busy, too, cleaning out closets, bookcases, cabinets, drawers, and shelves, clearing out items that I no longer needed or used or wanted in my new and improved home. In their place, I ordered a small dinette set (my first ever) that offers a comfortable place to sit when I have company (I usually eat in front of the TV, alone, so I didn't see the need for one); a wall-mounted coat rack; a new shower curtain that brightens my bathroom; a new doormat; and a new lampshade to replace the stained, bent shade that was there when I moved in (and, again, God only knows how long before then).

Soon gracing my wall: Henri Silberman's Poet's Walk

I also bought what I'm most excited about: framed artwork from eBay to adorn my freshly-painted but always-bare walls, adding life and personality (my personality). For my bedroom, women (namely Tori Amos and Stevie Nicks) who inspire me, and for my living room/home gym, future travel destinations (Paris and Central Park) alongside world and US maps. 

What took me so long? is the obvious question, and one that I've frequently asked myself since beginning this process. Why live so long in a home that not only failed to inspire me but actually depressed my spirit and kept me from inviting friends and family inside? Well, after the past few weeks, I totally understand why I embraced minimalist living: because the alternative is expensive, stressful, and time-consuming, for starters. 

But it's also rewarding. The finished product is exactly what I wanted, and my gain is more than cosmetic. I've realized through this process that my apartment isn't the only thing that has gotten a makeover. I've changed, too. I've found the confidence to ask for what I want and need, which obviously I didn't have six years ago. And I've realized that my personal happiness is well worth all of the accompanying expense, stress, and time.