The Morning After
It seems that no matter how well I prepare myself for it, I can’t escape this hungover feeling on the first morning of a furlough. It’s a similar feeling that I had four years ago, the last time we went through this.
What’s different this time is only that there is a weekend between when Congress and the White House, once again, failed miserably to do their jobs (“You had one job to do…”), and when we get to go in to begin to perform the orderly government shutdown.
Last time, it was that next morning that we did it. In my case, I was able to do it from home. This time I am leading an organization of 200+ people, so I need to go in and do it on Monday morning.
Nine of my folks will continue to work through the furlough, as they are essential support to our inspectors and investigators in the field, all of whom will continue to work to keep America’s food supply safe and wholesome. Two of them are here in D.C., two are out in Beltsville, Md, four are in Minneapolis, and one is in Albany, California. The rest of us will sit at home and wait for Congress to give us money to operate.
What’s different this time is, I’m not going to fight the way I feel. That didn’t work so well, last time. Boy, didn’t it! I was a hot mess, just three days into that furlough.
This time, I’m not going to stew in anger over the plight of the federal worker, or the damage being done to the American people by the elected officials who have broken a trust, and put politics in front of doing right by those who elected them.
I can’t afford that. Anger is a killer, for me. It takes me right down. Even when it is totally justified. Sustained anger is something I cannot afford.
I’m not averse to anger itself — it’s a valid emotion that I won’t hesitate to express. I just don’t care to sit in it for long. That type of anger, for me, is the killer. Just the way I am built, I will eventually turn it inward, on myself, and get stuck in it. No, I can’t afford that. The more I try to fight it, the more I sink into it.
So, I have some work to do, because, right now, I am full of it. It’s a hollow feeling. It’s a feeling of “they’ve screwed us again.” I’m not going to fight it. Just acknowledge it, then begin the work I know I need to do.
I tried to kid myself, and say, go ahead, shut it down. I could use a few days/weeks off — I can build that walk-in closet Kathy wants in the upstairs bedroom, that I’ve been promising her since before Christmas. I can use the time to reflect, and reassess where I’m at. It’ll be fun!
I’d forgotten what this feels like, when it actually happens. I don’t like it. I’m not going to dwell in this.
First things first. Coffee. Jacuzzi. Morning reading. Meditation. Swim spa. My favorite weekly Saturday morning meeting. Talk about it, if necessary, there.
We’ll take it from there. Beyond that, I have no answers. I’m just going to keep doing what I do, whether it involves or includes going in to work, or not. As I said the other day — Uncle Sam is not my employer. I need to remember that.
I’m beginning to feel a little better already. Thanks for listening. Here we go…
